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woodrokiro · 2 months

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Do It For the Band, Part Nine (Fic)

Fandom: Bleach

Pairing: IchiRuki

Summary: When Tatsuki said she wanted their sophomore album to be the next Rumours, this is NOT what she meant.Band AU.

Read the rest on Ao3

When Ichigo finishes his story, Tatsuki has no words. She’s absolutely baffled at the man before her.

The two sit in silence for a solid moment before Ichigo tips back the last dregs of his beer, like he’s playing at being casual but he’s Ichigo Kurosaki and he’s never casual and he’s —

“You are the biggest idiot on this planet,” she finally answers in wonder. Ichigo scoffs and gets up to throw his bottle away, turning his back to her.

“Yeah, yeah, I figured you’d say that. So you see? I fucked up, but it’s not like it’s completely my fau—”

Instincts are strange: how fast your muscles can move before you have even a single thought. Like the feeling in the pit of your stomach you get when you meet someone sketchy, or the way human newborns know to hold their breath underwater.

Or the way Tatsuki’s arm finds a nearby pillow and chucks it straight at Ichigo’s head.

The guitarist yelps, throwing his hand to his head protectively as he eyes his attacker with obvious betrayal. “Tatsuki, what the hell?!”

She laughs shortly, shaking her head and getting up. “Unbelievable, Ichigo. Un-fucking-believable.”

“It’s not funny, you could’ve—you could’ve really thrown me off my balance or something!”

“Oh shut up, don’t be a baby… Or hand over the bottle so I can hit it over your skull and do some real damage.”

“N-no!” Ichigo is clearly bewildered and hides said bottle behind his back. “The hell’s the matter with yo—”

“Ichigo. She’s in love with you.”

His mouth snaps shut into a scowl and his eyes don’t meet hers. “Did you even listen to me? Clearly not.”

“‘Did you even listen to me?’” The drummer mimics, and he has the audacity to look at her like she’s nuts. “Ichigo. My dear, sweet summer child. My oldest, closest friend — no, no, don’t make that face, don’t make it weird — … Have you listened to yourself? She made you listen to Taylor Swift and dance with her. She bought your shitty earphone excuse to be physically closer to you. She listened to Joni Mitchell for you. She slept with you — and yes, that is a big deal, considering Rukia is the biggest prude known to mankind except where it counts —”

“Not that big of a prude,” Ichigo huffs, blushing, and jumps when Tatsuki points wildly at him.

“Exactly! To you she isn’t! My point exactly! And, and, let’s not forget about the songs she wrote about you?! ‘Amber eyes turn me dead/Dust to dust until dark’? Who says that about a person they’re not head over heels for? She was pissed, yeah, but pissed because of how obsessed she is with you!!”

“Well… Okay that’s not necessarily—”

“Who knows what else happened when the two of you were alone! And even after all that you put her through — with the album, with Orihime, with the whole thing with her friend whose name is Absolutely Her Friend And Nothing Else — after all that, she still learned and performed the song you told her reminds you of your mom! Your dearly beloved, dead mother! The person that taught you everything you know about music — she did that for you and oh hey by the way: it’s the song that reminds her of her first kiss. With you.” Tatsuki huffs, and no she’s not going to cry but she is humorously emotional for her friend. “Ichigo. You are living a lesbian’s wet dream and you are wasting it.”

The room is quiet, with only the low hum of the air conditioner filling the sound between them. Suddenly, slowly — she catches the slight lift of Ichigo’s lips, and it’s infectious.

The two of them begin to laugh. It’s only a short series of chuckles from both sides, but immediately the air lightens because Tatsuki knows there it is, he’s getting it.

“That doesn’t — okay, that doesn’t explain the ‘friend,’ or whatever he is. Doesn’t explain the hugging.”

Tatsuki rolls her eyes at the sheer thickness of this guy’s skull. “Ichigo, normal friends hug. Not everyone has a friendship with the I-hate-you-but-love-you bit you and I have going on.”

“Careful, Tatsuki. That’s the second weirdest thing you’ve said to me today. Can’t have you getting soft.”

“Honestly it’s Orihime’s fault. Love does that, numbskull. I think you’re already quite familiar with all that, though.”

“Yeah, yeah.” His eyes shift to the alarm clock next to his bed, and his smile drops a little in uncharacteristic nervousness. “It’s late. She’s probably asleep though, huh?”

To her credit: she says nothing about the way his hand is already moving to the door handle, body half-turned. Bullshit, she almost says — but sees the slight nervous shuffle in his feet and recognizes what he actually needs from her, maybe has never needed from anyone except Rukia: reassurance.

“Of course she’s not, dumbass.” She grins softly, and raises her hand in a “shoo-shoo” motion. “Go get her, Tiger.”

Ichigo nearly trips over himself on his way out.

She sits there, snickering, and is on her way out of his room herself when she sees him get into the elevator and she just can’t help herself.

“Ichigo!” He jerks his head up in answer, eyes a little wild. She cups her hands around her mouth for the sound to carry.

“You know where the clit is, right?!”

HIs face turns beet red in an instant, and he leans forward just as the doors begin to close.

“Oh my God, Tatsuki, just shut the —”

A ding and a whir ends his speech just as the door closes, and she types a text out to Urakara, grinning ear to ear:

The kids are fine.

—

In the most ideal situation: Ichigo may, for the first time ever, wish he had read more of his sister’s trashy shoujo because he has NO idea what he should say to Rukia.

He got hyped from Tatsuki’s support, and even when he’s screaming at her as the elevator doors close (because yes of course he knows all about that and he knows where Rukia’s… Nevermind) he feels on top of the world, like he’s gonna go get his girl.

And now he’s in front of her hotel room and clearing his throat and muttering and he…

Look. Ichigo. Knows. He does not have a way with words… Improv-wise.

He says the first thing on his mind, and even if it’s clunky or sometimes makes people look at him weird, he’s always been at least proud that it’s what’s on his mind. Any poetic musing is saved for lyric writing, and he’s fine with that.

But being with Rukia is recognizing she deserves more than that.

He can’t just say hey sorry I was an asshole to you over a slight misunderstanding and thanks for singing Joni and literally fulfilling a music-nerd wet dream I never knew I had, wanna bang again? Or well.. He could — but the point is she deserves a full apology, and a whole confession that he loves her, has never met anyone like her and never will and they belong to each other forever.

You know. Easy stuff.

Jesus. He’s been out here for ten minutes, pacing, and he still doesn’t know what he’s going to say. It’s stupid, right? It’s probably so stupid, she might not even take him back. Hell, she might not even be here anymore, she might have already caught an earlier flight and left all their asses behind forever—

He hears the sound of a door opening, and when he looks behind him where he’s paced away from the room — Rukia’s standing there.

What feels like hours go by as the two stare at each other, when in reality it’s probably only a few seconds — and Ichigo realizes they haven’t actually looked at each other, like really taken each other in since the photo shoot. Rukia’s expression is unreadable, but he gulps because

God.

How does she do this to him, every time?

Finally, she pierces the moment by shifting her hips and raising an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

He blinks. “Um — yeah. Wait. How’d you — How’d you know I was out here?”

“I heard you out here muttering and walking around. Nobody talks to themselves as loud as you do.”

“Oh.” He swears he’s not trying to stall, but he cannot for the life of him remember anything of what he was considering to say.

Rukia clearly knows nothing of the internal screaming he’s doing right now, as she starts to frown a little deeper. “So. Can you actually spit out whatever you were going to say? So I can go to bed and you can never see me again? I’m sure Urahara’s already informed you —”

“Yeah, he did.” Ichigo snaps himself out of it. He might not have a full speech prepared in his arsenal yet, but this is a good way to segue into it. “Seriously, Rukia? You’re just gonna not tell anyone you’re leaving except our manager, and what? Disappear into the night?”

She rears her head back as if she’s been slapped.

Shit. He didn’t know he was still feeling a little angry about that.

“What’re you — of course I’m not going to come to you after everything that’s been happening! You, the one who’s accused me of being selfish and a nightmare to work with? You, who just — just assumed everything about me, but did whatever you wanted just to hurt me?” Her voice cracks at the end and it’s his turn to flinch.

“No. No c’mon, I never wanted to hurt — “

Rukia clears her throat, and her entire body language shifts into something deadly casual as she steps back fully into her hotel room. “And honestly. ‘Disappear into the night.’ Don’t be so dramatic. I’m leaving in the morning.”

“Well yeah I didn’t mean literally —”

“I know you didn’t. It doesn’t matter, Ichigo.” She sighs tiredly as she starts closing the door between them. He panics. “The point is, you don’t have to worry. I won’t be here in the morn—”

Her speech is cut off by her own gasp as Ichigo slams forward his shoulder into the door just as it’s about to shut before he even knows what’s happening.

“Ichigo, what—”

“Ow, okay that didn’t feel great and now I feel like a creep —”

“Well you’re being a creep, so I think it’s only logical that you feel like —”

“Rukia, just please for the love of God just shut up.”

“Excuse — You—you have the gall to slam into my door and tell me — “

“It’s impossible for me to think coherently around you, you know that?!” He knows he looks deranged by the way she’s looking at him, utterly baffled.

“Have you lost your mind?!”

“Yeah, actually. I have. All thanks to you. Do you know that I’ve never — when I write, I can usually whip them out so quick. You don’t believe me, because you’ve only ever seen me spend days on a song — but when you’re around, I don’t know what you do but it’s like you’re some fucked up muse that fucks me up.”

She’s pinching her nose, shaking her head. “Ichigo, what are you —”

“You make me better.” He takes her arm firmly but gently, forcing her to look at him. “You make me want to be better, that’s why. That’s why I spend so much goddamn on a single lyric line, for the sole possibility it will make you smile. Otherwise I’m usually stuck sitting here with you without any words in my mouth because you took them all away. You’re so goddamned smart, and wonderful, and so so talented on your own — fuck the word ‘muse.’ You’re your own. Just. Goddess of fucking music or artists or something and I want to worship you.”

She flushes, and maybe even sort of trembles beneath his touch but he’s barely paying attention. “Ichigo —”

“I want to know everything about you. I want to know — I want to know your favorite music to fall asleep to. I want to know what music you listen to when you’re cooking a meal, or cleaning, or in the shower. I want to know what songs you play when you’re incredibly sad, or excited, or the ones you listen to when you want to just feel human, feel connected with everything around you. I want to know all the songs you grew up with, every single one, even the ones you think aren’t technically good but just do something for you. I want to hear every album you ever wished you wrote. Just. The ones that make you scream with jealousy but you can’t stop, you will never stop listening to them. And I want to — I want to know the kind of music you’d like to hear when we kiss. God, I really want to know that one. I want to hear the songs that you’d like to cuddle to, the ones that’ll make you wrap your legs around me like you did that night, the ones you’d like to be made love to to and—”

Ichigo had a lot more to say about what kinds of favorite music he’d like to learn about Rukia, but she’s grabbed him by the back of the head and is kissing him so deeply he forgets everything he was planning to say for the rest of the night.

—-

Their first time that night is a little too, uh. Frenzied for them to really even think about playing music.

But on their second time…

They both find out her favorite for that last category is Buckley’s Hallelujah. His is The Cure’s Lovesong.

“We are officially insufferable,” she pant-whispers to him, grinning wildly beneath him under a bird’s nest of sweaty, tangled hair. He chuckles, equally out of breath, but still leans down to kiss her in agreement.

—

To say their getting together was expected would be an understatement.

For the two of them to actually gather the whole team the next morning and announce the development of their relationship while holding hands and explaining everything that happened like the group didn’t already know was downright excruciating.

As soon as Rukia said she’d like to “open the floor for any questions or concerns,” Tatsuki tapped out.

“I’m leaving. Anyone else wanna get mimosas with me?” The team murmured in agreement and started to get up as Rukia grew increasingly alarmed. Ichigo looked like he wanted to be literally anywhere else.

“W-wait, we have to talk about how this is going to affect our workplace..!”

“Sweetheart, it’s already been affected.” Rukia looks slightly crestfallen and the drummer inwardly curses, feeling bad. “Oh c’mon, don’t do that Rukia. We’re just saying this is nothing.”

“Right, and I really — we are so sorry we put you all through that — “

“Hey don’t include me in that, I never said I was sorry —” Ichigo yelps as his apparently-now-girlfriend elbows him in the ribs.

“Dolt, we put them through hell —”

“Yeah, well, Tatsuki’s been putting me through hell since I was seven years old so I think it’s only fair —”

“Excuse me, you wouldn’t have even found the love of your life there had I not stepped in and —”

“I think the point Tatsuki’s making is we’re happy for you, Ichigo. Kuchiki-san.” Chad’s deep baritone makes them all jump and look to the man closest to the door out. “Regardless of what happens with the two of you — we’re still us. Nothing has to change if we don’t want it to.”

They all stare and Urahara whistles.

“And that, Sado-san, is why you’re my favorite and receiving the majority of next album’s sales.”

A chorus of grumbles and whines arose in the group so loud Tatsuki had to shout to restore order.

“All right, Orihime and I are headed to that breakfast place on the corner. Everyone — except Urahara — is welcome to join us.”

“Aww no fair, Tatsuki-chan, you know you’re still my second in command —”

“Don’t call me that. IchiRuki, you coming?”

“I’m sorry… Was that referring to us?”

“Your new stage name together. Since all the sexual tension is being, you know. Expressed now, ya’ll need a couple’s name.”

“Please don’t say that word or that last sentence ever again… But yeah, we’re coming. Rukia needs to grab something from the room and then we’ll head over.”

“Oh I bet she’ll be grabbing something, all right.”

“Tatsuki, please!”

“Ohoho, lovely comeback Second-in-Command!”

“I told you not to call me that!”

“Everyone in this room but me and Rukia can rot in absolute hell.”

—-

The Night the Lights Went Out in Osaka ends up becoming an iconic piece of indie music history when newspapers write about it and video footage of some of the performance is leaked. Their second album triples in profit compared to their first, and soon enough all of them are getting occasionally recognized in the streets.

It’s not selling-out-stadiums-big (yet) — but their rising success makes them excited for the future, absolutely blissful that they can all now afford their rents without working some lame side job during the day. They even get to hire a more professional sound designer for some of their stuff — Rukia’s friend Renji, who is now considered zero threat to Ichigo and therefore taken onto the team with (grudgingly) open arms.

Rukia leaves the band around a year later.

All of them knew it was nothing personal — but Tatsuki may-or-may-not sniffle when she announces the leave, telling everyone in a deep bow and a watery voice that this has been the absolute best time of her life. That she will always consider the band home, but she’s got other dreams she’s ready to focus on — dreams like applying for top grad music programs, or releasing her own album one day of just her and her piano.

Ichigo says nothing beside her, his hand on the small of her back.

But from the softness in his gaze, the slight lift of his smile — Tatsuki knows he is so, so proud of her.

It’s not the end, anyway. Hardly. Tatsuki reminds herself that she will literally see Rukia nearly every day she sees Ichigo, which is — a lot, because the band is still rising in success, with or without their female vocalist. Ichigo and Chad are scribbling as many lyrics together as ever, always asking for both Tatsuki and Rukia’s input and Tatsuki knows this will never end, not really.

She loves that.

She loves that she gets to cuddle with Orihime after a long night in rehearsal or concert or whatever, doing what they both love together. She loves that Urahara’s offered to involve her more in management matters — not giving sole responsibility, but recognizing her talent in bringing the team together and demanding what they deserve. She loves that Chad is finally able to adopt the dog he always wanted but never could afford and brings Yuichi to every rehearsal as their team mascot.

And don’t let either of them know it, but Tatsuki loves to go to Ichigo and Rukia’s apartment on any given Thursday — the day they usually host a dinner for everyone — and open the door to the two of them bickering, supper bubbling softly on the stove as they argue over what album to play. It never really matters — because the night ends with all of them on the living room floor, half drunk and screaming lyrics to favorite songs while Rukia snuggles deeper into Ichigo’s lap, laughing as he not-so-subtly kisses the top of her head.

Their lives are so fucking cute.

Tatsuki's rock-n’-roll heart wants to hurl — but love’s pretty metal too, she guesses.

#ichiruki #my stuff #bleach #do it for the band #fanfiction

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magicalpoison · 2 years

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Rose Gold Promises (Pt.1)

A/N: My favorite thing I ever wrote but never finished

PART 2 HERE

Rose Gold Promises (pt 1) Donnie x Reader TW: Angst, Swearing, arguments

It was never a surprise to anyone at the ungodly amount of time Donnie spent in his lab. His brothers knew and even told (Y/N) when they first entered their lives that he was there almost 24/7. Strangely enough (Y/N) found his brilliant mind and undying dedication to his work endearing. And it was only two years since they met the turtle in the purple mask before they found themselves actually dating him! (Y/N) was perfectly happy in this relationship, despite it having to be a secret one. Having to only see Donnie at night and lying to friends and family about where they were heading. Initially, it was difficult, but they were happy and hopelessly in love. However, Donnie after some time was quick to return to the habit of spending hours in his lab. Zoning out his brothers and the world around him, he was quick to pay attention to his dove, but with each passing day, things began moving downhill. (Y/N) dealt with it, though they may have been annoyed or upset, they knew they couldn’t change Donnie. And why would they want that, they loved the purple turtle.

But sometimes love isn’t enough…

(Y/N) had just returned from a long day at work, exhausted and a little irritated due to co-workers, but those feelings quickly vanished when she entered the lair. "Angel cakes!" called Mikey as he vaulted himself over the couch and ran towards them with the nickname (Y/N) he had quickly earned. Engulfing them in a hug they returned with a series of laughs and giggles. The sweetheart turtle finally let them go, his yelling alerting the oldest two turtles who came out of their hiding places. "Hi-ya Mikey!" They said before smiling at the other two who also said their hellos. However, that smile faltered a bit when they looked in the direction of the lab. All three brothers noticed but it was Leo who was the one to speak up. “Actually you came at a good time, Mikey was about to run to get the pizza we ordered. And since Donnie hasn’t eaten today-” “Or in the past few days” The one in red was quick to add to Leo’s statement, which only earned him a growl. In a flash, (Y/N) turned back to the brothers with a look of anger. “What?” They snapped, their anger something new to the brothers causing them to look shocked and Mikey to take a step back. (Y/N) didn’t mean to snap at them personally, however, the idea of Donnie being so caught up in his god-forsaken lab he’s neglected his own health is. It’s not a first, but at this point, it had gotten on their last nerve.

“We tried toots, but the nerd won’t listen. Says his pop tarts are enough,” Raph spoke cautiously not wanting to feel the wrath of the tiny human in front of him. An annoyed huff of air left (Y/N) as they thought of what to do. Without another word they headed straight for the lab, leaving the three to stare at one another for a moment. “I’m gonna go get that pizza now…” Mikey spoke slowly backing his way out of the lair. (Y/N) didn’t storm in like they thought they would, instead stood there in front of the metal barricade collecting themselves for a moment. Walking in angry would lead to nothing constructive, and that's not what they wanted. After a moment of silent contemplation, they pushed on the door, which slowly creaked open. Looking inside, it was pure chaos. Parts and tools were scattered everywhere, and torn and crumpled pieces of paper of what appeared to be failed blueprints filled the bin. Donnie sat in the middle of it all grumbling to himself, never noticing the other body in the room. The turtle looked a mess, his mask hung from his neck, what appeared to be bags under his eyes, tongue partly sticking out, cutely- but now was not the time for that. Watching him for a moment as he worked, his hand shaking from lack of sleep and food. (Y/N)’s eyebrows knitted together at his state, lips parted as his name was spoken. “Donnie…” No reaction.

Approaching the diligent turtle almost cautiously until they were beside him, laying a soft hand on his shoulder. “Don.” They spoke with a more stern tone, wanting the turtle to notice them. Instead, they received an unexpected reply that wounded the heart. "Not now," he said, as he meant no harm by it, he just wanted to work, but it clearly had the effect on (Y/N). Another huff, followed by them crossing their arms over their chest, was an obvious signal of an annoyed significant other. “Donatello.” Stern and aggressive, a bit like Leo. “What?” He snapped his head around to look at his dove, his voice rising higher than he intended it to. Lack of food and sleep had made the turtle far from irritable, and his inability to figure out how to fix this one thing only made it worse. (Y/N) took a step back a bit, caught off guard by his tone, but held their ground. “You need a break Donnie, get some sleep and eat something,” As his dove spoke their stern expression softened, looking at the genius turtle in worry. Reaching out to touch his face, to give their turtle soft affection, they were flat-out rejected as he pushed their hand away. Turned his attention back to the machine and bluntly said “I’m fine." Annoyed and obviously far from fine. “Donatello Hamato, you NEED to eat and sleep. You are not fine” (Y/N) was not one for conflict but this was much more important than some average bickering between lovers. This was about his well-being. Donatello growled. In most cases that would be an instant turn-on, but (Y/N) was too focused on him eating something to care.

Those beautiful eyes that (Y/N) loved so much closed, three-fingered hand rubbing under his eyes. “I already ate," (Y/N) interrupted, "Bullshit," before gesturing to the wrappers of pop-tarts. “This...this isn’t real food Donnie. You are a ninja for heaven's sake, you should know you need this!” They attempted to remain stern, but every minute their words sounded more like begs and pleas than demands. Donatello suddenly shot up from his chair, the old thing falling back with a band that sorta echoed in the lab. “Stop telling me what to do!” His voice rang with a wave of anger that could only come from Raph. His anger only elevated (Y/N)’s, who returned the tone of voice right back at him. “Then learn to take care of yourself and I wouldn’t have to!” (Y/N) stood glaring at Donnie, their Donnie, who now stood facing them copying their glare. However (Y/N) was no giant mutated turtle that fights crime, so Donatello was far more intimidating. She wouldn’t admit it, but they felt themselves crack under his gaze.

Mikey had just returned with the pizza to find Leo and Raph looking at the lab door in worry, talking amongst themselves. “Should we step in?” The leader in blue looked to his brother who shared his thoughts but shook his head. “It’s Donnie, he won't hurt her, plus I don’t think we have the right to do so,” He whispered. Both were so occupied with the argument that they could barely hear that they definitely didn’t see the youngest brother. “I’m back!” He cheered, resulting in both brothers jumping up and landing in a fighting stance. Leo sighed after seeing Michelangelo with the pizza. “Mikey!” Raph growled before he along with the turtle in orange were shushed. They all fell silent as the yelling in the lab grew louder. Mikey frowned. “It sounds bad,” He said softly, lowering himself onto the couch with the pizza in his lap. His worry for his brother and the human he considered a dear friend grew as they listened, Mikey picking up a slice of pizza and quickly munching away.

The yelling continued for a while longer, Donnie and (Y/N) were at each other’s throats, a truly out-of-character thing for the couple. At this point Leo has had enough, standing from the couch he approached the door ready to end it. Despite the quiet protests from Raph and Mikey. He swung the door open just in time to hear what was said loud and clear.

“CAN’T YOU JUST LISTEN?! I DO THIS 'CAUSE I LOVE YOU!”

"I DO NOT WANT YOU OR YOUR LOVE!”

Silence. Everything fell completely silent, besides the faint sounds of breathing. (Y/N) felt the sting of his words rush through their body like poison. Leo looked at (Y/N), and he saw them start to shake a bit, his brother’s words hitting them hard. A shaky exhale and a quiver of their lips, then tears. Donatello looked away from them and at his experiment in anger. “F..Fine...I’m leaving,” They spoke, Leo, reaching out to stop them. “(Y/N)-” They raised a hand stopping Leo from getting any closer as they turned to head out of the lab. “No...it’s fine...he doesn’t want me around then I’ll leave. But the only thing I did wrong, was bother to care…” (Y/N) stormed past Leo and out of the lab, visibly distraught and angry, tears seldom ending. Mikey stood up to try and comfort her but was stopped by a grip on his wrist. Looking back at Raph who shook his head. All three watched her leave with a sense of anger and pain. Her footsteps turned into a full-on sprint out of the lair and to the surface. Once the faint sound of her running vanished Raphael leaped up from his spot and towards his brother. Pushing the purple turtle back full force. Catching him off guard as he landed on the ground. “What the shell!” Donnie glared at his brother. “No- no! Don’t ‘what the shell’ this. You know EXACTLY why! We are freaks hiding underground and your dumbass gets lucky enough to find someone who LOVES you and yet you throw it out the goddamn window just for some fucking junk!?” Raph was fuming with anger, ready to beat his younger brother if not for Leo and Mikey keeping him at bay.

Donatello stood up, staring at his brother. As his brother yelled, he took it quietly before huffing. “Why do you care?” He asked as he looked away. That question only adds fuel to the flames. “Why?! WHY?! CAUSE I’D KILL FOR SOMEONE TO LOVE ME LIKE THAT, CAUSE YOUR DUMBASS IS TO STUBBORN TO REALIZE HOW LUCKY YOU ARE-” Raph was ready to continue, to scream and shout but Mikey stopped him. "Raph, bro, chill" He shrugged off his brothers and stormed out of his room, slamming a makeshift door shut behind him. “He's right Don…” Leo spoke softly maintaining his anger, unlike his brother. “(Y/N) accepted us, and loves you. And yet you hurt her just because she decided to care more about you than your work.” Donatello lifted his gaze to his older brother, before watching him leave, Mikey trailing behind him with a shaking of his head and a soft “Not cool dude,”

Donatello was left alone as he wanted but at what price?

#tmnt x you #tmnt #tmnt bayverse #donnie x reader #tmnt imagine #tmnt angst #tmnt 2014 #tmnt fandom #tmnt 2018

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4noki-vns · 7 months

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The Final Prize is Soup: Character Design (2)

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Our Spooktober entry, The Final Prize is Soup, released recently at the start of October.

You who are unqualified to drink Meng Po's soup, you have been chosen for the game of life. Three worlds, three rounds. Win all three and you may avert your fated death. Lose any and your bones are forfeit for tomorrow's lunch broth. Good luck. Our ghosts have prepared their takeout containers, all plastic, non-microwaveable. —A survival-horror yuri visual novel.

Let’s talk a bit more about character designs!

Meet Cheng Yanxu (程燕栩), also known as Mimi (咪咪), one of two heroines in our newest visual novel.

A woman in her mid-20s. Our protagonist’s ex-girlfriend, a gloomy and introverted pretty girl who seems very attached to her cellphone.

visual design

Throughout the game, she wears a black cat hoodie over a pink dress—a semi-pastel goth attire. Frills and jirai-kei fashion would suit her!

For her day job, she would wear a more plain outfit, but these are her casual clothes.

The key points about Yanxu’s design:

extra color in her hair! (self-explanatory)

girlish quietness! (a slightly gloomy vibe but she is doing her best)

kitty cellphone case! (a cat motif, like her nickname)

From the oldest sketches of Yanxu’s design (pen on paper the oldest), you can see that much of her design was set quite early on: hairstyle, jacket, dress, cat phone!

Initially, I contemplated giving her dyed strands of hair in her bangs, but for ease of drawing, the dyed hair was moved to the back.

You might’ve noticed the messy note “maybe no jacket” in the old pen on paper sketch, but I decided to keep the hoodie for a bit more of a cozy look. (Though it’s never quite mentioned in game, the story takes place in autumn!)

Although the neck area of the dress was modified from a collar to a turtleneck look, her dress kept a relatively simple look for ease of drawing given that this was a jam game! I hope I still conveyed her cute-femme and slightly gloomy vibes. (I want to see her in a frilly outfit too…!)

And the kitty phone case is a kitty phone case all the way through! (Although she got a phone strap to attach to it once I iterated on the case a bit)

What about colors?

Unless particularly plot necessary, I don’t usually think too much about colors when drawing my initial sketches. Thus, I had quite an adventure deciding the palette while making her character sheet.

In another world, she would have a yellow/orange palette with light brown hair!

The main limitations for the cast’s colors were:

There can’t be too much overlap between their main colors.

Their hair colors must be natural or reasonably obtainable (for the human cast).

Even the pink highlight in the back of her hair wasn’t decided until lots of trial and error later. Initially, I tried light blue streaks in her bangs before quickly transitioning to indigo-blue dyed hair in the back.

After lots of experimentation with the colors for her outfit, I ultimately went back up and added the pink.

Color, what a thing!

My daughter is doing her best…!

It seems that she’s more expressive around our protagonist Hailu…

How did Yanxu die? Why is she also in this strange and cruel series of death games?

If you haven’t played The Final Prize is Soup yet, please do check it out! (o´▽`o)

shino

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pterodactylterrace · 2 years

Text

In Another Life

Title: In Another Life

Pairing: Eskel x Reader

Rating: T

Warning: Cannon level violence, major character death, grief and loss, mourning

Summary: How is he supposed to move on with everything he’s lost?

~*~

It was a gnawing loneliness he felt when Eskel came back down the mountain after… after what happened. His brothers were gone. Lambert was struck down by the wild hunt; Geralt having vanished into a swamp never to be heard from again. Vesemir was another victim of the wild hunt. His youngest brother and his father were both taken from him in one night. Ciri went to face the white frost, and never came back. Eskel was… alone.

The first few months were the worst. He fell into a haze of contracts and drinking. Anything to keep his mind occupied.

The second year he had forced himself to face what had happened. Even broken-hearted and drunk out of his mind, Lambert had managed to describe where Aiden was buried well enough for Eskel to find it. He laid Lambert’s silver sword to rest there. Now a part of them would always be together. He hoped Lambert found a peace in the next world that he was never afforded in this one. He deserved that much. His life was one series of horrible events after the next. From his abusive father, to being claimed by the law of surprise, then the trials that almost killed him. Aiden had been the one good thing he clung to in his life. Having him ripped away over something so silly was cruel.

Vesemir’s journal he kept tucked away. He would trace his fingers over the worn cover on long, restless nights, when he couldn’t get his mind to just relax. Vesemir had been a constant in his life for as long as he could remember. Having him be gone just felt… wrong. Vesemir was supposed to be the Witcher that made it. The one that dies in his bed at a ripe old age. He wasn’t supposed to be taken from him.

Geralt’s business has been more tedious to attend to. He had mentioned a winery he owned in Toussiant, insisting Eskel visit sometime. Eskel just thought he would be visiting with Geralt. Barnaby had been hesitant when he had found Eskel looking across the lands, wistfully imagining Geralt wandering around. He would look so out of place here. That thought made his chest clench and his throat tighten in grief. He wished more than anything he could have seen that. Wished Lambert, Vesemir and Ciri were all there, too, watching Geralt try to pretend he didn’t feel awkward in this strange surrounding. Lambert would mock him. Call him pretty boy and tell him to quit showing off. Vesemir would cuff him upside the head for that. Ciri would find the whole thing hilarious. They would be together.

Barnaby had taken notice of his amber eyes and wolf medallion, quickly deducing that he was one of the brothers Geralt had told him about. He had been solemn in handing over the note, Geralt’s handwriting staring back at him. It declared that Corco Bianco was his now. He knew he wasn’t coming back when he went into that swamp. The bastard. Eskel never got the chance to say goodbye to his oldest and closest friend. His brother.

The portrait of Geralt was enough to make him laugh until he couldn’t breathe. He decided to leave it up for a while at least. He slept in the guest loft for the first few nights, having to work himself up to sleep in the master bedroom. It felt more foreign than he had thought. He hasn’t slept at all the first couple of nights. It took some intensive sword practice and a good meal before he could settle down enough to sleep by the third night.

He tucked away Vesemir’s journal after a year off the path. He knew he needed to go back out, but he figured he deserved some time off to get his head on straight before setting out again. In the trunk with Vesemir’s journal went Lambert’s gwent deck. He wished Barnaby his best, warning him that he may not be back for quite some time, if at all.

Drowners, wyverns, forktails, nekkers, griffins, wraiths. The contracts kept blending together after a while. He let himself shed a few tears after his first completed contract. It had been a rather interesting affair, and he found himself recounting the details that night after recording it in his journal. A story he would never tell to his brothers. One that would never be told over a mug of ale during a cold winter's night in Kaer Morhen. He promised himself he would be stronger the next time.

It was unexpected meeting her. Eskel had given up on his dream of a family long ago. He couldn’t remember if it was after his trials, or after his face was mangled, only that he had resigned himself to a life alone what felt like a lifetime ago. Who knows? For a human, maybe it was a lifetime.

She had calmed the grief stricken storm of his mind, helping him to find a peace he could never achieve on the path. He found himself visiting her often, taking detours when he could just so he could see her. On long, lonely nights he would think back to his head pillowed in her lap as she gently stroked his hair.

He made his decision before she even finished speaking. She had tears in her eyes when she addressed him as he prepared to leave one morning. “Please.” Eskel had asked her what she meant, and the dam had given way. She explained how it felt like her heart was being ripped from her chest every time he left, not knowing when he would come back. A few days? Months? Never? It was a gamble he forced her to take each time he left.

“You’ve earned rest, my love. You don’t have to go anymore.”

For her, he laid down his swords. He tucked them away in the chest in the vineyard Geralt had left him, right next to Vesemir’s journal and Lambert’s cards. He faced himself in the mirror, taking in his reflection. He no longer wore his armor, a simple tunic and trousers taking their place. His hair had long since grown out and was now kept tied behind his head. He watched his fingers trace over his scarred face in the mirror, the only thing left of the life he had left behind him.

Most days, he was fine. He could laugh, joke and enjoy himself. He let himself live in the moment, to drink it in and let happiness wash over him. This was far from the life he thought he would have, but it filled him with a joy he never knew he could have. Then, something would happen and he would be reminded of his old life. His family and how he was the last of them. Those days he would spend with his head in her lap as she ran her fingers through his hair.

The storm would pass. Time would heal his heart, just as it did all other wounds. Hopefully soon.

~*~

Taglist

Tags: @weallhaveadestiny @lunedelorient @summersong69 @mis-lil-red @lharrietg @amberangel112 @mansaaay @packerfan43 @cavillsthighs @poledancingdinos @pretty-toxic-revolver @oh-for-fic-sake @geralt-of-baevia @littleone65 @littlefreya @eldarwen333 @sillyrabbit81 @beck07990 @pandaxnienke @marytudorbrandon @identity2212 @kebabgirl67 @omgkatinka @stardusted26 @cardierreh15

**If anyone wants to be added or removed from my taglist, please let me know.

could not tag

#eskel #eskel x reader #game!eskel x reader #the witcher #eskel fanfiction #the witcher fanfiction

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flowerwrites06 · 3 years

Text

the tale of agape I — jjk

World Info: There are eight types of Love originated from Ancient Greece. In the Realm of Love, these types have been turned into seven Gods and one Goddess. — Agape (universal): OC (Name: Belle) | Pragma (everlasting): Jungkook | Storge (familial): Yoongi | Mania (obsession): Seokjin | Philia (platonic): Namjoon | Eros (sexual passion): Taehyung | Philautia (self-love): Hoseok | Ludus (playful): Jimin

Plot: Agape is a well-loved Goddess in the Realm of Love. Anyone who wins her approval will become the most powerful entity in the land, standing side by side as a co-symbol of eternal Love. Unfortunately with knowledge of this power, Gods and Nymphs are prone to obsession and cunning. So Agapes’ de facto brother, Storge organises a tournament in her honour. Only the winner will become Agapes’ partner.

Pairing(s): God!Jungkook x Goddess!OC (Name: Belle) ft. God!Seokjin

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 2.6k

Genre: Gods & Goddesses | Fantasy | Romance

Tags & Warnings: betrayal, nothing intense in this chapter but there will eventual smut and violence so

Authors Note: i miss doing a jungkook series lmao so here you go, there were a lot of people during requests asking for a god/goddess au so I’m going on that with a new plot based on the eight types of love. I’m also extremely sleepy and ready to pass out, please excuse any mistakes. And lastly of course, enjoy and let me know what you think! Is this something you’d want me to continue or nah?

Morning began with soft sunlight painting the Love Realm, making the Cherry Palace sandstone glow like a topaz gem. Yoongi, the God of Familial Love stood at the terrace with the God of Platonic Love, Namjoon. Their soft silk robes flowed in the cool breeze as they watched the chariots of red, gold and blue riding into the courtyard; each vehicle pulled by majestic stallions.

“Are you sure about this?” Namjoon asked, eyes gently squinted to adjust to the bright day. His flowing blonde hair looked almost white from the reflection of the sun.

Yoongi shook his head, heart shaped lips pursed. “I don’t like it as much as you do but this is the only way we can filter out the ones on our own accord.”

“Is Belle okay with this?”

“She likes tournaments. Chose the method herself.”

“Jousting?”

Yoongi hummed in agreement, unable to hide the smile spreading across his lips.

Namjoon chuckled. “Sometimes I think she just likes the knocking of heads.”

“Agape has a cheek to her.” Yoongi leaned forward on the balcony railing. All the heads padded out of their chariots, escorted by servants into the palace. Only one chariot hadn’t arrived yet.

“Seokjin is coming too?” Namjoons’ voice grew deep with slight contempt.

“I have to invite him. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“You know how he gets, Yoongi.” Namjoon shifted to face him completely. “What if he gets out of control in this tournament?”

“I gave him my warning last time.” Yoongi raised a hand to calm him. “He knows what’ll happen.”

“You can’t kill him.”

“Oh I’ll keep him alive.”

Namjoon shook his head, laughing. “How do you make even that sound threatening?”

Yoongi grinned. “I made her my sister for a reason. No one hurts her on my account.”

“Understood.”

Refreshing wind brushed through the transparent crème curtains into Belles’ room as her lady-in-waiting fit her into a warm pink georgette dress for the first tournament. The tone matched her pink irises, making them look more otherworldly than ever.

Angel let out a satisfied sigh after fixing the train. “Lord Yoongi knows how to pick dresses.” She stood up straight and fixed the gold patchwork bordering the shoulder of the dress.

“He always chooses pink.” Belle observed herself in the silver rimmed mirror, tilting her head. Her curls fell over half her face.

“Well, you can’t wear red just yet.”

“Such a strange rule.”

“Apparently when Agape wears red, it’s only for the most auspicious occasions.” Angels’ voice turned airy as her face lit up with astonishment. Her passion for the Gods of Love was admirable and endearing without the added obsession of climbing the ladder. She respected the concept of love in its purest form. Belle needed more of that around her. “So it’s special that you wear it in specific times.”

“Will I wear it for my wedding?” A small thrill tingled through her belly mentioning her own wedding. Belle remembered all her dreams about being the splash of red amongst pink roses and falling peach blossoms in the Cherry Palace center garden.

Angel stared up at her, eyes glossed and face flushed with excitement. “It could be the most beautiful deep red dress that has a train all down the Realm.” She gestured out through the curtains.

“That’d be a bit hard to move around in.” Belle giggled as she shrugged off the pink dress until she was down to her white underdress. “But I appreciate the enthusiasm.”

“Watch your left, Eros!” Laughter ensued from outside her room.

“You watch your footwork, Pragma!”

Hearing the Gods’ names being used as colloquial nicknames was a strange sound to Angel but it made Belle grin. She rushed forward through the transparent curtains to the sandstone balcony which looked over one of the smaller gardens. The ones with apple trees and the fountain.

“My lady, wait!” Angel whispered harshly.

The sleeve of Belles’ underdress slid off her shoulder but she barely thought to fix it. Angel quickly draped a silk robe over her body to keep her decent.

The two young Gods of Love, Pragma and Eros dueled each other like they were performing in a playful dance. Yoongi called Pragma by Jungkook and Eros by Taehyung. Both of them a true symbol of their role in the Realm.

Taehyung had beautiful deep tan skin, glowing like a bronze pearl and his sharpened eyes constantly brimmed with bliss over the things around him. He wore a loose silk shirt of yellow and white, half-opened to expose his soft chest while his dark brown curls fluffed and flowed like a gentle garden.

Jungkook was of milk tea skin, sweat on his neck and cheeks glistened, matting his raven hair to his forehead. His body was lithe and muscular adorned in a red and black shirt. The smile on his face had the perfect mix of mischief and pure joy. His feet moved like the genteel steps of a blossom dancer but his sword swings were the strength of a rock sentinel. Chuckles flowed from his lips at the sequence of movements, truly enjoying the activity instead of being full of anger and determination to win something.

Belle wanted to continue admiring him but a sense of her own mischief seeped through. The fountain centered this garden which the Gods did an amazing job to avoid in their flexible parries and attacks. When she noticed Jungkook nearing the fountain ready to avoid, she took a deep breath. “Having fun, my lords?!”

As expected, Jungkook lost his balance and toppled over to the fountain. His beautiful shirt splashed with water and his dampened hair from sweat completely soaked from the fountain flow. From up on the balcony, it looked like a Nymph was pouring water constantly on Jungkooks’ head.

Belle couldn’t help but laugh and Angel tried her best not to follow along.

Jungkook winced at his drenched self; almost a hint of anger on his face before he threw his head back and scoffed out a laugh.

Taehyung looked over to follow the sound and his expression softened when he recognized Belles’ face. “Agape,” he whispered with such a baritone voice that it even shocked Jungkook.

He tracked his gaze up to the sandstone balcony, decorated with pink roses and all-spice flowers. Jungkook raked his fingers through his hair, slicking it back so he could see her. Agape. The Goddess of Eternal Love. Beautiful brown curls and glowing skin against the warm sunlit sky. He couldn’t see it clearly from here but the hints of her pink irises twinkled. A smile tugged at his lips. “You got me, my lady.”

Belle smirked, leaning forward as her cheeks heated. “Be sure not to catch a cold, my lord. I’m looking forward to seeing you at the match.”

Jungkooks’ smile turned to a bright grin. “I’ll be as healthy as a God,” he mused before biting his bottom lip.

The day had come for Seokjins’ arrival. Mania: the God of Obsessive Love. This time Yoongi opted to see him personally in the council room. Kiku, the Earth Nymph Queen and his wife stood by his side despite her wish not to see this God again. In the last banquet, Seokjin had less than pleasant things to say to her and Yoongi was on the verge of announcing war. Thankfully Namjoon broke apart the fight, telling them to separate until they calm down.

Black robe train slithered across the white polished stone floor. When Yoongi remembered Seokjin, he saw a plump skinned charmer who saw the world as a trail of possibilities. Today he stood in front of a thinning man. “I thank you for welcoming me back after my horrible behaviour in the last banquet.” Seokjin spoke in his truest charm but it was changed. There was a darkness under his eyes now and his previously plump skin became sunken with age.

Yoongi attempted a smile. “It’s forgotten.”

Beetle black eyes flickered to Kiku with the same deathly sleep-deprived expression. “And Lady Earth, I offer my humblest apologies.”

Kiku nodded in response without a word. Yoongi knew it was her way to tolerating this visit without giving her true opinion.

“I’m happy to be part of this excitement.” Seokjin intertwined his long fingers together like a spiders legs uncurling.

“Both Eros and Pragma will be participating.”

“How wonderful!”

“Jimin will also be giving his famous stories as entertainment with Goddess Gaias’ illusions. I know you enjoy them.”

“My favorites are of ours.” Seokjin always had his way to maintaining the memory of their history. The two oldest Gods of Love. Family and Obsession building the Realm of Love from scratch. There was a twisted beauty about that fact.

“The servants will help you to your temporary chamber in the Palace.” Yoongi nodded to the three servants awaiting his order. “Make yourself at home.”

Seokjin bowed and turned his heel, quietly expecting the servants to scurry after him.

Yoongi glanced over at Kiku. Her entire body exuded a sense of concern and a hint of anger, green vines were twirling around her fingers to relieve her stress. He held onto her hand, her skin as soft as a cloud. A silent comfort to reassure her that it’ll all be well.

Thousands of people in the Realm of Love crowded on the wooden pavilions, waving their flags of rainbow colours representing their favourite jousters. Excitement thrummed in the air with that hint of curiosity. Who would the Goddess Agape stand next to at the end of the festival? Some of the members of the crowd were already deep into debate as to which fighter would be the most appropriate.

At the center and best view of the arena, three velvet lined seats were placed. Yoongi sat in the middle with Kiku on his left and Belle on his right. A step lower than the seats were the three non-performing gods, Namjoon, Seokjin and Hoseok, the God of Self-Love.

Once the crowd was organized and ready, Yoongi stood up. He didn’t need to move an inch before everyone delved into an attentive silence. “Welcome to our esteemed competition, good people. The rules are simple. You are to clash with your partners in a fair joust and the winner will provide a favor of their colour to the Goddess.” He gestured to Belle. “The one with the most favors will win the match.” Yoongi waved his hand. “Let the games begin.”

A wave of applause and cheer welcomed the first jousting match between Taehyung and an Earth Nymph. Their gold and silver armor glinted against the summer light. Another trail of pin-drop silence as the jousters had their lances ready. Belle kept her eyes on Eros as most of the crowd did. No one expected him to be much of a sportsman but his blooming friendship with Jungkook seemed to have influenced his new hobbies.

With a clap, the stallions galloped towards each other. In a pounding rise of suspense, they grew closer. Closer. Closer. Taehyung smashed the lance against the Earth Nymphs’ chest earning a wild applause.

He reached the other side and one of the servants gave him a white favor for his victory. Taehyung rode out to the platform where Belle sat. Keeping his half-lidded gaze, he kissed the favor and had it levitate towards the Goddess. “For you, my lady.”

Belle smiled and gently accepted the favor. She gave a short bow to acknowledge his gift.

Another series of matches continued on but what Belle truly waited for arrived around five matches later. She may have counted in her head until she saw the red flag matched with green.

Jungkook rode in his glinting obsidian armor and black stallion that had the most beautiful silver mane. He was a picture of magic. Lances at the ready, the crowd stills with anticipation. The Earth Nymph rides first and Jungkook follows suit a few seconds later. There were some murmurs that the God lost his focus in the midst of the match. They soon found out it was another reason altogether.

The sheer brute force of Jungkooks’ lance nearly cracked the Earth Nymphs’ armor and had them falling off their horse. Due to the leather straps, the Nymphs’ struggling body was still being dragged by the stallion while servants tried to get them to safety.

Belle stared at the fallen Nymph in worry, feeling a bit guilty for the sheer excitement brimming through her body at Jungkooks’ explosive victory. He brought a red favor. This time Belle stood up from her chair as the beautiful stallion closed in. Moving down the step platform with Namjoons’ help, she took a moment to caress the stallions’ head.

“For you, my lady.” Jungkook handed her the red favor.

Belle accepted it, feeling the warmth of his palm and the heat exuding from it. “My lord,” she muttered before turning on her heel. Perhaps it was too blatant of an action for her favoritism but she didn’t care.

Yoongi noticed the flushed pleasure on Belles’ face. He couldn’t help but chuckle, rubbing his lips and instinctively holding Kikus’ hand. A part of him remembered how the early thrills of a blossoming relationship felt like. The more Belle smiled, the more he felt grateful for this tournament.

Jungkook stayed still on the spot just watching Belle move back up to her platform. His body and soul grew too comfortable in her aura that it made him dizzy. When the Goddess sat down and faced him, he shook himself back to reality. Giving a quick bow, he rode back for the rest of the tournament.

***

Night fell into a deep blue blanket of sky and the remnants of thrill from the tournament celebrated with ale, dancing and pleasure. Jungkook had last seen Taehyung in a bedroom full of the most beautiful Nymphs and the smell of incense. With the look on his face, one could only imagine what was going on in there. He, however, was called to Seokjins’ chamber.

He knocked on the door four times and announced himself before Seokjin invited him in with a chirpy tone.

“Welcome, Jungkook!” Seokjin was about the only person other than Yoongi who could call him that. “I hope you had fun in the tournament.” He gestured for him to sit at the dining table.

“Sword fighting is more my favourite—” Jungkook relaxed on the chair, his tired muscles aching when it was finally resting. “—but I liked the favors idea.” He smiled.

“I’m sure you did.” Seokjin picked up an apple from the glass bowl and wiped it on his robe. “Keep going like this and our deal will go smoothly.”

His smile faded, fingers lightly tapping on the arm of his chair. “Do you think it’s fair? Sneaking up on the Goddess like this?”

“Don’t start getting a conscience now, my lord.” Seokjin chuckled. “When you were begging for your friends’ life, you said you’d kill the Goddess.”

Jungkook tasted something bitter on his tongue at the thought.

“Too bad that friend didn’t have your beautiful dedication to friendship.” He scrunched his nose. “Wind Nymphs, they’re a bit filmsy, aren’t they?”

Jungkook pressed his lips together, averting his gaze.

Seokjin let out a deep sigh, raising his palms. “Apologies.” The kindness of his gaze ended as soon as it started when he narrowed his gaze. The shadows cast under his eyes made him look more like a Demon than a God. “But we’re still on this deal, aren’t we?”

It wasn’t a request open for Jungkook to refuse. If he backed out of his deal then the price would be dire. Seokjin was an ancient God of Love like Yoongi. Entities like him could take a God or Nymphs’ powers, rotting their core soul into a Demon. An animalistic creature with no memory of their past self.

Jungkook was trapped the moment he thought of a deal with Seokjin. All he could do was nod and accept the betrayal he was going to perform.

next chap >>>

#jungkook #thebtswritersclub #bts fanfic #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagines #bts gods au #jungkook gods au #fantasy au #bts fantasy #bts fantasy au #jungkook fantasy au #romance #bts romance #romance au #bts romance au #jungkook romance au #ancient greek

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earnestly-endlessly · 3 years

Note

Hi! I'm wondering if you can make a list of fics where Erik's jewish heritage isn't ignored? I just came across the fact that a lot of authors don't explore this part of him for some reason and i found it kinda upsetting so i'm wondering if you have any recs! I liked "As They Kiss, Consume" and "Who Shall be King Hereafter" by sherwoodfox, in case anyone who's reading this ask is interested in the same topic.

Hi Anon. I'm sorry for taking so long with this list but your request sent me on a wide search for fics that fit with your request. I tried to find a variety of fics where Erik's Jewish heritage is addressed. Some of them aren't necessarily cherik, but most of them are. I hope you enjoy this list.

Mistletoe, Latkes, and Long-Term Revenge Strategies – pocky_slash

Summary: Charles knows that Erik hates working at a department store in the best of times. Being Jewish in a department store during the holiday season is far from the best of times. He does what he can to help.

A Nice Boy (the Family Matters Edition) – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik's not sure whether the problem is that he doesn't want his parents to meet Charles or that he doesn't want Charles to meet his parents. Either way, he never invites Charles to brunch. Why should he? It's not like they're dating.

A Road Trip to Pennsylvania – Aainiouu

Summary: For a year Charles has nurtured the biggest and most embarrassing crush known to man towards Erik. They are friends and roommates and when Erik asks Charles to accompany him to home on Thanksgiving of course Charles goes.

In the Bleak Midwinter – keire_ke

Summary: It is not easy to find out, well into the second decade of the twenty-first century, that your mother arranged a marriage for you. It is even less easy to convince her that you have no interest in the very fertile Magda, she of the wide hips and lustrous auburn hair. Fortunately, with a good friend at his side over the holiday weekend, Erik is sure he will prevail.

Speech Making – phalangine

Summary: Modern Emma AU- Charles Xavier, accomplished matchmaker and headmaster of North America’s preeminent school for mutants, intends to add another notch to his belt: setting up his friend Moira. His oldest friend, Erik, has doubts about this plan.

Charles doesn’t share them.

This is life (and everything’s all right) – pocky_slash

Summary: Edie Lehnsherr came into Charles' life long before he ever heard Erik Lehnsherr's name, and her death left a gaping hole in the lives of everyone in Charles' family. As the first Purim without her approaches, he begins to get creative in his efforts to bring everyone out of their grief. Kitchen creativity, however, is not quite his strength....

Bashert – AvengingAngel

Summary: Erik and Charles meet and fall in love. I wanted to write a story where Erik had a huge family. Pretty fluffy (for me anyways). I suck at summaries.

Note: The summary doesn’t reveal much but if you’re looking for a fic where Erik is jewish and has a large family with a heavy dose of cherik fluff and angst then this one is for you.

Math Reasons – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: "Mom says Erik always knows what he wants, it just sometimes takes him a little while to actually realize it," Ruth said.

Charles fell in love with Erik the first night they met, the first week of freshman year. Two years of friendship, adventures, arguments, hijinks, secrets, and summer visits later, Erik is starting to catch up.

Ser

It’s kind of our whole things – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: After two years of best friendship, Charles and Erik thought they knew everything there was to know about each other. They're surprised, then, when their first summer as a couple reveals that they have a lot to learn about each other and themselves.

Sequel to Math Reasons

A Winter in New York – nextraordinaire

Summary: Charles and Erik have been childhood friends for as long as they can remember – Erik, living with his mother in Queens, and Charles in the big mansion in Westchester. For all, expect themselves, it was just natural progression that they'd end up together.

A series of ficlets from the same universe – can be read as separate and are out of chronological order.

Baby, It’s Cold Outside – heyjupiter

Summary: "It's just, this is my first Chanukah away from my parents. And it's--it's like 90 degrees out."

Erik Lehnsherr and Kitty Pryde celebrate a Genoshan Chanukah. It's a little different from the way it used to be in New York, but some unexpected visitors help them embrace the spirit of the holiday season.

Hold Back the Rain (front!strict mashup) – euphorbic

Summary: Charles Xavier: society darling, powerful political activist, well-known professor, and Dominant.

Erik Lehnsherr: anti-social, international motorcycle racer, and defiant submissive.

Erik is at Sepang in Malaysia for the fourteenth leg of the International World Championship. After doing poorly in qualifying, he's furious to find he has to take another VIP around the track instead of meeting Charles at the KL airport.

The Swan – waitfornight

Summary: In 1939 Erik and his sister Ruth are sent to Devonshire, England, during the Kindertransport refugee program to live with Kurt and Sharon Marko as foster children just before the start of World War II. Angry and wishing he could return home on the night of his seventeenth birthday, Erik meets a boy alone in the forest who is cursed to transform each day into a swan, only taking his true form by night.

Swan Lake AU.

The boy with the heart on his sleeve – euphorbic

Summary: Charles loses a high-stakes bet to Raven and is required to get a tattoo. However, when he makes a disparaging remark about the art form, Raven's acerbic mentor, Erik, steps in.

Or, the one where Erik and Raven are tattoo artists.

The Wurst Case Scenario – sareyen

Summary:If anyone asked why Charles, come rain, wind or shine, made the significant trek during his dismal lunch hour to dine at "Edie's Kosher Delicatessen", he would stubbornly say that it was because their pastrami on rye and potato knishes were absolutely to die for. He wasn't completely lying, because the deli's namesake, Edie Lehnsherr, made the best matzah ball soup Charles has ever had in his life. Still, Charles would rather shave his full head of hair off than admit that the real reason he would willingly walk through hail and fire to get to the corner deli was because of Erik, the insanely attractive man working the counter.

Sure, Erik has barely spoken two words to Charles other than "Hello, what can I get you?" or, after the third day in a row that Charles came to the deli, "Welcome back, what can I get you?", but Charles was more than happy to just ogle at the man from afar while devouring the juicy wurst Erik had put together with his (large and very capable) hands.

But, little does Charles know, Erik doesn't usually work the front counter. He only does it when he knows the cute blue-eyed man will be dining in.

This is life (and everything’s all right) – pocky_slash

c'est regarder ensemble dans la même direction – melonbutterfly

Summary: Since that day on the beach, Charles and Erik have learned to agree to disagree for the sake of living and working together. Then, for Christmas, and Charles gives Erik Hanukkah back a second time, and their relationship shifts a little further.

Terrible Hanukkah Sweaters and Other Life Challenges – professor

Summary: “Why am I here again?” Erik groans.

“I need you to lift things and glower at people over my shoulder when I tell people that it’s not ‘politically correct’ or a ‘war on Christmas’ to have a non-denominational winter holiday festival,” says Theresa Pryde.

Well, at least those are two things he’s good at.

Shrapnel – librata

Summary: It's late 1940, and tensions between the Axis and the Allies are tightening. Displaced and alone, 16-year-old German Jew Erik Lehnsherr finds himself employed as a servant by some snobby, terrible family in England whose house is far too big and whose money never seems to end. The worst part is, he isn't just mucking stables or cleaning plates–-he's tasked with tending to the whiny, disabled son named Charles, who might just drive Erik into absolute madness.

Or, the World War II fic in which Erik and Charles experience a changing world and a lot of teen angst.

Defying Expectations – Baamon5evr

Summary: Charles and Erik meet each other’s family. Neither of them gets what they expect.

table for three – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik should have known to call ahead to the Chinese restaurant--it's Christmas Eve and he lives in a predominantly Jewish neighborhood, after all. But before he can go home to mourn the loss of another one of his mother's yearly traditions, he's accosted by a teenage girl with a strange proposition--that he should stay and have dinner with her and her mother, instead.

different from all other nights – metonymy

Summary: "This year we are slaves; next year we will be free." Kitty and Erik host a seder for Passover at the Xavier School.

Libertad – ariadnes_string

Summary: Erik knew the look, had seen it his whole life, even before the war. ”You, with your height and blue eyes and straight nose, you can pass. You can be free of us. You are not marked with your difference.” If you only knew, he’d thought then. He thought the same thing now. And it was that thought, as much as anything, that made him move towards the gate.

Wash Away – sebastian2017

Summary: One quiet, lonely morning, before Yom Kippur, Erik makes his way to the sea in search of forgiveness.

After? There is No ‘After’ – Unrepentant_Marvelist

Summary: Erik knows what he is for. He has known his responsibilities as a survivor since the moment he woke under a scratchy, lice-infested blanket in the Red Army hospital. His world is painted in lucid blacks and whites (so often splashed in red) and there is no room for uncertainty or indecision... until a certain sunburned Englishman throws himself into his world.

The Children of an Idle Brain – Margo_Kim

Summary: Sometimes, when he’s lucky, Schmidt can’t hurt him. It’s like there’s a room inside of Erik’s head that’s he’s usually locked out of, that won’t open no matter if he beats himself bloody against it. On those days, he endures. But sometimes—and Erik doesn’t know why, whether it’s that the stars align or some higher power takes pity or Erik screams loud enough to earn his reward—the door opens. Erik can duck inside and slam it behind him and watches himself through the windows as Schmidt slowly, methodically tortures him to strength.

These days, this past week, there’s a boy in the room with him and he tells Erik, “That’s horrible,” like that means something.

Somehow, across the world, Erik's and Charles' minds touch when they need each other most. They can't be sure that the other boy is real. They suspect that he is not. But that doesn't mean they aren't each other's lifeline until they lose each other and then for a while longer.

Tehillim – kvikindi

Summary: Erik, in Israel, afterwards: another life he could have had. If.

I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) – childishinquiry

Summary: Erik has worn long sleeves his whole life, even before they had to wear yellow stars. Marching along his arm, in neat, black, English letters, are the words "My name's Charles Xavier."

Precious Few Years – sherwoodfox

Summary: Erik and Charles (known only to each other by the letters inscribed on their wrists) are meant to be together, soulmates, destined for the most powerful kind of love and connection a human being can experience.

But they are separated in almost every possible way- by distance, by circumstance, by language, by war. Their chances of success- of finding one another in the labyrinth of the world- are very slim. There is a reason why most people never find their soulmates.

But of course, Charles and Erik aren't ordinary children-

They have their gifts.

#cherik #cherik fic recs #fic recs #Erik is Jewish #holocaust #asks #earnestly answers

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chibinekochan · 3 years

Text

My biggest treasure - Ft. Mammon

Mammon is a Goblin in this au.

This is part of the Monster tales au Series

-------

You have been on the hunt for this treasure for a while now.

Having all the information about its whereabouts, defenses, and most importantly feeling morally right.

Its owner is a scummy guy after all.

This gem will not only bring you some nice cash, and bringing it back to its rightful owner will surely feel good too.

With well-planned moves, you make your way towards the big mansion.

Now you have to climb the wall. You have studied the moves of the guards.

They won't be around for a while.

With quiet steps, you move in the darkness. Only a few moves are needed to scale the wall and carefully jump on a neighboring tree.

Swiftly scan the area.

It seems the dogs haven't noticed you yet.

You want to keep it that way and continue your way on top of the trees. Carefully navigating through the shadows, practically becoming one of them.

Slowly, the lights of the mansion come into view.

The carefully kept garden is now in front of you.

The shrubs will offer you a little cover and the dogs might sense your presence. You smirk. Time for the real challenge to begin.

You take a deep breath to strengthen your nerves.

With ease, you jump from the tree and run at high speed through the garden, occasionally jumping over hedges.

By the time you hear dogs barking, you have already climbed the balcony and wait for clear air.

The guards check the hedges, but of course find nothing.

You smirk when they shrug and go back to their posts.

You wait a bit longer and then carefully and quietly open the door.

Your body is moving low and fast, knowing exactly where your target is. Lucky for you, the scumbag has a huge ego and displays what you are looking for right in his living room.

You sneak in the shadows, listening to every sound. It's quiet. You can only hear your own heart and breathing.

Then you see it slightly shimmering, illuminated by the moon. The gem you are looking for.

You calm your nerves and steady your hands.

Then suddenly you hear a commotion, loud barking from the outside. Some lights in the mansion turning on and glass shattering.

Unsure what just happened, your instinct kicks in and all you can do is run.

Light starts to shine into the room, causing the gem to sparkle as if to mock you.

You run towards the nearest window, ready to jump out.

When suddenly something passes you at high speed. For a moment you pause until you notice it's a person.

This must be whoever interrupted you.

You have no time to stay, you hear the guards closing in.

With little choice, you run and jump after the stranger.

The guards behind you yell, and the dogs chase you.

There is no time for anything else but running. You run in a straight line towards the wall. Following close behind the other person.

Once you jump the wall, you have to make sure that nobody is following you. You can still keep an eye on the other person.

Only catching a quick glance at them. White hair and blue eyes. You take a mental note of it.

Your pursuers are still behind you, and you decide to go deeper into the forest to shake them off or at least to hide.

You can smack the guy another time.

By the next day, you are back in your home. The loss of income is a hard blow to your family,, but it can't be helped. It's better to be poor but free.

Your siblings were disappointed,, but you can make money more honestly until another opportunity arises.

Hopefully, the medicine for your smallest sibling will last long enough. Worryingly, you eye the half-empty bottle.

"It's okay, we will work hard and buy more." Ian, the 2nd oldest, Ian, has seen your worries.

You ruffle their hair. "Don't worry about it. I will trade some herbs with the pharmacist and in the bar tonight again." You smile to ease their worries.

"You work too much." The 2nd youngest, Eva, looks worried.

"We have to get food, so we can cook a good meal. I will catch fish for us." Ian is suddenly super motivated.

"Yeah, I will get some veggies from our garden. Rest so you can work hard for us later." Eva has taken care of the garden and grown some stuff.

Your heart is filled with pride, and you hug them both. "You guys are the best, just don't forget to play with your friends too." You feel bad about being so poor,, but it can't be helped. After losing both parents, you are left as the oldest to take care of them.

And you do everything for them, even if it means stealing.

You go and rest for a while until sunset.

Then you cook the fish and vegetables that your siblings got for tonight. They are very good kids. You are very proud of them. You make soup for your youngest sibling, Owen.

"Dinner is ready." You dish everyone up, making sure your siblings get more than you.

"Looks great." Eve beams at the food.

"I worked hard for this fish, so you better eat it all." Ian looks at both of you sternly.

"Thank you both for the food." You are truly grateful to them.

"Will you have to go again soon?" Ian knows well that I have to leave them alone sometimes due to my 'nightwork'.

It can take days to get the treasure and to get my money. Not even mentioning the time I have to spend hiding. Still, the pay is so high that I can't afford not doing it.

"I will have to see,, but currently I have nothing lined up." I know it's hard for them when I'm not here,, but there is no other way for me to afford the medicine.

Ian seems troubled.

"Don't frown, Ian, we can handle everything just fine." Eve pats his back.

"Well, of course, but I'm worried about you." Ian becomes confident, but then frowns at you.

"Haha, I can watch out for myself. I'm plenty strong." I giggle. Sometimes he acts like the dad. It's sad that they all have to grow up so fast.

"Yeah, like the time you beat that bear. That was so cool!" Eve's eyes sparkle.

Ian shakes his head. "That was scary."

"I gotta agree with you. I will go and check on Owen. He needs to eat." You worry about the amount of food he eats. It's definitely not enough.

The others keep bickering, and you walk into the room. You open the windows, fill the pitcher with water, and check on Owen. He looks at you with tired eyes,, but he is smiling weakly.

"Hey there, sleepy head. Time for food." You smile, trying to hide your worries.

"I'm not really hungry." He says with a weak voice.

"It's very tasty. So why not try a bit?" His state breaks your heart,, but you fight through it.

Owen nods and you help him sit.

You feed him slowly. He seems to like it. This is relieving.

At some point, he can't eat anymore. "You ate half a bowl today. Great work." You encourage him.

Then you change his bedding and shake his pillows before giving him his medicine.

He frowns.

"I know it's bitter, but it helps, right? I have an apple for dessert if you take it all." You bribe him with a sliced apple.

"Pudding would be better." Owen smiles sheepishly.

"Pudding makes everything better. I will see what I can do." Sadly, even pudding is a luxury for us. I wonder if I can get a portion for everyone?

"It's alright, I like apples." Owen knows more about your situation than he lets on.

Owen bravely takes his medicine and eats a few slices of the apple.

You bring the rest to your other siblings.

Then you do a few chores before heading to work.

It's going to be a long night, you can already tell.

The bar you work at is a bit rowdy, the patrons are ruff, but overall good people. It's usually fun to work at the place.

The gruff owner is a nice guy, who often gives you 'leftovers' or stuff his wife made that he apparently really doesn't like. You know that neither is true,, but you are also not one to just take handouts, and he is also a bit awkward,, so this is how you two handle things.

"Hey, I'm in." I say hi to the owner, who grunts at me.

I start to clean the floor and prepare everything for opening time.

"Hey, the wife made some strange stuff again. Please take it off my hands' kiddo?" The owner shoves a box towards you.

It's definitely food that smells great. "Are you sure? It sure smells nice."

"Get it off me, before I toss it out." The owner frowns.

I take the box. "Alright, thank the wife for me." I smile at him and put the box in the back.

"You're gonna make her believe her food is any good." He grumbles.

"Don't let her hear that,, or she might believe you." I grin at him, knowing that he loves her food.

He shrugs. "We've got game night tonight so if it gets rowdy, feel free to kick them."

With game night, he means gambling. It's not really legal, but it brings good business but of course also some strange people.

"Sure thing. I hope we get some big spenders tonight." Usually, the drunken winners give nice tips.

"You just keep dreaming big kiddo, as long as we make money I'm happy." He keeps cleaning glasses while talking.

You clean the last few tables and get the gaming stuff ready, it's just a box of dice, cards and such things.

Slowly the guests are pouring in. Most of which you know on a first-name. They order their usual. These guests aren't only here for gambling, they are here on most nights anyway.

Then when night breaks a different clientele is pouring in and filling the tables.

They all know the game. Trading money for snacks or coasters. Some use their means of hiding the money in play.

The owner keeps a close eye on everything from a distance. While you keep filling glasses.

Nothing strikes you as odd until you see a Goblin on one of the tables. This by itself isn't all that unusual, all kinds of folk come here after all. This goblin somehow strikes you as odd.

Then suddenly you realize, his hair color is white. That is certainly unusual, sadly you can't see his eyes since he wears yellow-tinted glasses.

This might be the guy that screwed you over. You feel anger rising at this realization. Even if he probably didn't mean to, he still cost you a nice paycheck.

For a while, you try to keep a close eye on him but the other customers keep you busy.

Especially when a guy wins big and throws around for everyone. Of course, this is a cause for celebration for everyone.

Now with the alcohol level raised you have to use your kicking abilities a few times. Nothing out of the ordinary.

You handle yourself well and the owner kicks a few rowdy guests out.

Finally, it calms down a bit in the early hours of the morning.

You sigh deeply, but it was pretty successful. You got a big tip from one guy.

The goblin is forgotten by now.

"I don't need you for the rest of the night." This is the owner's way of telling you to go home and rest.

"Thanks. Don't make too long." You glance around at the few leftover guests.

"No worries, I will kick em out soon." He grumbles.

You take the food and head out the backdoor.

The cool night air feels good on your skin, you take a deep breath and start walking.

Once, you pass by a tight ally, and you notice a group of guys harassing someone.

Under your watch! It seems to be three guys, all rather drunk. You can take them.

You walk towards the guys. "Hey, I think that's enough."

"Huh, what's that? Are you kiddn me?" One of the drunks looks towards me.

"Whatever that guy did, he had enough. You all don't want to go to jail for killing a guy, do you?" You huff at them, trying to look bigger than you are.

"Aw, come on, he has it comin. This guy is a cheat." The other man kicks the poor victim.

You shake your head. "Come on guys, just go home, he learned his lesson."

The guy on the floor groans. "I'll be good, I swear." He doesn't sound super convincing, to be honest.

The drunks shuffle around. Seemingly unhappy to leave.

"Guys go home. You got your money back, so your wife won't be mad,, but they might be if you are in jail for murder." You try to convince them.

The guys seem to freeze up. "Ah, well, it's late anyway. You better not show your face here again." With that, they shuffle off.

You sigh with relief when they walk away. You then go to check on the man on the floor.

Now you notice it's the Goblin you saw earlier. His glasses are shattered on the floor, revealing his blue eyes. So it might be that thief from the other night after all.

"Ugh… that hurt. Thanks for that." He staggers while trying to get up.

"You might want to go to a doctor for these injuries." You glare at him.

"What's with that look? Do I know you? D-don't tell me I owe you money?!" Suddenly he seems to be much better and gets up. Seemingly trying to get some distance between you.

"I don't even know you." You glare at him. "Though I'd say you owe me for saving your butt." You feel like he is pretty ungrateful.

"Well, thanks then… Umm, I got no cash, but here I got this necklace." He rummages through his pockets and pulls out a necklace from somewhere.

He dangles it in front of you.

You can only frown at it. "Gee, thanks."

"Hey, it ain't any day that I give stuff like that. So be grateful." He huffs at you.

"I'd be more grateful if it wasn't gaudy or fake." You take the clearly fake jewelry. Maybe Eve will like it.

"Fake? You can tell with just one glance?" He seems impressed.

You feel like he has just seen right through you. "It's a special talent." You shrug and play it cool.

"Well, in that case. I could use your special skills for a job. I need someone to tell me what the valuables are." He changes right into business mode.

"Are you offering illegal work to me?" You act all offended.

"Come on, the job in that dingy bar doesn't pay well. I'd split 90:10." He smiles at you.

"I gladly take that 90 percent, very generous." You know that's not his offer,, but he somehow irritates you.

"It'll be 10 for you,, obviously." He shakes his head.

"No, thanks. I don't trust you anyway." You glare at him.

"Fine, how about 30 percent?" He throws his hand up as if he is being generous.

"More like 70 for me if you can't even tell what's fake." You can't believe that you are still talking to this guy.

He sighs. "Alright, I get it, same risk same reward right? So 50:50. My last offer."

"You seem quite desperate. What kind of stuff are we talking about here, anyway?" Now you are getting curious.

"It's an old mansion. Real old money. Real old scum, too. I just want to grab some of their valuables. It's not like they're gonna miss it anyway." He is vague,, but you somehow feel like you know what place he is talking about.

"Does that happen to be the raven mansion?" The place where your heist was interrupted.

His eyes go wide. "How'd you know?"

"Let's just say that I got interrupted in my own business by some amateur." You glare at him.

"Wait… t-that was you? Oh man, you were ama… umm I mean you were okay." The tips of his ears glow dark.

"You should grovel for what you have done. Screwed me right out of a job." Finally, you can let your anger out.

"I had no idea you were there. I'm sorry." He seems at least half earnest. "So that only means you already know the place, and you can finish the other job there too. I'd take no cut of that either. See, I'm very generous."

"Says the guy that offered me ten percent." You huff at him.

"That was just testing the waters, I'd given you at least 30." He puffs his cheeks. "So it's all settled then?"

"No, I still don't trust you." You eye him carefully.

"What would it take for you to take the job?" He asks, also looking for a sign of weakness in me.

"Well, first of all your name." This is an important first step, at least.

"Ah, could've said you were interested. I mean, you were eyeing me in the bar the whole time. I'm down if you are." He calmly shrugs.

You take a step towards him. "You wish." You look him right in the eyes, glaring at him.

He awkwardly looks away. "J-just saying I'm a handsome goblin…"

"I have seen better. Besides, it means that you checked me out, doesn't it?" You grin at him.

His cheeks turn dark. "N-no, I just felt a burning gaze on me the entire time."

"That was disdain and nothing else." You cross your arms.

"Call it whatever you want." He huffs and turns his head awkwardly. "Anyway, how am I supposed to show that you can trust me?"

"How about telling me your name?" You eye him with suspicion.

"I'm the great Mammon. Better not forget it." He puffs his chest in a display of pride.

You don't acknowledge his presentation whatsoever. "What are you planning to do with that treasure?"

"I'm gonna sell it for cash to pay some debts. I might keep a thing or two for my collection too." Mammon seems pretty honest about it, at least.

"With that, you mean you pawn it and gamble." You only can guess,, but his behavior at the bar speaks volumes.

He seems to feel called out. "Hey, I'm good at gambling, just some people think I'm too good ya know?"

"Nobody is good at it, it's just luck and in your case cheating. You should know better than to gamble all your cash." You start to lecture him.

"I get it, I get it." He sighs. "You sound like my big bro." He sighs deeply. "So, this is all you want to know?"

You think for a moment. "I don't know,, but I guess it's enough for now. I'd wish I had some security at least.” You sigh. "I know it can't be helped."

"I get ya, you've got a life you can't just go or whatever." Mammon seems to agree with you. "Alright, I don't like doing this,, but I got something that might convince you." He then starts to rummage through his vest, he obviously has some hidden pockets in there.

He then produces a gold coin. "Here ya go. I want it back after the job is done. So better not lose it." Mammon seems a bit reluctant to let the coin go.

"This coin seems important to you." You carefully inspect it, it's real, but there seems to be some story here.

"Goldie is my personal good luck charm." He looks almost fondly at the coin.

You smile, somehow this is cute. When you realize your smile, you make your face freeze once more.

"Alright, I acknowledge you as my partner." You reach your hand out to him.

"So that's what it took,, huh?" He seems a bit confused but also relieved.

You shake hands and the deal is sealed.

Mammon suggests a meeting point in a few days' time. He needs to heal and prepare after all.

You also have to make sure your siblings are taken care of. So this works for you.

#obey me one master to rule them all #omswd #obey me mammon #monster tales #obey me fanfiction

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imagine4000 · 2 years

Text

Turtle Rush Part 3

Hey guys! I’m back with another chapter to Turtle Rush. Again, drawings will be included as, either sketch or colored finish panels, so be on the lookout for reblogs of this series. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Stay safe, healthy, and in good spirits!

>>>>>>>NEXT DAY>>>>>>>

BIP-BIP—BIP...BIP-BIP—BIP!

“...Mm...”

Opening her eyes, Dahlia hears the alarm on her phone. She slowly reaches for her phone and turns it off. Reading the lock screen, it’s 8 in the morning.

Rustle~

She sits up, stretching her arms out and yawns.

“Aw man...I had the weirdest dream—”

💥CLATTER/CRASH!

Before she could finish, she runs out of the spare room on the top floor and into the middle-deck. Following the sound, she finds the kitchen a mess, supplies and boxed food piled across the room.

Clunk-Clunk!

“Ahh~ help me! I’m drowning in delicious food!”

“O-kay~ it’s not a dream...”

Dahlia quickly reaches in and pulls Mikey2k12 out.

“What are you doing?”

“I, uh, got hungry so I thought I’d make breakfast for me and everyone.”

Bonk!

A cereal box plops on his head, making him chuckle sheepishly.

“You can leave the cooking to me while you wake everyone up. Deal?”

“Like a turtle do! Be right back!”

She laughs as Mikey2k12 skips out of the kitchen.

[Moments Later...]

SLICE!

FSSH~

Chop-Chop-Chop-Chop-Chop

From the table, the turtles watch as Dahlia cooks eggs, bacon, and fluffy pancakes. When finished, Dahlia puts everything on the counter.

“Dig in, guys.”

“Yes/Thank you~!”

Dahlia goes to the sink to wash the dishes while everyone eats. While doing so, she keeps thinking to herself about these strange events.

‘So...theories become reality. Then again, we’re practically living proof of things we never thought existed.’

Her hands become still in the running water, wondering if she’s not going in over her head in this dilemma.

“(Whispers)Just get a move on!”

“(Whispers)Alright, I got it.”

Hearing someone come, she continues her duties. Though without eye-contact, she can tell who it is by their voice.

“Hey.”

“Oh, hey Leonardo.”

“You can call me Leo if you want. Need some help?”

“Uh...sure. You wash, I’ll rinse.”

Dahlia slides over and hands Leo2k3 a sponge.

C-Clink

“... ...”

“Psst!”

Leo2k3 looks over his shoulder and sees his brother Raph make a face with arms crossed. Leo deadpans, raising his brow-line before turning back.

“Dahlia...”

“Yeah?”

“I want to apologize for my behavior last night. I didn’t even thank you yet for saving us.”

“Don’t worry about it, Leo. I’m sorry for making you sleep in the living room, but with the guys and Splinter gone, I don’t want anyone touching their stuff.”

“It’s alright. Mind if ask something?”

“Shoot.”

“What are they like? The other us.”

“Oh, well...Raph is the oldest. He’s not as hot-tempered as those Raphael’s, but he’s got the heart of a leader with full support and encouragement as he is overprotective.”

“And the other me?”

“Easy: he’s rebellious, charismatic, carefree, and a joke-loving maniac.”

“Sounds like Mikey.”

“Well, that too, but Mikey has his savage moments.”

“Raph-level savage,” Leo2k3 jokes.

“Not sure,” Dahlia snickers, “but he is straight-to-the-point and often snaps if you’re not careful. But he does have a similar tooth-gap like that other Donnie over there.”

“What about—"

“Donnie-boy? Hah!...he’s full-on sassy, reckless, sometimes emotionless, and obsessed science kind of guy. And since he and Leo are twins, they’re always on each other’s case.”

“You weren’t kidding when you said they’re our polar opposites,” Leo2k3 laughs.

“...Leo...April and I will do everything we can to get you back to your real home. I promise.”

“Thank you, Dahlia. Truth be told, my brothers and I have been in this situation before.”

“Really?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised.”

They dry their hands after finishing.

“Hey, Dahlia! There’s a note on this cupboard for you!”

Dahlia comes over to grab the note and read it aloud.

“Dear Dahlia...I restocked some of your favorite ice cream in the fridge. If you need the first-aid, there’s one in the shelf. If any bad guys or creeps follow you at night, take Shelldon with you. I also got you extra pillows and blankets in your room. You can even borrow that giant stuffed bear you got me last year on my birthday to snuggle with.”

Both Mikey’s snicker in the background, much to both Raph’s dismay.

“Don’t overwork yourself and just relax. We’ll see you soon...Love, Raph and the Mad Dogs.”

“Who’s the Mad Dogs?”

“That’s what we call ourselves.”

“You even get a cool team name? Lucky!”

“Better than mighty mutants.”

Leo2k12 frowns at Raph2k12’s smirk.

“I knew Raph was a big softie,” Mikey2k3 leers, mischievously, “got any other hobbies besides, knitting, Raphie~?”

“Yeah...”

Pound—Pound!

“Punching.”

“HAAAH!”

ZIP!

“C’mere, Mikey! Take it like a turtle!”

They watch the older-looking brothers run around the room.

LATCH!

“AHH/HEY!”

CLUNK!

Taking a fall, they realize something wrapped around their ankles. Dahlia walks up as they’re being lifted up by her powers.

“Did I also mention that the brothers usually support each other without minimal, judgmental violence involved?”

Eventually, she lets them free.

“But if you’re not convinced, I’ll let Franken-Foot do the talking.”

“Franken—who now?”

[Moments Later...]

SQUEEZE~

“Buddies~!”

CRUSH!

“Ooh/Urgh!”

Dahlia watches in amusement as the origami-ninja has every turtle in a bone-crushing hug.

“Ack!...O-Okay...we get it.”

“I’m sorry...you want another hug? You heard it buddy. Give ‘em some more love.”

The patchwork laughs with glee as he tightens his hold on them.

“For a ball of paper he’s—urgh...got one heck of a grip.”

“Can’t...feel...face.”

“Pay attention, cause I’m only gonna say this once: Sure, playful bantering is fine, but if you get serious on me with all this physical...mental...emotional drama...I will whoop you all the way down to the Hidden City. Capeesh?”

“W-We promise, Dahlia.”

“Swear it on my own shell.”

“...Meh, good enough.”

Snap!

THUMP!

With one nonverbal command, Franken-Foot lets them go as they breathe like their life depended on it.

WHIRR~

That’s when Shelldon glides in.

“We’re up and ready to go, Dahlia!”

“Perfect timing.”

“What’s going on?”

“Since you’re stuck here for a while, you can hang out in the lair until I get back.”

“From where?”

“Shopping. I’m gonna need some of you to go on recon with me during the day to find the information we need. So, you’ll need some new threads to go incognito. Shelldon, get their measurements.”

“On it!”

FWIP!

“Hey!”

ZIP!

“Haha—that tickles!”

The android zooms up, down, left, right, all around using a tape measure and his scanner.

“Calculating now.”

Bleep...Bloop...Bleep...DING~!

“Measurements complete. All good to go.”

He gives her a piece of paper.

“Thanks, Shelly. Keep an eye on these ‘troublemakers’.”

“Can do.”

“You don’t have to go through all that trouble for us,” says Donnie2k3.

“I don’t mind. There’s this new store I’ve been dying to check out, anyway. Well, brb with the duds, boys. Don’t break anything.”

“Cross our shells.”

Dahlia waves her hand out as she leaves through a tunnel. Shelldon floats in front of the turtles.

“Alright, my bros, let’s get this party started.”

“Whoo~ I’m all in for the arcade!”

“Count me in! What do you say, little me, one-on-one on the Carlynator?”

“Oh, it’s on, yo! Get ready to eat my dust!”

“I’m gonna stay out ‘ere and workout,” Raph2k3 says, “hey, short-stack, feel like you’re up for some sparrin’?”

“Hey, I can still kick your butt no problem.”

“Heh, we’ll see about that.”

Leo2k3 glances at the shorter him, points his thumb out and receives a nod that they’re thinking the same thing.

“What about you, Donnie?”

“I don’t know,” Donnie2k3 shrugs, “maybe read some books?”

“It’s in Donnie’s lab over there.”

Shelldon points one propellor to the door.

“Great,” Donnie2k12 smiles, “we can hang out in there—”

“Woah~ hold on, dudes. You don’t wanna do that.”

“Why not?”

Shelldon uses his head to bounce a ball up and send it to the front entrance.

C-Clack

🔪SLASH!

“(Unison)Gasp!”

💥BLAM!

“AHH!”

🔥🔥FLARE~!🔥🔥

“Holy chalupa/What the shell?!”

They gawk as the ball is reduced to million pieces of ash.

“Well...in that case...hey Mikey! Let’s make it a team round!”

[Hours Later...]

FWIP!

“Hah!”

“Ngh!”

FLIP!

THUMP/URGH!

“Haha~ gotcha again, short-stack.”

“Oh~ snap! Total beat down for the twentieth time, bro!”

“Shut it, Mikey!”

Raph2k3 steps back as Raph2k12 gets up from the ground. Across from them, the Leo’s are still sparring, not showing any signs of backing off.

“Not bad, little me.”

“Well, I am you, technically.”

FWIP!

GRAB!

Leo2k12 grips his alter-ego’s arm and gets him off balance by swinging him over his shoulder.

WHIRL!

“Ahh!”

TUMBLE!

But Leo2k3 takes him down as well and locks him with a joint-lock.

“You’re right...we are alike. But a little more technique next time, okay?”

“Ugh...noted.”

“Good hustle, guys.”

“Thanks, Don.”

“And how’s our Donnie doing?”

“Still trying to find a solution?”

“Well, no one said it would be easy,” Donnie2k12 implies, “I’ve tried calculating every possible way, but...”

“Aw man, I hate when there’s a ‘but’ in a sentence.”

“We could track those robbers and get one of their ray guns.”

“I see,” Donnie2k3 hums, “if we could get our hands on one, then we might be able modify it and send us back to our worlds. “

“Great. There’s just one problem: we’re still marooned ‘ere.”

“Taller me has got a point.”

“Oh, then what do you suggest?”

“Something that isn’t as crazy as your screwball idea.”

“Seriously? Do you really need to—”

“I’m back, guys!”

They turn to a tunnel and see Dahlia coming out.

“Hey, girl, how was the—woah, what are those?!”

Mikey2k3 points at the small, pudgy creatures holding shopping bags like she is.

“Oh, sorry. This is my familiar, Fable.”

SWISH—SWISH—SIWSH!

Fable’s body doubles disperse, and he stands in front of Leo2k12, shaking his hand.

“Um...nice to meet you, Fable.”

“Aw~ he’s so cute.”

“Oh, he’s not just cute.”

SHLUP~

The turtles watch as Fable turns into a thin, tall version.

“He’s also good in a tight jam.”

SHLUP!

The familiar then turns into his muscular form.

“Woah-ho-ho! Now that’s cool!”

“Thanks, little buddy. Get some rest.”

SHAA~

Fable disappears into thin air.

“I thought April would’ve helped you with shopping.”

“She’s currently on the hunt for a job. Again. Anyway...”

Dahlia puts the bag in front of everyone and picks one up.

“To make this easy on us, I’ll give you guys some nicknames; less confusing. That cool?”

“Sure/Alright.”

“I’ll start with the shorter turtles. Michael, this one’s yours.”

“Sweet~!”

Mikey2k12 grabs it and hugs Dahlia.

“For you, you’re more of a Leon to me. Hope I got the right fit.”

“Thank you, Dahlia,” Leo2k12 bows.

“What about me?”

“Hmm...you do have certain traits different from Raph’s...how about Red Rover?”

“🤨...”

“I’m kidding,” Dahlia laughs, “let’s call you Raging Red.”

“Meh, works for me.”

Raph2k12 fist-bumps Dahlia and takes the bag before the gap-toothed turtle comes up.

“I don’t think Donald is the right one for you, so let’s use his codename: Purple Rain.”

“Not the worst thing I’ve been called. Thanks.”

“Okay, you’re up tall ones.”

“What’s my nickname? I bet it’s totally rad.”

“Hmm...I’m thinking either Angelo or—”

“I’ll take it! Thanks, sweet-cheeks!”

Mikey2k3 swiftly takes his bag.

“Donnie?”

“Right here.”

“How do you feel about the name ‘Donato’?”

“Well...Donato is another variation of Donatello. I like it.”

Leo2k3 steps up.

“Not sure if you can find one for me.”

“Don’t be so sure Leo...or should I say....Blue-nardo.”

“Pfft!”

Leo2k3 frowns at his brothers’ snickering.

“Or~ I could call you Blue Bishop.”

The blue-clad thinks on that before cringing a little.

“As less corny as that sounds, I’ll take the first one.”

“You sure? I was just trying to get back at you but—”

“Let’s just say it reminds me of someone we had history with.”

“If you say so.”

“Hope ya got a better one for me.”

“Don’t worry~, I gotcha covered...Red King.”

“A leader and a cool alias? This other Raph’s got it made.”

Dahlia playfully chuckles at that remark.

“I call the bathroom! See ya slowpokes!”

“Hey, don’t hog it all to yourself!”

“We’ll try them in the living room.”

“While you’re doing that, I’ll get lunch ready. Does sandwiches sound good?”

“Sure, we—”

“Hey, Dahlia!”

“Yes, Angelo?”

“What’s a sword doing in the bathroom?”

“A what in the where now?”

Dahlia runs up the skate-ramp and leaps onto the second floor, then uses her powers to give an extra boost to the top. Rushing over, her face drops when seeing the weapon in Mikey2k3’s hand.

“I-I...y...t-that—URGH~!”

The guys watch as she lets out a frustrated yet forced chuckle as her eye twitches.

FWIP!

Swiping the sword, she storms a few feet away and dials the number.

BEEP~

[Ola~ you reached Neon Leon. You know the drill.]

BEEP~

“Hey, Leo, it’s your karaoke buddy calling. Hope you’re doing okay and not bored out of your mind, buuu~t maybe this will perk you up when I say—I’M GONNA TURN YOU INTO A TURTLE KEBAB! If you don’t know what I mean, you’ll soon find out...if you live to see it! 🎵Props to your brothers and dad—okay, bye~.”

Hanging up, she doesn’t see the tiny fear in everyone else’s eyes caused by her mood-changing, threating message. Only Leo2k12 is brave enough to come forward.

“...So~...mind telling—”

“Ugh~!”

Dahlia shocks him when she dramatically whines into his shoulder.

“U-Uh, okay...um...what’s happening?”

“Leon, if the Donnie’s get a hold on time-traveling gear, let’s switch you with our Leo during weekends.”

“Wait, what?”

“Why is my bestie so fun-loving but such an idiot?!”

Leo2k12 awkwardly smiles while patting her back.

“I’m guessing it has something to do with the sword,” Mikey2k3 whispers.

Dahlia groans as she holds the odachi up.

SHWING!

“Woah/Gasp!”

They gawk at the glowing, blue circle as an emotionless Dahlia falls in.

SHWING!

“What the shell?!”

SHWING!

POOF!

The turtles see her land on a beanbag chair on the main floor before the glowing light fades.

“Okay...what is going on?!”

“Mystic weapon,” Dahlia replies, dimly, “odachi with portal-generating magic, blah, blah, blah...”

“Say whaaa~?!”

“Does all of our alter-egos carry magic weapons?”

“Except Donnie.”

“And your Leo left it behind? In the bathroom?!”

“But this is great,” Donnie2k12 hollers, “if we use this sword to harness the teleportation then—”

“Hold it!”

“W-What—what did I say?!”

Donnie2k12 puts his hands up in defense as Dahlia points the odachi at him.

“First off, I know mystic weapons cause of my dad, so I know how dangerous these things are for amateurs. Leo’s barely managing this himself. Who’s to say that you’ll end up in some monster’s belly or somewhere worse if you tried it?”

“True, true...but~ that’s where you come in.”

“Right,” Donnie2k3 pitches in, “you can use it to open portals for us.”

“So, I’m the guinea pig?”

“We didn’t say that.”

“A lab rat.”

“We didn’t say that either.”

“You were thinking it.”

Donnie2k12 leans towards Leo2k3.

“Mayday, mayday, we’re losing her, Nardo.”

“Look, Dahlia, I understand your concern.”

Leo2k3 walks towards her.

“But this might be our chance to find our way back. And we’re not sure if those thieves will ever show up here anytime soon.”

Dahlia holds the odachi close while sighing.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t risk endangering you guys. Believe me...I’ve seen this happen before.”

“Dahlia—”

“That’s why...”

“...?”

“I’ll be the one to enter the portals, not you. To make sure it’s safe.”

“Dahlia, what if you get stranded?”

“She won’t be,” Mikey2k12 chirps, “we’ll tie a rope around her. If trouble comes knockin’, she tugs, we pull her back here, repeat the cycle. Full proof, am I right, dudes?”

“Uh, yeah...it is.”

“Nice goin’, little Mike.”

Raph2k3 brings Mikey2k12 in a chokehold while giving him a noogie.

“You’re a lot smarter than you put on.”

“Hey~ was that an insult towards me,” Mikey2k3 whines.

“Knucklehead.”

“(Scoffs)Rude!”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Hueso gave me intel, so let’s check out the spots as a backup plan.”

“She’s right, bros,” Raph2k12 agrees, “I’m okay with this portal thing, but not if something jumps out at us first.”

“Then we better get started.”

“Guess who’s back guys!”

“April.”

“What up, girl!”

Dahlia walks towards her.

“Woah, hold up, is that—”

“Mind helping with lunch?”

“Sure, but what’s—”

“Here’s the thing....”

The girls head to the kitchen as Dahlia explains.

[Meanwhile...]

At Central Park, the mutated villains are meeting with the thieves just below the Belvedere Castle near the rocky terrain.

“Are you sure this is safe,” Hypno questions.

“Relax, no can see or hear us. I put up a cloaking perimeter.”

“You lads better have a good reason to drag me away from my hunt.”

“Mr. Swaggart...”

The leader comes forward.

“Rest assured you’ll get back to your meal once you agree to our terms.”

“And what might that be?”

“Do we get share of the deal, too?”

“Oh, you’ll have more than that.”

WHIRR~

He presses his watch as a holographic image appears with three different locations.

“Time is on our side, gentlemen.”

SHACK!

Drawing the weapon, he points it towards the photos of Dahlia and the turtles.

“And with your help, we will pull off the biggest heist of the century and dominate everything in it.”

BANG!

SHWING!

He twirls his firearm with a smirk.

“What do you say, boys...up for a little experiment?”

No words are needed as the trio mirror their newfound allies’ expressions. One that would shake New York City to the ground in their favor.

“Then let’s get to work.”

TO BE CONTINUED....

#rise of the tmnt #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt fanfic #rottmnt oc characters #rottmnt april #leo2k3 #leo2k12 #raph2k12 #raph2k3 #donnie2k12 #donnie2k3 #mikey2k3 #mikey2k12 #rise of the tmnt meat sweats #rottmnt hypno #rise of the tmnt ghostbear #rise of the tmnt turtles

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carol-effing-danvers · 3 years

Text

Steve Rogers is a Monster

Yeah, that’s a hell of a title, isn’t it? Strap in, it only gets worse from here.

(click here if you’d prefer to read this on AO3)

Forewarning, if you enjoyed the epilogue for Endgame, this particular essay is not for you - and no, I am not bashing the Steve/Peggy shippers, you are beautiful human beings who make the fandom brighter and I’m happy that at least someone in this fandom got the ending they wanted.

Additional warning: if you expect this to be another Civil War debate, you will also be disappointed. There has never been a measurement invented that can adequately describe how much I loathe the verbal dick measuring contest that seems to pass for human interaction between Tony Stark and Steve Rogers in this franchise. It’s not funny or entertaining - it’s exhausting, uncomfortable, and frankly it’s rather lazy writing.

This is about the very specific way that the epilogue in Endgame completely changed the way the character of Steve Rogers can be interpreted, and I don’t just mean the very illogical and contradictory way that time travel is explained, both in the movie itself and the fact that the writers and directors have two completely different views on how that worked out.

I mean that the choice made by Steve Rogers in the very last minutes of that movie alters the way I view each and every one of his actions starting from The First Avenger and that alteration is exactly what I want to talk about, because whether you view it as deserving or not, what Steve does at the conclusion of Endgame was the most selfish thing humanly possible. Time is a thief, but somehow Steve managed to steal even more than Time.

Side note here: I understand that I am a completely biased Stucky shipper, a friend to Barnes and Noble, a Starbucks aficionado - sorry. Anyway, I’ve always believed that Steve and Bucky were destined blah blah blah, but I was never expecting a Stucky ending. Disney wasn’t going to do that, and I knew that, I wasn’t bothered that Steve and Bucky weren’t doing the smoochies by the end. But Bucky’s facial expression during those last minutes was gut-wrenching. Like...I have no idea what kind of cues the script and directors gave him, but in the future, please don’t ask Sebastian Stan to look sad unless you want soul-crushing devastation. It’s not Seb’s fault, his features are just arranged that way - but the fact that the editing staff allowed Sam to be sad though elated to be entrusted with the Shield and Bucky looked like his soul was being physically torn out of his body was an… interesting choice.

Other side note: if you’re writing about time travel, I’m begging y’all to get your facts straight. Or just don’t write about time travel. It almost always sounds better on paper than it does on screen and it means that you’ve opened doors to more questions than you’ve probably got the answers for. I know this was about trying to set up the idea of the multiverse, I get that, but there were better and less messy ways to do that, and I know that because I’ve done it before. @Marvel: Let me write you a six-way orgy you fucking cowards~

By going back in time, Steve robbed Peggy of the future that would have been hers - not only that, he’s robbed her of even the chance of making the choice between those futures, because you honestly could not tell me with a straight face that Steve told her the complete truth of what he had done and she would be okay with him alternating the very course of the future. It doesn’t help his case that he has a history of not disclosing truths that he knows will be painful or inconvenient for other people in his life.

He robbed his loved ones - Sam, Bucky, Wanda - of the years they would have spent with him. Sure, he ‘came back’ after Peggy passed away, but they are adults in the prime of youth who knew him sixty years ago in his own time and he is an old, old man who has lived an entire life completely separated from them. He is practically a stranger with a name they know, but a history that no longer belongs to any of them - not even his oldest friend. They have him back, but judging from his age, they’ll be lucky to get even ten more years with him. Assuming of course, that any of them can stand to speak to him - I certainly couldn’t blame them if they tell him to go to hell and take his dad jokes with him.

Steve has stolen away their friend and dropped off an elderly and dying near-stranger in his place, and this is treated by the writing (and the majority of the acting) as a wild and unexpected but not tragic event.

Is it really that unexpected, though?

I recall seeing a Game of Thrones essay on Daenerys across my dash (I’m sorry, love, I don’t recall who you are since it’s not a fandom I’m in, but if someone knows who wrote that, please post the link!) which detailed how her ending in the series was foreshadowed many times by her penchant for bloody killings and her habit of surrounding herself with her own fawning friends.

Months after reading that, I had the thought: though Steve is never really shown thinking about Peggy after Civil War, except in a few scattered scenes in Endgame, was this foreshadowed? Whether you believe that his actions are justified or not, what Steve does is still, in the end, selfish at its very heart, and Steve Rogers is not a selfish person.

Oh no, my dear friends and readers. Because taking this action has solidified and clarified Steve Rogers as the biggest and most selfish asshole in this whole universe.

Steve does not do the right thing, Steve does the thing that will most make him feel better. The fact that this often happens to be the right thing in the end is more the result of happy coincidence than any special sort of moral authority that the man holds.

Rescuing Bucky Barnes and his fellow captives in a prisoner of war camp from being experimented on by an insane Nazi eugenicist? That was not a moral stand, that was endangering himself, Peggy Carter, and Howard Stark because he couldn’t handle the reality of his best friend being killed in war.

Sacrificing himself by putting the Valkyrie down in the Arctic Circle? That was not about sparing human lives, that was about Steve seeing his friend die right in front of him and not being able to deal with the grief. There were ways he could’ve prevented the plane from killing people without killing himself.

Trying to make Bucky remember who he was? And later on, saving him from the government agencies who wanted to hunt him down? Although, arguably, that last one is also just good common sense - Steve was already shown that government agencies could and were corrupted by HYDRA and he’d also seen how dangerous the Winter Soldier could be when unleashed.

Steve did, I think, truly believe that this was the right thing to do, but it was also about keeping his connection - his very last, since Peggy had descended into dementia caused by Alzheimer’s before she ultimately died - to a past that for him, was only months or years ago, rather than decades. In some ways, this is completely understandable - Bucky might be the very last person left alive who truly knows who the real Steve Rogers is, because the rest of these people only know Captain America and we are consistently shown through multiple movies how uncomfortable this makes him.

This gets...considerably less and less understandable as we are shown Steve’s growing relationships with Natasha, Sam, Wanda - even Sharon, though she barely gets any screen time and they share the most awkward kiss I’ve ever seen - and indeed, what might be the most uncomfortable kiss in cinema history.

Side Note 3: This is made even more awkward by the director’s choice to have two of Steve’s friends watching them the whole time - seriously, who even does that? Why would you make them do that? Only sociopaths make out with their friends staring at them like that. It’s so fucking creepy - and don’t even get me fucking started on the fact that she’s also apparently his own niece. AHHHHH!

But we are shown, over and over again, that Steve is capable of building close meaningful relationships with people in the present. They don’t know his whole history, but they do know Steve Rogers rather than Captain America and they care about him deeply.

Side Note 4: Notice that I don’t count Tony Stark among those people - despite this strangely persistent narrative that the various writers and directors tried to sell to the audience, Tony and Steve were not friends. They were never friends. They were colleagues at best, but these were two men who neither liked nor understood each other very well, but had to work together. And sometimes that’s okay, too. (Oh dear, I just gave the Stony fans a fit too, didn’t I? Sorry, guys. Enemies to Lovers is a great trope, I support you!)

But let’s set aside Steve’s gross betrayal of the people who loved him. We’ll also ignore the question of whether the motive for these good actions has tainted the actions themselves. Because even without questioning these, the conclusion of this story arc still transforms Steve into the biggest monster this franchise has.

The very fundamental way that the writers and directors can’t agree on how the time travel mechanics in their own story work mean that Steve has just done one of two things and they range from shady and very questionable to absolutely fucking horrific.

The first, that he’s created his own alternate universe to exist in, is morally dubious at best. Even the people who support this theory and liked the ending seem to feel that it wasn’t necessarily a ten out of ten on the moral goodness spectrum. They’ll say things like ‘he deserved to have his happy ending’. Even that phrasing seems to acknowledge that doing this was the opposite of the right thing. It just considers doing the wrong thing as being justified rather than horrifying.

But let’s examine this first idea for a minute - even this, the more innocent of the two implications, means that rather than really processing his grief or dealing with the repeated tragedies and losses that have occured in his life, even as he was running group therapy sessions and grief counseling, Steve Rogers chose to escape his current life by creating an alternate universe that specifically allows he himself to live out his own fucking fantasies of the way his life should have turned out.

That, in case you are not aware, is wildly fucked up. I thought I was playing pretty fast and loose with Steve’s characterization when I turned him into an extremely polite serial killer but as it turns out, I clearly just wasn’t setting the bar high enough, because that’s somehow even more fucked up than being an undercover child soldier with a small sadistic streak.

Hm, and now I feel I should have been more creative there...

The second, and even more horrifying option, is that this older Steve Rogers has been in this world the whole time, watching as things unfolded just as we’ve seen over the past decade, taking ‘the slow way’ through time.

Side Note 5: I do kind of understand why you would do it this way, because that’s really cool and shocking when you say that! Until you think about it for longer than three seconds and suddenly you realize…

Everything that has happened here, every tragedy and downfall these people experienced, happened because Steve Rogers lived his happily ever after with his beautiful wife and did absolutely nothing to stop it. He got to fuck Peggy Carter and watched as his wife built an empire of intelligence networks, knowing that her efforts were completely in vain because her agency was rotten to the core and he never told her.

Every horrifying act committed by HYDRA under the guise of SHIELD was permitted through Steve Rogers’ negligence. And that’s just the wider big-picture worldview, large and shocking, but not personal.

What about the people that Steve claims to actually care about?

This means that Steve lived his whole life in contentment with his wife and children while his best friend was physically and psychologically tortured for over seventy years and just...let that go.

He allowed one friend to murder another in the nineties, when the Winter Soldier was sent after Howard and Maria Stark. Then their child was being advised by a greedy self-interested warmonger who paid terrorists to drag him off to be tortured and slaughtered, and Steve did nothing about that, either.

Bruce Banner was exploited, experimented on, and made into a monster against his will in the failed pursuit of recreating what was done to Steve, resulting in billions of dollars in damage and dozens or even hundreds of lives lost, and Steve allowed that to happen, too.

Like Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanov was physically and psychologically tortured for others to use her as a living weapon - except that this was probably happening to her since early childhood, and a man her future self loved and trusted implicitly did nothing to save her from this upbringing.

The Maximoff twins are shown to have not wealthy but loving parents who are murdered in front of them and they both endure days of laying in the rubble of their ruined apartment, wondering if the bomb in their living room would go off and kill them. Later, they are taken in by HYDRA, experimented on, and recruited as child soldiers to the cause when they show signs of having supernatural powers. They start a series of events that result in the destruction of a major city and the loss of what is probably thousands of lives. Pietro is murdered while trying to help the Avengers to stop this, and Wanda suffers the loss of the very last living person she loved. None of these things seem to have bothered Future Steve.

Steve “I can’t sit on the sidelines when I see a situation go sideways” Rogers, planted himself on that fucking sideline and observed for nearly eighty years as friends, colleagues, and his own wife were lied to, brainwashed, tortured, vilified, and hunted down like animals.

And then there Steve Rogers himself - not the Endgame Steve Rogers, the Steve Rogers who brought down a Nazi plane and will lie beneath the ice for seventy years while everything he knows disappear (mostly) innocent of these horrors, the life he would’ve lived stolen from him by a stranger with his name and his face from another universe.

What I’m saying here is that if you consider this idea for any amount of time, it took Steve Rogers less than ten minutes to become the most evil and disturbing figure in the entire MCU, only (not really tho) contested by Thanos himself.

Gross and poorly reasoned libertarian ethics aside, Thanos genuinely believes that he did what he did for the sake of the entire population. It’s made fairly explicitly clear that Steve didn’t do this for anyone but himself.

Call me crazy, but if everyone you know needs to suffer and multiple planet-wide devestations have to happen in order for you to get your happy ending, you might be the bad guy.

Maybe I’m just old-fashioned?

#forever bitter about what they did to steve #steve rogers #captain america #the avengers #marvel

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faithbetryin · 4 years

Text

Five Hargreeves X Reader | 3

(from my Wattpad: @FaithBeLovly)

Part 3

Pairing: Five Hargreeves X Reader

Word Count: 2,269

You only assume that the obviously gay & depressed Jack Sparrow Five is chasing is his brother. If this is his home, who knows where the rest of his family members are. You feel a bit awkward being by yourself in his house, so you decide to walk down the hallway and down the stairs where Five went after his brother. You can't understand what that blue light was. It was like Five was right in front of you in one moment and then down the hallway in the next. You aren't sure if you should ask about it, but it was so strange to even try and think of it logically. It was easier to just accept that that was a thing with Five. You walk down the steps and make it back to the lobby. You walk into the living room with the exotic head mounts. You stand in there, just observing the room while you wait for Five to get done beating his brother. You did like being called his girlfriend, even though it wasn't even close to true.

"Owww! Heeeeeyyyyy, I was just pulling your leg, lil' broooo!" You turn to see Five dragging his tall, skinny brother by the ear into the room. He talked slowly as if his voice was slurred. You raise your eyebrows in amusement, trying to keep yourself from smiling. Five lets him go, tapping his foot in anticipation. He looks like he's ready to fight with his brother again. His brother stands up straight and rubs his ear with his hand, tucking his long brown hair behind his ears. His bright hazel-green eyes looking at you with joy. He seemed to smile about everything just from how his wrinkles curled around his lips when he gives you that wide smile. You feel yourself smile too, the joy he spreads quite contagious. Five sees the way he smiles at you and elbows him in the side. He wheezes a little and laughs after groaning, "Augh! Fiiiiiive!" He makes a face and pushes Five's face away from him with his large hand, Five making a funny, uncomfortable face as he stumbles backwards from his size compared to his brother's. His brows arch downwards as he squints his eyes in irritation, swatting Klaus' hand away from him.

"Y/N, this is my idiotic brother, Klaus." Five introduces you and suddenly you feel socially awkward. Klaus raises his brows in interest as he learns your name, his hands reaching out to yours. You notice his ambitious "hello" and "goodbye" tattoos on his hands. You let him take your hands as he holds them and shakes them in a kind manner.

"Heyyy! Guten tag! You have such a lovely name. Is that German? You know, I'm kind of German. You know what they say about Germans," He starts to chuckle by himself, for neither of you got what was humorous about that sentence. You nod awkwardly.

"Nice to meet you. Are you his oldest brother?" You assume so from how much older he appeared compared to Five with his stubbly goatee. A pair of men walk into the room abruptly, arguing about something. One was shorter, wearing all black and a pair of straps around his waist holstering a series of knives. His hair was shaved down around the sides, his hair spiked up a bit towards the front, a large scar along the side of his head. He looked Hispanic and not at all like Five or Klaus. You find yourself coming up with more and more questions the longer you're here. The other man was HUGE. Not only was he tall, but his upper chest and arms seemingly had a deformity of overly large muscles barely fitting in the large trench coat he wore. He had blonde hair and large ears, his face clearly stressed as he was arguing with the man in black next to him. Five stands next to you, almost defensively.

"No, Diego. You can't just tell everyone what to do. I'm Number One, not you."

"Yeah, and you're still just as much of a disappointment as the rest of us, Number One." They get in each other's faces. The ape in reading glasses raises his voice from across the room.

"That's enough, boys!" The two of them retreat from the battle and step away from each other, the shorter one crossing his arms while the larger of the two rolls his shoulders. They both finally notice you and Five. Klaus swipes his hands against each other, dusting imaginary dust off of them.

"Someone's scrote's in a twist..." He says, making a dramatic face by curling the corners of his lips downward. Five tilts his head and squints at Klaus in a judgmental way, seeming to find his comment very dumb. Well, he found everything about Klaus dumb. Diego looks at you and then Five.

"Oh shit, who's the kid?" Diego says, adjusting his stance and crossed arms.

"I'm 17-" You start to say.

"She's too young for you," Number One says to Five, making a face. Five squints his eyes the way he does and grins sarcastically at him. You find it a weird thing to say. Five looked a touch younger than you, if you were being honest. Diego laughs with the big dude on that one, grinning a little.

"Y/N, these are my other brothers. Ricky Retardo and Batman's buttplug." Five smirks as he makes his stab back at his brothers. You try to contain your laughter.

"Luther and Diego," Klaus whispers to you. You nod to him as you start to understand better. Well, the names part. That was pretty much all you understood about this entire situation though. Diego rolls his eyes at Five, Luther making a very hilariously offended face.

"What are they doing in our house?" Diego says, being a bit defensive. You then are reminded how unwelcome you feel being in someone elses' family home. You hold your arm as it tenses up by your side. Five looks at you and then Diego, his arm moving in front of you for a moment in a protective motion.

"They are here under my protection and if any of you even look at them wrong, you will have to deal with me, so I suggest you get used to them being here, Diego. Luther. Klaus." He looks at each and every one of them with a threatening glare to make his point known between the three of them. You feel like a fragile flower behind Five, but you kind of like feeling small and protected. Even if Five was the same height as you, given a few inches taller. Diego gives Five a defensive look. He clearly didn't like anyone telling him what to do. Luther looks rather understanding, and Klaus? He stood next to you and nodded at the two other brothers, showing his support for you. You liked Klaus. He was nice. Five starts to walk away, taking your arm and bringing you with him. You follow and as soon as you both get away from his siblings, he lets go of your arm and turns to you.

"I apologize for my brothers. They're not the sharpest tools in the box." He says as he stuffs his hands in his pockets. You shake your head and reassure him.

"No, it's okay. I'm used to it. Why did Luther say you were too old for me? He has a dry sense of humor." You look at Five as he looks down a bit and then looks back up at you.

"Because I'm actually 58 years old." You just stare at him, waiting for him to laugh at his own joke. Then you recognize that Five hardly says things he doesn't mean. He nods at your confused look and tries to explain it to you, his hands making a reappearance as they move with his explanation. "I got trapped in the apocalypse-" You shut your eyes immediately after hearing the word apocalypse, rejecting the concept. Five stops talking and scratches the back of his head again, a reoccurring phenomenon, as he tries not to make you freak out again. "How can I explain this.." He looks down as he thinks and then shakes his head, deciding on an explanation that might accommodate for your level of understanding.

"You saw me jump, right? The blue light?" You nod as you get that part. "That's my power. I can jump through time and space. All of us have them- powers, I mean. Well, once upon a terrible time, I didn't take Dad's advice and jumped too far forward. I ended up trapped in an apocalypse- the end of everything as we know it. I grew old there, and when I jumped back to this timeline, my body reversed back to my 16 year old self while my conscious remains 58 years old." You feel weird hearing all of this. It was a lot to take in. You weren't sure what to think about him. Was it weird? It shouldn't be right? He looked and sounded your age. You weren't certain of anything anymore. Five can see the distress in your face. He reaches out to put his hand on your shoulder. You turn away from him and walk out the door, quickly making your way down the short concrete steps. You stand on the sidewalk, taking a few deep breaths. Five warps out of the house next to you, the sudden winded warp making you jump.

"What the hell, Five!" You shout at him. You look away and then look back at him in complete overwhelming stress. Five comes closer to you, looking at you with upward angled brows. He looked worried.

"Y/N, wait-" He gets himself together as his clothes and hair was messed up from the jump. You give him a chance and listen to him. "I know all of this is very hard for you to understand, but you aren't safe out here. Look, I'm sorry I got you into my mess, but let me protect you, I can keep you safe. Please." You look at him and shake your head.

"Why? Because you're just such a good person?" You say, doubting that anybody was truly good. You've been through too much shit to believe that anymore. Five presses his lips inward, his dimples popping out a bit. He exhales as he comes up with an answer.

"No, because..." He bobs his head anxiously, lifting his shoulders and letting them drop again. His behavior was either collected or antsy, no in between it seemed. "Because I can't lose anyone else." Your face fills with sympathy, your eyes looking at him with sincerity. You look at each other in silence for a moment before you nod your head.

"Okay," you say, moving a bit closer to him, "We stick together." Five's brows churn upwards slightly as he gives you a slight, relieved smile. "But," He squints his eyes a little and lifts his chin in proposition. "Let's keep the explanations minimal." He nods understandingly and blinks softly before offering his arm to you. You look at him and try not to laugh, a little "pfft?" slipping out from your lips. He bobs his head to the side and widens his eyes in offense.

"My father made manners our first lesson. Called us gentlemen." He says, still offering his arm. You assume his father wasn't around from how he talked about him. You smile and take his arm, moving your hands from his arm to his hand, bringing it down to your sides as you hold it gently. His skin was soft and his hands were warm. It was comforting to know someone had your hand. Literally. He double takes and looks down at your hand holding his and then looks over at you. He smiles warmly with both his lips and eyes. You smile back at him a little as your cheeks get warmer.

"Ready?" He asks, making you confused.

"Ready for wh-" His hand squeezes yours as he pulls you forward with him into a sprint, but as you lunge forward, his bright blue light surrounds you, the world as you see it warping into shifting waves. You feel your stomach drop like when you go down on a roller coaster, and turn your head in slow motion it felt like, to look at Five. His eyes look to you as he then winks. You look around in amazement, seeing a deep blue void of light and warped space around you. You see the door of the academy pinch into a tiny area in front of you before it jumps out through you, zooming in with a bright light. You blink instinctively as you stumble into the lobby from a Five's space warp. You shut your eyes tight as you feel immense jet lag. Five seems unaffected. He pulls you into him after pulling your hand a little too hard, your chests bumping into each other. His other hand catches your back and supports it as you recover from the collision. You blush hard as you realize how close you are to him. His chin presses down against his neck, looking down at you. You look up at him, locking eyes with his beautiful blue pair. He smiles widely before you pull away in embarrassment. He adjusts his school jacket and wipes his chin with his sleeve to try and wipe away his smile. You stand there in front of him, wondering when you'll be that close to him again.

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chilling-seavey · 3 years

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When Universes Collide - The AU Mini Series

The Lotus Inn is a place we all know well; and a place where all universes collide in a small ripple of the time space continuum. It’s the spot for characters of alternate universes to meet and interact – even those who are from vastly different worlds and timelines. In this one-shot, the characters from the universes of this blog gather for lunch at the Lotus Inn restaurant and discuss their similarities and differences.

Warning: This does contain spoilers to any and all fics on my blog so read with caution if you haven’t read all of them!

A/N This obviously isn’t part of any timeline and is just something I wrote for fun with a bit of help from T-Anon and @randomlimelightxxx! To tell each Daniel apart, they will be called by their fic name as their formal title…it might be a bit awkward at first but it would be the only way to not confuse the heck out of you since there are five nearly identical looking Daniel’s sitting around one table. (Also, I see this play out like a stage performance in my head which is weird).

A/N2 Let’s see how many times the word ‘Daniel’ is used in this story

The Lotus Inn – 11:54am

A table for five sat empty in the corner of the restaurant. The room was trimmed in purple neon lights and decorated in floral pictures with an old brick wall supporting the large bar along the back. It wasn’t busy as the crowd usually came in for the daily after-dinner partying and the quietness of the restaurant was only filled with the bar tender wiping down the glasses to stock.

The door to the restaurant opened and a stream of bright light pooled into the room from the outside, nearly brightening the space more than what the large paned windows along the from wall allowed. In stepped a young man, his hesitation obvious as he stepped over the threshold and his blue eyes scanned his surroundings. He wore a military uniform that was ironed to perfection, donned in two well dressed medals on his left breast, and he took off his matching cap when he stepped inside, offering a stiff nod in greeting to the bartender.

Passchendaele Daniel

Age 22

He was the first to arrive and he made his way over to the reserved table in the corner, sitting on the chair closest to the door. Habit. Made for an easy getaway if it was ever needed. He held his hands together on his lap, back straight, and his flat expression starting to fall into space.

The restaurant stayed silent. The bartender kept to himself and the few other patrons sat on the far side of the room, minding their own business.

The door opened again and a voice fell inside along with another pool of light.

“She’s a one-year-old, Jack, give her a cookie and sing her a song and she’ll go right to sleep. Ask the other two for help; they’re great with her. I can’t come back now, my meeting has barely even started. I’ll be an hour, tops. I think you can survive that long.”

The slightly older man who just came in had his cellphone pressed to his ear and closed the door calmly behind him. He looked a bit flustered and definitely tired; his dyed blonde hair was faded to mostly its natural brown tones again and he shoved his car keys in his pocket messily as he listened to whatever his friend was saying through the line.

Anything But Mine Daniel

Age 25

His blue eyes landed on the young man already at the table and he paused in spot for a moment before saying much quieter into his cell phone, “I gotta go. I’ll call you after.”

He hung the phone and headed slowly over to the table, holding out his hand to the man in front of him.

“Hey. Nice to meet you. I’m Daniel.”

Passchendaele Daniel glanced up at him and then to his out stretched hand and pulled a tight smile before taking his handshake, “Myself as well.”

They shared soft smiles as Anything But Mine Daniel sat down in the chair on his other side. They fell into a momentary silence, not quite knowing what to say at first. It was a strange situation to be in: staring at yourself from another universe and entirely different timeline.

Gentle music filled the restaurant and the two young men glanced across the room to the jukebox. A third stood in front of it, having just slid in a quarter to select a record, and the gentle voice of Elvis brought liveliness to the restaurant. He turned with a pleasant smile, his hair slicked back in a soft wave, and startled slightly by the older two staring back at him.

Heartbreak Hotel Daniel

Age 18

He offered them a crooked smile and headed over to join them, “Hi.”

They shared their introductions – being easy since they all shared the same name and nearly the same face – and Heartbreak Hotel Daniel took his spot across from Anything But Mine Daniel. He glanced over at the man in his old military uniform beside the oldest but looked away against before he could be caught staring. He adjusted the collar of his button-up shirt and dropped his shy gaze to the wood table top.

“What desserts do you offer here?”

The three men all looked towards the bar where another was stood on the bottom brass foot rest of the bar counter to stand higher, holding himself up on the marble top as he spoke to the bartender. He wore a Georgian style suit, dressed poshly down to the puffed tie in the collar of his pale blue jacket and shiny black shoes, his soft brown hair brushed pristinely over his forehead.

Amoureux Daniel

Age 17

The bartender eyed the young prince for a moment and then simply gestured to the menu hung on the brick wall behind him.

“I’ll just take the lot of it.”

He slid a few paper bills across the counter before heading over to the reserved table. His smile was wide and infectious and he offered firm handshakes around the table.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Prince Daniel of York. Second in line to the British throne.”

“Royalty at our table? That’s unbelievable.” ABM Daniel gaped, eyeing the youngest’s clothes as he plopped himself down in the free chair across from Passchendaele Daniel.

“Forget Royalty. I’m going to be a composer.” Amoureux Daniel tisked as he leaned back and loosened his tie around his neck to let himself breathe before rolling up his sleeves too.

“A composer? I’m in music professionally. What do you play? Piano?” ABM Daniel asked.

“Piano and cello. Piano’s my favourite though.” Amoureux Daniel grinned.

“Mine as well.” Passchendaele Daniel smiled shyly.

“You as well? Oh, splendid.” Amoureux Daniel clapped excitedly. “I was worried you lot would be as lame as my older brother honestly.”

Passchendaele Daniel’s smile fell as fast as it was formed and he dropped his head down. The other three easily saw this change and the youngest two from across the table habitually looked the eldest for guidance. ABM Daniel’s eyes were wide with surprise and he set a gentle hand on Passchendaele Daniel’s shoulder.

He spoke softly, “Are you okay?”

“I…” Passchendaele Daniel took a moment to compose himself before looking up into the friendly eyes of his older counterpart, “I lost my brother in the war. He was my best friend.”

“Shit.” Amoureux Daniel breathed from across from him.

Heartbreak Hotel Daniel slowly pressed his hand to his mouth in shock.

ABM Daniel hesitated a moment but gave his shoulder a friendly squeeze, “I’m really sorry.”

Passchendaele Daniel only shrugged lightly, “It is what it is, I suppose.”

“What war were you in? The First World War or the Second?” Heartbreak Hotel Daniel asked as gently as he could around the obviously traumatised man.

Passchendaele Daniel’s eyes went wide in fear suddenly and he looked between the other three guys, “There is a second?!”

“I didn’t even know there was one in the first place.” Amoureux Daniel said in defence as he reached for one of the desserts before the bartender could even set the plate down at their table.

ABM Daniel and HH Daniel exchanged wide eyed glances before looking back at the frightened soldier. ABM Daniel rubbed his hand over his back soothingly, offering the best reassurance he could, “Not in your time, don’t worry. But I think we need a new topic to talk about now.”

“Please.” Passchendaele Daniel mumbled thankfully.

“Isn’t there supposed to be a fifth one of us here too?” HH Daniel asked.

“I thought so too.” ABM Daniel pulled out his cell phone to check the time.

“What is that?” the other three young men asked him at the same time.

ABM Daniel glanced up at them and looked between their mirrored confused expressions like he was sitting at a table with triplets. Different brunette hair styles and different clothing but all with the same light blue eyes and youthful faces. He looked back down at his iPhone and held it up slightly, “This?”

They all nodded.

“It’s my cell phone.”

“It’s a telephone? Where’s the chord?” HH Daniel asked, leaning over the table to lift it up as if to look for the chord that should have somehow attached him to the wall.

“Where is the handset?” Passchendaele Daniel added. “If there is no handset, how do you hear your friends?”

“I have no bloody clue what the hell any of you are talking about.” Amoureux Daniel laughed through a mouthful of cake.

ABM Daniel smiled and looked between the other three, “I guess that’s right since you are all from the past, huh? Well in my time they make telephones that can go in your pocket. They don’t need chords.”

“That’s brilliant.” Passchendaele Daniel breathed. “And you can talk to your friends into that little box?”

“Yeah. Wanna hold it?” ABM Daniel offered.

HH Daniel leaned over the table to get a look as Passchendaele Daniel carefully took the iPhone from ABM Daniel and cradled it in his two hands like it would break if the wind blew too hard. The screen lit up as a text message came through and Passchendaele Daniel gasped in surprise, staring down at the lit-up screen and the little box that read words.

ABM Daniel reached over to swipe away the notification, revealing his lockscreen wallpaper: a photograph of his family from the day his youngest was born, all cuddled up together on the couch.

“Is that your family?” HH Daniel asked, still leaning over the table.

“Yeah. It is.” ABM Daniel smiled widely, taking his phone to set it on the table for all of them to see, “That’s my wife, Florence, and our girls; Clementine, Penelope, and Lucy.”

“That’s so sweet.” Amoureux Daniel said, “I just had a son a few months back.”

“You have a child?” HH Daniel gaped over at him. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“You have a kid at seventeen?”

“Yes. Ran off and got married young. He’s just born so no need to have a fit.” Amoureux Daniel snickered teasingly. He picked up the plate of desserts and held it out to him. HH Daniel stared down at the desserts for a beat but then shook his head politely.

“My wife is expecting our first child.” Passchendaele Daniel spoke gently.

“Oh, congratulations!” ABM Daniel said, helping himself to a dessert from the spread.

“Yes, thank you.” Passchendaele Daniel mumbled. “I am a bit frightened; I must admit.”

“Parenthood is a scary thing but it’s also the most amazing thing you could ever experience.” ABM Daniel assured him as he slid his phone back into his pocket. “I am sure you will be a great dad.”

Before anyone else could speak, loud muffled music could be heard from outside the restaurant and they all turned to looked out the large front windows; watching as a shiny white Tesla pulled up to the curb. The music cut off as the drivers side door opened and their fifth guest stepped out. His hair was dyed blonde and hair sprayed to messy perfection and the sunglasses perched on his nose were designer, his whole outfit dripping in expensive pieces, down to his leather pants and black boots and silver chain hung around his neck.

He came inside the restaurant and everyone’s eyes were on him – even the bar tender – as he slid off his sunglasses and offered a cool smile to the room.

Qui Totum Vult Totum Perdit Daniel

Age 23

He caught the glance of the other four young men at the table in the corner and he sauntered over to greet them. He offered a handshake to all of them before sitting at the far head of the table, “Sorry I’m so late. Promo ran later than expected.”

He glanced around the table at the four pairs of wide blue eyes staring back at him. There was a beat of silence.

“Wow, this is sick. It’s like I’m looking in four mirrors.” QTVTP Daniel chuckled. He set his sunglasses on the table. The other four pairs of eyes followed the action but they didn’t speak. “You’re right. Need to at least make up for my lateness. Hey, bartender?”

The man looked over to the table as QTVTP Daniel raised his hand up to get his attention, “Pitcher of water, round of beers, and let’s get some appetizers? Give us your top…six sellers. All on my card.”

“You don’t have to pay for all of us.” ABM Daniel said.

“Let me. It’s the least I could do. You come all the way out here to this shabby hotel and I’m thirty minutes late.”

The bartender brought over the pitcher of water, five glasses, and five bottles of beer, setting them all on the table. QTVTP Daniel took out his OffWhite wallet and pulled out his credit card, passing it over to the man with a smooth thanks.

“Let’s drink, boys.” he smiled, rubbing his hands together before reaching for one of the bottles.

“I’m not of age.” HH Daniel mumbled.

“Neither am I.” Amoureux Daniel added.

“I don’t drink anymore.” Passchendaele Daniel said.

“I have to pick up my daughters after this so no alcohol for me either, thanks.” ABM Daniel finished.

QTVTP Daniel looked between the four sitting around him, “Wow. Alright. More for me then.”

ABM Daniel took the initiative to pour the others their glasses of water as he offered a casual question to the late arrival, “What promo were you at?”

“For my record company.”

All four heads snapped back up to look at him.

“You work at a record company?” HH Daniel gaped.

“Own it. Yeah.” QTVTP Daniel chuckled. “My best friend and I have owned our own company for the last…two or so years? We’ve travelled the world together. Made some music. Made a name for ourselves. It’s amazing.”

“Wow. It’s always been my dream to be a signed artist but my parents convinced me to go to university instead.” ABM Daniel said.

“It’s pretty sick.” QTVTP Daniel smirked. “You meet a lot of cool people.”

“Are you well known?” Amoureux Daniel asked. “Do you work with people such as Bach? Or Mozart?”

“Bach or Mozart? Nah. Not yet at least. But we just signed a band that dropped their second album and it went number one worldwide.”

“Good God.” HH Daniel gasped. “You’re like Elvis.”

“I guess.” QTVTP Daniel laughed lightly, taking a sip of his drink as he leaned back in his chair.

“Do you produce too?” ABM Daniel asked.

“Yeah. We do most of the producing but we write and manage too. I have an eye for the industry.”

“That’s so cool. I’m working at a production studio myself. I’d love to run some demos by you…get your professional opinion…bounce some ideas around.”

“Yeah, for sure, bro! That’d be awesome. We can do that later.”

The other three young men stayed in momentary silence, sipping their water with Amoureux Daniel nursing the plate of desserts. He glanced over at HH Daniel on his right, staring at him for a moment, especially the remanence of a bruise that was colouring just under his left eye.

“Did you get in a fight?” Amoureux Daniel asked bluntly.

HH Daniel looked over at him, watching the youngest bite into a truffle, “Yeah. Corbyn beat me up.”

That caught the table’s attention and they all looked at him in surprise.

“Corbyn hit you?” ABM Daniel gaped.

“Mhm.” HH Daniel nodded shyly. “I was trying to stick up for my soulmate and he didn’t like that I was trying to take her from him so he beat me up.”

He stood up and lifted up the bottom of his shirt to show off the fading bruise over his stomach as well. The men groaned pitifully at how obviously it must have hurt.

“My Corbyn is so nice.” Passchendaele Daniel frowned.

“Mine too.” ABM Daniel added.

“Mine’s kind of lame. Everyone in my life is lame.” Amoureux Daniel tisked.

“What? You think you’re better than everyone?” QTVTP Daniel chuckled, taking a sip from his glass bottle.

“Not necessarily. I just don’t want to have to live the same boring life that they think I need to.”

“I’ll drink to that.” QTVTP Daniel agreed.

“Here, here.” Passchendaele Daniel raised his water cup and they all held out their glasses into the middle of the table to cheers through soft laughter.

Their conversation paused a moment as they drank. HH Daniel shifted in his seat slightly, tossing back the rest of his glass of water is he had been deprived for days and set the empty glass back on the table with a loud clunk. QTVTP Daniel slid over a bottle of beer and none of them spoke as they watched him unscrew the cap and take a long sip. The eighteen-year-old grimaced through the drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You’re really going through it, bro.” QTVTP Daniel stated.

“Yeah, I suppose.” HH Daniel grumbled, pushing a hand through his hair.

“Well obviously since he got punched in the face.” Amoureux Daniel added.

“I just…” HH Daniel sighed, staring at the table top, “We have soulmates in my universe and even though I found mine…she doesn’t want me so I’m suck tasting everything she tastes and it being a constant brutal reminder of her.”

“Why doesn’t she want you?” ABM Daniel frowned.

“I’m a loser? Hell if I know.” HH Daniel scoffed, he took another long sip of the beer no matter how disgusting he thought it tasted. At least it overpowered the taste of tea that was grazing his tongue.

“There’s a girl you’re in love with who has a trashy boyfriend? Well, take it from me who has literally been in your shoes,” ABM Daniel reached across the table to grab the beer from the eighteen-year-old, “You get nowhere from drinking away the pain or hating yourself.”

“You had this happen too?” HH Daniel asked softly, hopefully.

“Yeah; was best friends with this girl I was hopelessly in love with and I had to see her go from boyfriend to boyfriend no matter how often I was there for her.”

“So what happened?”

“She became my wife eventually.” ABM Daniel smiled softly, “Just give it time. Don’t push her because she’ll just feel suffocated. Let her come to you. She’ll see what she’s missing.”

Amoureux Daniel held out the half empty plate of desserts to HH Daniel and he finally took a small pastry as the youngest said, “In addition, you are in a universe where you can taste what she tastes and, from my experience, the way to a woman’s heart – and up her skirt – is through her stomach.”

Passchendaele Daniel choked on his water while laughter rose over the rest of the table.

“What do you know about ‘going up skirts’? You’re, like, barely fifteen.” QTVTP Daniel scoffed through his disbelieving laughter.

“I am seventeen, thank you very much, and I have a baby.” Amoureux Daniel corrected, nearly boastfully. “I know just plenty about going up skirts.”

Of course, that was right when the bartender came over with their food and his confused expression had the five young men smothering back their nervous laughter. ABM Daniel and Passchendaele Daniel cleared a space on the table for the food to be set down and all five of them thanked the man before he headed back behind the bar. With a full spread in front of them, they all dug in and piled up a small plate each to start to eat. It was quiet for a moment as they got settled and started to eat, passing the salt and pepper and various plates to each other when asked. It was comfortable.

“So,” ABM Daniel broke their silence first, directing his question to Amoureux Daniel, “how did you and your wife meet?”

Amoureux Daniel cracked a cheeky smile, “Well, she came to England to marry my older brother, but she liked me better, to be blunt. We would sneak around the castle and a few times at night…you know…”

There were two ‘oo’s from ABM Daniel and QTVTP Daniel, while Passchendaele Daniel looked between them all with wide eyes.

“You…You were involved with her before you were married?” he stammered.

“While she was engaged to my brother too.” Amoureux Daniel hid his smirk behind a bite of a mozzarella stick. “My most thrilling and incredible few months, I must say.”

“Oh my gosh.” Passchendaele Daniel’s cheeks flushed a slight pink and he tugged at the collar of his uniform. “That’s…ahem…”

“Did you not go near your wife before your wedding night?” Amoureux Daniel asked bluntly.

“Let’s not go nosing into everyone’s private business.” ABM Daniel said strongly.

“Wait, I’m still confused. Where did you sneak off to?” HH Daniel asked shyly.

The table chuckled lightly – even Passchendaele Daniel cracked a nervous smile – and HH Daniel looked between all of them, waiting for an answer.

“To bed.” Amoureux Daniel laughed, patting him on the shoulder. “You’ll understand one day.”

“I…you…I-I understand perfectly well.” HH Daniel blushed furiously, turning quickly down to his plate and shoveled a nacho in his mouth to avoid continuing the conversation.

“To answer your question,” Passchendaele Daniel continued, trying to keep himself a bit brave and a bit interesting to the four other men, “No, I did not go to bed with Elizabeth until our wedding night. It did not feel right to deflower her until our union was official.”

“Deflower her.” QTVTP Daniel repeated slowly, biting back his smile as he took a sip of his beer.

“Well that’s what it is, is it not?” Passchendaele Daniel said sternly, narrowing his eyes at him. “I like to think that making love is the most sacred act and shouldn’t be just thrown around to anyone.”

“I agree.” HH Daniel mumbled, earning a thankful smile from the soldier.

“Jeez, then I’m quite the sinner.” QTVTP Daniel chuckled to himself. “I slept with my girlfriend on our first date.”

Passchendaele Daniel huffed softly and turned down to his plate. Amoureux Daniel and HH Daniel glanced at each other through the awkward tension that seemed to settle.

ABM Daniel cleared his throat, “Let’s maybe change the topic. This isn’t really lunch appropriate.”

“Wow…you are such a dad.” QTVTP Daniel snorted, shaking his head in near disbelief.

“What’s wrong with that?” ABM Daniel frowned at him. He couldn’t get much of an argument out before his phone was ringing in his pocket and he pulled it out, sighing when he read the caller ID, “Sorry, I gotta take this.”

The other four watched him get up from the table and head across the restaurant as he answered the call,

“What is it now, Jack?”

The table fell into a momentary silence.

Passchendaele Daniel broke it first with a mumble of, “Jack in my universe is dead.”

The other three looked between themselves nervously. They didn’t answer, ducking their heads down to their plates to focus on eating their lunches. No one spoke until ABM Daniel returned and he sat back down with a heavy exhale.

“Sorry, being a dad is a job that is never done. What did I miss?”

Amoureux Daniel, HH Daniel, and QTVTP Daniel just looked at him and shook their heads ever so slightly. Passchendaele Daniel sniffled, keeping his head down, and took a sip of his water.

“Everything alright back home?” HH Daniel asked softly over to ABM Daniel.

“Oh, yeah. My youngest just hates when I’m not within arm’s reach so she’s been giving Jack some trouble. She’s only one so…doesn’t know much better.” ABM Daniel smiled at only the mention of his daughters. “I have pictures…if you want to see.”

“Of course.” HH Daniel beamed.

ABM Daniel took out his phone again and opened up his photos app to swipe through a few and he passed the phone across the table. Amoureux Daniel and HH Daniel shifted closer together to see and QTVTP Daniel leaned over the side of the table to look at the pictures too. QTVTP Daniel took control of the swiping since he was the only one who knew how cell phones worked and they all smiled at the pictures on the screen, ‘awe’ing at the cutest ones.

“The baby looks just like you.” HH Daniel said. “Well…like us, I suppose.”

“Yeah.” ABM Daniel chuckled. “I get that a lot.”

Passchendaele Daniel stayed quiet on his right, eating in silence, and unbothered. He sat as if he didn’t want to draw any more attention to himself. ABM Daniel looked over at him as the other three kept scrolling through his pictures and he reached a hand onto the table to gently get his attention. Passchendaele Daniel looked up at him with a flat expression and almost tearful eyes.

“Are you alright?” ABM Daniel asked softly.

“I don’t do well without my Elizabeth.” Passchendaele Daniel whispered for only him to hear. ABM Daniel was always the best listener and the easiest to talk to and it was obvious to the struggling soldier that he was someone he could trust.

“Do you have a picture of her?” ABM Daniel offered, as some way to keep his mind busy but happy.

A small smile perked at the side of Passchendaele Daniel’s lips and he nodded, reaching into his uniform jacket and he pulled out a small sepia photograph and held it out to his new acquaintance. ABM Daniel smiled thankfully at him and took the photograph, looking down at the old fashion photograph of the gentle young blonde woman.

“She’s beautiful.” ABM Daniel said politely.

“She is. I’m the luckiest man in the whole world to have her. She saves my life every day.” Passchendaele Daniel breathed, his gentle smile grazing his lips ever so delicately as if he was in deep thought.

Three teasing exclaims from across the table caught their attention and ABM Daniel quickly reached over to snatch his phone back. The picture they had swiped to was of Florence in nothing but a small towel blow-drying her hair in the bathroom mirror; a simple moment that ABM Daniel couldn’t help but capture with her in all her natural beauty.

“No more of that.” he blushed furiously as he pocketed his phone again.

Passchendaele Daniel offered his photograph of Elizabeth to the table and the three young men on the other side gladly took it. She was effortlessly beautiful and the three youngest at the table stared at her for a bit longer than was honestly necessary. Passchendaele Daniel bit back a proud grin at their obvious interest.

“I don’t have a photograph of Loretta.” HH Daniel mumbled. “If I did, that would be considered extremely creepy on my part.”

The photograph was passed back to Passchendaele Daniel who pocketed it again and HH Daniel reached to grab another serving from the platters in the middle of the table. A small corner of paper poking out under the dish caught his attention and he wiped his hand on his jeans before pulling it out from under the plate. His eyes went wide at the photograph of Loretta that stared back at him from his hand.

“What’s that?” Amoureux Daniel asked, leaning over his shoulder to take a look.

Surprised, HH Daniel couldn’t find his words for a moment, “I-It’s Loretta.”

The Lotus Inn works in almost magical ways through this ripple in the time space continuum. HH Daniel pulled the picture closer, his heart only aching slightly at simply the sight of her.

“She is hot.” QTVTP Daniel broke the momentary silence.

The four other Daniel’s glared at his bluntness and he put his hands up in defence as he sat back in his chair.

“You can’t have her so don’t even try.” HH Daniel scolded softly before turning back to the photograph.

“I don’t want her. I have my own girlfriend.”

HH Daniel glared warningly at him as he passed the photograph across the table to ABM Daniel and Passchendaele Daniel to take a look at too.

Amoureux Daniel shifted in his chair and reached into his pocket, sure enough to pull out his own picture of Louisa and their brand-new baby son. He stayed perfectly quiet for a moment as he stared at the image himself, disbelieving.

“Oh wow.” he breathed. “It looks so real.”

HH Daniel looked over his shoulder and smiled at the sweet photograph of the young mother holding her baby, “That’s adorable.”

Amoureux Daniel smiled over at him, “That’s my Louisa. And our little prince.”

“Let’s see!” ABM Daniel excitedly held his hand out to take a look at the photograph.

QTVTP Daniel and Passchendaele Daniel glanced over his shoulder with mirrored smiles.

“Damn,” QTVTP Daniel said as he sat down again, “Glad to know we have taste.”

Their pictures were passed around and stories were shared – QTVTP Daniel offering up his phone to show off pictures of his girlfriend and he shared his excited plans to propose to her.

The five young men seemed to find their comfort with each other. Laughter soon filled their table between words of advice and guidance and comfort and soon the food was gone and the drinks were finished and they were all resting back in their chairs through their conversation.

“Is your hair naturally that colour?” Amoureux Daniel asked QTVTP Daniel.

QTVTP Daniel habitually ran his hand through it, fluffing it up a little at the sides, “No, it’s dyed. I kinda like it like this though so I might keep it.”

“It looks cool. Maybe I should go blonde too. Loretta seems to like blondes better anyway.” HH Daniel said.

“No!” The other three at the table said quickly.

HH Daniel looked between all of them in confusion, “Why not?”

“Florence cried her eyes out when I went blonde.” ABM Daniel said. “I swear she was ready to divorce me. It’s not worth it.”

“You look just fine the way you are.” Passchendaele Daniel agreed. “Don’t change just because her boyfriend looks a certain way.”

“Yeah. You’ll regret that.” ABM Daniel nodded.

“I dunno. I don’t regret it.” QTVTP Daniel said coolly.

“You’re not helping.” ABM Daniel snapped lightly, making the rest of the table laugh.

A momentary silence fell over the group, all of them staring into space with content smiles and full stomachs, most topics of conversation well used. The bartender came over to clear the empty plates and they all thanked him once more. ABM Daniel took out his phone to check the time again.

“Well, it’s been over an hour. Maybe we should say our goodbyes. I have little ones to pick up.”

“Yeah.” HH Daniel sighed, setting his napkin back on the tabletop. “I have to pack for college.”

“I have a meeting...” QTVTP checked his watch, “5 minutes ago. Shit. Jonah’s gonna kill me.”

He got up quickly from the table and put his sunglasses back on before taking one last sip of his beer. They all stood up after him and started to gather their things to go.

“Can we take a selfie before we leave?” ABM Daniel offered.

“A what?” HH Daniel laughed.

“A selfie.” Amoureux Daniel breathed. “That’s a ridiculous word.”

“A picture of yourself.” QTVTP Daniel explained.

“Yeah! Come over here.” ABM Daniel took out his phone again and opened up the camera.

“You can take photographs on your telephone? Incredible…” Passcehndaele Daniel breathed as the group gathered behind ABM Daniel and they all leaned in close.

The picture was taken, framing five exact smiles, five exact pairs of light blue eyes, and yet five slightly different hair styles and fashion choices. All their own individual but yet all one in the same.

They shared handshakes that turned into friendly embraces with pats on the back, well wishes, and final goodbyes as they headed their own ways home to once again be seperated by the division of space and time between alternate universes.

ABM Daniel lingered back in the restaurant for a moment, grazing his finger over the table he stood beside with a calm smile. He approached the bartender and ordered a plate of desserts to go – he didn’t get much since Amoureux Daniel seemed to hog them all for himself – and he wanted to bring home his girls a treat. He paid for the cakes and thanked the bar tender before heading out of the restaurant and into the bright sunlit street. His car was parked farther down and he waited in the drivers seat for Florence.

She came quickly out of the Lotus Inn as well, the heavy wind blowing urging her to hold her jacket closed as she rushed down the sidewalk, her dark blonde hair billowing around her head messily and she helped herself into the passenger seat of their car. With the door closed and the wind kept out, she sighed deeply with a content smile and smoothed her messy hair down.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hi, sweetheart.”

They both leaned in for a quick kiss.

“How was lunch?” she asked.

ABM Daniel thought for a moment as he took the car out of park and pulled out onto the street, “It was strange at first but really nice. How was yours?”

“Super fun.” Florence giggled.

“Great! Oh! We took a selfie. I wanted to show you how similar we all looked.” Daniel pulled his phone from his pocket and blindly passed it over to her as he drove through the streets of their city.

Florence took it and typed in his passcode with an excited smile. She opened up his pictures and tapped the most recent one, her smile falling, “Dani, this is only a picture of you.”

“I know!” Daniel laughed. “We looked like quintuplets or something!”

“No…I mean you are the only person in this picture.”

Daniel stopped the car at a red light and glanced over at his phone in her hand. His smile fell as well as he stared at the selfie he had taken before they all parted ways, only his own face captured in the frame, his four new friends missing as if they never existed in the first place.

#anything but mine #🍓#✉#👑#🔪#daniel seavey #daniel seavey x5 #LOL #why dont we #wdw #why dont we fanfic #au #lotus inn #daniel seavey fanfic #btw i typed 'daniel' 207 times

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bard-llama · 3 years

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WiP Wednesday: A Single Spark

I don’t think I’ve shared this whole scene before, but it’s one of my favorite scenes I’ve written, ‘cause there’s so much going on with everyone as they try to figure out where their political alignment is.

Premise: This is from a fic series called A Single Spark where Foltest orders the forest burned to destroy the Scoia’tael - only it does a lot more damage than just that (and the Scoia’tael survive, because they actually know how to care for forests and periodically burn the underbrush. Also, Roche and Fenn risked going into the forest to warn them, ‘cause Foltest has gone off his rocker.) With the help of Triss and Keira, the Blue Stripes manage to help the locals keep Ellander and Flotsam from burning down, and after the fire has burned out, everyone tries to figure out where things stand now that they’re technically all traitors in Foltest’s eyes.

Iorveth’s voice was entirely reasonable as he said, “all we want is the right to live freely. Is that truly too much to ask!?”

“He’s right, John,” Roche found himself saying and saw Iorveth turn to him in surprise. This was going to sound callous, but, “just look at the numbers. If we want a single chance to stop this from happening again? We need nonhumans. Is granting equality really that much to ask?”

The look on Iorveth’s eye made him feel strangely warm and he cleared his throat.

Natalis shook his head, expression openly uncertain. “We are fighting for a Temeria where our king won’t burn down forests. But I don’t have the authority to promise that kind of change. The nobles would never support it.”

“Hang the nobles!” Roche swore. “They’ve already made their stances clear! If they stand for the reckless destruction of Temeria, then who cares what they approve!?”

“I know you’ve never been fond of us,” Maria Louisa La Valette chided calmly as she walked into the room, “but not all the nobles have betrayed Temeria, thank you very much. And that is a good thing, because I believe I have exactly what you need.”

“Oh?” he scowled.

“You should know better than any,” Louisa sniffed, looking down her nose at him, “if we are to have a real chance of opposing Foltest and his loyalists, we’re going to need a viable option for someone to rule in Foltest’s stead.”

Roche opened his mouth to protest – and then his brain finally kicked into gear and reminded him exactly why Louisa La Valette would be the one to make this point.

“Foltest won’t claim them if they oppose him,” he reminded her softly. He didn’t particularly like Louisa La Valette all that much, but she was a proud woman and, unusual amongst her peers, she was actually invested in her children’s lives. And she knew Foltest, probably as well as he did. She had to know how this action would cause Foltest to respond.

Her throat moved in a quick swallow before she nodded sharply. “I know. I’ve discussed this with my family, and we’ve made the decision.”

John Natalis coughed light. “Pardon me for interrupting, my lady, but what–?”

Louisa cleared her throat, sweeping her eyes over the assembled group – not that there were many of them. She was the highest ranked noble present, and he had no doubt that she saw that as meaning command should automatically fall to her.

Unfortunately for her, neither Roche nor Natalis were the type to turn over command in the middle of a crisis. Which meant they had 3 commanders, a Scoia’tael elf who probably wouldn’t listen to any of them, a mage who rarely did anything she didn’t want to do anyway, and another noble. Great. No way that was going to be a problem.

“My children, Natalis,” Louisa said, gesturing towards the door as a young man with dark hair opened it and guided two small children with lighter hair inside. All of them were Louisa’s children, but considering the old Baron (may he rest in peace) had had black hair, and Louisa herself had dark hair, it was clear to anyone who looked that the young twins had a different father than the older boy.

Roche knew that people often did not look, but even so, there had been more than a few rumors about Louisa’s affair with Foltest. They were discreet – Roche knew this because often times he would be the one providing the discretion – but they were both nobles to their core. Nobles never noticed the servants, never thought about the fact that servants could gossip just as readily as other courtiers did.

Natalis had obviously heard said rumors, because he stared for a long moment at Ari, the oldest child, then assessed the twins in silence for another long minute. Then he cleared his throat. “My lady, what precisely are you proposing?”

“I am proposing that Foltest’s children be his heirs to the throne,” Louisa was calm as she delivered the news, and in any other circumstance, her declaration would be cause for Roche to panic. A dispute over the line of succession could destroy a reign if rulers weren’t careful. But Foltest had been planning to claim the children as his own, once the right politically expedient moment had arrived. They were bastards, so there would still have been some dispute over the rightfulness of their claim to the throne – but Foltest had only one other child, and if their claim was viewed more strongly than hers...

Shit, Roche really should’ve invited her. He hadn’t even thought of it, and–

The door opened again and this time, Triss Merigold entered with a white-robed priestess of Melitele who was technically the Crown Princess of Temeria. Technically, because while the reality was that Foltest was her father, no one knew that. To the world, Princess Adda the White was Foltest’s niece, daughter of the late Princess Adda of Temeria.

To a noble, a sister’s daughter was less respected than the primary family line – aka Boussy and Anais, Foltest’s direct children – but she was at least considered legitimate. Sort of. The cover story Roche had concocted when Adda had appeared – and he did mean appeared, as in, out of thin air in many ways – was that the late Princess had secretly married a nobleman, who had then hidden their child from the King after the Princess died. He’d had to specify that the nobleman had hidden Adda from Foltest, because none of them had known about Adda’s existence until a witcher lifted the curse from a striga. Eight years after the late Princess’s death.

The public had accepted the story, fortunately, but the fact was that until the curse had been lifted, Adda hadn’t known anything but the life of a monster that hungered for human flesh. She was cured of that, but its effects remained even as the Sisters of Melitele taught her how to be a person. Roche was proud to say that he’d played some small part in that, in raising the young woman standing in the doorway.

He also had a recurring nightmare where Foltest decided that his former-striga daughter was too nonhuman to be tolerated. She wasn’t, of course. Adda was human. The witcher had cured her.

Sure, maybe Roche had noticed little ways in which she was still a little… effected, shall we say? Like the way that her growl made all the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up. Or the way that she could hear people moving two rooms over when Roche certainly couldn’t. Or the way that she preferred her meat rare enough to still be bleeding.

Little things. Not enough to make her not a human, though. It wasn’t as if she was an elf or a dwarf or a halfling or something. She was human. And just a little superhuman as well.

Triss Merigold cleared her throat and addressed everyone assembled in the room. “May I present Priestess Adda the White, Crown Princess of Temeria.”

Natalis, Keira Metz, Duke Hereward, and Louisa all bowed courteously, some noticeably lower than others. Belatedly, Roche remembered that he was supposed to bow too, which got him some odd looks from the others, but Adda just smiled at him. Iorveth didn’t move a muscle, looking at them all balefully.

“Gentlemen,” Adda’s voice was soft, yet it easily commanded the room, “ladies, I understand this is a strategy meeting to determine what to do next about Foltest.”

Natalis cleared his throat, “yes, my lady.”

“Wonderful. If you wouldn’t mind filling me in?”

“Of course,” every single one of them said, automatically assuming that she was addressing them as the leader. He’d known that was going to come back to be a problem.

Triss rolled her eyes and called on her fellow sorceress. “Keira? Would you mind?”

“Of course, your highness,” Keira nodded. “We haven’t exactly accomplished much.” The mage’s voice was scathing as she flicked a glance at Iorveth. “Roche brought Temeria’s Most Wanted Terrorist to the meeting, which understandably bothered some people.”

Roche rolled his eyes. “And Iorveth made the surprisingly rational argument that if we want to change Temeria, why not give nonhumans equal rights and protections, too?”

“The people would never accept it,” Louisa dismissed easily.

“I rather think the nonhumans would,” Adda said, soft words ringing in the silence that followed. “I am not sure that working with the Scoia’tael is the right answer, but why not make this change as well? I assume you’re already intending to ask for Foltest to step down.”

“And his children,” Louisa emphasized, squeezing each of the twins’ shoulders. Anais and Boussy mostly just looked uncomfortable. “Will take their rightful place as his heirs.”

Triss arched an eyebrow. “Rightful place? You do recall that you are speaking to the Crown Princess, don’t you?”

“Who is Foltest’s niece. Not his direct descendant.”

Roche rolled his lips together, determined to take the particular secret that meant she was wrong to the grave.

“Niece?” Anais spoke suddenly, eyes fixed on Adda. “You’re Papa’s niece?”

Adda blinked down at Anais for a long moment and then knelt down and smiled. “I am. It’s nice to meet you. I didn’t know I had other family.”

And there was a rebuke in that that had Roche wincing, but nonetheless, there was something incredible about watching this meeting of Foltest’s three children. It was only right that they should know each other.

Louisa’s hand tightened around Anais’s shoulder. “I’m sure they’d be delighted to get to know you,” the noblewoman said, eyes sharp and hard, “provided you do not contest their claim to the throne.”

“My lady,” Triss interrupted, “with all due respect, they’re children. Adda is of age.”

Louisa was not moved, but Adda cleared her throat, smiling at Anais and Boussy as she rose. “I’m sure something can be worked out. More importantly, I would like to know where everyone stands on the nonhuman issue.”

“More important?” Louisa muttered, but obligingly shuffled her children to be seated around the table. Natalis, Keira and Hereward were all already sitting at the table, and Triss and Adda joined them.

But Iorveth didn’t move, and Roche twisted back to cock an eyebrow at him.

“That ‘nonhuman issue’,” Iorveth grit out, “happens to be my life, my people’s lives, and the survival of our entire species in the face of those who seek our eradication.”

Roche blinked, taken off guard by the venom in Iorveth’s words. But then, he supposed he’d never really thought about it like that before. To him, hunting elves was just – well, just following orders. He’d honestly never thought much about the experiences of nonhumans from their perspective. Foltest had never been interested in hearing that intel and Roche had never even thought to gather it.

Swallowing down the turmoil of emotions that thought caused, Roche looked at Iorveth and forced himself to see. To see beyond the enemy commander and the wily opponent and the talented warrior, down to the elf underneath all of that. To Roche, that Iorveth was an elf had never really mattered. Well, obviously it did, because those were Roche’s orders, but he’d just… never really thought about it. Iorveth was a terrorist, a criminal. Who cared that he was an elf?

Except… except Iorveth was a terrorist because he was an elf, wasn’t he? Because he wanted freedom and equality for his people. His elven people.

Weird how Roche had never thought about that before. It made him feel… something. Something uncomfortable and sour and a little too close to guilt for comfort.

“You’re right,” Adda said, and the whole room stared at her. She simply bowed her head to Iorveth. “I apologize for minimizing your fight. While I don’t personally agree with your tactics, I can understand what might lead you to taking such actions. That does not make them forgivable,” she was quick to say as Duke Hereward jumped to his feet, “but you are right to remind us that there are real people behind these issues, real lives affected by what we decide.”

Iorveth looked gobsmacked, but then, so did most of the room. Adda was certainly different to what they were all used to with Foltest.

The elf still didn’t join them at the table, but he did reluctantly ghost slightly closer, leaning against the wall behind Roche, which Roche was weirdly okay with, considering Iorveth could conceivably knife him in the back at any time.

But why would he? At the moment, Iorveth needed him, needed his acceptance to keep from getting slaughtered. Of everyone in this room, Roche would bet that only Anais and Boussy were unarmed. Iorveth wasn’t stupid enough to start a fight he couldn’t win, and seven against one, even this one, was a fight he could not win.

“Your highness,” Hereward said, shifting uncomfortably. “You almost sound as if you support the nonhumans.”

“That would be because I do, Duke Hereward,” Adda’s voice was firm and spoke of absolute faith in her words. “I believe that Temeria should be an equal Temeria for all Temerians, regardless of species. That is the Temeria I stand for.”

Roche tried not to gape. It probably should not have been as much of a shock as it was to hear Adda’s words. In retrospect, she’d always been very insistent that Melitele looked after all people, no matter what their ears looked like or how tall they were.

“That’s absurd,” Louisa scowled. “Temeria is a human land. If nonhumans want their own land, let them go somewhere else.”

“You are sitting on top of the ruins of the city I was born in, dh’oine. This was my land long before it belonged to you.”

Louisa and Ari bristled, and Roche could see Natalis frowning in thought even as Hereward closed himself off entirely, clearly uninterested in anything the elf had to say. Keira looked phenomenally unimpressed, and Triss mostly just looked concerned, but he kept his focus on Louisa. If any of them might try to stick a blade through Iorveth’s throat, it was her.

Without really thinking it through, he held his hands up placatingly, “there’s no need for this to get heated–”

“Heated!?” Louisa snarled. “What happened to the Blue Stripes commander who defended Temeria against the nonhuman threat? You stand there and let him tell lies, you bring him here and vouch for him – what has he promised you?”

Roche frowned. “My loyalty is to Temeria, and it isn’t for sale,” he said firmly. “This is a meeting to determine our next steps, as people who are all considered traitors to Foltest now.” And oh, that hurt something deep in his chest, made it ache with the memory of everything Foltest was to him. Had been. Now? Now, Foltest was clearly mad, and Roche had to think of what was best for Temeria. “We’re talking about standing against the King and all his armies. If you believe we few have the capability to stand up to those forces, then you’re deluded. Even the men in your own service aren’t enough, Lady La Valette, and to send them into battle without support would mean a slaughter. Hundreds of Temerians dead, for no other reason than because you could not sit and discuss what might be possible if we worked together. Is that really something you want on your conscience?”

Natalis cleared his throat authoritatively, “what is it you’re proposing, Commander Roche?”

“I’m not proposing anything. I’m saying that the leader of the Scoia’tael is literally here, in this room. And all he’s asking is equality for his people. That sounds like the beginning of a negotiation to me.”

Hereward scoffed, wrinkling his nose. “Negotiate with elves? When have you ever known an elf to keep their word!?”

“Have you ever known a human to keep theirs!?” Iorveth growled, low in his throat, and the sound reverberated around the room, setting more than a few people on edge.

Roche had to try hard not to smirk. These people didn’t understand Iorveth in the slightest. Maybe some elves were liars and oathbreakers. Hell, plenty of humans were liars and oathbreakers too. But Iorveth? Iorveth had his own sense of honor. It was warped by his morality, of course, but it was there. Why else would Iorveth save him in exchange for warning the Scoia’tael of the coming fire? Why else would Iorveth send his men out to look for Fenn?

“Enough,” Adda said, quiet voice somehow cutting through all protests.

The end result of this is gonna be 3 factions warring for control of Temeria.

The Loyalists

Foltest and his cronies, including a mage. They say a king can do whatever he damn well pleases and that’s the way it should be. Foltest fully intends to keep his position as king.

The Pragmatists

Louisa La Valette, John Natalis, Keira, and the others that stand with them that say kings shouldn’t be able to abuse their powers that way. They want Foltest to step down and his children to take the throne.

The United Temerians

Roche, Iorveth, Adda, Triss, and others who stand with nonhumans. They say that while Temeria is undergoing this change, why not include nonhuman rights as part of it. They want Foltest’s ‘niece’ to take the throne.

Of course, before this can happen, there’s all the build up with the forest fire which I still gotta write. But eventually, some of this ‘verse will actually be published and I am excited for that.

#rorveth #iorveth x roche #politics #a single spark #fic planning #my fics #adda the white #triss merigold #keira metz #louisa la valette #john natalis #king foltest #the witcher

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welcometophu · 3 years

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The Meaning of Home, Chapter 1

The Meaning of Home Chapter 1

Tags for all Welcome to PHU novels will be available at the PHU tag list on Pillowfort. This list is under construction as of Sept. 5, 2021.

[ First | Next ]

Even knowing that he’ll see him at the end of the trip, it’s strange for Pawel to be driving to his childhood home without Conor in the car. Usually his son would be requesting music changes, playing videos so loud that Pawel could hear them even with Conor’s headphones in place, or generally talking up a storm. Even after cranking the radio up to fill the silence, Pawel feels alone in a way he hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

He can’t blame it entirely on Conor. Yes, as a single father he hasn’t had much, if any, time to himself in the last nine years. But this past academic year has been chaos to the point where it seems strange not to have one of his students in the car as they head off to save the world.

Students, yes, but he’s not that much older than most of them. Some of them are friends as well.

Rest. Take the summer and rest.

The voice in his mind sounds suspiciously like Mac, and he hears Carolyn’s soft, aggravated huff not long after as she adds, Get normal amounts of sleep. Take a shower. Eat real food.

Spend time with your kid, imaginary Mac adds.

Great. He’s back to being that only child who used to have conversations with invisible friends, except now, as an adult, it’s advice about self-care from real people who aren’t even here.

The thing is, they’re not wrong. He knows he has a tendency to focus intently on the one most important thing at hand and tune out everything else. Since fall semester—for the first time in nine years—that wasn’t Conor, and he still feels guilty about that. He feels the kind of guilty that means there are two brand new games for Conor’s handheld system in a bag on the back seat, along with a cooler holding freshly butchered grass-fed bison steaks as a thank you for his father for helping him out.

Pawel exhales.

Maybe he’s having a little trouble letting go of the chaos. In a way, it felt good to be busy. To fix things.

They saved the world.

Nobody knows it, but it happened. And Pawel knows, so he should be satisfied with a job well-done.

The question is: what can he do now?

Rest.

For all that they’re imaginary, the voices of his students are right, and he knows this. It’s just hard to let it all go, to accept that the chaos has ended and he can do that. But he’s clean-shaven, and his hair is neatly trimmed, even if he didn’t go back to his buzz cut. He looks older in the mirror than he remembers being when the school year began. He might even look his age, which would go a long way to gaining respect from incoming freshmen in the fall.

He just needs something to do with himself while on vacation over the summer.

Maybe his old dojang would let him step into a taekwondo class or two while he’s visiting Dad. It’d be nice to be the student rather than the instructor for once.

You couldn’t let go of control that much.

“Shut up.” He says it as if imaginary Mac would even listen.

One song ends, and for a second, the silence in the car echoes before the next song begins.

This isn’t working.

He reaches out to touch the button on his radio dash for the phone, then presses Mac’s number from his contact list.

“Aren’t you with your family?” She starts speaking without bothering to greet him.

He adjusts the volume so that her voice isn’t quite so loud. “Hello to you, too. I’m almost there now. It’s quiet in the car. No Conor. Not even any grouchy almost adults grumbling about saving the world, or muttering about sparring.”

Mac snorts softly. “I’m only a few years younger than you, Pawel. And out of us all, Rory’s probably got the oldest soul. I take it you’re bored?”

“A little,” he admits. “Pels’s family moved into the house on Friday, then left for Burlington. As far as I know, everything’s gone well up there; they weren’t back before I left the house today. Anita’s got my number in case she needs anything for the house while they’re renting it out this summer. Traffic’s been decent, so I’m maybe fifteen minutes from my Dad’s house now, and the silence is killing me. How’s your summer break going?”

There’s a delay before Mac replies, and her voice sounds determinedly cheerful when she does. “It’s a break. I’m thinking about my research, and the fact that my advisor is in Italy until the end of June and told me I can’t work without him there. Which means Mom thought I should come home for a while, and right now things are… awkward… with me and Dad. So. There’s that.”

When Mac says it, Dad means Senator Delwin Palmer. Pawel knows what that meant to Mac as a part of a secret government training program for Talented children, before she came to PHU. He knows that everything they learned about the government involvement in the creation of the soul-destroying Shadows has only made her relationship with her stepfather more difficult.

He makes a small noise. “Are you going back to PHU soon?”

“Mid June, so I’ll be here about three weeks. I’m going to take my brother to the festival when Rory and Thorne are in DC in a couple of weeks, and I’m spending most of my time in the museums and libraries in DC until then.” She exhales. “I’ve thought about going to see my father, but I think that’ll be the weekend that I drive back up to PHU. I’ll just stop in to visit him in the city while he’s got some time off work.” Mac hesitates, her words more forceful when she asks, “How long are you planning on staying with your dad?”

Fine, Pawel will accept the change of topic, changing conversational directions at the same time as he takes the exit into town that will lead to his childhood home.

Sort of. It’s not the same house he grew up in, but it’s close to the same neighborhood.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I’m on leave for the summer. It’s not a sabbatical—they don’t do that for less than a year, and right now they won’t let me go for a whole year until the department has more experienced faculty. But it’s a paid leave and I’m supposedly researching my next book. The thing is, Dad doesn’t have a lot of space since he moved into the retirement community. I’m going to be crashing on his couch. Conor’s got the bed in the guest room.”

“Sounds great for your back.” Mac laughs. “You’ll probably still sleep better than you did for most of the spring.”

“Probably,” Pawel agrees. “I think—” He stops abruptly, because that makes it sound like he has a plan in place. “I’m going to play it by ear. Conor’s made friends there, although he’s clearly missing Alan and home, too. Everyone keeps telling me that I need to just stop trying to fix things and take a break. Including a voice in my head that sounds suspiciously like you.”

“Good to know my voice has infected your brain, like the way I hear yours saying ‘commit to the kick’ whenever I’m sparring and going for that head kick against a much taller opponent,” Mac says dryly.

“They’re all taller than you.” Pawel takes a series of turns, remembering to turn left instead of right at the critical intersection. He slows down; there’s no one else on the road behind him to annoy, and he’s not quite ready to arrive yet.

Mac sputters. “Rude.”

“True.”

“Fine. True,” she agrees. “Taekwondo is a sport for tall people. I’m just a good jumper, and before you say it, no, I’m not teleporting to get there. Most of the time.”

He rolls down the road towards a four-way stop. There’s a sign across the way proclaiming the entrance to Hart Acres. If he turned left, he could make his way to the police station where his dad works, and right would loop him back behind his old neighborhood.

Straight takes him into his dad’s new life in a retirement village where half the people who live there aren’t actually retired. His dad’s been living there for a year, and Pawel’s not sure when he’ll finally step down as Police Chief. He likes his work far too much to give it up.

Dad says it’s easier to keep working when he doesn’t have to worry about the little things like mowing the lawn. Hart Acres takes care of that for him.

Pawel’s pretty sure Dad’s going to work until he has both feet in the grave, and then he might just keep going.

“Hey.” Mac’s voice is low. “Did I lose you?”

Right. He was having a conversation.

“I’m just about there,” Pawel admits. “There’s an old lady walking her fluffy dog down the street. I guess I should hang up. Focus on finding the place and not hitting the two people that are in the middle of the road having a conversation.”

No exaggeration. Now that he’s pulled into Hart Acres and is following the first traffic circle he encounters around to the second exit, there are small knots of people gathered everywhere. Including two smack dab in the middle of one of the side streets.

They see him looking and lift their hands in cheerful synchronized waves.

“I am really not ready to see my dad as the kind of guy who needs to be surrounded by old people looking for a social life,” Pawel mutters. He makes a disgruntled noise when Mac snickers.

He’s in front of the house before he can say anything else.

“Go,” Mac says. “Hug Conor for me, and tell him to work hard. He’s still in school, right?”

“Another three weeks, yeah,” Pawel says. “I might take him out for a day on Friday to head up to Buffalo for Rory and Thorne’s tour, though. It’s a holiday weekend, so maybe the school has the day off—they do weird things with snow days sometimes. Although the weather was strange this winter and they might not have the extra days.”

“Nikki would apologize if you need her to,” Mac says. She’s quiet for a moment. “Hey. You really should take the time to rest. Let your dad be the parent for a little while. Enjoy being home, and with your family. You don’t have anything you need to save right now. The world isn’t ending. Just have fun for the summer.”

“Only if you promise me that you’ll rest, too,” he responds. He wants to say that he understands that it’s not that easy. He understands that talking to Delwin Palmer is going to be complicated, and that putting herself back in that environment only brings the PTSD out in full force. “You can always call me if you need someone to talk to.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m back in the area,” she says. “Maybe we can get together and spar. I’m taking a break from organized classes while I’m home.”

Her old dojang isn’t full of happy memories like Pawel’s is.

“Sure, we can do that.” He catches movement out of the corner of his eye; the door to his father’s unit nudges open. “Conor’s coming out. I need to go.”

“Bye, Pawel. Rest.”

“I will,” he promises.

The music blares for a moment after she hangs up; he turns the key and silences it. He manages to get out of the car as Conor races around it and slams into him, hugging him hard. Pawel wraps his arms around him, and exhales as he feels the familiar crackle of Conor’s magic around him.

“I missed you,” Pawel murmurs. His hand is between Conor’s shoulder-blades, and it feels higher than it used to rest in this same position. “Did you grow in the last two months?”

“An inch since he arrived.” Dad stands on the lawn next to a girl about Conor’s age that Pawel doesn’t recognize. Her mouth is pinched and her brows furrowed. She has her arms crossed tight across her chest as she leans forward, a myriad of braids falling forward across her shoulders and down her back. Dad puts a hand on her shoulder, and she straightens up, shoulders relaxing. “I started a growth door for him here. We’ll need to get a mark on it for you so he can see what he’s aiming for.”

There was a piece of trim in Pawel’s childhood house that had marks for every few months of his age, from toddlerhood to adulthood. He wonders if the new owners painted over the careful notes made in his mother’s hand, and the messier ones his father wrote after she passed away.

“I had Dziadziu put Emma on the door, too.” Conor slips from Pawel’s hold and grabs his hand, dragging him towards Dad and the girl who still watches warily. “This is Emma. She’s in my class, and she’s a Weather Witch, and she’s my friend. We’re both new here. She’s talked to Alan with me.”

“I know they’re married,” Emma says with a heavy sigh and an eyeroll. “Conor’s not my boyfriend. I don’t want a boyfriend.”

“You say that like people have been trying to tell you that you can’t be friends because you’re a boy and a girl.” Pawel stops in front of her and holds out his hand solemnly. “Hello, Emma. I’m Pawel. And don’t worry, I understand that most people are full of shit. Right now my best friend is a girl and I can assure you I have no romantic intentions towards her whatsoever. And if I did, she might kick me in the balls.”

Dad makes a strangled sound.

Emma tilts her head, brow still furrowed. “I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t say that people are full of shit.” She takes his hand and looks at their joined hands in some confusion, then drops it again. “But you’re right. They are. Come on, Conor.”

“I think you’d like Mac,” Conor says as he walks by Emma’s side and they disappear into the house. “She’s small but fierce. She used to be a gymnast and now she kicks ass.”

Pawel should say something, but he did just tell them that people are full of shit, so maybe he can cut him some slack for language this time.

“I did say that someday you’d be lucky enough to have a kid just like you,” Dad observes. “That said, Conor’s been a good kid while he’s been here. Getting good grades, getting his work done. He and Emma bonded straight off—her parents disappeared not long before you did, so they had something in common. Except, of course, you’re back and they’re not. She’s living with a foster family here.”

There are a dozen potential things wrong with everything Dad’s just said. Pawel rolls the thoughts around in his mind as he heads back to his car, opening the doors so that he and Dad can both take several things into the house. “Do they know she’s Talented?” he asks.

“You know where the guest room is.” Dad points through the living room and kitchenette to the small hall beyond. “Right at the end there. Just take Conor’s stuff down. We’ll put your things to the side in the living room for now.”

Conor pops his head out of his room just as Pawel arrives. “What do you mean for now? Aren’t we staying all summer? I thought we’d stay here all summer, Dad. Dziadziu said we could.”

There are times when Pawel wonders what their family looks like from the outside: three generations having three separate conversations in tangled instances, answering questions in random order. He can see where Emma sits on the bed, Conor’s tablet in her hands. She doesn’t seem concerned.

“I’m sleeping on the couch, Conor. We’ll stay in town, but we might need to get a hotel room. I’m going to need a bed eventually,” Pawel points out.

“I’ll move in with Emma. Her dads wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t think they’d even notice,” Emma says dryly. “I like Conor better than Matt.”

“She has four foster siblings,” Conor stage whispers.

Emma looks up, gaze pinning him. “They aren’t my siblings. I’m an only child. We’re all just fosters in the same house, except Nevaeh and Jennie. I think they’re almost as good as adopted. Jennie doesn’t even remember her parents.”

For once, Pawel is the one getting whiplash from the swift turns in conversation.

“Is everyone Talented?” It’s the same question, asked a different way, and this time he throws it out there for anyone to answer. He drops the bag of Conor’s summer clothes on the bed, next to where Emma sits.

“Her dads are both Talented!” Conor bounces up onto the bed, almost knocking the suitcase off. “One’s Clan and one’s—”

“They aren’t my dads,” Emma snaps. She drops Conor’s tablet on the bed and stands up, her body shivering so hard that her braids shake. “My mom and dad are coming back. They aren’t my dads at all. I’m just staying there until—”

“My dad can find them.”

Emma’s mouth is slightly open, her voice a small squeak. “What?”

“My dad is really good at everything about Talented people. He’s an expert.” Conor nods quickly. “He’s so much an expert that he teaches people not to be stupid—uninformed,” he corrects himself, “about what it means to be Talented. He knows everything.”

“Not everything,” Pawel tries to stay, but Conor steamrolls over him.

“He just saved the world, and he’s friends with Clan and with Mages, and we know this entire commune of Mages up in Burlington and if anyone can find your parents, he can,” Conor says firmly. “You’ll do it, Dad, right?”

“I think I’d need a little more information before I can promise that,” Pawel says slowly.

“Your father is supposed to be resting.” Dad stands behind him, and Pawel doesn’t need to turn to know the look Dad gives Conor. He was on the receiving end of that look himself many times as a child. Dad continues, “The last time your father got involved in something, he disappeared and you came here.”

Conor’s mouth snaps shut, lips pressed and his cheeks flushed. “He came back,” he mutters. “He always comes back.”

Emma pats the bed and when Conor sits, she puts her arms around him and holds on. “Maybe mine will come back, just like yours did. Then your dad won’t have to go find them.” Her whisper is too loud to be entirely secret. “I don’t want your dad to disappear again.”

“Me neither,” Conor admits.

“Emma.”

“Dziadziu!” Conor interrupts him. “Did you ask Emma’s dads—”

“They’re not my dads.”

“—if she can stay over tonight?” The sadness is gone from Conor’s expression as he bounces on the bed. “She’s got stuff in a drawer from the last time she stayed. She can get on the bus with me in the morning, and we can play games with Alan online later.” His gaze skates to Pawel. “If you say it’s okay, of course.”

It’s only been a couple of months, and Conor has somehow built himself a routine here. Pawel isn’t entirely sure how he fits into it.

It’s strange thinking about Conor growing up and growing apart from Pawel when his son is only nine years old.

“I talked to them,” Dad assures them. “But that means sleep tonight. It’s a school night, and I’ll be checking. No magic after dark. No surprise storms. No more rain indoors.”

“That was once!” Conor protests.

“Lights out by half past eight, and I want you asleep by nine,” Dad says in a tone that brooks no argument. “You’ve got plenty of time before then; we haven’t even had dinner yet. You might even be sick of each other by then.”

“Never!” Conor and Emma chorus.

Pawel has to wait for Dad to move before they can both slip out of the room, leaving the door cracked. “I’m glad he’s made friends here,” Pawel says quietly. “He and Alan are—well, I’d almost call them codependent sometimes. I was worried. But they both seem to be doing well.”

“Conor’s fallen on his feet, that’s for sure. He’s a lot like another child I once knew: just starts talking until he finds his spot to fit in. Might even have a bit of a savior complex.”

Pawel gives his father a dark look. “I do not have a savior complex. If I did, I’d have followed you into law enforcement, rather than going into academia.”

Dad smiles. “You’re still saving people. You just go about it in a different way on a daily basis. But it seems to me like you didn’t even hesitate when you found out your students needed your help. You can’t resist a puzzle.”

“Apple didn’t fall far from the tree, I get it,” Pawel mutters. “Fine, fine. We’re all peas in a pod, and a hundred other trite descriptive phrases. The Szczek men have similar traits.”

“Mm.” Dad leads the way outside, so they can retrieve the last few things from Pawel’s car. “Some of us have learned how to ask for help,” he says quietly. “Conor’s made himself at home in Emma’s foster house. He’s spent more than a few nights there, and yes, before you ask, I trust her foster fathers completely. One of them works with me. But that’s something you might want to think about this summer, Pawel.”

Pawel shoulders the backpack with his computer in it, and closes the door to his car. “What’s that, Dad?”

“You don’t have to do everything on your own,” Dad reminds him. “For the summer, you’ve got me. Think about what to do when you get home. The fate of the world doesn’t need to rest on your shoulders alone.”

It seems like everyone’s got something to say about his bad habits. The thing is, Pawel’s got help at home. He’s a single father; he knows he needs assistance sometimes. He’s got Alan’s family next door. Emily’s always willing to help out with Conor. But he’s also got… a lot of responsibility. He’s a professor, and a dean, and he leads Coven and the taekwondo team.

Who the hell else is he going to rely on? Pawel does the things no one else is available to do.

“Don’t worry, Dad,” he says, because he knows it’s what Dad needs to hear. “I’m not going to overwork myself again. I’ll make sure I’ve got help.”

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thunderbird-one-ai · 3 years

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Oldest To Youngest

So this started off as an idea then I saw someone put a prompt on the IR Relief that was similar so I just smushed a few things together and hope that you enjoy it @tsarinatorment Prompt: Time Travel AU (bonus if it involves pre-series age Scott with series-age little bros) Science could not explain what exactly happened. To be honest, John was certain this was impossible. Yet here his brother was, doing the impossible. Not that he knew it of course. Through some strange phenomena, Scott, his older brother, the oldest of five Tracy sons, pilot of Thunderbird One, was now at the young age of twelve. John had been working himself to exhaustion to try and fix this issue, all the while looking after their brother. He had taken a break because it was either sitting with Scott or spending time in the infirmary with an overprotective big brother giving him a breakdown of what the definition of exhaustion was. So, it was John’s turn with a rather wild Scott who just didn’t want to sit down. Alan and Gordon were in their element, running around with Scott till the cows came home. But even then, they got tired and needed time alone. Funny how the tables had turned for them, realising that even big brothers needed time away from little brothers. Virgil was the closest to getting Scott to calm down their big/little brother. It was hard to tell what he was now to them; they didn’t even know if this was permanent. He held Scott’s hand as he took him to the roof where a telescope was ready and waiting for them, something John had set up beforehand when he found out it was his turn to babysit. Scott had been rather reluctant however to join John, since John wouldn’t tell him about what they were doing.

“I don’t think daddy would like me being on the roof. I’m never allowed on the roof at home,” Scott said, though he didn’t let go of John’s hand. “Dad knows you’ll be up here, it’s fine,” John said before adding another point quickly. “But don’t go near the edge of the roof. You stay near me okay?” Scott nodded, “Okay.” John gave a small smile to Scott as he led him over to the telescope, already calibrated and waiting to be used. John wasn’t really one for going out and exploring the island, or even running around. This was his last resort. He hoped that Scott’s appreciation of the stars was there even at this age. “Do you know much about space Scott?” John asked. “My daddy goes to space with Uncle Lee. He tells me all about what he does up there,” Scott said looking up to the sky. “I wanna go to space one day...” he said quietly. That quiet comment made John smile to himself. Virgil was really the only one who knew much about Scott’s childhood out of all the brothers. By the time John was old enough to understand what Scott did, he was already working with NASA on the experimental aircraft in the process of transferring to the Airforce. He hardly remembered his older brother’s days as a Rescue Scout being a few years younger of course. It was a much different time then. The family was whole. It still is in a way but not everyone is present any more, not that they told young Scott this. The fact that this Scott talked so freely about their mother was welcomed into all the conversations. Scott never spoke about mum much after her death. Everyone else did, but he didn’t. It was something that John never questioned. When mum came up in conversation, Scott would either go dead silent or leave the room altogether. To see this Scott so free, unburdened by the hellish events that were going to inevitably unfold in his life, gave John a sense of calm. He was able to see Scott giggle, smile and run around, acting his age. Their Scott had taken the burdens of the family on his shoulders, taken International Rescue, Tracy Industries, and even surrogate fatherhood to his younger brothers during his early twenties. Before then, it was helping his father keep four younger boys in check after the disaster of losing their mother. Scott never had a childhood. He had sacrificed that so his brothers could have one. John saw the Rescue Scout move over and look through the telescope. He had pointed it straight to the moon and after a few seconds heard his big, little brother whisper ‘cool’ under his breath. He watched Scott alternate between looking at the moon through the telescope and with the naked eye for a while, the night light glimmering in Scott’s eyes whenever he looked up. There was a child-like wonder in his eyes. It was an expression of pure wonder and amazement. John knew his older brother loved space still. He’d been in the great abyss a lot of times even before International Rescue started. John remembered after getting their father back, Scott requested that the space capabilities of Thunderbird One to remain in effect, using the excuse of ‘You never know if we’ll need One in space Brains’. “Have you been to all those stars?” Scott asked, making John lose his track of thought and focus on his now younger brother. “Not all of them. Maybe one day,” John said with a small smile. “But they’re so far away, and there could be monsters in space.” John couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well, those monsters don’t scare me. I have a big ship up in space already and I also have a friend up there with me that helps protect me,” “But space is so big! What if there’s a big monster that is bigger than your ship?” “Scared of meeting those monsters, Scott?” John asked with a slight cocking of his head and Scott almost looked embarrassed. “I’m not scared of anything! A Rescue Scout is calm, a Rescue Scout is brave. Never scared, always prepared to help, to guide, - “ “To save,” John said, and Scott smiled brightly. “You know it!” John couldn’t help but chuckle softly and sat down, pulling the telescope over to himself to align it with the Orion constellation. “Scott you are very brave. You’ve helped so many people and saved so many more,” “I have?” Scott looked confused. “Yes, you have. You’re a great Rescue Scout,” John sad softly. Scott giggled in response. “Come over here and I can show you some really cool constellations,” “Pictures in the sky?” Scott asked as he moved over and John took the chance to pull his younger brother onto his lap, moving the telescope so Scott could hold onto it lightly and look through the scope. “Very good.”

That’s how Virgil found them after repeated calls to John’s watch that dinner was ready went unanswered. It was a rare sight to see John down on Earth for so long, but this situation demanded that John stay down. International Rescue was slightly compromised with the fact they didn’t have Scott to pilot Thunderbird One for now. But the issues of the day were blissfully blown away by the light wind on that roof as he took in the memorable sight in front of him. Scott’s giggles filled the air and Johns soft, genuine smile was gleaming in the moonlight. Dinner for them could wait. Virgil would make sure to leave them some and not let the terrible two eat their share since, after all, he was the eldest Tracy now. He had to take responsibility for Gordon and Alan. For now, at least.

#irrelief #irrelief2021 #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Deaged!Scott #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds 2015 #fluff

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