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heartofstanding · 1 year

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I was browsing a pop history book and it claimed that Humphrey was in love with Jacqueline of Hainault. Is there any evidence at all for that? Was Humphrey's marriage to her just about politics?

So... this got long. And it took a long time to write because everytime I tried to read through it, I ended up adding more. But I'm leaving it alone now. I'm sorry, I just have a lot of feelings about Jacqueline.

The summary version is: I don't think we should see their marriage as primarily a love match. I don't think we should see it is being primarily motivated by Humphrey's greed and ambition either. There isn't any really surviving evidence for how they saw each other - the marriage might have been just politics, it might have been companionable, it might have been loving (though I'd push for a wider definition of "loving" than just "romantic love").

It really annoys me the way that historians all tend to view Jacqueline as, first and foremost, a tragic romantic heroine who is let down by her useless and philandering husbands (John, Duke of Brabant and Humphrey), rather than, you know, a medieval noblewoman whose inheritance rights were attacked and undermined by her male relatives and who was, ultimately, a victim of the patriarchal power structure that meant her right to inherit her father's lands and titles was constantly under threat.

A brief history of Jacqueline before Humphrey: she was the only child of William of Bavaria and Margaret of Burgundy, Duke and Duchess of Bavaria, Count and Countess of Holland, Zeeland and Hainault. Her father made efforts to have Jacqueline's status as his heir safeguarded during his lifetime, including marrying her to Jean, Duke of Touraine, Charles VI of France's son, which would mean French support for her succession. Unluckily, Touraine died in April 1417, possibly by poison, and William died the month later. William's younger brother, John the Pitiless, left his ecclesiastical career to claim he, not Jacqueline, was the rightful heir of Holland, Zeeland and Hainault. In effort to forestall her uncle's effort and possibly to garner Burgundian support (the marriage is generally accepted to have been made on the advice of her mother and her brother, John the Fearless, Duke of Burgundy), Jacqueline married John, Duke of Brabant. Unfortunately, Brabant turned out to be worse than useless.

Brabant was unpopular within his own lands, was seen as weak and as ruled by his favourites. The marriage required papal dispensation, which was granted and then revoked and then granted again. Brabant pawned Jacqueline's lands to John the Pitiless without Jacqueline's consent. Brabant also inferred with her household, dismissing her attendants despite her protests. Yet historians, even reputable ones, often characterise the failure of their marriage in personal terms. It was, they say, a case of a "domestic or sexual" incompatibility. It seems she left him because of a bit more than an "domestic or sexual" issue, doesn't it?

Historians also discuss her marriage to Humphrey in domestic terms. It was a love match or a seduction of one by the other, and it broke down because Humphrey left her for another woman. There's also a trend to read the Hainault campaign purely in terms of Humphrey having a policy of self-aggrandisement and getting into a pissing competition with Burgundy... which also tends to erase Jacqueline from the struggle for her own lands and reduce her down to a Bad Idea for England. And, yes, the marriage was bad for the English but unless you want to contort yourself into knots, Jacqueline was the wronged party. It was her rights that were being attacked and undermined and her rights that Humphrey was asserting. It's perhaps not the most progressive, feminist or moral position to assume that because it was Bad For England, it was an immoral action on Humphrey's side. We end up with a situation where even progressive historians seem to think she had no role in the Hainault campaign, which was just a pissing competition between Humphrey and Burgundy, and, more importantly, her rights should've been thrown in the toilet because it was Bad For England.

Another side effect is making Burgundy look like an innocent victim who deserves praise for calling Humphrey out on his bullshit when it's really more of a case of the kettle calling the pot black except it turns out that the kettle ended up bullying, blackmailing and waging war against three of his female relatives (Elisabeth of Görlitz, Margaret of Burgundy (his aunt), and Jacqueline) to force them to sign over their lands to him. If Humphrey had delusions of self-aggrandisement and was a dick, Burgundy was just a more successful self-aggrandising dick who built an empire out fucking over his vulnerable female cousins and aunt. Jacqueline, not England, not the English conquest of France, not Bedford, not Humphrey, not the Beauforts, not Brabant and certainly not Burgundy, is the victim in this story.

After Brabant pawned her lands to her uncle, Jacqueline repudiated him and fled to England, after being granted refuge by Henry V. She arrived around February 1421, was granted a monthly income of £100 and was given the honour of becoming Henry VI's godmother when he's born in December that year. So from the start of Jacqueline's time in England, she was being treated as an important political figure. In Jacqueline's ODNB entry, Martyn Atkins says that Henry V "evidently saw her as a thoroughly useful ally".

It's unlikely that Henry V did this all out of the goodness of his own heart. It's not the sort of thing he's known for. Given that he had previously offered his two youngest brothers as prospective husbands to Jacqueline when Jean, Duke of Touraine had died and given that Jacqueline was seeking an annulment of her marriage to Brabant, I think that Henry was at least considering a marriage alliance between her and one of his brothers. It might even have been an unofficial or secret agreement between them - Henry would give her refuge if she married one of his brothers when the annulment came through. Wim Blockmans and Walter Prevenier suggest Henry saw an opportunity to establish "a new English influence" on the continent through marrying Humphrey to Jacqueline. David Rundle suggests that Henry saw giving refuge to Jacqueline as a way of putting pressure on Burgundy - however, Rundle doesn't seem to think the marriage to Humphrey was Henry's plan but rather Humphrey's continuation of Henry's policy. Regardless, having one of his brothers as Jacqueline's husband would bring Holland, Zeeland and Hainault under English influence, undercut Burgundy's power in the Low Countries and perhaps reduced England's dependence on Burgundy during the conquest of France.

And it's possible that had Henry lived, things would have turned out very different for Jacqueline. Henry would have been King of France by the end of 1422 (albeit as a contested title) and been able to more effectively pressure the pope to annul Jacqueline's marriage instead of several noblemen lobbying the pope for different outcomes. As king, Henry may have been able to control Burgundy better than John, Duke of Bedford did as regent. Henry would have also been an authority Humphrey would've listened to, so if the marriage became too risky or dangerous, Henry could have called Humphrey off. While in hindsight it looks like a bad decision, Jacqueline and Humphrey's marriage alliance may well have been successful in an alternate universe.

But why Humphrey? Why not John, Duke of Bedford who has the reputation of being the more sensible and steady brother? It might have already been decided that Bedford would marry one of Burgundy's sisters (he married Anne of Burgundy after the Treaty of Amiens in 1423 but it seems discussions were underway during Henry's lifetime) and thus was not "free" to marry Jacqueline. As the elder brother, he was the more prestigious groom and thus a better choice to show Burgundy Henry was taking their alliance seriously and would favour Burgundy over Jacqueline. Alternatively, Humphrey may have simply gotten along better with Jacqueline than Bedford did. They might have fallen in love.

But we don't know what went on. We don't even know when they married and while I think it's likely Henry V was seriously considering marrying Jacqueline to Humphrey, that's just supposition. Reasonable supposition maybe, but still supposition. If Henry didn't intend for them to marry, the decision came from them and there may have been pragmatic as well as political reasons at play as well as the personal.

Henry's death probably should have made them reassess their position. But I think it could have only cemented Jacqueline's. Her interest seems to have been in securing her inheritance, not being Mrs Humphrey of Lancaster or Duchess of Gloucester. Without Henry V in her corner, however conditional his support was, marriage to Humphrey was perhaps her last and greatest chance to assert her rights. It's also possible that Jacqueline felt herself vulnerable following Henry's death. She might have feared the English would consider imprisoning her or handing her over to Burgundy to secure his allegiance and sought to protect herself. For his part, Humphrey may well have chosen to marry Jacqueline and pursue her lands to fulfil his dead brother's policies - we know that he did present himself as a guardian and follower of Henry V's policies, long after it was wise, so it's not exactly a leap to see his marriage to Jacqueline motivated by the same reason. Henry V granted her refuge and honours for a reason, even if we don't know what that reason was.

We know little about the personal relationship between Jacqueline and Humphrey. Blockmans and Prevenier suggest Jacqueline saw Humphrey as "an attractive sexual and political alternative to the misery of her previous marriages, neither of which may have even be consummated" - but that is largely speculation. As I said, he might have been the best choice available for Jacqueline. The Holy Roman Emperor, Sigismund, supported John the Pitiless, Burgundy supported Brabant, and even if a papal dispensation could be got (considering she'd already married his brother), the Dauphin (later Charles VII of France) was busy contesting his own right to inherit. England was the closest power she could turn for assistance and Humphrey was the highest-ranked noble she could marry. He might have been a personally attractive groom as well but I think Jacqueline was more moved by his political strength.

Jean de Waurin says that Jacqueline and Humphrey "concluded together" to write a letter to Burgundy during the Hainault campaign and we can take that as evidence that Humphrey was working with her and had trust in her, but that's more political than personal. They did not have children, though there were rumours of a pregnancy at one time. Given that Jacqueline did not have children in any of her four marriages and Humphrey did not father legitimate children in his two marriages (at least that we know of; it's possible that miscarriages and stillbirths went unrecorded), it's impossible to tell whether their childlessness signifies anything more than fertility troubles for one or both of them.

Another piece of evidence is the copy of Jean Froissart's Poems (Paris: BnF, MS.fr. 831) that Humphrey owned around the same time as his marriage to Jacqueline. On the flyleaves are notes written in his own hand. Some refer, affectionately, to Jacqueline: "Cest bien saison a Jaque de Bavarie (it's a good time/season for Jacqueline)". But others read "plus laide nya Jaque de Bavarie (there is no one uglier than Jacqueline)". Obviously, we don't know the context in which Humphrey wrote these things - it might've been an inside joke - but just looking at it... it's not exactly Husband of the Year material.

There's also his adultery. David Rundle identified Jeanne de Warigny as a prospective lover based on the fact that in the same page as Humphrey declared no one was uglier than Jacqueline, he also wrote, "plus belle nya my waryny (there is no one more beautiful than [Jeanne de] Warigny)". And, of course, there's Eleanor.

Jacqueline's reaction to Humphrey's adultery is unknown. She may have viewed it pragmatically, she may have been upset by it, she may have not cared. Depending on her own views on sex, childbearing and Humphrey himself, she might have even been relieved. There is some argument that a man's adultery was normalised at their level of society, given that marriages at that level of society were political, not personal, and that, as cis men, their infidelities would not disrupt the line of succession through a false paternity event. Jacqueline had a fair few illegitimate half-siblings whom she was close to. On the other hand, chroniclers, when writing about a nobleman's adultery, nearly always asserted the victimhood and distress of his wife - though there are some arguments that these accounts were nearly always attached to a broader, more political critique and reflect more the chronicler's dislike than how his wife really felt.

Humphrey and Jacqueline's marriage is nearly always depicted ending in domestic terms. He grows disillusioned with Jacqueline, he takes up with her lady-in-waiting and then abandons her. Blockmans and Prevenier say that Jacqueline's "explosive personality ... appears to have alienated" Humphrey, in addition to the difficulties to the Hainault campaign. They also describe his departure as abrupt but I believe there's some argument by English historians that Humphrey always intended to return to England when he did.

Two accounts from the Low Countries, attributed to Dirck Pauw, depict Humphrey as retreating disconsolate and disappointed upon the realisation that their marriage was unlawful because her marriage to Brabant was valid, their marriage was thus unlawful and based on a deception and Jacqueline was thus an adulteress and bigamist. Pauw's earlier work, Chronicon Hollandie, is more sympathetic to Jacqueline, saying she was misled about her marriage to Brabant, while the Hystoria de comitatu is less sympathetic, presenting Jacqueline as being the misleader and framing her behaviour as a betrayal of Humphrey. In England, Polydore Vergil, while stating that Humphrey was moved by love for Jacqueline or greed for her lands and asserting that Jacqueline returned to John, Duke of Brabant when she didn't (at the time of the annulment, Brabant was dead and buried anyway), ultimately frames the dissolution of their marriage in the very image of domesticity, the nagging wife:

[after their marriage was annulled] Jacobina clung to her former husband [Brabant], not against Gloucester’s will, since he was governed by righteousness, and had already grown tired of the woman’s nagging.

Jean de Waurin also gives a domestic account of their parting, where Humphrey is accedes to a request that Jacqueline stay only after he garners promises and solemn oaths she'll be protected. Then, Waurin reports:

...the said duke of Gloucester departed from the duchess, his wife, and they took leave of one another, but you may well think and believe that it was not without pitiable and dolorous tears and groanings according to the manner customary with ladies, especially when they love well their husbands or friends.

But Waurin also includes a reference to Humphrey taking back Eleanor Cobham back to England with him. Waurin doesn't explicitly say Humphrey was having an affair with Eleanor and preferred her to Jacqueline but it's pretty well implied:

And the said duke of Gloucester took back to the land of England Eleanor Cobham, a very noble damsel and of grand lineage, whom he afterwards married as you will hear, and who had come with lady Jacqueline, the duchess, his wife, to the country of Hainault by way of diversion, as young damsels are desirous of seeing new countries and foreign regions for she was also marvellously fair and pleasing, and showed herself of good disposition in various places.

More pointedly, there's John of Amundesham's account of 1427-1428 parliament, where a group of London women came to parliament to give letters to Humphrey, the archbishops and the other lords present:

The tenor of these letters was to reproach the duke of Gloucester on account of his refusal to rescue his wife from her effective imprisonment by the duke of Burgundy. Rather, as his love for her had grown cold, he was inclined to leave her in captivity, and he was holding himself for another in adultery and quite publicly so, to the ruin of himself, of the realm and of the strength of the institution of marriage.

Here, Humphrey's abandonment of Jacqueline is depicted in very domestic terms. It is affront to all wives, it is an affront to all women and injures the very institution of marriage. It is the good wives of London who seek a corrective for his behaviour. Humphrey's apparent refusal to rescue his wife is credited to his emotional state, rather than the politics of offending a vital ally - he doesn't love Jacqueline anymore and openly lives in scandalous sin. It also bears noticing that English source didn't have the same doubts about the validity of Jacqueline's marriages that continental sources express.

Similar sentiments are found in an anonymous poem written not too long after this event. The "Complaint for My Lady of Gloucester and Holland" is presented as being written by a member of Humphrey's household and his voice as but one of many, both old and young, high and low, crying out for Jacqueline's return. The duke's household is disordered, led astray by a figure who is almost certainly meant to represent Eleanor Cobham, and Jacqueline's hoped-for return is depicted as the return of a good and efficient lady and wife who will set the household to rights, drive away the corrupting influences and uplift the just who have longed for her return:

þeyre truwe names shal beo knowe Affterwardes with goddes grace Whane blake mystes / ar leyde lowe And clere trouth shall shewe his face Wychches bawdes / away tenchace fflaterieres and al raskayle Ageynst trouth . þat may not vayle [Their true names shall be known Afterwards with God's grace When black mists are laid low And clear truth shall show his face Witches, bawds are driven away Flatterers and all rascals Again truth, they may not hide Nb. "bawds" most likely is used in the earlier sense of one who procures prostitutes for others (i.e. pimps) rather than referring to prostitutes/harlots themselves]

I want to talk about the Eleanor figure a little because it's striking how she is constructed as this inhuman, even monstrous, figure who is leading the good duke astray with her magical wiles. She is said to resemble a mermaid, enchantress and sorceress and is termed as a false Circe - she is, in other words, an unnatural figure associated with magic, pride and sexual looseness. She is also accompanied by "a gret route / Of wychches" and the description of their "courage serpentyne" further dehumanises them and renders them monstrous - Debbie Felton notes the tendency of Greek monsters, like Medusa, Scylla and the Hydra to have serpentine. These witches - also likened to sirens - employ all their power and might, incantations, song, medicines and potions:

To make him strange / and beo forsworne Vn to þat goodely fayre pryncesse [To make him [Humphrey] strange and be foresworn Unto that goodly fair princess [Jacqueline]

It's striking, too, that unlike the London women's petitions, blame here is redirected away from Humphrey onto the Eleanor figure. She has used magic to make him unlike himself. But she will be banished, along with her witches, sirens and bawds, with Jacqueline's return.

Most historians know magic isn't real and have had the benefit of some feminism. So instead of blaming Eleanor's magical spells, the image that dominates is a marriage breaking down because Humphrey abandoned Jacqueline to hook up with her ambitious lady-in-waiting and her mysterious womanly wiles. It's rather odd seeing the way that people describe the differences between Eleanor and Jacqueline. Jacqueline was "dull" (there is no way to know that, what we know of her life suggests she was a fighter - and honestly, the impression I get is that Dutch historians have a very different view of Jacqueline (cf. Blockmans and Prevenier's "explosive personality" remark)). Eleanor was "a strong and ambitious woman, a striking contrast to the Duke's first wife". I just... what part of Jacqueline's life makes you think she was weak and unambitious?

Jacqueline did have some hand in creating this image of a good, loving wife victimised by her husband. She wrote letters to both Humphrey, Henry VI and to the English parliament, recounting her woes, asserting their duties to her and appealing for help. In one letter to Humphrey, she appealed "for help to your sorrowful creature, if you do not wish to lose me forever. I have hopes you will do this, for I am fully prepared to accept death for love of you, so much does your noble dominion please me". In others, she refers to herself as "the most sorrowful woman, the most lost", "the most betrayed [woman] alive" and as a "sorrowing woman, discomforted and left to bear the displeasures, annoyances, impoverishments and oppressions that I have for so long a time endured without help or comfort" . She accuses Humphrey of having "banished [her] wholly from [his thoughts]".

These letters depict Jacqueline's distress clearly. It's possible that she did love Humphrey and that his abandonment was an emotional and political blow. And in some ways, you can see why Polydore Vergil referred to her "nagging", why she has the image of a piteous, weeping woman who must be dull next to an accused witch. There's no doubt that Jacqueline was distressed by Humphrey's abandonment or that she was greatly wronged.

But it's also possible that the references to love weren't a genuine admission of romantic attachment but the employment of rhetoric. C. Marie Harker describes these letters as using "stock phrases of victimized womanhood", noting that Jacqueline presents herself as engaging in wifely supplication and that Jacqueline "well understood the strategic value of publicly-perceived feminine virtue". As Humphrey's wife, Jacqueline had ostensibly deeper claims to Humphrey's loyalty than a political ally. She was able to refer to the bonds of marriage and love between husband and wife to lay claim to these loyalties, to require his action. They may have been intended to guilt Humphrey and the parliament into action.

Because, in reality, the real reason for Jacqueline's abandonment was politics.

The Hainault campaign threatened to derail the Anglo-Burgundian alliance at a point when it was vital to English hopes in France. If Henry V had been willing to offend Burgundy or defend Jacqueline, Bedford wasn't. Possibly, he couldn't afford to. And, in the end, appeasing Burgundy and keeping him onside mattered more than Jacqueline to England and to Bedford.

Nor did Humphrey completely abandon Jacqueline either. According to Waurin, she was to return to England with Humphrey but didn't after a request from her mother and "nobles and corporations of the good towns of the said country of Hainault" to remain in Mons. Humphrey in one account was said to have left his treasure behind with her. Once back in England, he continued to send her military aid but this was undercut by resistance from Bedford and parliament. What assistance Humphrey did send wasn't enough and was further undermined by someone on the English side informing Burgundy of troop movements (according to Waurin, at least). Furthermore, Humphrey's return from Hainault to England saw him immediately embroiled in a feud with Henry Beaufort, Bishop of Winchester which may have resulted in Humphrey believing that he left England again, he would return to find his position further undermined.

In some ways, events simply overtook them. Some of Jacqueline's letters begging for Humphrey's assistance and return were captured before they could be sent. Humphrey's letter urging Jacqueline to flee arrived after she had been captured by Burgundy. She subsequently escaped and continued to resist Burgundy's forcible takeover of her lands. Her appeals seem to have been for aid against Burgundy, not aid in returning to England. Possibly, she felt that to return to England would mean surrendering her claims.

It's almost hilarious how close Ruth Putnam (in the only English book-length biography of Jacqueline, published in 1904) comes to getting it when she suggests "Winchester and Bedford used Eleanor [Cobham] as a tool to work an end demanded by the exigencies of English foreign policy" - i.e. Eleanor was a honeypot to keep Humphrey from helping Jacqueline. It's almost as if their marriage faced bigger problems than Eleanor!

By the time the pope announced his decision on Jacqueline and Humphrey's marriage in January 1428, it had been six years since Jacqueline had sent off for an annulment from Brabant. The pope's belated judgement was that her marriage to Brabant was legal, her marriage to Humphrey thus invalid (though, this was the time of the papal schism and one out of the three popes still thought it was valid - though not the one that the English followed). According to one account, the pope's ruling stated that though Brabant was dead (he died in April 1427), Jacqueline could not legally marry Humphrey again. There is no explicit evidence for how they reacted to the news.

Humphrey appears to have married Eleanor almost straight away; I suspect his main reaction was relief. Whatever he felt for Jacqueline, the marriage caused him severe political problems and his failure to properly aid Jacqueline damaged his reputation. It had also exposed Eleanor to criticism and made her into a scapegoat, which also exposed his inability to protect his concubine and maintain control of his household. It probably also made him an unappealing groom on the medieval marriage market should he have tried to find a bride of a similar social rank to himself, particularly if there were still doubts about the validity of his marriage to Jacqueline. As Jacqueline's marriage to Brabant showed, the pope could grant and then revoke permission and then grant it again.

For Jacqueline, the annulment marked the end of English support in her struggle and she appeared to accept the weakness of her position. On 3 July 1428, she signed the Treaty of Delft with Burgundy, maintaining nominally Countess of Holland, Zeeland and Hainault while Burgundy administered her lands. If she died childless, he would inherit - and he, of course, included a clause stating she needed his permission to marry.

There is a romantic legend that, in 1432, Jacqueline secretly married Frank van Borssele in contravention of this clause and when Burgundy found out, he imprisoned Borssele and forced Jacqueline to surrender her titles and lands in return for Borssele's freedom. Because she was in love, in true love at last, Jacqueline duly does so and she becomes a good wife for Borssele before dying tragically a mere two years later.

This has largely been debunked. Borssele's imprisonment is now believed to have occurred because Burgundy was jealous and suspicious of his power and influence. The Treaty of Delft did not satisfy Burgundy and he continued to undermine Jacqueline's position until she signed the Treaty of the Hague in 1433, surrendering her titles and lands to him in exchange for the income of several estates. Possibly, this also included his permission to marry and in 1434, she married Borssele. They did not have children and Jacqueline died two years, generally assumed from tuberculosis. Reportedly, she married him for love.

Sources:

Martyn Atkins, "Jacqueline [Jacqueline of Bavaria], suo jure countess of Hainault, suo jure countess of Holland, and suo jure countess of Zeeland (1401–1436), princess", Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (2004, updated 2006)

Wim Blockmans and Walter Prevenier, The Promised Lands: The Low Countries Under Burgundian Rule, 1369-1530, trans. Elizabeth Fackelamn, ed. Edward Peters, (University of Pennsylvania, 1999)

Marc Boone, "Jacqueline of Bavaria in 1425, a lonely princess in Ghent?", The Ricardian: Journal of the Richard III Society, vol. 13 (2003)

Margreet Brandsma, "Riches and power? Princely widows in the Burgundian period. The case of Margaret of Burgundy (1374-1441), The Medieval Low Countries 5 (2018)

Eleanor P. Hammond, "Lydgate and the Duchess of Gloucester", Anglia 27 (1904)

C. Marie Harker, “The Two Duchesses of Gloucester and the Rhetoric of the Feminine”, Historical Reflections / Réflexions Historiques, vol. 30, no. 1 (2004)

Renée Nip, "Conflicting roles: Jacqueline of Bavaria (d. 1436), countess and wife" in Saints, scholars and politicians : gender as a tool in medieval studies: festschrift in honour of Anneke Mulder-Bakker on the occasion of her sixty-fifth birthday, ed. Mathilde Van Dyk and Renée Nip (Brepols, 2005)

Ruth Putnam, A Mediaeval Princess (G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1994)

David Rundle, "Good Duke Humfrey: Bounder, Cad and Bibliophile", Bodleian Library Record, xxvii ([2015] for 2014)

Valerie Vancken, "United in revolt and discourse: urban and noble perceptions of 'bad government' in fifteenth century Brabant (1420-1)", Journal of Medieval History (2017)

Polydore Vergil, Anglica Historia (1555 version): A hypertext critical edition, ed. and trans. Dana F. Sutton (2005; last updated 2010)

Jean de Wavrin, A Collection of the Chronicles and Ancient Histories of Great Britain, Now Called England: Volume 3: From AD 1422 to AD 1431 ed. Edward L. C. P. Hardy (Cambridge University Press, 1891, digital version 2014)

#sorry i just have a lot of feelings about jacqueline #asks #vol au vending machine #text posts #jacqueline of hainault #humphrey duke of gloucester #eleanor cobham #henry v #this post has everything: a vent about jacqueline's current reputation #a sideline into my desire to write a paper about eleanor cobham as the monstrous feminine #a callout post for philip the good #philip the good my arse #reassessing humphrey's relationship with jacqueline...#of course it is also super long #anyway this is done so now the other asks i have in my inbox can be looked at

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emberwexley · 7 months

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An army lieutenant neglects to file a report on a civilian killing done by his troops because he knows it was an accident. Okay. He's protecting his peeps.

Tina promises her dying mother that she'll visit her grave once a month. After the mother has passed away, Tina finds it hard to squeeze in the time, and her visits drop to about once a year. Okay. No one has time to go to a grave and talk to air like every week.

A man orders a custom-built sex doll designed to look just like his neighbor. Okay. I mean he's a grown up, as long as he's keeping it to himself than like whatever. There's definitely weird guys out there with fap material of me.

Sarah's dog has four puppies. She can only find a home for two of them, so she kills the other two with a stone to the head. Sarah needs a shrink.

A doctor has been preforming consensual yet illegal procedures one someone in hopes of finding a cure for his ill sister. Low key I wouldn't be surprised if Toby is doing this with Rhet. But sure whatever it's okay. Saving her life and all that.

A neglectful husband pushes his wife to an affair. When the affair ends, the wife's partner nearly kills her and her unborn daughter. The husband kills the affair partner. Justice is justice. Woman beaters can all choke. So okay with me.

September has run out of food and is facing death by starvation. She begins to cannibalize her family's loyal staff. They do not fight back. I WOULD NEVER. But I mean I bet if cooked right we could probably taste really good. Especially the chubby people.

A mother gives birth to identical twins. One follows their ambitions and the other becomes a shut in. The family make it clear which child they prefer. It's the other sibling's fault for becoming a shut in.

Natalie is so focused on survival she fires a shot without thinking. She did not intend to kill her elderly neighbor, but she hides the body regardless. She denies knowing what happened to the now missing resident. It's only illegal if you get caught.

A woman is facing a lifetime of medical issues. She continues to put her family and those around her in emotional and medical debt. She lives a hollow life and continues leaching off of those who support her. Sucks for all of them. Her parents should have had better insurance. Or I'm sure there's charities for stuff like that. I think my mother runs one.

Please provide a response to each of the following prompts. Leaving a prompt blank will also be considered a response, and you will be assessed for refusal to answer.

In the event of a life or death situation, would you put yourself or others first? I mean, I value my own life first of course.

How far would you be willing to go to ensure your own survival throughout this ordeal? I refuse to die in a gross apocalypse.

Is there anyone in the building you have developed strong attachments to? My family of course. Blue is kinda cool but I just met him. Ria is okay, even if she just married for money, she's fun. Um... I don't really socialize lower...

Do you think it is possible to survive infection through alternative means such as removing the infected limb? Would you be willing to undergo this procedure to ensure your own survival? These are questions for Toby, but also, I refuse to lose a limb. I'd be useless, at that point just end my misery.

Will following the general consensus lead to improved odds of survival, or would you have a better chance following an assigned leader? Considering that I think Daddy's the leader, I'll go with that one.

What is the appropriate response to the following situation?

Your daughter falls ill and needs a specific, uncommon kind of antibiotic that will be hard to find; without the full course, the pathogen will survive, regroup, and kill her anyway. You are scavenging a pharmacy, where you find another group, and manage to not shoot each other. You ask them about the antibiotic, and they have it, but they also need the antibiotic, for the wife of someone in their group. You cannot share the antibiotic because it would just kill both people, and they have the antibiotic in their pack. This is likely the only complete dose set you will find, as the other stores have been picked totally clean and there are no friendly groups in the area. Please, no one is worth more than my own blood. Fuck them, those antibiotics would be mine. A stiletto makes a good puncturing weapon you know. Ariana Rockefeller and I learned that in a self defense course we took before we went to Ibiza.

#Task 02 #bnytask

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skellebonez · 3 years

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Who Do I Go To? (Monkie Kid Fanfic)

I totally did not accidentally post this early before I edited it or added everything from my wip file... no... but anon, you gave me so much FREEDOM with this that I just went absolutely off the rails. This is not only set in a post S3 scenario where everyone survives and most of the villains have some kind of at least semi-redemption (except LBD, rip), this does feature a crackship or two of mine (you can read the tags to see the ships before you read)! Sun Wukong also has all of his immortality and some of his powers, I am writing this with the idea that he transferred most of them to MK and some of that was permanent once LBD was defeated and MK got his own back.

So... what if Sun Wukong did start communicating with the others in S3... but still has been bottling up his emotions about the past for so long he doesn’t feel he can talk to anyone because of their shared experiences? And what happens when that guilt and grief finally has someone willing to listen?

“What are you doing here, Si-SUN Wukong?” The Demon Bull King asked slowly, stumbling over his usual insult for the one once so close to him. They still weren’t close, and it was doubtful they would ever be as long as the sworn brothers they once were, but they were no longer at each other’s throats anymore.

That didn’t change how bizarre it was to see The Great Sage Equal To Heaven just... sitting outside his new home with no warning.

“DBK!” Wukong exclaimed, more startled than the larger demon was expecting as he jumped up and turned and if he didn’t look like he’d been hit with a truck metaphorically DBK didn’t know how to describe the way his fur stood on end and the redness in the other’s eyes. “I. UH. Was. Just stopping by to say hi!”

“No you weren’t,” DBK said, face falling into a deadpan glower. “You don’t do that. Even after 500 years I know you don’t.”

“I can start!” Wukong defended, crossing his arms and looking away with a wide teeth showing smile.

Too wide.

Even after everything that happened between them, from Red Boy to what happened when he needed his wife’s fan to sealing him in the mountain and everything that transpired with the Little Thief, he recognized that unhappy nervous smile.

“You can,” DBK said with a nod, gesturing to the smaller being. “You can also be here for a reason. Like what I heard you muttering to yourself behind the door.”

“And that’s my cue to leave!” The Monkey King announced as he turned to walk away before a large hand, with shocking gentleness for the one attached to it, wrapped around his shoulders.

“If you need to talk-”

“No, haha, I most certainly have no need for that!”

“-you know we’ve already made peace. I-”

“You don’t need to do anything,” Wukong insisted, struggling only a little before freeing himself from the other’s grip with an even wider nervous smile.

“-am willing to listen.”

“Don’t have to!”

“Are you at least talking to anyone?”

Neither of them said anything, The Demon Bull King staring down at The Monkey King with both frustrated annoyance and genuine concern in his expression.

The former he could deal with, but the later was so new again that...

Sun Wukong panicked.

“.... OKEY BYE!” He yelled, jumping and allowing his cloud to catch him and take him off.

"YOU CAN'T HIDE FROM YOUR FEELINGS FOREVER SUN WUKONG!"

"I HID FROM THE WORLD FOR 500 YEARS AND I TURNED OUT JUST FINE, I THINK I'LL MANAGE!"

“He turned out fine, he says,” Princess Iron Fan called from behind her husband as she emerged from their home. “So fine that it took him losing his invincibility and his successor nearly being killed for him to admit he needed help.”

DBK grunted, nodding in agreement at her words.

“He needs more, still, my dear. Even I can see that.”

“Let’s call in some reinforcements then, darling. I think there are two people who may be able to get through to him.”

Sun Wukong sat on the beach of Mount Huaguo’s island home, clearly trying not to think about what had just transpired.

“Hey.”

“How did you even know to look for me here?” Sun Wukong asked, not nearly as startled this time. He’d heard the footsteps coming for a long time, the other apparently wanting to make his presence known.

“Bull King called Pigsy’s asking for MK. MK called me since he’s working. I remembered where you like to sulk. Hence: I’m here.”

Wukong groaned, wrapping his arms around his knees and burying his face in them. “I shouldn’t have even left the house today.”

“But you left,” Macaque said with a shrug, watching the other stew in his frustration at himself. “And you went to see DBK... and I guess Princess Iron Fan too? But you ran off. Why?”

“I can’t check up on an old friend turned enemy turned less enemy to ‘not exactly friend but we’re not trying to kill each other’ without being questioned?” Wukong grumbled into his arms.

“Not when you make him sound as worried as he did when he talked to MK,” Macaque continued, voice becoming more tense. “You didn’t go to apologize or explain anything, I was there when all that went down. So... did you finally go to talk about everything e-”

“No.” The word was said with such coldness that Macaque knew it was put on. It wasn’t out of malice but something else, something more worried and fearful. “No. I can’t talk to him about... I told him everything that explained what happened. I apologized. I don’t need to talk more.”

"I don't understand why you're so opposed to to just talking about, you know... how you’re doing," Macaque said with a concerned frown. It almost felt odd on his face. Almost. He was still getting used to the whole "not being mortal eternal enemies and now being friends and kinda sorta caring about each other again" thing. "I know it's been centuries and all and you're out of practice but like... it's been centuries."

"I just... can't, Macaque," Wukong rebutted as he refused to lift his head from his arms. "I just can't."

"Why?"

"Don't."

The single word stayed in their air between them, heavy and hard and meaning more than the immortal would ever admit to.

"Come on, there has to be a reason," Macaque insisted as he sat down beside the other immortal. When no response came he sighed, tail flicking absently and flipping over some of the rocks on the beach as they sat in silence for few minutes. "You know... I started talking to someone."

"What?" Wukong turned his head, just enough to look at the other monkey from the corner of his eye.

“Sandy’s a good listener,” Macaque continued, falling back down to lay flat on his back and gaze up at the clouds. He remembered that Wukong felt better, sometimes, when you looked away when talked to. Didn’t know why, but he remembered. “Not exactly the kind of therapy he thinks I need, but he lends me his cats and he lets me talk and sometimes asks if I want advice. Sometimes I say yes, but when I say no he understands. Sometimes I just want to rant at that one little one eyed cat he has and she listened to... I think. She’s a cat so I wouldn’t know. He thinks I should see someone more experienced, an expert. Maybe he’s right, I dunno, but this helps enough for now.

“... who are you and what have you done with the Six-Eared Macaque?” Wukong asked with a soft glower, one that was clearly in jest from the tiny smile the other could see.

“Same Macaque,” the other said with a laugh, sitting back up with a theatrical flourish. “Just realized that talking to someone isn’t as dumb or useless as I made it out to be in my head. A lot of the stuff I thought about alone wasn’t exactly the best. Or healthiest. But now I can get that out there and sometimes it makes Sandy look like he ate a whole lime which probably means it’s good it’s not in my head anymore.”

“You ramble a lot,” Wukong said with a chuckle, tail swishing softly beside him before nudging against Macaque’s. He tensed before it slowly wrapped around the other’s. “It feels odd, having you try to cheer me up again after... everything.”

“Bad odd or good odd?”

“Good.”

“That’s.... good,” Macaque said, squeezing Wukong’s tail with his own. “Feels odd for me too. Like I’m out of practice too. But it’s good odd...” The two sat in silence for a moment, just enjoying each other’s company before he continued. “I do think you should talk to someone. Anyone.”

“I don’t know who, though. Every time I try I just... clam up and run away. I’ve put so much on MK already,” Wukong said, tail squeezing around Macaque’s loosely in return. “And Pigsy and Sandy... After all that came out, that Sandy is Sha Wujing and Pigsy is Zhu Bajie’s reincarnation... I just... I can’t talk to them either, even though Pigsy doesn’t remember anything at all. And you... DBK... everyone... who do I go to that knows enough about me to know what they’re in for but I won’t have those memories floating around in the back of my head toward making me run away?”

“Well, you could have Sandy help you get a therapist. Prepare them in advance. Or, if you’re not ready for that, you could talk to Tang?” Macaque suggested with a shrug. “He listens to me when I’m not talking to Sandy... but that’s probably because we’re dating, that’s what it is now instead of courting, right? So he kinda has to I think? Pigsy and MK talk to him too but with me I think it’s different.”

"I don't think that's how it works," Wukong said with a half hearted chuckle as he finally raised his head all the way. "Besides, I've known Tang longer."

"By like 3 months."

"3 months more is still enough to know that if he doesn't want to listen to you he won't. The man knows how to make a speedy exit."

"Guess that's one more thing that sets him apart from his great-great-great-great-great-whatever uncle," Macaque admitted with a shrug and a chuckle of his own. He squeezed his tail around Wukong's, smile softening when he felt it being returned.

“Feels... weird though,” Wukong said with a shrug. “The two of them looking so much alike.”

“Yeah, but that’s it,” Macaque rebutted. “He’s Tang Sanzang’s great-whatever nephew 5 times removed or whatever and he looks like him. Other than that? He knows pretty much all of your history. He’s mostly out of the hero worship zone but he still respects you a lot. Aside from everything that happened with LBD and MK you two have the least history out of everyone so maybe whatever’s in your head making you clam up might not stop you. And it couldn't hurt to try. It’s not therapy, it’s just talking about something that’s bothering you. Worst that can happen is you get nervous and fumble and he takes the opportunity to ask you 40 questions about the times you were almost incinerated by a baby."

"That was one time!"

“Uh,” Tang started, staring out the open door with wide eyes at the being before him. “Hi. I didn’t exactly expect to you see today.”

“I didn’t exactly expect to be here today,” Wukong said awkwardly, nervous smile taking over his face as his tone became far too jovial for what he was about to ask. “Macaque sent me to... talk to you. About me?” His smile drooped bit by bit as he said these words, slowly starting to lose his determination to go through with this. “Oh second thought, maybe I should-”

"No," Tang said, reaching out to put a hand on the immortal's shoulder. It was nothing, really, not to someone as strong as he was. Not when he could brush it off and walk away. Go home. Just sit on his couch and watch Monkey King The Animated Series again and just think about how no one deserved to be saddled with his problems anymore. But Wukong didn't. "Whatever it is, we’re going to talk about this now. I know I’m not trained like Sandy is, but I know how to listen. And if you need someone to listen to you, I can. You wouldn't have come here to talk if you didn't."

“... ok...” Sun Wukong said, letting Tang wrap his arm around his back and guide him inside his shared home with Pigsy and Macaque.

It was... odd. Being inside this place for the first time. He’d been outside of the door more than once, invited in as well. But never inside.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Tang said, stopping his guidance once they reached the sofa. “I’m no Sandy, but I was making myself some tea and it is a batch of his own anyway. I’ll grab us some snacks too.”

“Snacks would be great,” Wukong admitted, watching the other disappear into the house’s kitchen before he sighed and gripped his thrashing tail and muttered to himself. “What am I doing..? I shouldn’t put all this on Tang... I should have gone with Macaque’s first suggestion, I’m-”

“Do you prefer lychee or persimmon?” Tang asked suddenly, startling the immortal for the second time that day. “We’re out of peach bao, but MK’s been making them out of lots of fruits and we have so many that I was planning on eating them myself.”

The scholar returned, faster than expected, with a full tray in hand. Teapot, two tea cups, and a steamer box that presumably held the buns he was asking about.

“Uh... persimmon,” Wukong answered, and he watched as Tang poured each of them a cup of tea and removed some clearly fresh (or at least made some time earlier in the day and freshly steamed), pieces of fruit laden bao to put on a plate for his guest before taking a seat in a chair across from him. “You were... getting lunch?”

Tang shrugged, laughing as he took a bite of one of his own. “Just wanted a snack. But,” He smiled, gesturing to the Monkey King. “We’re not here to talk about snacks. What’s on your mind?”

“Awfully forward start.”

“I try to be forward with the people I consider my friends.”

“... You consider me... a friend?” Wukong asked slowly, turning the bao over in his hands. It was well made, perfect he would say. You’d think MK would have been making them all his life, not that he’d learned how to on the drone ship while on the run from an evil super demon bent on erasing his mentor from the world.

“After everything we went through, how could I not?” Tang said, putting his food down to sip his tea and then putting that down as well and looking at him seriously. “You’re here because it’s the anniversary of the day you sealed away the Demon Bull King, aren’t you?”

The bao in his hands wasn’t perfect anymore. Instead the red lychee inside dripped from his claws from where they punctured it in surprise.

“How did you-?”

“My specialty study is your history after all,” Tang said, smile returning with a sad tint. “I’ve known the date for years but I felt it was something to keep to myself. For some reason. Now with you and DBK back I think that was a good choice. It feels too personal to have out in the open for everyone to make a spectacle of.”

“Is it selfish of me to be thankful for that?” Wukong muttered, gently placing the bao on the plate to lick his claws clean.

“I don’t think so,” Tang answered.

“I feel selfish though,” he continued, not managing to take note of how Tang sat up straighter and turned more toward him. “I went to DBK’s to... I don’t know. I wanted to apologize again? But I already did and he accepted it and it feels selfish to want to again. Then I just. I froze.”

“Why?” Tang asked, scooting closer.

“It felt wrong.”

“Because you would make him feel awkward?”

“NO!” Wukong groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I just. I feel...” He took in a shaky breath, claws digging into his skin slightly.

“Don’t,” Tang’s voice came soft and closer than Wukong expected, as did the hands on his own slowly pulling his claws away from his face. “Don’t hurt yourself. And don’t bottle it up. I’ll listen to you. No matter what it is. It’s not selfish, feeling things isn’t selfish.”

“I miss it,” Wukong breathed out, shaky and choppy as his throat tightened as the words started to pour out of him. “I miss him. How things used to be between us and Iron Fan. I miss that I never got to meet Red Son when he was Red Boy. I miss Beng and Ba and Ma and Liu and how things used to be. I miss Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing even though they’re here. I miss my Tang Sanzang. I’d been alone for 500 years and I missed so much and I did that to myself and it’s selfish to miss like that...”

He didn’t realize his cheeks were wet until his hands had been let go and one of Tang’s rubbed a cloth against them. Tang cupped his cheeks softly before wrapping his arms around him and tucking the Monkey King’s head into the space between his neck and shoulder.

“No... no it’s not. You’re allowed to miss things, Sun Wukong. Just like anyone else.”

Sun Wukong started to feel better.

He didn’t know why that was what did it, but the dam broke. It broke and his tears came pouring out as he hugged the man who reminded him so much of his Master. He didn’t know if anything he said in the mean time made any sense, if he was just blubbering and finally letting himself mourn what he’d lost and never had, but Tang didn’t ever chastise him. He let him weep and hold him and for the first time in years...

“Oh!” Princess Iron Fan startled as she opened the door to see who had knocked, finding herself face to face at sunset with one Great Sage. “You’ve returned.”

“Are you and DBK free?” Sun Wukong asked, smile no longer too wide. “I... kinda just wanna talk with you for a bit.”

“Well... I think that would be lovely.”

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #fanfic #prompt fill #no ships #gen fic #hurt comfort #sun wukong #monkey king #six eared macaque #liu er mihou #dbk and pif #tang #technically tintedlenses is in here #and hinted freesquidinknoodles i had to add that in after THAT ART TODAY #but it's only a couple lines

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lepusrufus · 3 years

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Lil' Mia and Miranda thing since I dragged you guys down the rarepair hell with me~

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Lab equipment was really not meant to blend well within a lived-in home. And it didn't. The plush carpet on top of wooden floors giving way to the smooth lab flooring that squeaked under boots not appropriate for the setting created an odd contrast. Not that that was uncharacteristic for Miranda, any of her workspaces falling perfectly under the description of an organized mess, with particular emphasis on mess.

With Rose sleeping peacefully in the room generously, suspiciously so, provided by Miranda, Mia decided to stretch her legs by walking around the manor, the baby monitor connected to her phone. The building was relatively big, albeit quite old, tucked in the woods somewhere between the Beneviento house and the factory, with a tunnel conveniently connecting it to the labs running under the town. It had close to no spatial organization, bedrooms and labs and storage rooms alternating by patterns known only by the so-called goddess, or most likely not even by her.

Mia did not trust the woman. Not with the memories of the prison cell and the kidnapping of her daughter for experiments still fresh in her mind. But, the tiredness of motherhood and the odd loneliness that came with being the only two inhabitants of the house that were capable of coherent speech as of now, had her longing for some company.

It was an easy task finding Miranda, the soft cries of Eva guiding her down a short hallway to a lab door left ajar. Inside, the woman was sat at a desk, a laptop with half written reports and notes in front of her, pushed out of the grasp of the fussing infant in her arms. Miranda was far too busy trying to calm her daughter down enough to fall asleep to notice Mia leaning on the doorframe, curiously observing the scene. Oddly human, in her failing attempt to get her child to stop crying, when at any given time she could get anyone to kneel before her and bend over backwards to her every whim. Yet a small infant was giving her so much trouble.

"Need a hand?" Mia offered with a small chuckle. Should she even offer her help?

"I am fine thank you." But a slightly louder wail from Eva came with perfect timing to disprove her words.

Miranda's shoulders seemed to slump ever so slightly as her eyes closed slowly, the usual makeup replaced by dark circles, testimony to the long hours spent going through decades of research and reports while also caring for her newly reborn daughter. It was oddly bittersweet, to see a woman so dignified otherwise all but beg the small child to go to sleep so she could finish her work.

Work, Mia concluded, that was rather essential for the whole place, and also her home for now, to continue existing the way it was. With a sigh she walked up to the desk and gently stoked Eva's short brunette hair. "Here, let me hold her. At least until you finish typing whatever it is you're doing," she said waving a hand in the direction of the forgotten computer, who's screen had turned black by now.

There were a few long seconds of hesitation, but a weary glance at the mountain of files on the other side of the desk that she was yet to go through convinced Miranda to finally allow her daughter slip into Mia's arms. It took maybe five minutes of cooing and a one sided conversation made in silly voices to turn the cries into giggles, small hands trying to grasp at Mia's finger that was ticklishly caressing puffy cheeks. Exhausted from crying, Eva's eyes slowly fluttered shut and she was gingerly lowered into a crib set by the desk, one of the many scattered around the house.

Miranda watched the scene unfold with uncharacteristic softness slipping by the icy mask of her steely eyes. Even goddesses can be caught by surprise it seemed, and whether it was due to the apparent skills that Mia had with calming Eva down or at how she was willing to help despite their precarious position was up to debate.

"Shouldn't you be better at this," Mia asked, pulling one of the chairs closer to sit in. "I know it's been, what, two or three centuries or something but haven't you done this before?"

Her question was obviously poking fun for the most part, but Miranda couldn't help the tired sigh that crawled its way from the depths of her now useless lungs.

"No, actually. I haven't," she responded curtly as she grabbed one of the files and opened it in order to transcribe its contents in a digital file. "At least not on my own," she added upon remembering the numerous subjects she helped raise during her time working with The Connections.

"Oh? Did you have a sweet loving husband once upon a time? Do tell me more," Mia said leaning her chin on her palms as if she were a teenager at a sleepover talking about crushes, although the memory of Ethan clawing its way to the forefront of her thoughts made her grimace slightly, until she pushed it back down in the depths of her mind.

It was foolish perhaps, acting like that around a woman that could, and would with the right motivation, kill her in the blink of an eye. Truth be told though, Mia was bored out of her mind, so what better way to pass the time than push Miranda's buttons, especially when she seemed too tired to retaliate.

The so-called goddess grimaced, at least ten different reasons to find the thought outrageous flashing through her mind and, settling on the most obvious one, looked at her, one eyebrow raised. "I was a nun."

Mia leaned back in her chair, looking at the black head covering hanging from a hook behind the door, together with black robes. She had to wonder if they were the same ancient ones or if she replaced them every once in a while.

"Yeah, I couldn't tell," she chuckled. "A nun turned goddess. How ironic don't you think."

"Worshipping was never quite up my alley. And neither were men," she replied flatly, turning the pages in front of her and typing the relevant information in the file she had open on the screen.

Mia's eyes widened slightly with an amused oh. "So was she raised by the convent then?"

Was this information really to be given out? Mirada did not like talking about her past, or personal information in general. Gods did not need backstories, they simply were.

She sighed. "No, no. Her parents died when she was four and with nobody else to look for her, she was brought to us." Miranda gave a small shrug, pausing to type up decades old results on lycans. "I was the newest there, so the nuns dumped her on me. I was so mad at first, but she's always been such a brilliant little girl, even back then. She would ask for a bedtime story and did not complain when I'd start reading from one of the medical books I stole from the merchant. There was just something about her that made her grow on me."

With the paragraph done, she pushed her chair back, quietly so as to not have its legs scratch against the linoleum floor, and walked to another, smaller desk pushed against a wall. From there, she walked back to the crib where the small infant was sleeping peacefully, a small doll in hand. Doll that Mia recognized immediately, as an identical one was by her own daughter's sleeping form, back in their room. It was a small replica of Angie, plush and soft to the touch, unlike its real life wooden counterpart, the white dress made of delicate silk. Both toys had been made by Donna herself as gifts.

"But as you can guess, she was well past a toddler when she was placed in my care," Miranda finished, leaving the doll just by her sleeping daughter's side.

"So you suck with babies," Mia concluded with a grin. She would have laughed, but had enough clarity of mind to be quiet.

Miranda simply gave her a tired glare before rolling her eyes. She went back to her desk and opened a new file to be transcribed, this one on the reservoir's structure.

"I can care for them," she started, an odd almost imperceptible strain in her voice. "It just gets trickier when it's my own daughter and not an act."

Mia nodded absent mindedly, eyes darting to Eva. To see a woman with such power and ruthlessness, who could level the whole town to the ground if she so pleased, show such raw genuine affection towards the child made some of the notions in her brain crumble to the ground. Miranda was still the same woman who, ironically enough, experimented on more children than she cared to count, but then again Mia was also a willing participant in said experiments so was she really that much better?

She definitely was, Mia concluded, choosing to ignore a small pang at her heart when she watched all the ice in those gray eyes melt into tenderness while looking at her daughter. Instead, she started toying with one of the many pens scattered on the desk.

"Since I'm staying here, I don't mind helping you out with her," Mia said quietly, keeping her eyes on the small giraffe doodle she was doing on a napkin.

It wasn't for Miranda's sake really. She simply wanted the best for Eva, the child completely innocent unlike the atrocities committed by her mother throughout the last few centuries. Besides, it would be nice for Rose to have a friend not unlike herself, given the yet to be understood power both girls possessed.

"There's no need-"

"Consider it a thank you for letting us stay here, without a sniper pointing at my daughter's head at all times," Mia finished, a slither of ire slipping into her tone on the last words, the memory of a rookie agent panicking and pointing his gun to Rose for the unforgivable crime of being a hungry crying child seared behind her eyelids.

Miranda sighed, an odd sense of relief washing over her. After centuries of trying to bring her back, you'd think the she would do anything to spend each and every second with Eva, not letting anyone else care for her in any capacity, but truth be told, the prospect of not facing motherhood completely alone, even if Mia was helping her solely out of some sense of obligation, did not sound half bad.

"As you wish," she finally said, going back to the half written paragraph her mind drifted away from minutes earlier.

#mother miranda x mia #mia winters #fanfic #my art

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trulyhumblenarcissist · 3 years

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Abourt Rei Himura and BNHA Chapter 301

Now that I've read the official release of chapter 301 I can finally try to gather my thoughts. I think this time the particular rendition of dialogues and inflections provided by Caleb Cook is more crisp and clear than usual, especially in throwing "shade" upon Endeavor as a father figure. But let's do things in order...

Title: THE WRONG WAY TO PUT OUT A FIRE - a simple, but stark message that doesn't leave space for ambiguity. There was a fire, an imminent tragedy that could and should have been avoided, but whoever tried to fix it, did it all wrong and now we have to deal with a huge arson.

CARLESS HANDLING OF FIRE, on the other hand, doesn't quite cut it for me, because it seems like everything was caused by a foolish mistake. "I was carless and now I'm in a pinch"- type of situation, while it's perfectly clear that Endeavor and Rei decided purposefully which "strategy" to use with Touya. A BAD one to say it lightly. Rei's contribution and complicity is debatable, of course, and I'll touch on this later.

Let me get this clear though: I'm not trying in any way to critique the hard work of unofficial translators. I can't say anything relevant because I'm not a translator in the first place (I can barely understand English and my native language on a good day) and also because I am so grateful for everything they do in order to give us really good material FREE OF CHARGE basically a second after the release in Japan. I'm just interested about the different shades of subtext we can catch if we read the story through multiple filters. Every translation is unique because it carries the personal spin of the author even if the bias should be inexistent or ideally undetectable...

However, back to the chapter

REI'S CAGE

The first scene opens on a luxurious classic Japanese villa, with Enji, Rei and her parents discussing the motivation behind Enji's proposal. Or at least we initially think that's what's going on... Because in reality Rei's family couldn't care less about the motivation. Everything these people see is a wealthy, famous guy the next number one hero ready to take their daughter in marriage. I guess the Himuras are pretty broke, thight on cash, their old prestige is definitely gone and all they can do to save themselves from shame and poverty is "to sell" their only remaining asset.

During the whole ordeal, Rei is standing still, silent, cold as ice. She knows she doesn't really have a choice. How mortifying and sad is this? An adult, capable woman has no agency whatsoever, she is used again and again and she stoically accepts this treatment from every single dominant figure in her life until she can't be stoic anymore. I really hope Horikoshi's going to give her a much more proactive role in saving her family and it seems the narrative wants us to expect this type of character development.

I'd like to point out 2 panels in particular:

First one

In this scene the Todorokis are back from their trip to the doc, who clearly said they shouldn't try to conceive a child with a perfect quirk mix because it is dangerous (and morally questionable too). Rei understands this fact and tries to dissuade Enji, but he doesn't listen, because he's projecting all his pent-up resentment and frustration onto Touya. He knows how it feels to crush against an unbreakable wall, since he can't surpass All might and his son can't too. He had to learn this truth the hard way, so Touya needs to do the same. Enji is purposefully throwing upon his son years of failures, self consciousness and despair, just because the boy has to get it into his thick skull that he is a dud, just like his father. This is not a hopeless dad making a mistake bona fide, this is a broken man trying to destroy his self reflection by proxy, annihilating everything Touya is, swiping the kid's identity under the rug. He describes his son's dreams and sadness as something birthed from stubbornness. He is auto-convincing himself however (because Endeavor is not stupid). A little bit later he's basically saying: "Touya let's play make believe! We can go on like everything I had engulfed in your psyche never existed, you're a failed attempt so you don't exist. Your needs and wants are silly and useless, nothing worth dealing with now that I can't make you my prodigy. Why don't you go play with the other failures so that I don't have to look at myself while taking actually care of you. I don't want to see you, because it's too painful, because you're a remainder of my own inadequacy."

Note: If you want to read an incredibly well done analysis about Endeavor's motives and psyche, you can get it on @thyandrawrites , she's dwelt on everything extensively and way better than me.

I really want to talk about Rei though. In the panel I showed above, her expression is a bit tricky to analyse. At first she is very vocal about her position. She doesn't want to put Touya through useless suffering, especially since they have a scientific reason not to. They have no guarantee of success with other children, besides, they could possibly have to deal with other health related issues. However, all it takes to convince her in the end is Enji's half assed attempt at the "It's for Touya's sake" shtick. Is it really? Why doesn't she question her husband anymore?

Well... I think before Natsuo, she was probably hoping Touya would let go "naturally", with time and growth, maybe by taking interest in his other siblings. Rei said she wanted to have more children because in her mind they would have supported and loved each other. Maybe she was naive enough to think that a big family full of kids few years apart from each other was all Touya needed to distract himself from his purposes... BUT and here is the point I want to get across: She was deluding herself too, much like Enji. The ugly truth, in my opinion, is that Rei is a person prone to protect herself by going with everything other people want, especially if said people are capable of hurting her. Yes, she was hurt time and time again, but what would have happened if she really tried to stop Enji?

What I am trying to say is that Rei is the kind of person who endures to survive. She holds a "captive" mentality in which, by indulging her captor's desires, she can continue living with less possibile damage. If I stay still and silent, if I don't make a scene, I can go on, I can hold onto the few things I have that actually make me happy.

Let's think about it... Enji was so obsessed with his psychotic, power-hungry quest that he would have probably disown Rei. She would have been thrown away for a more compliant woman with an ice quirk, or something similar, this resulting in her probably losing everything, the respect and love of her family (the Himuras) and also her own children. Because we know Endeavor can definitely hold a grudge and is vendicative.

So, clarifying, Rei doesn't put up a fight because she is scared for herself in a way... She is scared to be hurt in the worst possible way (by losing her little bit of serenity), so her strategy is to endure and to keep up a facade of control and purpose.

Rei, ironically just like Touya and other characters in mha, doesn't really get what unconditional love is. Her family loves her until she can be useful to the Himura name and status, her husband loves her for her quirk. Her children, however, love her for who she is and she wants to stay with them... Only to be forced to leave them later anyway.

The few times Rei actually smiles are when she is with her babies. She is a deeply loving mother in her core, but her declining mental health makes her a very lacking caregiver.

This panel, in my opinion, shows the point of no return for Rei. She can't keep the glacial facade forever...

After Natsuo's turn to be deemed a failure, Endeavor is crazier than ever, because All Might is as popular and loved as ever and he hasn't make any progress into his eugenetic games. The last two images of Rei are very telling. She is exhausted, but she knows what her husband wants from her this time too. She looks like a lifeless doll and honestly I can easily see Shouto's conception as... Non consensual and I will stop here.

Then Shouto is born, the last, perfect specimen... And Rei isn't doing much for Touya, we can see she's apparently blind towards her eldest son's distress already after Natsuo's birth... But why?

Because she is actively avoiding to face the Touya's problems too.

If Touya is still suffering, is still feeling stressed and worthless, then everything Rei has endured, everything she pretended not to feel for the sake of her family has been completely useless. What Rei cannot look at is her own parental failure, is the concrete proof that while protecting herself and her peace she did not protect her children too, because the two interests were never really aligned, even if she really believed so. She never had a functional family to preserve in the first place and everything she accepted to do was all for the sake of a false sense of belonging.

However is too easy to say she should've rebelled against Enji and dumped his sorry ass. Abuse traps you and your abuser too in a cage tricky to escape.

What I imagine will happen next chapter is one of two things:

Enji stops Touya by using brute force, probably also saying something really scarring to reinforce the notion that Shouto is the only child he cares about.

Rei stops Touya by using her quirk. This act could be considered by Touya another confirmation that even his mother actually does something by her own accord only when Shouto's safety is at risk

Necessary conclusions

I don't blame Rei for her actions too much. She is a victim turned abuser by circumstances, but more importantly she's actually taken mesures to prevent herself from hurting her children again. She's trying to heal for her family's sake, really this time. Ten years spent dealing with guilt and having actual therapy seem a good plan to me. And now she's the one ready to snap Enji back to reality.

Enji, on the other hand, is trying too. It's too little too late, but if he stops avoiding reality and hardly works on understanding his family's point of view I don't think he is completely unredeemable. I don't see him surviving his last confrontation with Touya, thought... But I could be totally wrong.

Obviously everything I've said it's my personal analysis on Rei's character, as I interpret her actions and words, so feel free to contradict me and/or to add anything you might see fit.

#bnha301 #bnha meta #mha #my hero academia #todoroki enji #endevor #todoroki rei #rei himura #todoroki family #tw abuse

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peterrparrkerr · 3 years

Text

Royal au - read on ao3

Tagging: @lokitonypeter @just-things-things @thegreenmetblue @someonepostedart @andacheesyoneliner @bluestarker @lilcoffeecup @useless-fanfictions-for-mcu @tnpt @sarcastich

Reign au!!

*-*

Peter was nervous. He hadn't seen prince Steve in years. Not since they were both children.

He hides the shaking of his hands at his back as he walks towards the castle he once spent his summers in.

It seems smaller and more daunting all at once. Before, he hadn't known about the arranged marriage.

Now he does.

And with an attempted assassination at his back, Peter's only slightly overwhelmed at the prospect of calling this place home.

There's a welcoming party for him. Servents and maids, stable hands and kitchen staff all standing on either side of the gravel pathway that leads to the castle doors.

Peter takes a deep, shaky breath as he sees the king and queen step out. The king looks much older. Deeper wrinkles along the sides of his mouth and eyes, the skin of his cheeks not as plump as before. They sag just enough to be noticeable. And his hair is graying at the temples, thinner than Peter remembered.

"Is that what I have to look forward to, when I am king?" Peter murmured quietly, nerves getting the best of him.

"Of course not," Mj spoke at his side. "King Joseph rules with an iron fist and decite. Not to mention he has lived past two quarters of his life."

"I should hope I live that long," Peter huffed, looking from the king, to the queen. "We should have postponed until after the wedding."

The queen -Sarah- was just as Peter remembered her to be. Short, fair skinned and blond, just like Steve.

"Nonsense," Ned said, giving Peter a small nudge. "The festivities will take your mind off of all that comes with being the future king."

Peter huffs again, but begins making his way towards the royal couple. Mj and Ned are both behind him, on either shoulder.

"Where is the prince?" Ned asked quietly.

"I'm not sure," Peter said, grasping his hands more tightly. It had been so long, he wondered if Steve would even recognize him.

"Is that him?" Mj asked. Peter glances from the king and queen to the left, behind the wall of servents.

Peter blinked, a quiet exhale forced from his parted lips.

"No," Peter shook his head, eyes never leaving the man that made his way towards the welcoming party, taking his spot in the crowd.

"No, that's Tony," Peter breathed. He couldn't believe how Tony had grown.

"The king's bastard?" Ned asked, aghast. "He lives in the castle?

He was no longer the gangly kid with dark hair. No, Tony had grown into his limbs. His dark hair was styled artfully, and he even had facial hair now.

Peter almost stumbled from staring.

"Oh."

Peter pulled his attention from Tony to where Mj was looking, and his eyes widened.

Steve was walking towards them. He had grown too, in ways other than his half brother.

His shoulders were broad, hair even more blond than Peter remembered, and he had grown so tall.

Peter couldn't help the giddy smile that pulled at his lips, and he nearly broke out into a run to reach Steve.

It took everything in him not to, and the two met in the middle.

"I can't believe it," Steve spoke first, looking Peter over. "You've grown."

Peter doesn't know why that makes his cheeks burn. He shakes it off though.

"So have you, your grace," he replies. "Obviously. You didn't look like this ten years ago."

He hears Mj snicker behind him and he inwardly curses. But Steve just smiles.

"You can just call me Steve," he hums.

"I'm Peter."

A smile pulls at Steve's lips. "I remember."

*-*

It takes Peter a couple days to really settle into the new routine and scenery. Mj and Ned usually keep him company in his chambers, though they've been put to work helping out around the castle when their services aren't needed.

Peter feels a little misplaced still. He's used to running through the hallways with Steve, laughing and playing and being with each other from the time they woke up to the time they went to bed.

But Steve is the future king, and he has responsibilities. They speak during meals, and sometimes Peter catches him during the day and they talk -reminiscing about their shared summers.

But for most of the day, Peter is alone. He can't help but feel a sad sort of melancholy for the months before. It just reminds Peter that he's no longer a child.

He's the future king as well, and there's been many attempts on his life since he was young and naive.

"What are you doing out here all alone, Prince?"

Peter jumps, dropping the rocks he had been picking up from around the lake.

He turns to see Tony, the reins of a black horse in his hand as he makes his way over.

Peter blushes, noting his current state of undress. His belt, shoes and stockings are all on the grass, leaving Peter in nothing but a tunic.

His feet are covered in mud, shins wet from walking into the water.

"I, uh," Peter started, brushing his hands off on his tunic, transferring the dirt onto the fabric.

"I was just exploring," he winces. Not something a future king should be doing.

Tony smirks, and Peter's heart skips a beat. He had grown into a fine man.

"I see some things don't change," he says. Peter steps away from the lake and into the grass.

"What does that mean?" Peter asked, bending down to collect his things.

Tony gives a small shrug.

"Only that I remember you used to bring in little rocks and frogs when you were younger," he said. "You always gave the prettiest stones to Steve, and the frogs to me."

"If I remember correctly, you liked frogs," Peter countered, unsure why he felt the need to get defensive.

"I did," Tony agreed. "It is good to know you haven't changed."

"You have," Peter can't help but respond. "You've grown into your legs."

That makes Tony huff a laugh. Peter blushes deep red, cursing at himself and his mouth.

"Will I see you at the wedding?" Peter asked when Tony turned to leave.

Tony smiles and gives a small nod. "It is my half sister's wedding," he said. "Of course I'll be there."

Peter can't help but smile at that, and Tony climbs onto his horse. "I would get back to the castle soon, it'll be getting dark soon."

*-*

The wedding is wonderful, and it does exactly what Ned said it would. Peter forgets all about his troubles as he dances.

At first, he dances with Mj and Ned, but Steve sweeps him off, practically pulling Peter off his feet.

Peter can't help but smile all night. He doesn't know the sister very well, seeing as she had a similar arrangement with her own betrothed. She was visiting her future husband's home in the summer months too.

As the night draws near its close, Mj grabs Peter's hand, a wide grin on her lips as she tugs Peter from the dance floor.

Ned is close behind, the three of them running down the dark halls.

Peter doesn't know where they're going, but he can't help but be relieved at the reprieve from the festivities.

The room Mj takes them to is small and cramped. Hidden behind a curtain. Peter has half the mind to ask Mj how she found it, but before he can, Mj pulls the small painting from the wall.

What lays behind it has Peter's eyes widening. Its the groom and bride, standing in a candle lit room with four other men.

There's a bed and a bath, and its easy for Peter to deduce whats happening.

"We're not allowed to see this," Peter whispered, turning to Mj. The girl rolled her eyes and nudged him.

"Dont you want to know what to expect on your own wedding night with Steve?" She asked.

Peter's already shaky resolve crumbles, and he turns his eyes back to the room, swallowing thickly.

"They have to watch?" Ned asks, on Peter's other side. Peter doesn't take his eyes off of the two newly married as they begin to pull at their clothes, soft and gentle.

Peter feels his cock fill at the sight of the man taking the princess -soon to be queen- to bed.

"They have to watch, to consumate their marriage," Mj whispered back, her eyes also transfixed.

Peter's aching in his tunic, and he can't help the flush to his cheeks, watching as the man pushes in gently, pushing out a breathy moan from the woman.

The three of them watch until the man cums, and Peter almost cums himself at the sight.

"Go, go, go," Mj whispered, quickly hanging the painting back up.

Peter does, rushing from their hiding place and taking to the stairs. He doesn't think he can make it back to his chambers. He may burst if he doesn't find a release.

He takes a right, then a left until he's so deep in the castle that the only people who might stumble upon him are the servents, and they're all busy with the festivities.

Peter gasps desperately as he leans into the wall, lifting his tunic up and pulling at the drawstring of his pants.

He closes his eyes and bites his lips as he finally gets his hand around his throbbing cock. It feels so good, Peter's knees nearly buckle.

He's so close to cumming in his pants, so focused on getting himself there, that he doesn't realize someone's walked in on him until a hand joins his own.

Peter's eyes snap open and he removes his hand, gasping as his eyes settle on Tony.

The man is close, his breath smelling like wine, dark eyes glinting and smirk tugging at his lips.

His hand squeezes around Peter's cock and he can't help but mewl, eyes rolling up into his head and hips pressing closer.

"Tony," Peter whimpered, rolling his hips. He can't help it. He's stupid on the need to orgasm, after watching the groom and bride, thinking about himself and Steve in that same position.

Its too much for Peter to handle.

"Shh," Tony murmurs, stroking Peter as he leans forward. "I'll take care of you, Prince."

Peter kisses Tony when the man's lips land on his. Hes worried he'll crumble to the ground if the wall weren't there for him to lean on.

Tony's facial hair scratches at Peter's mouth, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine.

Tony moves in closer, practically supporting Peter's weight as he snakes his free arm around Peter's waist.

Peter tries to warn him, but all he manages to get out is a desperate keening noise that Tony eats up.

Peter cums hard into his pants and Tony's hand, which slicks up his movements further, drawing more pleasure.

"There you go, Prince," Tony praised against his mouth before moving to his jaw, still stroking Peter through his orgasm. "Thats it."

Peter doesn't know what came over him. He leans back against the wall, trying to catch his breath. Trying to collect his thoughts.

Tony removes his hand, now covered in cum, and smirks down at Peter.

Peter can't help but whimper at him, unsure of what exactly he should be feeling.

Tony grabs Peter gently by the chin, tilting his head up ever so slightly to plant the softest of kisses to Peter's kiss bruised lips.

"Good night, Prince."

#marvel #tony stark #peter parker #starker #ao3 #my writing #SFSummerBingo21 #steve rogers #spidershield

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gravitywonagain · 2 years

Note

For the ask game! Numbers, 2, 8 and 13

!!!! Thank you so much!!!!!

2. top 5 favorite characters? what specifically do you like about each one?

Oh man, this was harder than anticipated! I decided not to include wwx and lwj because I have spent a lot of time writing about them and why I like them. So, for the rest, in no particular order (because I tried, I really did, but it's too subjective): Wen Qing: She is amazing and I love her. She is complicated and talented and her and wwx should have just stayed in the burial mounds forever and developed new and horrible cultivation practices. Or just grew radishes. Either way, I don't care. I just wish she stayed around longer. Only she can snark wwx back into line and make him eat his goddamn dinner! Plus her whole past with wrh is so fascinating, so complex. Xiao Xingchen (and Song Lan, but if I had to pick one, I pick xxc): Look, this guy was trained by bssr! He and his husband cultivation partner travel the world, don't get involved in sect bullshit, literally say "call me when the world is ending," and then just fuck off to keep all the regular people safe while the sect cultivators kill each other about politics. He goes to his teacher, breaking the one fucking rule she gave him, all to help a man who has already rejected him. And then, while blind, he just keeps doing his thing?! His story is tragic as fuck and I love him. I just want his story, you know? From being brought up the mountain to collecting the scattered pieces of his soul (just let me have this). Nie Huaisang: This man. This man. I love nhs because here is a man who has actively hidden his potential from everyone, and he has succeeded so well that even jgy, who prides himself on his scheming and perception, misses him. Can't see him. And nhs doesn't let on until the very last minute. Meanwhile, he successfully runs a sect while pretending he's useless, he gets to basically just chill and buy pretty fans and make scenes at conferences. Hashtag life goals. Lan Jingyi: "The Un-Lan-est Lan," terrified of ghosts, best friends with Hanguang-jun's kid, wwx's #2 duckling, my sweet boy. I love this kid. I want his entire story. We don't get nearly enough of him in canon, but what we do get is solid gold. I just want to put him in every single scene and hear his commentary. I want him mouthing off to sect leaders and shaking in his boots while he volunteers to be bait for fierce corpses. He makes me so happy. Also he deserves to marry best boy!lsz. Luo Qingyang: Specifically the version in cql. She is just constantly Doing Her Best and I'm here for it. This bitch actually leaves her sect because of the nonsense she just can't stand anymore. And then! She finds a husband and settles down and still nighthunts and she's just a boss. Plus, see headcanon below :)

8. three headcanons: one that you believe so strongly it's pretty much canon, one that doesn't make much sense but it's very dear to your heart, and one that you don't think is close to canon at all but would be interesting if it was.

1. JZXuan and Mianmian are best friends. There's no evidence for this, probably because we don't get the time to explore either of them very much, but sect heir!jzxuan and da-shixiong!mm are best friends forever. Nothing will change my mind. Not even canon evidence. I don't care :) 2. Wen Qing is a lesbian. Why? I don't know. It doesn't even make sense for me because I kind of ship her with jc, but like, in the way that sometimes lesbians are attracted to men. But mean lesbian!wq just makes me happy and so it is true in my head. 3. WWX and LWJ knew that they loved each other but always had reasons not to act on it. Absolutely nothing supports this. Several things actively refute this. But both of these boys are highly intelligent, highly perceptive, and highly self-sacrificing. Also, it's so much more interesting this way. Their mutual obliviousness irks me deeply.

13. opinions on: jiang cheng, jin guangyao, and xue yang?

JC: My feelings about jc are kind of always in flux. Mostly, I think that he had bad parents and a lot of rage. I think he never grew, never worked on himself, especially after his family all died. Yes, he became a sect leader and built his sect back up from ruin, and that's admirable, but that was pretty much done by the time his siblings died. After that, he was never able to move on or let go. He can be interesting to explore, but I don't like him, if that makes sense. JGY: I really like jgy as a character! Like, I hate him, but that's why I like him! He's fascinating and I just wish that in canon he cared about something other than his father's approval. Because there's so many fun aus down that road! And also there's something about his constant calculating that I absolutely love. XY: Okay so I absolutely love the chaos monster that is xy. I especially love his time spent learning all of yllz's horrible notes. The whole Yi City arc is fascinating and I wish that it had been expanded into a full story, but xy is a monster. An interesting monster, but still a monster. I don't like shipping the songxuexiao in canon timeline unless things are super different, though. The manipulation just pokes at my bruises in a really bad way.

#okay so translating that kids story took waayyyyyyyy longer than i thought #why did i use so many new words?!? what is wrong with me?!#but this was a perfect way to chill out after!!! :D #dovebeast #you are an angel #ask game

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stubbedbakutoes · 4 years

Text

Get a Clue

In which Bakugou only smiles around the people he wants to be around, and his girl (y/n) isn't one of them, especially the man who's hitting on her.

pairing: asshole!bakugou x fem reader

word count: 1.6k

genre: angst, lovers to enemies

masterlist

The car had a tense atmosphere. After one hour into their two hour drive up to their mutual friend Todoroki's wedding, Bakugou and (y/n) hadn’t spoken to each other once, his attention being kept on the road, whilst hers was on the phone in her hands.

“Useless fucking GPS.” Irritation pricked at him as he took a U-turn when they reached a dead end.

“It said to take a left, then a right.” She stated, rolling her eyes in the process.

“And look where it got us.” Rage churned inside of him.

“You took two lefts.” She indicated, glancing over at him just in time to chuckle at him taking notice of his mistake since he swallowed down his frustration.

“Thanks.” He deadpanned, not sounding even an ounce grateful.

They had only been in the reception of the wedding for half an hour when (y/n) noticed Bakugou start to fidget beside her and unnecessarily tap his fingers on the table as if he was counting down the minutes until he could get home.

“Listen to the best man's speech, will you?” She whispered.

“Is it possible for you to go at least two minutes without being annoying?” Bakugou rolled his eyes.

“Is it possible for you to go at least two minutes without that snarl on your face?” (y/n) retorted, “You have a pretty smile, you should show off those teeth more often.”

“I smile around people I want to be around.”

“Oh c'mon, your best friend is getting wedded!” She giggled, moving her chair closer to whisper. “That lady seated across us may look frightening but she's got a big personality and that guy who accidentally stepped on your foot is probably really sweet too-“

“I was talking about you.” His frustration kicked in.

“M-me?” She stuttered, not expecting that from him at all despite his provocative attitude ever since she stopped by his house earlier morning to drive them here.

“Yes, you.” He spoke slowly, as if he was talking to a kid. “You give me an actual headache when you talk. I thought I made that clear. Wake up, get a clue!“

He held up a finger to indicate he wasn't quite done yet. “And I’m not smiling if I want to, it's not as if I’m making the guests tremble with fear. They always seem to choose me over you and, to be straightforward, I don’t blame them because you're so tiring to be with.”

Ouch. That stung. She took a second to sort through her rapidly moving thoughts. "I thought things were going g-great."

Bakugou let out the fakest laugh ever. "Real low, (y/n)."

"Why the fuck are we even together anymore?!" Y/N eventually whisper-yelled, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

"Fuck knows why," he practically spat. "I wouldn't even give a shit if you left."

She was at loss for words, opening and closing her mouth and blinking back the tears she could feel stinging her eyes. She quickly and quietly picking her things up because she no longer had to be here.

"Where – " Bakugou sighed, shutting his eyes and throwing his head back slightly as he groaned. "Where are you going, (y/n)?" He asked tiredly, looking back at the woman in question.

"Why do you care?" (y/n) scoffed, still seated. "You don't want to be around me anyway, right? You want me to take a hint, right?" She mocked. "So...I’m leaving. Leaving, as in— leaving. I’m done. I’m finished, I can’t—” she shook her head. “I’m done. We’re over.”

Bakugou turns to look at her, an almost unimpressed look on his face. “... Okay. And?” He had a sinister smile on his face. “We were never going to last. You’re just— not good enough for me.”

The Bakugou she fell in love with is now nothing but a stranger to her.

(y/n) was in a little black dress that flaunted off her legs with just the right amount of cleavage. Hair's let down, styled carefully, make-up done up as best as she could. (y/n)'s already normally usually feeling like she wasn't good enough for anyone, so having someone she loved with all heart point it out made her feel miserable because tonight was supposed to be different since she actually felt confident and comfortable in her own skin for the first time in ages.

It's been an hour since she broke it off with Bakugou. Sobbing silently, (y/n) headed to the wedding's open bar instead, ordering a beer. It was a cheap brand so it tasted like shit but she drank it anyway, knowing that she'd have to borrow money from Bakugou in order to get herself something more expensive. She mentally scolded herself for thinking of him, causing her to curse loudly at herself.

A soft chuckle from beside her made her jump, and she's met with the sight of a very attractive dark-haired man, maybe a year or two older than herself.

"Can I buy you something else? Doesn't sit right on the tongue, doesn't it?" He nodded over to the glass bottle she's got her fingers wrapped around.

Y/N smiled, shaking her head lightly, "Doesn't really matter, as long as it eases the pain" she shrugged a shoulder.

The man pulled a face, "It's still pretty terrible."

"... Yeah, kinda is," she answered and she's laughing lightly – the man also laughing along. "I'm, uh, (y/n), by the way," she grinned from ear to ear, offering him a hand to shake.

"I'm – " he started, but was cut off by someone clearing their throat and then there was the feel of someone wrapping their arm around Y/N's waist.

"Don't know, don't care," Bakugou's familiar voice drifted into her ears and it's obviously him that's got his arm wrapped around her waist because no one else could immediately make her feel so warm and safe by just a simple act of love. Until an hour ago, that is. So she physically restrained herself from leaning into his touch and slid away from his hold.

The stranger cleared his throat awkwardly, eyeing Bakugou for a brief moment before backing down and stepping away because Bakugou's glaring at him so hard that even someone innocent would feel guilty for no reason whatsoever.

Y/N slid her gaze over to him and Bakugou's still glaring at the direction in which the man's just walked away, so she huffed in frustration and crossed her arms across her chest as she stared him down.

"What the fuck was that?" Y/N practically hisses. Who is he to chase off the guy that she'd just been talking with when he was off breaking her heart just an hour before? He's no one, that's who.

"I want to marry you." Bakugou's voice is low as he speaks, eyes narrowing down on Y/N as she stares up at him defiantly. "I mean it...really."

"I want to burn the image of when I first see you in a dress, the way I cry and how I couldn’t stop crying afterward, and how I feel both embarrassed and glad for my crying, embarrassed because I’m a man and crying in public is still hard, and glad because it means something when you cry on your wedding day. And the way I lift our clasped hands after we're announced, and how I feel accomplished in life, something in between 'We did it,' and, 'Holy Shit this is actually happening.' and-" he cut himself off, not because he was done with his rant.

But because he was crying. He was actually full-fledged crying, tears streaming down either sides of his cheeks and his nose was reddening from sniffling too much. She took a step forward, and Bakugou didn't see her move, because he was so preoccupied with wiping at his eyes – as though to get rid of any evidence that he'd been crying.

"Fuck off," She nearly laughed out. “That’s not what you were saying an hour ago.”

“I know that but I didn’t mean it, you know I didn’t.”

“Do I?” She looked up to find he was avoiding her intimidating gaze. “Because whoever that was who pushed me out and tried to imply I was a nuisance is certainly not the man I plan to get along with, let alone marry.”

“No. No, I-I’m just. You know I love you. You know I want to— I want this. You know that you mean the fucking world to me, you always have, you always will. I just— I was mad at myself because— I saw, fucking firsthand, how many people want you, and how you could have anyone, but then— you— you’re with me. The quick-tempered asshole, and—” He stopped, figuring his words are all but making sense to her, chest heaving up and down rapidly like he had just been running kilometers at a time. His eyes are still wide, maybe even a little crazed.

She stayed completely silent.

All she did was stare at him, breathing almost as heavily as he was. But her ears rang with his words and God, she wanted to walk away so badly—but she doesn’t think she's physically capable of doing so from the boy that she was sure she's going to never stop loving because she's whipped for the guy. Feeling's mutual though, since (y/n) had his heart in the palm of her hands and she wasn't even aware of it because all he did was make her feel like he's leagues above her and it's such a shitty feeling.

Bakugou was the first to break the silence. “I’m begging you, (y/n)” Bakugou nearly whispered out, eyes a shade of stained glass. "If you want to walk out right now, not even be near me, I’ll understand. But— fuck. Please don’t leave me for good. Please let me make up for my shortcomings as your boyfriend, and hopefully— hopefully — as your husband and...the dad of our future children."

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beetlegoose01 · 3 years

Text

stolen whispers: chapter 1

AN: this fic isn’t a request, it’s a story i’ve been preparing for a lil while and I’m so excited to share this with you all <3

I’ll link it on my Archive if you prefer to read it there. Also warning, there’s quite a few OCs.

Time: 2028 (Scorbus have been married for two years)

Summary: When a new generation of Death Eaters kidnap Scorpius, Albus and Rose put aside their differences to rescue him.

TW: Kidnapping/Language/minor violence

~~~~

Two witches wearing shadowy black robes entered the tavern, finding a table near the back. They ordered their mead, waiting for their third partner impatiently. It was a crowded area, so thankfully there was a small chance they would be overheard.

"We don't want more mead." The first woman growled, tapping her long nails at the table. The bartender, a tall man with a mustache put the drinks down.

"I didn't think so." He lips curled into a grin as he morphed into a younger man with wild dusty brown hair, wearing matching robes. He was handsome, but had an eerie presence to him. Any reasonable person would have at least flinched at the transformation, though neither witch did. "Hello ladies." He grinned cheekily.

"Soren, enough playing games." The second woman said, though she was smirking.

Soren barked out a laugh. "It was funny, Mara. And you know it."

The first woman, Lilith narrowed her eyes. She pulled down her hood, revealing cascading inky black hair down her shoulders. A scar that showed no sign of mending was down her cheek. "Your skills are impressive, but useless if you don't use them for our own gain. Don't forget that." She pulled her hood back.

"Understood." He murmured, taking a seat.

"We have much to discuss," She continued, flicking her wand idly. "Our current plan in action. Our...act of revenge. It's been thirty years since The Tenebris was wrongfully killed. I am sick and tired of his name being tossed around in history like he was some monster. He was on the right side."

"Are you certain we want to call the Dark Lord that?" Mara asked suspiciously.

"Shh! You know if anyone hears us, they'll lock us up for good. For speaking our minds." Lilith said. "It's safer we call him by his code name."

Her companions nodded.

"Because of his loss, we have mudbloods in positions of power. Our siblings that fought for his cause are locked up. Or worse, dead."

Mara and Soren looked grim.

"If we had more allies, perhaps we would have had a chance." Soren noted. "We weren't even alive then but...I have a feeling if we were..."

"Just because we weren't alive then, doesn't mean we don't have opinions over the lives stolen!" Mara argued. "That damn Harry Potter."

"Correct. And Soren is right too. For once. If we had more allies, or better yet...certain allies didn't betray us. The Malfoys for instance." She took a sip of her drink.

"Are you suggesting something?" Mara asked.

"Of course I am, don't be so daft." Lilian said, deadly calm. "I want to make that family suffer for what they did. My uncle Vincent Crabbe died for their selfishness. Draco Malfoy had a chance to save him, and he refused like the coward he is. His mother Narcissa lied to Tenebris' face. They are backstabbing filth that besmirched the Sacred 28. No, it isn't just about their betrayal or avenging those we lost in the war. Think of the big picture. They have the capabilities to join our side. To...respawn a new generation of Death Eaters. But that's not all...

"The Malfoys have lots of gold." She drawled. "Surely, they'll spare a few for us in exchange for something important. Or rather...someone."

"Someone?" Soren paused. "What are you suggesting?"

"Regretfully, Astoria Malfoy has passed on." Mara didn't sound the least bit sympathetic, instead stated it blandly. "So using her as a ransom for Draco is a no go."

"Ah, but there is still someone left." Lillian said, removing a small photograph from her cloak, she slid it across the table.

A young man with platinum hair was pictured, beaming brightly in Healer Robes.

"Scorpius Malfoy."

Soren and Mara exchanged a look of satisfaction.

"Bring him to me."

~~~~~~~~~~

The best thing about mornings, at least to Albus, was waking up beside his husband. The sun's bright rays peaked through the window of their cream colored bedroom, slowly stirring them both awake. If it was up to him, he would stay in their warm bed, arms wrapped around Scorpius until noon.

Scorpius rolled over, so that they were facing each other. His eyes fluttered open, and Albus felt his heart melt at his sapphire eyes.

"Hi." He yawned. His voice was slightly croaky, no doubt from the morning.

Albus replied by nuzzling his nose, then kissed his cheek. "Hi honey."

Scorpius laughed lightly. "Let's get up then. Start the day? It's a Saturday. We have the whole weekend to spend together."

"I'd rather spend it here with you."

Bathilda mewed from the kitchen.

"But our child is hungry." Scorpius teased, stretching as he slid out of bed. Albus begrudgingly slumped after him, not eager to wake up before ten am. But his own stomach was growling too.

"Speaking of children," Albus said, starting to work on their breakfast as Scorpius poured Bathilda's food. "Iris is pregnant again. James told me through a Howler yesterday."

"Really?" Scorpius' eyes widened. "That's great news!"

"Yeah, not for my ears." He commented dryly, still traumatized by James' excited screeching in his ear. "Baby number three." He whistled. "Do you think they're trying to make an entire quidditch team? With Teddy and Vic's lot included, they're on their way."

Though he was joking, Scorpius noticed that Albus was glowing, happy for his brother and sister in law. That was one of the many reasons he loved Albus. His love for his siblings.

"Perhaps. When are they due?"

"September. Which means...that's where they scurried off to last Christmas party." Albus quipped. "To have a little fun."

"Albus!" Scorpius scolded. "Honestly, only you would make a beautiful moment gross."

"It's life, Scorp!" He chuckled. "You're a Healer, you should know these things."

"We'll have to visit. Maybe bring a gift basket to congratulate them." He mused, smiling fondly. "I can't wait to meet our new niece or nephew." There was a wistful look in his eye that Albus caught.

"You've got that look on your face." He noted, amused. He served the plates of bacon sandwiches on the table.

"What do you mean?"

"That Scorpius 'I want something but I'm not going to spell it out for you' face."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh." Albus said, forest green eyes brightening in amusement. "What's up?" He took a seat, tucking into breakfast.

"Well," Scorpius started, staring at his food. "I was thinking..." He stopped himself, hesitant to continue his train of thoughts.

"Yeah?" Albus nudged him gently.

"I want a child." He said, his voice quiet, but firm. "I love my nieces and nephews so much, but they aren't...ours. I want to start a family with you, Albus. Raise a little one of our own to be bright and wonderful and brave and..."

Albus' expression softened. "I do too. You know I do, Scorpius. It's just...difficult right now." He stared at his wedding band. "You know it's harder for us than any hetero couple." He waved his hand vaguely. "Adoption is hard, surrogacy is expensive. Maybe once we settled into our careers more, we can talk about it."

"I think we're ready to go beyond just talking about it, Al."

"We're still young. We've still got time. But...I definitely want to work it out. Somehow, we will. We always do."

Scorpius beamed, reaching to kiss Albus' knuckle. "Thank you." He sat up abruptly. "Oh, I almost forgot- it's the farmer's market today."

Albus snorted. "You're exactly like your dad, you know?"

"Yes yes yes, but we should go!" Scorpius said, levitating the plates to the sink and it automatically was clean due to the floating sponges.

"We? I've got some work to do. I'm not very fond of small talk with old people selling fruit."

"Al, it's really good fruit." Scorpius said seriously. "And it's not all old people. I've seen some of our old schoolmates there."

Albus cringed. "That's even worse."

"Don't be so dramatic. Are you still coming?"

"Mm, but I should really finish this article. Go on without me."

"If you're sure...do you want me to bring anything back?"

Albus thought for a moment. "Those strawberries Ms. Beaker sells. Please? Strawberries and cream sounds so good right now."

"Brilliant, I'm on it." Scorpius did a mock salute.

"Have fun." Al waved as Scorpius appatered, leaving the kitchen empty. Albus went straight to work on his article.

~•~

The market was lively and merry, despite the early hour. Scorpius had stopped by the strawberry stand first, in case he forgot.

Ever since they had moved two years ago, Scorpius had found himself drawn to the quaint farmer's market. Not because of the delicious, fresh food, but to socialize. He made quite a few friends with the muggles who lived around there...mostly old ladies. The early days of their marriage, Albus would join him. Before life got in the way, and work had to be done.

Not that he wasn't busy himself. He only had two days off as a Healer, sometimes less. He didn't know how they would manage childcare, but like Al had said, it was best not to dwell on the future.

"Scorpius? Is that you?"

He turned around, following the voice from behind him. "Polly ...Chapman?" He uttered blandly, praying he wasn't mistaken. He didn't have the best memory- even with old schoolmates who bullied him.

"Yep." Polly said, laughing lightly. "It's me. Been a while."

"It has." Scorpius shifted his weight. "How are things?"

"Great!" She smiled, swishing her blonde ponytail, the same air of confidence from when she was a teenager. "Yann and I are engaged."

"Oh! That's wonderful." Scorpius said, pretending to sound pleased. "Congratulations!"

"Thank you. I proposed to them last month. It was just as I had dreamed."

"How is...Yann?" Scorpius did not actually care how Yann was.

"They're good! Brilliant actually, since they passed Auror training." Polly looked genuinely proud of them, which he had to admit was adorable. "Are you and Albus still..."

"Yes, yes. We um, er- we've been married almost two years actually." He added.

"Aw, that's very sweet. You two were always very close, yeah?" Polly looked at him, and Scorpius nearly walked backwards, intimidated by her stance. She still was extremely scary, like a lioness but with a great sense of fashion. "I know...Yann, Karl and I weren't the best to you two but perhaps we could..." She trailed off. "I'd like you both to come. To the wedding. If you'd like."

That...wasn't what he was expecting. He half expected her to invite him to another Blood Ball.

"Pardon?" Scorpius asked, dumbfounded. "I mean- yeah, that sounds great! Fun! Yes. That sounds nice. I'll bring it up to Al."

Polly was glowing. "Brill! I've got to go, but we should all hang out sometime. Like old times."

Like old times? Scorpius thought. When did they ever hang out?

Nodding mutely, he walked away from Polly with a puzzled, but cheerful expression. He hadn't completely fucked up the conversation, which was always a plus. It still felt odd that Polly Chapman of all people was talking to him, let alone inviting him to her wedding. It was bizarre.

He passed the final vendor, and was surprised and amused to see a tiny girl, no more than seven standing behind it. She had a Brownie uniform on, bright rosy cheeks and pigtails included.

"Would you like a biscuit?" She squealed.

It had taken him a moment to respond, he was still thinking of Polly being kind to him "Oh erm- of course." It was impossible to say no to an adorable small child. He reached for some muggle money, handing her the pound notes. "Just the one box please."

"Okie dokie!" She said, handing him the box. She waited a moment, pouting. "Go on, try it." She urged.

"I really shouldn't I-"

"Please?" The little girl gave him the most pitiful expression. "It's for a good cause, mister. We're helping orphaned puppies find homes."

"Well, alright. For the puppies." He fumbled open the box, taking a polite bite out of the cookie. It was a classic lemon cookie with powdered sugar, one of his favorites. But the second he swallowed, he felt dizzy all of a sudden. "What..." He stumbled back. "Oh my," He gulped, the entire market swirling around him. Something wasn’t right. "is there something in..."

He would be damned if he let this happen without some sort of fight. Throwing his basket aside, he collapsed, slipping into unconsciousness.

"We've got him."

#Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy #Albus Severus Potter #Char Fanfics #Scorbus #Married Scorbus #LOTS of OCs #James Sirius Potter #Polly Chapman #Yann Fredericks #Scorpius Malfoy #Albus Potter #Fanfic #Writing #Kidnapping

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badass-women-league · 4 years

Text

TIVALI

11- Newborn

Ziva was in her last month of pregnancy. She has been pretty tired recently. They were about to leave for the park. Tony was waiting for Ziva in the living room. He was getting a little impatient when Ziva called him in the bathroom. He simply put his head round the door and asked:

-"what is it ? We are waiting for you, Tali is losing her patience"

-"the park will have to wait"

-"wait ? Why ?"

-"because my water just broke"

Tony panicked and pushed the door wide open:

-"what ?! Your due date is in more than two weeks"

-"well it seems like our baby already has a strong sense of humor"

Ziva was sitting on the edge of the bathtub. She was obviously in pain. Tony panicked even more:

-"what should we do ? We are not ready"

Ziva talked with a calm voice even though she was fighting the need to scream:

-"yes we are. Stop panicking. Your dad is in town. Call him and tell him to come and pick up Tali. Then you will take me to the hospital"

Tony repeated:

-"my dad, Tali, the hospital, stop panicking, right I got this"

At the hospital

Tony walked in Ziva's hospital room. He had just hung up with his father. He said:

-"Tali's fine. She asked me to tell you that she loves you. How are you ?"

She was fighting the pain. The monitor next to her was beeping to indicate the rhythm of the baby's heart.

-"I am fine"

-"of course I should have known you would answer that"

The nurse came in and asked:

-"how are we doing here ? How is the pain on a scale from one to ten ?"

Ziva was having a contraction, she grabbed Tony's hand and squeezed it strongly. Tony also fought the urge to scream when she squeezed it. Ziva answered:

-"7"

Tony looked at his hand and nodded:

-"yeah definitely 7"

The nurse asked:

-"is this your first one ?"

Tony said:

-"second child, first delivery for me, long story"

The nurse was confused but she didn't asked more question. She turned to Ziva and asked:

-"do you want the epidural ?"

Ziva was panting:

-"No! No epidural.."

Tony looked surprised:

-"what ? Are you sure ? I mean..."

He was not sure his hand would survive a birth without epidural. Ziva was panting. She took a deep breath as she felt another contraction coming and answered:

-"you do realize that it's the second time I do this..."

-"yes but the pain.."

She cut him and answered:

-"it only hurts if you let it"

She grabbed his hand again and squeezed it. Once again Tony kept his screams inside and asked to the nurse:

-"can I have the epidural instead please ?"

Once the nurse was out Tony asked:

-"are you sure about the epidural? I mean I know you are strong and completely capable of handling this by yourself but seeing you like this..."

Ziva smiled and cupped his cheeks:

-"don't worry"

-"don't worry ? Of course I worry, I've never seen you like that before. I am totally freaking out. You've already been through all of this, I haven't. You know how to deal with this, I don't. I don't know what to do. You are in pain and I am useless"

She grabbed Tony's face to stop him from panicking:

-"you're not. I need you Tony" she took a deep breathe to fight the pain and continued "I need you to be my rock ok ? I need you to have my back"

She grabbed his hand again to show him that she needed him by her side to support her. He knew he had no right to complain or freak out right now, now that she was experiencing the worst pain a human being can endure for him and for their child. He had to act like a man, like a husband, like a father. He thought: "come on DiNozzo, pull yourself together man !" She needed him to be her partner again, they needed to work as a team again. He smiled and said:

-"just like old times then. Come on let's get this baby out"

He helped her to get a better position and landed a kiss on her hand.

It was time for Ziva to give birth to this baby. She had been in pain for more that 4 hours. The heart of the baby was getting low and Ziva was out of strength. They had to get the baby out now for Ziva and the baby's sake. Ziva was all sweaty and panting. Tony was still holding her hand. His other hand was caressing her forehead. He had been freaking out about the situation but he knew that Ziva needed him to pull himself together. He was whispering:

-"you can do this babe... You are amazing... Just breathe... It will be over soon and we'll hold our baby... Push.... I know it's hard, breathe... I know it's painful but you are stronger than the pain... I love you... I am so proud of you..."

The love Tony had for Ziva was strongly increased as he saw her fighting and handling the pain like a warrior.

One final push and they heard screams. Newborn screams. Their baby's screams. For a second Tony thought that he was about to faint. The medical staff congratulated them but Tony couldn't hear them. His mind was filled with his baby's screams. They placed the baby in a towel on Ziva's chest and finally announced what Tony have been waiting for:

-"congratulations, it's a beautiful boy"

Ziva was crying, she was exhausted and the pain was still giving her hard time but she mostly cried because of the relief to see her child alive and well. He was finally out. Her fight was over.

Tony kissed Ziva's forehead and said:

-"it's a boy ! We have a boy!"

He looked at their baby. He was still wrinkled and covered with various fluids but Tony thought he was the most beautiful baby boy he has ever seen. His son.

The nurse asked:

-"how are we gonna name this beautiful boy ?"

Tony and Ziva looked at each other, smiled and nodded in approval of their final decision. They both answered:

-"Adam"

The nurse took the baby away in order to make a full check up of the newborn's health. When she grabbed Adam on Ziva's chest she said:

-"alright Adam, it's time for your little check-up and time to give your mom some time to recover"

Ziva grabbed Tony's hand and said:

-"you stay with him. I don't want him to be alone"

She was looking pretty nervous about being away from her son. Tony kissed her and said:

-"don't worry, I keep my eyes on him. Get some rest"

Tony walked out without realizing the actual situation. Ziva threw her head back on the pillow. She was exhausted but most of all she could feel her panic attacks coming back. It hasn't happened since a long time ago. But seeing someone else taking her child away from her had awaken some old trauma. She could hear his screams and seeing that nurse walking through the door with her son again and again. She felt dizzy, the room was moving around her. She needed them back but she didn't wanted Tony's moment to be ruined by her condition. She tried her best to control her anxiety so that when he comes back he could not figured out what was actually going on.

When Tony came back with the nurse Ziva was waiting for them. She felt relieved when she saw her son and Tony. She tried her best not to show any of her anxious feelings.

Tony walked directly to Ziva and said:

-"our son is fine! Strong and healthy as every DiNozzo before him"

The nurse turned to Tony and said:

-"take your shirt off"

Tony was more than surprised:

-"what ?"

He turned to Ziva with confused eyes. She wanted to laugh. A woman was asking him to take his shirt off and she was smiling. Something was definitely wrong. The nurse repeated:

-"come on sit down and take your shirt off. Don't worry it's not gonna hurt. It's called skin to skin, it's gonna help you bond with him"

Tony was still pretty confused and he really wanted to make a joke about James Bond. He looked at Ziva as he was about to and she just said: "don't !". Damn she knew him too well. He looked frustrated first but then he said: "alright you know I can't resist to a woman asking me to take my shirt off" and he took his shirt off and sat down. The nurse grabbed Adam and was about to place him on Tony's arms when he freaked out:

-"I am not sure, I mean... he's so tiny..."

The nurse laughed and turned to Ziva:

-"those men, they always think that they gonna break them. Do as I say and everything's gonna be fine"

That lady was pretty authoritarian, she reminded him of one of his former teacher in school. Not his best memory. She placed Adam in his father's arm and placed a hot towel around them. She gave him some instructions and finally left the family to enjoy this moment together.

Tony was slowly getting more confident. As long as he was not supposed to move, he was fine. He actually felt like he was the king of the world with his son resting on his chest. Ziva was looking at them with eyes full of love and tears as Tony was whispering inaudible things to his son.

A few hours later. Ziva was trying to get some rest. Tony was sat on the chair next to her. He was leaning on Adam's hospital crib to get a better look at him. Adam was wearing the usual beanie and mittens. He was asleep in his bodysuit saying "tiny human inside" (Tony's choice). Tony whispered:

-"He's so tiny. I can't believe he's here"

Tony placed his finger in Adam's hand and the newborn squeezed it:

-"look how strong he is, squeezing my finger like his mother squeezed my hand. It's still painful by the way" he paused and said: "You did an amazing job"

She smiled and said:

-"he did all the work"

Tony smiled and said:

-"you really have to learn how to take credit for yourself. I'll teach you, young padawan, I am a master of this subject. I can't wait for Tali to meet him"

Tony paused and realized that he had been so focused on his son that he haven't noticed that Ziva was not looking as good as he thought she would be. He asked:

-"are you sure you're ok ?"

Ziva didn't wanted to get him worried but obviously he knew her enough to see that something was going on. She said:

-"yes, it's nothing, just..." she took a deep breathe "when I saw that woman walking away with him, I felt like I was going through this again.."

-"you should have told me"

-"no, this is my demon, I can handle it on my own"

Tony lift his hand and showed his wedding ring:

-"you see this... it means that your demons are my demons. Let me help you Ziva. This time you have me, you don't have to do this on your own... you are not alone"

Ziva's eyes were full of tears. Tony winked at her and wiped a tear away. She slowly smiled. Adam made a squeaky sound. Tony turned to him and grabbed him carefully, he placed him in Ziva's arms and said:

-"you have me, you have our son and tomorrow Tali will be there too and we'll be whole again"

Ziva looked at Adam and smiled. It would be different this time, she was not alone.

The next morning.

Tony was gone to get Tali and his father to the hospital. Ziva was feeding Adam. His eyes were locked onto her mother's. He already had the DiNozzo's signature charming look. She knew she would be in trouble trying resist it and she certainly knew his father would teach him how to use it.

The bottle was empty, she looked at it and said:

-"you also have your father's and sister's appetite. DiNozzo's all the way"

She placed him on her crossed legs and took his bib off.

Tony knocked on the door and quietly entered. Ziva took Adam back on her arms and whispered:

-"hey look who's there"

Tali rushed to the bed. Tony freaked out for a sec:

-"easy, easy Tali. He's a baby, I told you, you have to be careful"

Tony helped Tali to get on Ziva's bed so she could have a better view of her baby brother. She was marvelled by her brother. She was touching his skin as if it was different from hers. Tony said:

-"his name is Adam, just like uncle Adam, you remember? We talked to you about him"

The little girl nodded but never got her eyes off of her brother. Tony said:

-"now give a kiss to ima, she missed you"

Ziva hugged Tali as she landed a kiss on her mother's cheek. Ziva asked:

-"where is your father ?"

-"he is waiting in the corridor, I wanted Tali to meet him first"

-"let him in"

Tony let his father get in:

-"dad, this is your grandson, heir to the DiNozzo's legacy.. Adam Jethro DiNozzo"

Senior looked at the boy. He was overwhelmed with joy. He said:

-"what a beautiful boy. I still think that Anthony would have suit you but.."

-"DAD! We talked about this"

-"I'm just saying, it's only my opinion"

Tony sighed:

-"and we are very glad you shared it to us. His name is Adam and it's suits him well"

Tony was really pissed off. Ziva smiled, she was amazed by the fact that even in those moments they were always finding ways to quarrel.

Adam was on Ziva's arm. She smiled and said:

-"I think it's time for daddy to bond a little bit more with you"

Tony looked confused but eager to discover what was coming next. Ziva held Adam out to Tony. When Tony took him he understood what kind of bonding Ziva was talking about. She looked at him with a mischievous grin. Judging by the smell it was diaper time. Tony cautiously followed every of her instructions. When he opened the diaper he said:

-"oh my god! What are we feeding you. This is a crime scene."

Tali and Ziva laughed out loud. After a long a laborious work composed with: "no, not like that", "on the other side, no the other side", "there, you put this here" Adam's diaper was finally changed. Tony looked so proud of his first diaper changing. He said:

-"It's not that complicated, I did most of it by myself"

Ziva and Tali looked at each other and both answered:

-"sure"

Tony was offended:

-"what ? Come on, you barely helped me" he lifted Adam in front of him and said: "come on tell them, you were the only one helping me here. We don't need them.. we can handle it, just us boys" Adam winced. Tony was confused until the disturbing smell of poop was back again. It was Tony's time to wince. He said: "you did not! Betrayed by my own son" He turned to Ziva and complained: "how many times does babies poop a day ?"

Ziva smiled and stroke his chest:

-"looks like he was not done the first time... go get him lion..."

Tony winced again and grumbled: "tiger... not lion"

Ziva triumphantly smiled and whispered:

-"whatever"

Ziva was taking a nap. She was still recovering from the exhaustion of Adam's birth. Adam on his crib, was starting to moan and gesticulate. Tony panicked. He did not wanted him to wake Ziva up. She needed and deserved some rest. He wanted to handle this by himself. He grabbed Adam and whispered:

-"sh.. sh... it's alright.. I am here... what do you need ? Are you hungry ? Yeah, daddy is hungry too.."

He turned to Tali and whispered:

-"ima has prepared a bottle for him, can you bring it to me ?"

Tali grabbed the bottle and held it out to her father. Tony smiled and said:

-"go on, do it"

Tali hesitated for a moment. She did not wanted to hurt him or do something wrong. Tony encouraged her again and she finally presented the bottle to Adam's lips.

-"that's it.. you see.. he was just hungry... we are getting good at this. We are a great team"

He waved his free hand above Tali's head so she could give him a check. She checked him and smiled. She was so proud of taking care of her baby brother.

Once the bottle was empty Tony helped Adam to burp.

He encouraged him:

-"come on! You can do this !"

Adam burped and Tali winced and said still in a very low voice:

-"ugh!!! He is disgusting"

Tony quietly laughed and proudly said:

-"that's my boy. DiNozzo all the way. You should really enjoy this time son, when I do the same, your mom give me a head slap"

When Ziva woke up Tony was asleep in the armchair next to her. Adam was resting on his chest, Tony's arms wrapped around him. It was the most beautiful picture she had ever seen. They both looked very peaceful. Ziva saw the empty bottle next to them and smiled. He had handled this all by himself.

Tony received a video call from the team in D.C. He answered it and saw Tim and Ellie's face on the screen. When they saw Tony's face they all smiled and greet him. Ellie started first:

-"hey you! Congratulations "daddy of two" !"

-"Thank you guys!"

McGee asked:

-"how is Ziva doing ?"

-"she's fine. You know her, she just gave birth and she already wants to go running. she's right here"

He turned the screen to Ziva. She frowned at Tony and then waved at them. She was holding Adam in her arms and Tali was next to her.

The team greet them both. McGee continued:

-"hey girls! How are you big sister ?"

-"fine uncle Tim"

-"how is it to have a baby brother ?"

-"he's just eating and sleeping all day"

McGee laughed and said:

-"yeah just like daddy when he was working here..."

Tony turned the phone back on him to argue:

-"hey! I was a very capable agent back in the days, better than you McGeek"

McGee complained:

-"yes Tony we all know you were a good agent now please, it's not your face that we want to see. Show us the new wonder of the world"

Tony was falsely offended:

-"alright alright.. get ready to have your world rocked guys" he moved closer to Ziva "ladies and gentlemen, the one and only Adam DiNozzo"

Ellie couldn't resist and said:

-"oh my god he's so cute"

McGee said:

-"yeah! I can't believe there is a third male DiNozzo in this world"

-"that's right McGee there is a new DiNozzo in town and he actually already made a good impression on a bunch of newborn ladies at the nursery"

McGee winced and said:

-"oh my god this world is not ready for this, please Ziva make sure that Adam is not gonna become like him"

She smiled:

-"I will McGee"

Tony said:

-"it's too late guys, she can't do anything about it, it's gonna happen"

The conversation was going on and it was already time for them to hang up. Ellie asked:

-"when are you coming to D.C, we want to see his pretty face in person"

-"we come back in a few weeks, for thanksgiving, tell Gibbs that we'll call him later"

Later that day. Gibbs had been pretty busy at work. He entered his kitchen grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge and then walked back to the living room. He collapsed on his couched and sighed. He took a sip of beer when his laptop dinged. The sound of a new email. He stood up and walked to the table in his kitchen. He pressed a key and his mailbox opened:

NEW EMAIL

FROM: TONY DINOZZO

OBJECT: A DINOZZO PRODUCTION

Gibbs smiled and pressed a key again to open the file. A video started.

Ziva was sitting on her hospital bed with Adam in her arms and Tali next to her. Tony was holding the camera. He turned to Ziva and Tali and said:

-"hey boss, McGee told us that you were pretty busy with work so we thought we would sent you this little video, I don't know if you'll know how to open it but anyway.. here we are, and here he is, the new member of our team" Tony sat next to Ziva so that Gibbs could have a good view on Adam "this is Adam Jethro DiNozzo. We wanted him to have a special second name and what better name than the name of the man without whom this family would never have happened ?" Tony came closer to the phone and whispered "Also I wanted to prank him by giving him a name he will probably not be able to pronounce until he is like 10 years old." Gibbs laughed. Tony came back to his original position and continued "As you can see, he is pretty quiet now but trust me, his functional mute is not working as good as yours. We are all looking forward to present him to you in person at Thanksgiving. We will make sure everyday that he will grow up to be worthy of having your name. See you later Boss" They all waved at Gibbs and the video ended. He was touched by the idea that they had chosen his name to be linked forever to their son. He had always blamed himself for not seeing what was in front of him. It was good to see them happy. After everything they had been through. He missed them everyday. His agents, his children, his family. He had raised them to be better agents, better people. He knew what he had taught them would probably help them be better parents. He had left a pretty strong mark on their life.

#ncis #tony dinozzo #tiva #ziva david #michaelweatherly #tiva fanfiction #tali david dinozzo #cotedepablo #ncis fanfiction #tivali

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headoverjojo · 5 years

Note

I've been waiting for the box to open for time 🙏🙏🙏 this is stupid im sorry I always ask for weird things 😭 4taro and his Speedwagon foundation employee wife getting set up against each other but in a James Bond style way? Like not realising they've been set up until actually coming fave to face. (bonus points if it's in a seedy club) I'm sorry if I've asked this before, I'm always worried the asks don't go through 😭😭

Hiiii honey!! :3 Nooooo don’t say thiiiiiss, it was such a good request, I had so much fun writing it!!! Ocean man on the way! I hope it’s something that may satisfy you! :3

Jotaro Kujo and his SF employee wife are set up against each other, not realizing it until they actually come face to face

(Under the cut for length!)

To be fair, not even Holly, who, however, always hoped for Jotaro to find someone to love and who could love him back, expected Jotaro to actually marry someone. What didn’t surprise anyone was that you were a Speedwagon Foundation employee; Jotaro’s partner would have been a person from the SF or another marine biologist, everyone in the family always thought that. Joseph and Suzi had even bet on it, secretly; Suzi won the bet.

Jotaro wasn’t a full-time worker for the SF, you learned it time ago: he was called just when there was an emergency concerning DIO, his spawns, the arrows or the masks. Jotaro was the one who killed DIO, all in all; it was logic he was the one called when there was a problem concerning him, even after his death. You were one of the few employees with a stand and you knew him like this, as you had been assigned as his SF contact when he was around searching for the cursed stone masks. You found him fascinating, in his way to act and in all his knowledge; being near him so long, he grew accustomed to you and your habits, as it didn’t happen since long time. In each other you found a friend; after some more time spent together not on mission or in front of the coffee machine in the relax area of the SF but in the real world, you found not only a friend, in each other, but a lover too. Jotaro wasn’t a man who liked to buy time: he knew his feelings were strong, he knew that yours too were sincere and deep, so why you shouldn’t marry? And so it happened. In less than a year, you were a married couple. It was nice to come home knowing that you were living together, even if he, often, wasn’t here. Not that you could blame him: both for his real work as marine biologist both for the tasks the SF gave him, Jotaro was forced to travel around the world. When you could, you were assigned as his SF contact agent and this allowed you two to stay a bit more together.

It wasn’t a easy and utterly happy life, but, all in all, who could have said to have a perfect life? It wasn’t perfect, but it was good and you liked it; you wouldn’t have changed it for nothing in the world.

However, something was bugging you. You had been informed that there was a spy in the organization, someone who, if they wanted to, could have destroyed the SF to the foundations. It was a serious problem and, as one of the few stand users, you had been called to investigate on it. You had one condition: you had to maintain the cover. Of course, you thought, even annoyed by the useless recommendation: you couldn’t go around and ask to every SF employee “Excuse me, are you, by any chance, a spy?”, what the hell did your boss think? You weren’t a rookie nor stupid!!

This, however, meant you couldn’t tell it even to Jotaro. You knew he wasn’t the spy, you even refuse the thought of it, but, for his safety, it was better not to say him anything. He wasn’t involved so much in the SF, all in all; he already had so much to think about, his work, the various masks and arrows that seemed to endlessly pop up in various parts of the world… you didn’t want to give him something more to worry about. He was already stressed enough, your poor dear, you always said it to him, hugging him from behind, when he sat down, and resting your chin on his hair, chuckling at his sigh of acknowledgement. At least he didn’t try to deny it!

Still, even if he was out for so long, Jotaro was an observant person, and he noticed immediately the slight changes in you. You seemed more stressed, more worn out… you seemed not to sleep enough. In some moments you even were lethargic… what was happening? Were you sick? Was something about work? When he confronted you on it, you just smiled, touched by his care, kissed his cheek, with some effort, and said him not to worry, that it was just a stressful period at work, nothing more. Jotaro seemed a little skeptical about it, but he didn’t insist. Maybe it was something you couldn’t talk about and he didn’t want you to get in troubles for revealing him informations you were not supposed to spread around.

However, after few days from his first -and last- attempt to “interrogate” you, he too was called at the Speedwagon Foundation. He entered your boss’ office, knowing that, if he had been called in, it was something serious that required his knowledge about DIO and the various artifacts or his Star Platinum. He frankly hoped for the first option; he was so tired to fight… since his return from Egypt he always tried not to fight as much as possible, just for really serious and dangerous situations. Other than that… stand fights had taken from him too much. If he could, he didn’t want to have anything to do with that.

This time, however, he hadn’t been called nor for one or the other reason: it seemed that a spy was in the SF and he, Jotaro, had to find them. At his objection that he wasn’t a SF member so, in fact, they couldn’t just call him and give him orders like this, your boss replied that the spy was suspected to be a stand user. This made all his mind alarms ring: a stand user was totally something else… before your boss could say something more, he accepted the task. He couldn’t let a dangerous stand user to freely be around you… he couldn’t allow it. He couldn’t leave you in such a possible danger.

At the same time, it was said to him not to spread word around, not even to you, or the spy could have grown suspicious and just fled away. Even if he hated to keep something so important just for himself, he had to do it. It was to protect you, he said to himself. It was all for you.

And so, both Mr. and Mrs. Kujo were investigating on the same person, as the real spy wanted. Now it was time to mess up things a little…

Anonymous informations kept coming and both you and Jotaro were sent to investigate, but in separate ways. You both were finding clues, but still nothing about the spy; some file disappeared, even a couple of employees were just vanished in thin air. The informations you were collecting were leading to a stand user, a powerful stand user… but who? You wanted so much to beat him to a pulp! Because it was a man, you found out, a tall man strong enough to knock down a team of SF guards and enter the building. Not even a single camera managed to film his face, but at least you had an idea of his body shape. It was already something, as not many people were so tall and broad. So tall and broad like Jotaro…

You shook your head, huffing at yourself. What a silly idea! How could you suspect of Jotaro? The founder of the SF, Robert E. O. Speedwagon, had been a close friend of his grand-grandfather and his grandfather; the simple idea of Jotaro being the spy was ridiculous. You trashed that suspicion in seconds, not noticing that Jotaro was watching you from behind the newspaper.

His investigations had led to find out that the spy was a woman. A stand user, a woman… he didn’t know her face, but her shape and smell were known. He had been able to arrive at the SF just a little after she had left after stealing few files from the archive. That lingering smell, that perfume… he knew that perfume. He had gifted it to you for your birthday. The shape coincided, the smell too… could it be a coincidence? He thought so. He wanted so bad to think so, he couldn’t believe that you could be spy, it wasn’t possible… not you. Everyone, but not you. It was surely just a coincidence…

You two were following two separated rails of traces that, just following the real spy’s plan, were leading you to finally face each other, but the way the spy planned was so horribly cruel… he wanted you two to meet in the dark, or at least in the penumbra, and, not recognizing each other, to kill each other. In this way, his mission would have been fulfilled.

And that was why you found yourself in that squalid club, full of drunkards and smoke. You walked through the walls of smoke, not made of just tobacco, sliding past few groups of howling drunkards, coming, finally, to the back of the club. Now… according to the anonymous informer, the spy was here…

You heard a rustle, not so far from you, and you called out your stand. Here he was… here he was!! The spy was here, you had finally found him!! And now you could arrest him and finally end this absurd hunt, you could finally tell everything to your husband…!

Before you could move to attack, however, your stand froze mid-air, as Jotaro emerged from the shadow. Now he could finally see the face of that spy…

His heart broke, when he saw it was you. How… how could this be possible? Why, also? Why did you do something like this?

He needed to know. Before doing anything, he needed to know. And so, he undid the time-stop, after bringing himself out of the punch range of your stand. You stumbled forward, as your stand hit just thin air, but, feeling a presence near you, you turned around, shocked in seeing Jotaro, standing at few steps from you, a serious and unreadable expression on his face. It was him…

“Why, Y/N?” he asked, in a low voice. He seemed even sad, you noticed, as panic bubbled in your chest. He couldn’t be the spy…

“Why, you ask? I should be the one asking it, Jotaro… how could you do this? The founder himself has been a close friend of your family…” you murmured, with a broken heart. Jotaro frowned, perplexed. What were you saying…?

“Are you implying that I am the spy, Y/N?” he seemed almost offended, you noticed. You furrowed your brow, puzzled. Wait, this was strange…

“The spy is a man about your height and shape and the informer said the spy would have been here, tonight… and here you are…” the bewildered look on Jotaro’s face just grew stronger at your explanations.

“The spy is a woman, Y/N. And I smelled your perfume, in the archive.” now it was your turn to be utterly shocked. Ok, there was something really strange going on…

“Y/N… I think someone manipulated us.” after a couple of minutes, Jotaro’s voice broke the silence. You and your stand lifted your gaze on him -nor you or him had retreated the stands, but they were just lingering around their users, uncertain, as their users, about what to do now-, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. No… you sighed, nodding. No, he really wasn’t the spy. He never was.

“It makes sense… but why, so? They thought that… that we would have killed each other? That my stand would have surpassed Star Platinum?” you replied, sceptical, looking at your husband’s stand. It was impossible to surpass Star Platinum… for your stand, at least.

“I think they wanted at least one of us dead and, if not also the other, at least leaving the survivor as an empty shell easy to kill.” your heart clenched, at the thought. That was right…

You sighed, calling back your stand. Fighting wasn’t required… you both had been tricked into some insane mind game. You still had to find the real spy.

“Well… this means we’ll have to work together, uh, mr. Kujo?” you smiled, earning from him a small smile and a nod, as he neared you. A single brush on your cheek was enough to tell you that he was relieved to see you fine and well, not to have actually straight up attacked you without checking your identity… you both knew you had been lucky. Now, you had to use that luck to the last drop.

“As old times, mrs. Kujo.” he replied, walking off of the club with you, to hunt down the real spy.

If they were together, no one could stop the Kujos.

#jjba #diamond is unbreakable #beautiful duwang #jotaro kujo #fem s/o #jotaro's wife #speedwagon foundation #sf employee s/o #scenario #sfw #personal-assery

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mandysimo13 · 5 years

Note

hey! you wanted those prompts. how about: "i don't want to be just friends"? (good omens/ineffable husbands, pls)

Ooooooooh yesssssssssss, @ina-k, you speakin’ my language! This is now also a fic on AO3, so please be sure to pop a kudos or comment on it, lovelies!

///~\\\

Two weeks after the Apocalypse-that-Wasn’t, the Nope-pocalypse, the Armaged-dud, the Ragnar-Went-Wrong, two celestial beings found themselves in a familiar setting, in familiar bodies, feeling decidedly unfamiliar with a variety of new feelings.

First and foremost was relief - relief that the world was, in fact, not over. Relief that there were still ducks to feed, crepes to eat, and plants to spritz and terrorize.

Secondly there was a feeling of directionless. They had not so much mislaid their intended purposes as much as they yeeted them into the heavens whilst flipping the bird for good measure. For the first time, since the dawn of time, neither of them could feel the little niggling tug that told them to cause mischief and to spread grace. Doing either seemed to them like going through the well oiled and practiced motions of blessing and tempting and it made them wonder what the point of it all was.

Third, and most surprisingly considering their shared aimlessness, was a sense of urgency. Like there would be another Gotcha! moment and that the armies they had pissed off would be back with a vengeance and that there wouldn’t be enough time.

“Enough time for what” is a perfectly acceptable question and one that both angel and demon would rather not have to answer, though both answers would be the same. They both wanted desperately to find their courage and scream I love you, I chose you, stay with me, pick our side every day for the rest of existence, all you need to do is speak and your will be done by my hands. But, you see, courage is a tricky thing. It comes and goes unexpectedly, even though it comes in times when all the signs and motifs and themes and histories tell you to expect it. Courage came for them when they faced down Gabriel, Beelzebub, and Satan. It filled their ribcages with fire and moved their hands, making them feel about as powerful as when Herself created the whole world. But then it seeped out of them, slowly and then all at once, leaving them deflated, tired, and with an irony flavor in the back of their throats.

Now, when courage was needed most sorely, it sat back with a glass of wine watching the scene unfold and wishing for popcorn.

The scene, in question, was Aziraphale and Crowley sitting in the intimate and well loved back room of Aziraphale’s “bookshop”. More parlour than back room, it contained the things it had always contained, plus a few extras thanks to Adam and his reshuffling of the universe. Before the End-Times-that-Wasn’t, the angel and demon would sit close but separate, always on separate pieces of furniture but close enough to touch should the occasion call for it. But in the After the pair decided that since they had shared bodies perhaps they could share a couch. Backs leant up against the armrests, knees turned towards each other as they lounged thoroughly drunk on the choice wine of the evening, they conversed as they ever did.

“I’m telling you, koalas are the most useless lump of fur on the damn planet,” Crowley exclaimed, gesticulating with his glass.

Aziraphale tutted and made a swishy swat motion in the air to bat away the, to him, unfair comment. “They’re adorable creatures! What with their big noses and their soft fur-”

“Their rampant chlamydia, their toxic bodies from eating toxic leaves-”

“They don’t all have chlamydia,” Aziraphale, defended.

Crowley scoffed, “enough of them do. And ya know, nothing eats them either!”

“Why would you want to eat a koala?”

“Exactly my point!”

Aziraphale began to laugh at that, slinking further into the couch as his body shook with ridiculous mirth. His knees slid along the couch until they bumped up against Crowley’s (not that that meant anything, it was a rather small couch). Joy and drink making him comfortable, he was reluctant to remove himself from Crowley’s space. A quick glance saw that Crowley had relaxed further as well, joining him in laughter, and looked to be in no hurry to part their small connection.

Giggles eventually turned into happy silence, renewed glasses of wine, and lingering looks over the tops of said glasses.

Crowley, glasses firmly placed upon the bridge of his nose, looked his fill without exposure. He watched as Aziraphale’s face creased with his smile, perfectly angelic in appearance, radiating love and happiness in such amounts that even Crowley could feel it.

It was said that demons were not meant to feel love, that they had lost the ability to feel love when they fell. The truth of it was that they were able to feel love but it was often drowned out by the forced feeling of the absence of love. Her love. The love of her creations. Her love permeated everything from the grass, the oceans, the people, even the fucking koalas - though they had a funny way of showing it by literally showering one with chlamydia. Crowley could feel the Absence so acutely in every stare from a human who could feel somewhere in their primordial makeup that he was meant to be unforgivable, unfathomable, unlovable. Since the invention of sunglasses things had been a bit better, he could sometimes shrug off that feeling for a time. When the one real tell of demonic-ness was hidden, it took longer for people to catch on. He knew the other demons mocked him for his glasses, for hiding away his traits, but he figured they were just jealous because it was easier to hide snake eyes than it was to hide a persistent cloud of flies and the inherent smell of poo.

But when he looked at Aziraphale, especially after the End Times ended, love radiated so strongly that he thought that, maybe, he could be forgiven and thought and loved. But even with the evidence wafting about his being like waves on a shore, he second guessed it. Aziraphale was a being of love, he loved everyone and everything regardless of their deserving of it. Unlike his counterparts who got caught up in the bureaucracy of it all, all the “who’s what’s where’s when’s why’s and how’s”, Aziraphale did everything just because he knew that somewhere along the line his actions would give pleasure and happiness, and not just for himself. What may seem gluttonous in a plate of crepes was actually a desire to make sure a local creperie, run by a Senegalese couple, would stay in business despite the hike in rent. What may seem prideful in buying an extensive wardrobe was really a way to ensure that the true art of tailoring never died, that there was always someone ready to pass down the knowledge of the old traditions, even if the tone changed with the times. He knew that Aziraphale felt bad occasionally for his indulgences but, even if it wasn’t obviously to himself, Crowley could see the angelic intent behind it all.

Which is why he couldn’t read too much into anything Aziraphale said or did around him. Sure, he was often prickly with him and had often insisted they weren’t friends, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. He had been unfailingly kind to Crowley from the very beginning, raising his own wing to shield them both from the rain as they watched the first two humans trudge away from paradise. He knew that Aziraphale loved him but what did that really mean when he loved everything?

So, instead of gathering courage to speak, to declare, to move towards something, he sat and watched the angel giggle to himself, cheeks red with joy and wine.

He could watch that face forever.

Aziraphale finally caught him staring, his glasses slipped down his nose without his permission or notice, and his expression changed to something unbearably fond and concerned. “Is everything alright, dear?”

Dear, his heart clenched at the old endearment. Slowly, hand shaking slightly, Crowley pushed his glasses up to where they belonged. “Why would it not be,” he asked.

“You just...you seemed lost.”

Lost in you, he didn’t say. Instead, he shrugged and took a sip of wine. “Seems like we’re both a little lost. Having no bosses, no one to answer to, no agendas, having freedom. It all seems to be a little overwhelming, no?”

Understanding filled Aziraphale’s face and he sat up a little straighter. He scooted just a bit closer, unwilling to part their knees from each other for the time being. “It does, doesn’t it. I’ve never really considered the consequences of freedom. Always seemed like something for only Her mortal creations and not for us.” He looked at him openly, questioningly, “what does one do with freedom?”

Crowley licked his lips, eyes cast down towards his glass and missing how Aziraphale tracked the movement of his tongue. “I suppose it’s up to us to make our own agenda.” He looked up and smiled at him, hoping to bring back their easy, happy glow from before. “Can’t be harder than making our Own Side, can it?” He chuckled, hoping that would sell it and make Aziraphale smile once more.

Instead, it made Aziraphale lean closer in curiosity. “What...what’s on your agenda, Crowley?”

Blinking, immediately uncomfortable with the direction they were headed, Crowley leaned back as casually as he could. “What makes you think I have one?

Aziraphale smiled, then. “My dear boy, I have known you for over 6000 years. And if there’s one thing I do know about you is that you always have an agenda.” He huffed a brief chuckle and added, “even if you don’t have a plan for it yet.”

If Crowley were being honest he would tell Aziraphale how his agenda included nothing other than walks through parks, holidays to wherever was warm and sunny and abundant with good food, talks of books and plants and frivolous topics, and doing all he could to make the angel keep choosing him, them, until God Herself chose to end the world. But he wasn’t planning on being honest so instead he asked him, “what is your agenda, then?”

“To live,” Aziraphale said simply. “To really, truly live and enjoy all the things I’ve done, have yet to do, and yearn to do.” He smiled shyly then, shifting back a bit, and added, “I’d love for you to be there, too, Crowley.”

Crowley’s eyelashes fluttered against the glasses pressed close to his face as his blinked rapidly in surprise. He hoped he wasn’t too drunk and unable to keep his face cool. “Really? You’d want me there with you on all your post-heaven adventures?”

Aziraphale’s voice was full of excitement meaning to assure him. “Of course! Why wouldn’t I? We’re friends!” Then he said softer, love dripping from him, “the best of friends. Of course I would want you there.”

Despite himself, Crowley’s eyes became wet with an unasked for wave of emotion. He felt a lump in his throat at that threatened to choke him, if breathing was at all necessary for him. Without stopping to think he said, “what if...” He hesitated, feeling that creep of something monumental happening between them. He felt that same creep when something told him to wake up the 18th century because Aziraphale was lonely. He felt it when Aziraphale had taken a leap he didn’t want to make, for his sake, and handed over that thermos full to the brim with his “insurance policy” and he had asked the angel to tell him how to repay the favor. He felt it when Aziraphale threatened to never speak to him again.

Courage was back. Most rudely and inopportunely. There was no way to sober and restart the conversation and not lose the...something that was there and bubbling between them. Fuck.

Aziraphale swallowed, his throat bobbing. Hesitantly, he repeated, prompting Crowley to finish his thought, “what if?”

Fuck it. All or nothing, Anthony J. Crowley. Both feet, nose closed, hope for the best. “What if I don’t want to be just friends.”

Aziraphale sucked in gasp, shock on his face and Crowley couldn’t help feel like he had fucked up royally. That he had ruined everything beyond repair and that he would spent the rest of damned eternity alone. His tears finally spilled over and ran down his cheeks and Aziraphale said a soft, gentle “oh” and Crowley felt like death would be less painful.

Aziraphale reached out to his cheek and Crowley ducked his head, trying to avoid the contact. But backed against the couch and heavy with the weight of his confession, he was unable to move and Aziraphale closed a gap between them, palm coming to rest on Crowley’s cheek, his thumb brushing away the salt of his tears.

He opened his mouth to say forget it, it’s stupid, I know I moved to fast, I’ll stop it, I’ll be good, good for you, I’ll give you all the room and space you need, just don’t forsake me, don’t leave me alone, but was stopped by a finger pressed to his lips. He opened his eyes to see the one being in 6000 years who had ever given a damn about him looking at him with awe and such overwhelming love that he physically hurt. Beneath his ribs his vestigial heart beat faster and he braced himself. For what, he couldn’t say.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, voice shaky. The angel’s eyes watered as well, tears shining in the dim light and it made Crowley hurt even more to see what his words had done.

He tried to lessen the pain for them both, “just-”

“No! Don’t say anything. Unless it’s to tell me only good. Don’t,” Aziraphale choked on his plea. He physically swallowed around the lump in his throat and begged, “don’t take it back.”

“W-what?”

Aziraphale sighed and gently placed his forehead against Crowley’s. “I thought that I was too slow. That I had made you wait so long you could not possibly ever want me that way. That my own cowardice, my pride, had gotten in the way of the one thing I want most in this world.”

Crowley dropped the wine glass in his hands, caring not a whit for a stain that could be miracled away later, and clutched Aziraphale’s hands in his own. Trembling, not daring to believe, he asked, “what is it you want, Aziraphale?”

“You,” he said confidently and without shame. “I’m sorry it took me so long to see it. To acknowledge it. To feel its rightness.” He kissed Crowley’s forehead, lips lingering. “I can’t undo all the hurt I’ve caused but...let me try?”

Crowley tipped his head up to look at him and whispered, “oh, angel.” He pulled his glasses off, willfully sharing vulnerability, and said, “you have me. You always have. You could never lose me. Even if I had buggered off to Alpha Centuri all it would take is a snap of your fingers to bring me back. You have to know.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale sighed. Then he chuckled wetly, “look at us. Blubbering like old fools.”

Crowley’s low laugh joined him. “We have been for a long time, angel.”

“May I...” Aziraphale hesitated, though logically he needn’t have. “May I do something I’ve been wanting to do since approximately 1941?”

“Anything.”

“May I kiss you?”

“You’d better,” Crowley said, barely getting the words out before he had a lapful of angel and lips pressed blessedly to his own.

Their first kiss was tinged with the salt of tears, first of sorrow then of relief. It was full of joy, thankfulness, and above all love. It seemed to go on forever, as if they were making up for lost time all at once.

When it finally ended Crowley said, breathlessly, “I love you, angel.”

“I love you too, Crowley.”

Somehow they had ended up laying stretched out on the couch, Aziraphale atop Crowley while he snaked his arms around the angel’s middle like a vice. He stroked Aziraphale’s hair and asked, thinking of their previous conversation with a smile, “what else was on your agenda, angel?”

Aziraphale giggled, nuzzling his face into Crowley’s shoulder. “Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would, indeed. Whatever you like, whenever you like, however you like. And,” he paused, tipping Aziraphale’s face up with a finger under his chin, “we can even start with dinner.”

Aziraphale beamed at him. “That is an excellent place to start.”

Slowly, they detangled themselves from the couch and each other, never moving too far out of reach. They righted their creased clothes, sobered themselves and made their way to the Ritz which, incidentally, had a miraculous cancellation. Much like their first meal together after they both quit their respective sides, the meal was delicious and the conversation easy. Only this time, it was filled with plans that included the pair of them.

And for the second time in history, and this time heard by one lonely bum on a park bench, a nightingale sang in Berkley Square.

#ineffable husbands #aziracrow #i can't even with these two!#love confessions #fic #tumblr prompts #thanks for this!#ina-k

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austenpoppy · 6 years

Text

When fanfiction begins to be worrying

Warning : Ron-lovers, if you read this it is at your own peril. I am already suffering from long-lasting damage. Vivi, don't read. Really. Don't. Trust me.

We won't even talk about incest and other criminal and sickening fanfictions, which are mostly rejected by the fandom with the utmost disgust - fortunately.

No, no, what I'm going to talk about is admired by a - sadly - large part of the fandom. I was just looking for a cool fanfiction about Ron during my break when I found this, on the first page : "101 ways to kill Ron Weasley."

I know, I shouldn't have clicked on the link, but I couldn't help myself. I had to know.

This is the Author's note :

"This story is inspired by Crys' 1001 Deaths of Lord Voldemort on

For many of us, we hate one character in canon more than any other. No, not Lord Voldemort. I am, of course, talking about Ron Weasley.

Ron is lazy, stupid, annoying, and, in my opinion, mentally retarded.

Now, many in the fanfiction community hate Ginny much more than Ron; however, I find that to be more based upon their experiences with fanfiction than Ginny's actual roll in canon. Let's all be honest, outside of CoS and a cameo in OoTP, Ginny has very few lines and almost no involvement in the plot while Ron plays the role of a giant douchebag throughout the books.

This story, which I hope people will enjoy, is my way of killing off the dumbass in as many colorful ways as possible.

In case you can't tell, expect major Ron!Bashing."

...

I should have stopped as soon as I read this. I didn't, pushed by a morbid curiosity : I wanted to know how far people were ready to go. Useless to say that I bitterly regret it.

First, notice here that Voldemort and Ron are the only characters that I know of who have entire fanfics dedicated to kill them.

Voldemort and Ron are put on the same level. A teenager, the best friend of the hero and a hero himself, is compared to a psychopath and a murderer.

Moreover, I have to underline that the author judges Ron as "mentally retarded". I find it worrying. Just because a teenager have not the same grades as the best student in his year, just because he does not display the same way of thinking as his clever best friend does not mean he is stupid. Far from that.

That is a judgement on intelligence that I think is horrible. You have to know that intelligence, despite what tests such as IQ's claim, can not be really measured. It depends on so many factors. The results of IQ tests depend themselves on so many factors.

Furthermore, having real problems to understand things should be seen as a disability, a handicap and not an insult. It is a very difficult situation to deal with.

Also notice that the intellect is one the major criteria differencing the characters for those people. Intellect is practically above everything else.

I read the fanfiction, constituted of two chapters and multiple drabbles.

First reaction :

First one : Ron dies from eating too much. He chokes on his food.

Second one : In first year, wanting to prove a point to Hermione, Ron willingly mispronunces a spell and conjures a buffalo which crushes him

Third one : In Deathly Hallows, Ron takes the locket with him when he leaves. Harry and Hermione try to stop him and splinch him (he is split in two), but they don't recover the Horcrux. Last sentence : "Even in death, Ron Weasley found a way to be a pain in the ass."

Fourth one : Ron, charged by Harry to give Hedwig her treats, eats them in front of her. Hedwig, with the help of thousands other owls, avenges herself by attacking and killing Ron. Reminding of "The birds" by Hitchcock.

Fifth one : Ron, jealous, accuses Hermione of loving Harry and calls her "a Mudblood". She kills him. Harry and her hide Ron's body before they have sex. Petty remark about the length of Harry and Ron's manhoods. Note of the "author" explaining that it was a summary of another fic.

Sixth one : the Trio enters Bellatrix's vault. Ron is immediately fascinated by the amount of money and begins to steal it despite his friends' warnings. He burts into flames and jinxes his friends. Particularly petty sentence : "He never knew, or cared, that his greed had doomed them as well."

Seventh one : Ron speaks proudly about the unbreakable vow he made when he was five. Hermione asks him what it was about, he says he had sworn he would never say he wasn't a jobbernowl, he dies. Worst thing : use of a real passage of the book.

Eighth one : Ron dies on the chess set. His sacrifice is presented as stupid because it 'had to be another way.'

Nine : Harry uses Sectumsempra on Ron while he is sleeping. Ron dies. Harry transforms his corpse into a sock and burns it.

Last one : after Ron is made prefect, Hermione refuses to have him as a partner, jinxes him and kills him "for the greater good." Particularly nasty sentences : "Harry looked at the badge and fought the urge to go downstairs and ask McGonagall and Dumbledore if they were high when they selected the male Gryffindor prefect this year." / "'Sure', Ron said, completely shocked. 'I was positive you would get it, Harry.' 'You and the rest of the world,' Harry thought darkly." / "I can already see Ron not taking his duties seriously and flaunting the privileges that prefects normally deserve."

I won't comment all of them, but I really want to say something about some of them.

The first one uses a trope overused in Ron-bashing fanfiction : the fact that Ron eats a lot and sometimes speaks with his mouth full. Obviously, the author has forgotten what it is to be a teenager, and especially a thin teenager. Their metabolism needs food, and loads of food, because they are growing up and thin people tend to burn off energy more rapidly.

The fourth makes me sick. (Not that they don't all make me want to throw up.) First since it uses the overused trope I have already mentioned. Moreover for Ron would definitely do what Harry asks him to do, and for Ron is definitely not cruel. And thirdly because... THE BIRDS ! Does it ring a bell, a physical assault on Ron with birds ?

The fifth one. There is absolutely no universe where Ron, I'm-going-to-kill-Malefoy-with-my-bare-hands!Ron, would call Hermione a Mudblood. No. Way.

The sixth. Just because Ron said once something like "It would be nice to have galleons for a change", once "I hate being poor" (ONCE !!!), "Lucky you" (referring to Harry not noticing the difference on his amount of gold when the fake money disappeared), "Where's mine ?" (asking Bill where his money was because Bill has just given Harry a purse full of gold), that's it, Ron is greedy. Just because he doesn't want to be in need. Although he never complained that much.

These people hating Ron for he does not like to be poor are just self-righteous and have very probably never lived in the same situation. They have never been homeless, have received all the gifts for Christmas they wanted, have lived in a warm and comfortable house. It's easy to think about morals when your stomach is full, your health is perfect and well taken care of, and your basical material needs are fulfilled.

I remember a story my dance teacher told me : there was a poor woman in Africa who had lost a husband, a son and a leg in a war and still considered herself luckier than a French homeless person because she had a roof above her head.

I'm not saying that losting a loved one is less terrible. Nothing is more terrible.

Just that hating a fourteen-years old boy who never received another Christmas gift than a maroon jumper he hates but still puts on without really complaining because his mother made it, because he would like to have clothes that fit him or galleons he could spend to offer things to his friends is stupid. Really. And shows a lack of empathy.

Moreover, it's not as if Ron was not generous. All he has he shares it. His galleons, he mostly spends it on gifts for his friends. He gave his Christmas gifts to an house-elf. Ron has a really big, big heart and nothing is more important to him than his friends and family.

Eight. Just. How dares he / she ? That's what I hate with this fandom. Everything is twisted to correspond to the views of people.

Last. The prefect badge. My god the prefect badge. Maybe the most disgusting one, because Harry and Hermione are depicted as thinking the worst of him and somehow echo the 'No one in their right mind would make Ron a prefect'. The fact that Ron is often belittled by the fans who don't think he deserved the badge is reminiscent of the fact that Ron didn't either. Ron didn't think he deserved it. That makes me soooo angry.

Pansy Parkinson deserved her badge, but Ron ? Nooooo of course.

The question of worthiness in Ron-bashing is central. People operate a grading : some characters are better than others. The worst is to think that they do it in real life.

I am really naive. I thought that most readers would be inflamed by such display of stupidity. How wrong I was ! This story had 242 reviews, whose only 12 were critical. On the twelve crital ones, 4 were saying that Ron was just an ordinary teenager with no talent, but that it was a shame to dislike him for that.

The rest ?... At this point I don't know if I want to cry or burst into flames out of rage.

I have warned you before. I warn you again. Be aware of the violence of what will follow.

"More!

In order to get a good nights sleep, I need to read about Ron dying in horrendous and funny ways, due to his folly and vices."

At this point it looks like a caricature, doesn't it ? We can notice, however, that people vent out their frustrations and violence on fictional characters. It's up to you if it is good or not. I think it is sick to post it on the Internet, on a personal level.

"A note to a couple of Ron fanboys that posted. First, don' t like? Don' t read. You can tell it is a bashing story from the summary. Second; each person can interpret the canon events the way he wants. Personally, i see it like this: Ron betrayed and abandoned his supposed best friend when he needed help the most. Twice. And he never even apologised properly! It is not our best moments and actions that show us who we really are, but our worst ones. Because, usually, that is when one lets his true self show. Ron is not a bad person, but he is an idiot in canon."

It actually reflects a way of thinking. Ron is defined by the moment he felt betrayed and argued against his best friend - and he tried to apologize, though didn't make Harry apologize for hitting him - and the moment he left under mental torture - the first one who tells me Ron isn't strong-willed will have to run really fast from my anger, because Ron resisted possession and once rebelled against a thought mass murederer on a broken leg and they know nothing about torture -. For this kind of people, you can't have flaws. You can't be faulty. You have to be perfect. You can't ever be forgiven. This is unhealthy.

"*Insane laugh* I love this story! I've always hated Ron. *Sigh* If only he died in cannon, then my life would be complete!"

Once again I am amazed by the VIOLENCE of such a statement.

"I just love the first one where Ron dies while stuffing his face. I have often thought that he had either Bulima or a tapeworm. I have actually seen someone eat like him. It turned out that this person was Bulimic. How else does someone stuff himself and remain skinny?"

It displays a total lack of understanding of what eating disorders really are. Those are disorders which are really extremely difficult to deal with on a daily basis. They are mistaken here with bad eating manners.

"Are you in middle schoolers? Because that's how they teach you how to write in middle school. Also, Ron IS stupid. His grades show that. And Hermione is always caring and helping Harry, even when Ron is off sulking, jealous of Harry. And who cares if Ron came back after leaving? He still left! And getting his ass off of bed is not an excuse for Ron. He only goes along with Harry because he needs to! To keep being Harry's friend, that is. You're actually as mentally deficient as Ron is, and I hope you learn some proper fucking grammar."

Once again intelligence is confused with good grades. That's how you end up with teachers telling students who don't have good grades that they are too stupid to do anything of their life. Ron is here considered as an opportunist. As if he had chosen to be friends with Harry for fame -internal scream. As if being friends with Harry was easy. As if he had not commited his life to help his friends. Notice that once again someone is judges according to his so-called bad actions (to me, Ron leaving is not a mistake Ron did, as I said multiple times already).

"Oi weasel!, for the first and final time, there will never be an Hermione and you, so stop dreaming about her; she's way, out of your league, otherwise l will make you into an weasel patty..."

Love is seen as a question of worthiness.

"Can the Basilisk eat him? please please let the Basilisk eat him"

Once again the violence strucks me.

"ugh i hate him 2 he always runs away or gets jelous. The one thing he did was play stupid chess. Like geez. I love the owl 1".

Chess is considered stupid. CHESS IS CONSIDERED STUPID, BUT WRITING AN ENTIRE FANFIC TO KILL A FICTIONAL CHARACTER IS NOT. Those people are sickeningly judgemental and self-righteous.

"Thank you, I really needed a good laugh and nothing is more funny than Ron dying in horrific, nasty ways."

*throws up*

"Hilarious. Keep updating. I can't stand Ron. The flaws of Snape, Albus, Remus, Sirius and the rest makes them interesting characters. The flaws of Ron make him a putz."

Notice that Ron is the one character that apparently can't be forgiven for his flaws. Ever.

"Lol, Keep killing Ron, it's enjoyable. It's a good stress reliever to read these. :)

See ! Ron is nothing more than a punching ball to those people. I'm scared, really. Their immaturity is worrying.

"I agree with you about Ron he really is a good for nothing person in canon."

*sees red* That's what I'm fighting against in real life. People telling teenagers (and here one of the most admirable fictional teenagers I've ever seen) with a crippling lack of self-esteem that they are worthless. DON'T LISTEN TO THEM !

"this is so funny. i love the owl treats one. my favourite so far. anyone who dares say this is rubbish will face my anger, dont worry. just because it wont happen in canon dosent mean its not good."

Well, sorry to break it to you, but this is rubbish.

"Harry could have been the next Voldermort or Dumbledore if Ron hadn't infected him wi"

Ron and his friendship with Harry are seen as DISEASES.

"Weasley must die! Weasley must die!"

"I actually don't mind Ginny as a character, but Ron has always severely irritated me. The ending to Deathly Hallows was disappointing - how could JKR stick Hermione with a git like that? Ron's been nothing but awful to her since day one, and let's not even get started on how he's treated Harry...

Not really such a "loyal" sidekick, is he? When it all comes down to it, he's a selfish prat, thinking of nobody but himself. The PoA incident with Crookshanks, then GoF when he accused Harry of putting his name into the Goblet - there's been numerous occaisions in which that red haired git has allowed his jealously to get the better of him and abandoned his friends all because of his own petty insecurities.

Halfway through Deathly Hallows, I was ready to strangle him. I know the locket probably brought most of it on - but I don't see that as an excuse for him to throw a childish temper tantrum and blow up about Harry not knowing what he's doing. Okay, so you miss mummy's cooking, and living your life as a lazy sloth..

No reason to take it out on your two best friends. At least your parents are still alive, you ignorant MORON. I was rather pleased when Harry told him off, though. :)

All in all; Ron has always been an annoying, pain in the butt character to me. Utterly useless, really.

I can't wait to see what other creative ways you come up with to kill him.

*adds story to favorites*

Weasley is NOT my king."

So many things wrong.

Ron has been nothing other than awful to Hermione ? What about 'You're the most wonderful person I've ever met ?' 'She's been perfect, as usual.' ? What about getting detention several times (and one washing bedpans) for defending her ?

#ron weasley #hp #anti ron-hate

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