#listen i love prompts like this so I went ham
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୨୧ — s.r x singer!r; headcanons (1)
pairing: post prison!spencer x singer!reader
feeding into my daydreams..
also, this was prompted by scrolling through radiant-reid's spencer x famous!reader posts which i love because they simply fuel my daydreams even more :)) enjoy !
probably met on a case or something of that sort. he also studied in la at one point so they possibly could have met through a mutual friend but tbh her being a target is most likely!
penelope is obviously a very big fan. like out of all the people on the team, she's probably the one who listens to y/n's music the most, maybe even went to one of her concerts
oh my god just think about the sweet little love songs. :'(( ugh imagine spence getting all flustered when it gets released and the whole team is just playing the song 24/7 to tease him
most likely didn't have any social media beforehand. but after dating y/n he decided to get instagram or maybe twitter just to see her posts and literally only post her on his feed because she's just so pretty and cute to post
oh my.. imagine the fans the first time y/n ever posts a photo of spencer in a photo dump !! and his reaction to all the comments and tweets, he's just so confused why people want him to hit them with a truck he's like ??? "that would be fatal, why would they thank me for that?"
also yes this is post prison reid because he was just 10x hotter than he already was once he was released. argue with the wall.
guys !! award shows with spencer !! that would be everything !!
he would be so supportive of every win too :(( even if you were only nominated or just there to perform he would still be so so proud as if you did win something
he's for sure for sure the first person to hear every song. unless it's about him. those one's are usually a surprise.
ugh imagine putting a soundbite of him somewhere in a song. maybe at the end or beginning and it's just a small bit of a voicemail or video that you two filmed together just having fun. or possibly something spicy but... shhhhhhhhh
comes to every fitting, every rehearsal. hell, maybe even on tour as well if he gets time off from the bau. especially since he would already be used to the whole 'flying around every other day' thing from cases.
whenever they have a case in california he always always makes sure to stay behind a few days to hang out with you especially because him being in dc and always travelling for work would mean long distance
and if you're not on tour you decide to stay in dc for a while or even move there (while still having property in california) so that you get to be with him anytime he's home
having a concert in dc !! ofc he invites everyone (as if garcia wasn't already planning on going anyway lmaoo) so they could all see and probably meet you
if this is pre prison!reid, and hotch was still unit chief, he would for sure give spence a whole lecture about how careful he has to be with dating somebody with such a high profile profession, because he knows how high risk celebrities are to stalkers and home invasions
the whole team is very very supportive of them though, even if it's long distance because they find a way to make it work.
also best believe she gets spence an actual iPhone as a gift so that they can facetime when either one of them is away
him playing the piano in one of your songs awhhhh :( and he has writing or producing credits on it
you already know that whoever is driving puts on y/n's music just to tease him. ESPECIALLY IF IT'S A SPICY SONG ehehehe
ugh but if it's a really sad song for example "decode" by sabrina carpenter (which is absolutely heartbreaking lyrically but i highly recommend u listen to it) he gets all sad because he knows exactly what it's about and remembers when you first wrote it
ok i have to stop myself before i go absolutely ham on headcanons. i have so many thoughts about this trope.
hope u enjoyed !
part two | part three
#swtnrcmnt ۵#spencer reid#spencer reid headcanon#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x singer!reader#spencer reid x famous!reader#i am so in love with this man#i need him
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Trying NOT to be obvious and ask for something with Diana (beloved) again, so how about a new girl - Freda, with "Cloying sweetness on the back of your tongue" from the Sensory Prompts, please?
And she thought she was supposed to be the welcome wagon.
"Miss Fred, Miss Fred!" Two small boys came running up to meet her jeep, waiting at a respectful and safe distance until she'd turned the engine off and gotten her box out of the back. She was on the lunch run today, and the turkey and cheese sandwiches weren't going to keep if she left them out in the sun too long.
"Well, hey there, Adam. George. What's doing?"
"Have you got any extra doughnuts today, Miss Fred?"
Fred shrugged theatrically, setting the heavy box-tray down at her feet. "'Fraid I don't, fellas. But I do have these cookies - er, biscuits - the mess hall just finished making. I was bringing them for Ken and the crew but I might have a couple extra. How do you feel about chocolate chips?"
You could have knocked the boys over with a feather. "Chocolate CHIPS?? You make biscuits with chips in 'em, Miss Fred?"
"How do you get the chips to taste like chocolate? I think my mum needs that."
Fred cycled through a a moment of brief confusion until she realized the mistake. Chips…crisps…fries…oh.
"What, you fellas ain't ever had chocolate chips before?" Ken asked, coming out from underneath the engine with a grin on his face. "You're missing out. Are those all for me, Miss Fred?"
Freda passed over the container to Ken, who made a big show of opening it and investigating what was inside while the two boys looked on, still absolutely sold on the idea of cookies that somehow managed to have fried potato inside.
"Maybe if you're real nice to Mr Lemmons he'll share," Fred suggested, holding in a smile.
"Naw, I don't think so," Ken said, hamming along for the sake of the joke. "I think me and Wink and the boys are gonna eat 'em all ourselves."
"Yep," Wink said, nodding very seriously. "Takes a lot of cookies to keep one of these things flying, you know."
Ken made a noise and suddenly drew his hand out of the box like he'd been burned. "Oh, darn. Would you look at that. This one's broken. Definitely can't eat that now, Wink, it's spoiled."
Up went the waiting hands, the two boys practically bouncing in place. "We want it! We want it!"
"Are you sure?" Lemmons looked the both of them over with a skeptical look. "Eating broken cookies can be dangerous."
"We love danger!" George said, loud enough for the both of them.
"Well, all right," Ken said, like he thought he might regret this, carefully picking up the broken cookie like he was handling broken glass and gently depositing it into Adam's outstretched hands. "Looks like this one's broke, too, George. 'Fraid you're gonna need to take both."
Both boys bit down hard, chewing carefully to investigate. Adam frowned. "Why, this is just bits of chocolate."
"Well, that's what Miss Fred said, isn't it?" Lemmons replied, clearly enjoying himself. "Chocolate chips?"
"Ohhhhhh." The light finally went on, and the boys giggled, still eating their cookies with glee.
"Chalk one up for American English," Fred said, watching the two boys run off through the tall grass.
"I don't care what anyone says, those are still fries where I'm from," Wink declared, pulling another half a cookie out of the box in Lemmons' hands and chowing down. "Thanks for the grub, Fred!"
"You're really good with 'em," Fred said to Lemmons, sitting down on the tarmac in the shade of the wing and watching as the rest of the crew ambled over for the sandwiches and apples, pulling handkerchiefs out of pockets to wipe off oily hands. "The kids, I mean. Some guys wouldn't take the time." How many 19 year olds would stop and play with their kid brother of ten?
"Helps, you know? Keeping it all in perspective. And I figure, if you make 'em listen here, if you really need to keep 'em out of trouble they'll listen later, too. Might even learn something." Lemmons nodded, mostly to himself. Ken Lemmons, you're a wise man and a scholar. "You eaten yet?"
She smiled and shook her head, taking the cookie he offered and biting down slowly, the chocolate cloying and sweet on the back of her tongue, still just the tiniest bit warm and gooey. Shortage of sweet things in this world at the moment. I'm glad human kindness isn't one.
--
Freda is one of my many OCs - if you liked her here, you can read more about her at her tag on my blog! More of my writing, and more OCs, are found at the mercurygraypresents tag.
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💀
Send 💀 to walk in on my muse killing someone.
Business was business and as messy as it was it had to be done.
Ashe reached up and wiped the sweat off her forehead, following a trail of blood that almost blended in with the red clay dirt of the gorge. Within ten minutes and a good breeze, the liquid would be dried and mingled with the dust, any proof of life blown away and forgotten. It was pretty similar to all the nameless gang members that grouped together in little factions on her turf in an attempt to overthrow everything she’d build and busted her ass over.
It was pretty cute but also pretty annoying
. She could have let this one go. He was a lower ranked gang member, just some young squid who didn’t know better. The kid probably thought being in a gang was fun and exciting but never fully grasped every aspect of it. It was partly Ashe’s fault for that considering as soon as this group made a name for themselves Deadlock had “cleared” quite a few of them out. Through all the ruckus Ashe noticed this young kid run out the back. She wondered if he had any idea he was the only survivor of the whole ordeal?
Well, not for long.
Ashe had found him huddled in an abandoned building and had the perfect opportunity to take him out. Deep down she felt bad about having to do this to the kid especially since he reminded her of the triplets when they first joined Deadlock but he was also a liability. This kid would spill his guts to anyone and sell Ashe out for any kind of protection from her and that was too much of a risk. With the viper aimed through a busted out window, the wind picked up a loose piece of metal on the side of the building and it came crashing down with a clang! which caused the young kid to jump just as she pulled the trigger. The only thing powering the boy had to be pure adrenaline and fear but Ashe knew eventually he’d noticed the bullet wedged in his lower leg.“Please--”Ashe finally found him curled up in an abandoned shed, trying to hold the seeping wound as if maybe just a little bit more pressure would coax it to stop. Bleeding out was a strong possibility for him but she didn’t have the time to wait on it. With a small shake of her head, she reached in one of her pouches, pulling out a bullet to load into the rifle. The small clicks said enough and the kid started to panic.“Listen! I won’t tell! I promise! Y’don’t gotta’ do this Ashe please--!”“Stop.”The gang leader let out a sigh, tilting her head up just enough that her eyes were visible under the wide brim of her hat. She lifted her weapon, staring straight down the sights. She wasn’t going to miss this time.“Yer makin’ this way too hard fer me.”The shot echoed in the little shed and left a ringing in her ears, the hot air was dry with dust and a smell of copper. Red liquid had trailed down far enough to come in contact with her boot and despite her shifting it out of the way it still clung to the material, starting to coagulate. The deed was done, or at least so she thought. Ashe turned around, the wave of relief that washed over her after a job well done was whisked away when she saw she’d been caught by someone like Angela no less. How much of this had she’d seen? Her mouth felt dry as she tried to find words to explain what had gone on.“Uh--...”
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"A Gift." Danny Johnson/Ghostface X AFAB! Reader. Commission post!
Hey, hey, hey! SO! This is the first official finished commission I have ever done! It was commed by the lovely @rakunko who I cannot thank enough for comming me and for such a rad prompt! I was also given permission to post this! To help show off what having a commission from me will be like for anyone else who is curious. This is presented just as it was to them, unedited. This is a reader insert but there are some defining details to the reader. Just fair warning. Also this com was only put in for 2K and told me to just go ham and have fun and boy did it! They only paid the 2K price but true to my word, I went about 500 words over that the commissioner was not charged for simply cuz I couldn’t shut up! I knew this would happen. Now lets get into it!
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Rating. Explicit. Length. 2.5K Danny Johnson/Ghostface X AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Brief Descriptions Of Reader In Some Regards. Warnings: Stalking. Obsession. Knife Play. Blood Play. Vaginal Fingering. Chase. Predator/Prey. Breaking And Entering. Marking. Scarification. Praise. Dirty Talk.
—
You had a pretty great day.
Had gone out and hung out with some friends, been out of the house for hours. It was so nice but you wanted to get home, have something to eat, and really relax.
It was late, pretty dark out, you liked that though, felt really comfortable in your neighbourhood even when it was later.
Usually you felt that way. Tonight you felt off.
Something didn’t feel quite right. You felt like you were being watched, had felt eyes on you, burning a hole through the back of your head for the past ten minutes but you kept looking over your shoulder, trying to subtle about it to find nothing still. You were probably being paranoid, maybe you were more tired than you had initially thought? This wasn’t the first time that you had felt this way.
And the last time you felt this way it hadn’t been nothing. It had been something. Or rather someone.
Someone who really took a liking to you and hadn’t really been leaving you alone for very long. He kept coming around and speaking of it has been about two weeks since his last visit. As you thought about this, nearly at your place you hear it, something that makes your head snap and a chill runs up your spine. Heavy footfalls and they are coming up fast, the second the sound registers you take a deep breath and speed up your own pace.
You want to look but you can’t risk it, no way, it’ll screw up your stride and he usually catches you so easily as it is, you need every advantage you have at your disposal.
You were less than a block away and outside but you knew him and knew that wouldn’t stop him if he caught you. A sincere hope that you would make it inside before he got his hands on you, wanting the shelter of your home to hide whatever debauchery he wanted to subject you to.
You were breathing hard, heart pounding as hard as your shoes were on the pavement, you had to make it, you were almost there. Your hands make their move, dig in your bag for your keys, you were still listening and he sounded a ways back yet. You would have a small window to get it open but you couldn’t fuck this up. Your fingers hook in the key ring, you pull them up and your eyes dart down for a second to make sure you are holding the correct key.
So close, you could do it, you might beat him for once. You reach your front door, one hand closes on the doorknob and your other shoves the key inside the lock with only a mild fumble, you turn the key and the knob at the same time. The lock opens, the door swings open and then you fuck up.
You underestimated him.
You got cocky.
Your head turned, you looked over your shoulder, you were going to call out some taunt before scurrying inside and slamming the door closed and locking it. However instead of seeing him several feet like you were expecting, you see him two strides away, almost close enough to grab you.
Your overly confident smile falls and even with the mask he was wearing you were sure a grin was plastered on his own face. Your hand is still on the doorknob, you can’t look away, your eyes wide and you try to stumble inside but you are too shocked, he played you too well and got the drop on you.
You don’t move fast enough, you are already in motion however and with how fast he is moving, he can’t slow down. His hand grabs your bicep hard and he pushes as you are mid step and he forces you inside easily. The door is kicked closed behind him hard as he stays on you, hand locked onto your arm and you lose your balance. He sees what is happening and pushes. You fall and fall hard.
You hit the ground and he is on top of you so quickly.
You are pinned beneath him. He finally caught you. The way you had hit the ground hurt and the way he is holding you hurts even more, so unrelenting, the impact has knocked the breath out of you and one of his hands finds its home on your throat. He is seated on your lower back, knees on either side of your prone body, straddling you as he leans down closer still.
You feel the knife then. You didn’t even hear him unsheath it.
The edge of the blade moves some of your hair aside, it drags lightly over the sensitive skin and then you are feeling the cool plastic of the mask brush over the back of your neck in a way that makes you shudder. He is so close he can smell the sweetness of the vanilla that always clings to you. He can do so much with you so helpless.
“I’ve got such a good present for you.” The low tone of voice made you inhale sharply.
The chase you’d just been on had gotten you a little too excited. Him on top of you, knife tracing invisible patterns on your back, the danger, all of it made you clench around nothing.
You let out a questioning hum and you get no verbal response for once. The tip of the knife hooks in the collar of your shirt and it swipes down quickly, cutting your shirt open and his hands move fast, exposing more skin to him. You tense from the sudden movement and the knife nicking your skin, a quiet sound of pain that has him cooing out, “Awe that’s nothing compared to what I am about to do.”
You wonder what he means until the knife touches down on the newly exposed skin making you jolt below him. “What are you going to do?”
“Give you something that you can always have with you. Something permanent.” He says it in a way that is sickenly sweet for something so threatening. You can’t help it, you are excited, palms sweaty, your hands are flat on the hardwood floor below and slide so easily across the cool surface but he sees you. He holds the knife tighter to your skin, the blade is nearly biting into soft flesh and he tsk’s, “Don’t do something stupid pumpkin, okay? We both know you’re going to let me do what I want.”
You stop all movement except for a small and shaky nod. “Good girl. If you didn’t listen I might have to reconsider this present.”
A hard swallow as you ask, “And what made you decide to grace me with a gift?”
“Oh don’t you know? It’s a very special occasion sweetheart.” He said it like it was obvious and your mind searched, wondering why this day held significance. He was tapping the knife on your back, it reminds you of the ticking of a clock and each light slap of the blade makes heat flare between your legs. His hand that wasn't holding the knife smoothes down your back, the cool leather of his gloves always feels so good.
His fingers were teasing under the torn edges of your shirt. His fingers split the shirt further, deepening the gash as he goes and he says, "S' okay, I'll forgive it slipping your mind and tell you. It's our six month anniversary."
Oh shit.
He's right. You met last Halloween. A truly unforgettable night, one of your favourites and now it's May 1st, six months since last Halloween and six months till next.
"Awe you remembered. You really do care." You said it with a small smile as you teased him and he sighed out, "More than you know."
One strong hand on your still shirt covered shoulder as his other hand begins its work. The knife drives home, breaks the skin and it steals your breath anew from the sharp pain that shocks your system. You feel him shift on top of you slightly like he was adjusting, you were sure he was hard right now and that keeps the low rolling boil of arousal fresh.
He seems so focused as he works. A few precise cuts, you feel the blood leaking, running down your back slowly. It hurts, you bite your bottom lip but a few sharp breaths and whimpers still escape and he hums out, “I know, I know it hurts but trust me, it’s so worth it.”
The curiosity is killing you, he is clearly doing something purposeful, not just hacking for the sake of it so you ask, “Wha-what are you doing?”
“Well I wanted to do something really special for you. Commemorate this occasion and give you something you could always have, something you can never accidentally forget and leave home, something that can’t be returned and is personal.”
He finishes up what he is doing, he pulls the knife back and he admires his work, his thumb swipes over the wound, spreading some of the spilled blood as he examines it. He is pausing on purpose. Drawing this out for dramatic effect.
“Show me your arms.” You are confused but do as he asks, flipping your arms so they are palm up and he leans forward, gloved hand closes around your wrist and holds on arm down, the stained red blade is in your line of vision now. He drags it lightly up your forearm, pulling up your sleeve as it goes until it comes to the crook of your elbow and he says, “You are going to have to hold really still or I might slip up and make a mistake. Don’t wanna cut you too deep.”
Your breathing is coming out in short pants, face screws up in pain as he cuts again and then what he is doing hits you all at once. You have a series of freckles on your body that mirror star constellations and he is connecting the dots. Marking you permanently, almost tattooing you but instead of ink the lines are being carved by him and when they heal the scars will connect them together, a display of a sick sort of romantic violence and ownership. A perfect representation of your relationship.
It made your heart and cunt ache in equal measure.
You loved what you had but part of you wished for more.
He hadn’t stopped. Was cutting you so carefully. The tip of the blade makes sure to drag as steadily as possible as it dragged through your flesh, splitting it open, exposing more of you, inside of you, so vulnerable.
It hurts but you love it. You sniff, from emotion? From pain? Perhaps both.
“You’re doing amazing for me.” He praised and you tried to swallow the lump in your throat. The second gift now complete he says, “There.”
You take in the sight of your arm, the blood running down your arm and spreading slowly over the floor, the staining of your sleeve. The only light in here was spilling in from the glass on your front door and it wasn’t that effective, you couldn’t see his present in full yet but you knew you loved it.
He is off of you and his hand grips your shirt and tugs, “Roll over.” You comply, you lay on your back for him and wince at the pressure placed on the wound on your shoulder. You look up at him, at that white mask still so clear, cutting through the darkness of the hallway, fixed on you.
Gloved hand came down and cradled your cheek, it felt warm and wet, his thumb swipes over your skin, spreading more of your blood. “You know they say good things come in threes.”
You know that tone. He is thinking about something. “Yeah?”
He hums softly. “Do you want me to give you a third constellation? One totally done by me, somewhere much more private of course, just for you and me.”
You aren’t sure. The first two hurt a lot, you were bleeding so much already. At least the first two had a strict rubric to follow but him doing it on his own? Could you trust him? You almost wished you were in a different situation and you fully could, that things could be more normal between you but another part of you doesn’t want that at all.
“I don’t know-” You start and he presses, “What? Don’t think I can free hand it? Don’t you trust me?” He asked and the tilt of his head and his tone convinced you.
Mouth moves before you fully think, too high on the situation, on the danger of it, on him and you are saying, “Yes.”
His hands start to move, he encourages you and your shoes are kicked off, bottoms removed and your shirt pushed up. He doesn’t rush. His hands linger, stroke in an affectionate fashion, something akin to reverence and tenderness while one hand is still gripping the blade, the ditochmy gets to you again.
His fingers are so sure as he moves the edge of your panties down, he touches you softly with the knife, “Here.”
On your hip. Definitely a place just for you both to admire it. You nod and he cuts you again. It hurts the most. Your head falls back against the hardwood and he watches you. The way you squirm. Bloody and half dressed. Hair partially fanned out around your head, eyes half lidded behind the rounded glasses perched on your nose, his hand was holding down your opposite hip as he worked but he wanted to trace that scar near your lip, the one that you got before you met him. Scars looked so good on you, could anyone blame him for wanting to put more on you?
This one is quick, he was in the zone, working quick and sure and you feel his clothed erection pressing into your thigh, he rocks his hips once, grinding a little. He was clearly worked up from this, just as much as you were. Your heart is hammering in your chest, your panties are soaked and he is finally done.
He admires his work again and you ask, “What are you thinking?”
“That you are prettier than the night sky any day.” How fucking sweet is that, smile spreads on your face, chest rising and falling as you stare up at him.
His hand is still gripping the knife with his pointer finger and thumb when his other hand rips your panties down. The hand holding the knife is between your thighs, middle and ring finger teasing you. The smooth leather drags up through your folds, you feel how slick the buttery smooth material is from your blood and your legs tense at the pleasure that cuts through the slow burn of the pain. Two of his fingers slip over your clit, a firm swirl before moving back down and dipping inside. He curls his fingers just right and the handle of the knife bumps your clit and you moan, eyes falling closed, back arching as you gasp out, “Thank you.”
He sets a steady pace, fingering you as his gloved hand closes around your throat and he says, “You’re welcome pumpkin.”
#Danny Johnson X reader#DBD Ghostface X Reader#BHF writing#BHF commissions#Hope you all love!#Here is what I have been getting up to!#I got commed for this on Thursday and had this done by Saturday#A pretty good turn around if you ask me
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The Doctor Is Out
Stephen Strange x reader
warnings:
a/n: wrote this a while ago and its been sitting in my drafts. part 1/2
prompt:
In (2)
Without opening your eyes, you stretched your stiffened body against the silk sheets and rolled over to face your husband.
“Good morning, dear.” You whispered through a yawn, which led into a smile. Stephen was already awake and reading one of the many books he kept at his bedside.
“And good morning to you, too.” He leaned over and gave you a kiss on the temple, letting your eyes flutter open. “Did you sleep well?”
“I’d say so.” You reluctantly sat up on your side of the bed, pushing the covers away. “Any plans for today?”
“Not in particular.” Stephen decided to get out of bed with you and get ready for the day, although he was in a gray jacket and blue jeans in the blink of an eye. “We don’t have very much to eat, I might go run out for lunch.”
“Lunch?” You asked as you pulled on a pair of pants.
“Yes, well, you seem to have gotten a late start on the day.” Your husband explained. “I didn’t want to wake you, you looked so content with your dreams.” You took Stephen’s wrist to take a look at the time.
“It’s half past eleven?” You stared in shock at your husband’s watch. “You just waited for me?” He shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal, but Stephen rarely ever let himself lag behind, it was truly sweet of him to keep you company while you drifted through the peace of your head, thoughts you’d already forgotten. “It seems the odds were in our favor when our paths first crossed, huh?”
“Don’t make a big deal out of it, my dear.” Stephen’s barely shaking hands cupped your face and right before he leaned in for a refreshing kiss to the lips, he whispered, “I’m not as great a man as you make me out to be.”
You hummed into the kiss he gave you and pulled back just a tad. “Oh, you’re right. You’re just the worst.” Sarcasm failed to escape you in moments like these, it was more entertaining than anything else in the eyes of your husband. “Now, I’m starving. Want to go to the deli around the block?”
“That’ll work. We should ask Wong if he’s hungry, too.”
—————
“You don’t have any money?” Stephen asked as the three of you walked through the Sanctum in a fixed line.
“Attachment to the material is detachment from the spiritual.” Wong’s wise words rung in your mind as you tried to figure out what he did before the two of you had moved in with him.
“I’ll tell the guys at the deli.” Stephen snarked. “Maybe they’ll make you a metaphysical ham on rye.”
“It’s fine, we’ll pay for your lunch.” You interjected after hearing enough of that. Somehow, the trip down the stairs was unsuccessful since your steps from only a few seconds ago were nothing but rubble. You fell to the floor as Stephen and Wong took defensive positions.
“Thanos is coming.” An unfamiliar voice spoke as you lay on the cold floor. Were you able to get up on your own? Probably, but that fall would definitely leave a mark. After a moment’s time of your lonely visit with the floor, your partner rushed over to you.
“Y/N? Are you alright?” He crouched beside you and helped you back up, lightly brushing your cheek as he checked for any injuries.
“I think I’m okay.” You nodded. “Hit my head on the way down.” Peering over his shoulder while he checked your head for any bumps, you saw Dr. Bruce Banner crawl from the rubble. “Do I have a concussion or was it a gamma scientist that just crashed into the Sanctum?”
“Hi, I’m Doctor—” He waved just before you cut him off.
“I know who you are, Doctor Banner.” You replied with a smirk. “I’m Dr. L/N-Strange, specializing in neuroscience, but formerly gamma research.” Stephen smiled himself when he heard you say your name and just a little more when you described your profession. Maybe he was just proud to be near someone so accomplished.
“I don’t think you have a concussion.” A kiss on your forehead was the best medicine he could give, but you knew that it also meant he needed to get to work.
“‘Formerly gamma?’ Why’s that?” Bruce asked, somehow ignoring the big picture here. I mean, you were just happy to get some visitors, I suppose. You’d answer anything.
“For a while, they went hand-in-hand for me. You’d be surprised at what could be accomplished when you put them together...” You explained, Stephen patiently listening beside you.
“But?” Bruce pried a little more.
“But then I heard about your little ‘accident,’ decided to take a break just in case. Refocus my research.” You felt your partner’s hand rest on your shoulder and slide down your arm as you watched Dr. Banner’s guilty expression surface. It wasn’t your intention to offend, you were just obliging to his curiosity.
“As much as I love hearing you talk about your career, darling,” Stephen finally stepped in, “I think we need to talk about the threat to our planet?”
“I was wondering when you’d stop me.” You chuckled. “That’s alright, I’ll just go pick up lunch for you three. Dr. Banner, do you like sandwiches?”
“I...yes? I guess so. Turkey and swiss is...I haven’t had that in a while.” He stammered, leaving you to peer over at your husband and have him give you a near-identical look. Sometimes, the two of you just thought that same exact things, no words needed.
“Will you two stop doing that weird thing where you stare at each other in silence? We have work to do!” Wong interrupted and you decided it was about time to head out.
“Love you, Stephen.” You said with an amused shake of your head, giving him a quick peck in the lips.
“Love you, too. Don’t be too long if you can help it, Dr. Banner seems to have a pretty good idea of dangers to come.” He told you as his cloak gave you a quick pat on the arm. You didn’t know whether to say goodbye to his outerwear, as well.
“I’ll see what I can do.” You winked and pat the red cloak back, heading for the door that your bag was hung beside. Now was the time for a walk to clear your mind, no “Thanos” or whatever the hell that was. Just the music to your ears that was Bleeker Street traffic and insufferable pedestrians. You just kept your eyes front and went on walking, you’d walk straight through crowds if you had to.
A few block’s worth of steps and you’d reached the deli that was so dear to your husband, now it was time to wait in line, a pretty long one, nonetheless. Maybe it was time to shoot Stephen a text.
Just made it to the deli ;) Anything I should be worried about out here?
Tony Stark is here. Outlook not so good.
Did you just magic 8-ball me?
“Dude, are you texting right now?” Tony asked in disbelief of the wizard looking down at his phone. It wasn’t very typical of him to check it in times like these, but you had a specific ringtone. Once he hears that ringtone, he replies. No matter what.
“I always answer my s/o.” He cleared his throat and stashed his phone away.
“At least we have something in common.”
—————
The line at the deli took so long that you got caught in the crossfire of an alien attack. Was it unbelievably amazing? Of course. Was it one of the most terrifying days of your life? You bet.
You could no longer get ahold of your husband and you soon knew why when he flew overhead in an attempt of offense. You’re guessing that these people were looking for the Time Stone.
Desperately hoping for one of your wizard “pals” to come and save you, maybe have you fall through a portal and back into Sanctum, you just hid in an alley. This may be one of the lows in your life, but you’d see worse days soon enough.
And the invasion was over just like that. You, like many other New Yorkers, stepped from the crevices of the streets to witness the damage firsthand.
“Uh, Dr. L/N!” That same voice from earlier spoke, causing you to swivel your head and see Bruce waving you down. Since he was the first person you recognized out here, it’d be best for you to head his way. It was a maze of cars, bricks, and broken glass before you’d made it over to him.
“Where’s Stephen? Or Wong? Tony Stark?” You bombarded him as if he weren’t stressed enough, but scientists always wanted answers. He knew that from experience.
“The aliens have your husband.” A line you never thought you’d have to hear. This better be a sick dream. “Wong said he was going back to the ‘Sanctum’ to protect it, and Tony is also with the aliens.”
“At least my husband has backup.” You sighed with a slight hint of relief, but your stomach was still turning just thinking about what they might do to Stephen. If they wanted that Stone, they’d do whatever they could to get it. Stephen was as smart as he was stubborn, it’d take a lot to get him to hand it over.
“Are you going back home?” He asked as he snagged a phone from the rubble.
“I figure you have a plan, I’m coming with you.” You watched him freeze for a moment with a name on the phone highlighted. “Trying to reassemble the Avengers, huh?”
“Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, it’s going to be dangerous.” Way to state the obvious. You didn’t know if you could handle it, but...
“I have to get my husband back, I can’t just wait around.” You wouldn’t back down, but it was a little comforting to have someone backing him up. “Don’t worry, I’ll try to put myself to good use.”
—————
It has been...twenty days since the disappearance of several Earth-based heroes. Among them was Spider-Man, Tony Stark, and your husband. But today was the day you’d know the truth.
Half the population had vanished into thin air. It was hard to tell if anyone had survived the trip to space. You’d been staring out the window all day, just trying to spot the cosmic wonder that was “Captain Marvel.” If anyone could find them, it was her.
Just as you were about to nod off, a bright glare intruded in the sky.
“Guy? Guys! She’s back!” Everyone had been on edge today, so they were ready to dash outside. Your heart was beating out of your chest, this was the moment of truth.
Carol landed a beat-up spaceship onto the open field and out stumbled Tony Stark and what looked to be an alien. You stared at the ship’s door, waiting for one more person. Just one more.
Everyone was staring at you now, waiting for you to realize that your husband wasn’t in there. Once Tony caught sight of you, he pieced together who you were.
“You must be the wizard’s s/o?” He leaned against his fiancée and Captain America, struggling to look you in the eye. “He wanted me to give you a message. Uh...sorry, I’m going blank, rough ride.” He rubbed his forehead as you stood there in tears. “‘This will make sense later.’ Oh, and he loves you.”
“I...” Everyone was still looking at you with pity in their eyes. Yes, they all lost people, but you were still clinging onto hope. All of your optimism had been destroyed in these past few moments, you didn’t even know how you were supposed to take this. “I need a minute. I’m sorry.” You stormed off into the guest bedroom of Avengers HQ, leaving everyone around you worried. You didn’t know them long, but it was easy to bond through a trauma like this.
“Y/N?” Bruce knocked on the door. “Got a minute?”
“Sure.” You reluctantly answered and Bruce let himself in.
“I brought you carrots.” He offered the bowl. “It was all we had in the fridge, sorry.”
“We have to find Thanos.” You grumbled though tears. “I won’t give up until we fix what he did.” Bruce stayed silent out of fear, he knew what could happen to someone in mourning. People can get...crazy.
“We’ll do the best we can. We’re working on it.” Bruce explained as he set the food down on your end table.
“Take me with you. I have to be there this time.” You were in no way qualified to face an intergalactic being capable of that much destruction.
“Y/N, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” He shyly countered you, using this calm tone was an exercise he learned during “anger management,” maybe it could help.
“I wasn’t asking.”
taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @lokihiddles // @frostedficrecs // @lotsoffandomrecs // @johnmurphyisqueer // @teenwaywardasgardian // @pappydaddy // @captainshazamerica // @freya-xo // @ravenmoore14 // @thisetaernallove // @ofthedewthesunlight // @canarypoint // @zoeyserpentluck // @randomawesomeperson102 // @spideyandtheboys // @ghost-bich // @wonderful-writer // @of-a-chaotic-mind // @groovyfluxie // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @lxncelot // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @blizzardbabe // @agentshortstacc // @rosadiaz-sarayvargas-harleyquinn //
#stephen strange imagine#stephen strange x reader#stephen strange#dr strange x reader#dr strange imagine#dr strange#bruce banner imagine#bruce banner x reader#bruce banner#hulk#hulk x reader#hulk imagine#marvel#avengers#marvel imagine#marvel x reader#avengers x reader#avengers imagine
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ok so i think the song congratulations (from the ham musical but it was cut??) would be a v nEAT song for legend and time. aka, when legend find out who everyone is and who time is (the fallen hero) idk but i kinda want your opinion in this?? not sure if you do fic prompts from songs, but could you do a fic where legend has feels and time is getting in the way because hoarder man is cranky ;D -🥑
How did someone literally hand me Legend angst and I turned it into Wars angst?
I was already planning on writing a Legend and Time confrontation for the Face of My Father, or at the very least having Legend talk with Sky about stuff, but when I went back to listen to the song (love the musical btw and totally up for song prompts) I ended up with Wars angst?
I might try writing a fic just for this later (I'll repost it if so) but it might be too similar to what I've already got planned so I'm not sure.
Thank you for the request!
(War's angst below the cut)
So, in the Feathered AU, some people noticed that when the others found out about Wars' wedding ring and asked about his marriage, he didn't seem too happy with it. There was immediate questions about Sablya and Wars from you guys, despite the fact that I never mentioned Sablya or even indicated that she would be in the Feathered AU fic verse (which, cool, there's a standard now apparently in my fics ;P (not a bad thing)).
Anyways, after listening to this, all I can think of is her and Wars and their relationship and all the hurdles they've faced. After losing their son there was a lot of tension and as of right now in the AU Wars hasn't seen her since about midway through the war when she left to go back to her parents.
With that in mind I'm seconds away from writing a Wars centric fic, even though I don't really like him! I'm literal key-clicks away from writing his and Sablya's love story, totally not at all inspired by the whole gosh-darn Hamilton Musical, but entirely too full of fluff and angst and- *sighs* this is probably gonna happen even if I fight it....
#sablya#wild's mom#lu warriors#linked universe#linkeduniverse#the blood between us compliant#authors notes#asks and answers#hamilton musical
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Strands of Webbing
A Spiderverse Fanfic
Prompts 229-240
“‘Tis the Season”
First | Previous | Next
229. Two-Timing
Peter celebrates Hanukkah. It's something he's expected for ages. MJ was the one who celebrated Christmas. Doing both was something they actually enjoyed. Compromise.
The Peter in this world—the perfect Peter—was Catholic. He celebrated Christmas with MJ and Aunt May. No need for compromise, just shared memories. And now Peter is dead, and Aunt May and MJ celebrate alone.
But not…well, not alone.
Because Peter will go and visit them. He will spend the morning with his MJ and Young May, and then in the afternoon he will visit Aunt May and Miles will pop around and the other MJ will likely be around with Young Ben. MJ, his MJ, proper MJ, knows this, and as soon as they find a way to stop the glitching she wants to come too. (But not yet. Peter still glitches. Gwen still glitches. Ham still glitches. He's allowed one last piece of protection for the woman he loves.)
Other MJ always asks him to pass the bread. Aunt May and Miles, who know the story, always pretend not laugh when she does. And they always record it, like Peter records Christmas at home, to share between the families.
It's a strange, jarring dynamic. It's more awkward for him than it is for them, trespassing on the life of the perfect Peter, sitting where he sat. They get a memory of what once was. He gets a guilty reminder that he shouldn’t have this—not this him, anyway.
But he misses Aunt May, and she misses Peter (which Peter, that's the issue, that's always the issue, but they'll never bring it up), and he'll never say no to Miles.
Compromise.
230. Bonus
"Aw, c'mon, Miguel!" urges Peter.
"Sorry, Porquito," says Miguel nonchalantly. "I don't sing."
"Makes sense," says Peni, equally nonchalant.
"Mm? Something to say, kid?"
"Not much. Just that I'm not baiting you."
"You're...not."
"Nope. Because if you really didn't want to sing you'd be explaining it gently to Ham, or you'd go home and Lyla would tell us off for asking. So it's just that you want to be persuaded. Which I'm not doing. Emphatically."
"Right. Which I wouldn't listen to anyway."
"Exactly."
Miguel's rendition of 'Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring' actually moves Aunt May to tears.
231. Abundance
Noir, Pauker, Parquagh, they're all from older times when food is scarcer. The sheer amount of available food that people consume in modern New York every day is a marvel already, but around the holidays? It's insane. It's an impossible luxury.
Which, because they are all working heroes, they take far too much advantage of.
(And because Miguel and Peni and Mayday’s Dad are all fairly well-off by Spider standards, they make sure their companions are well-fed. And as Pauker is literally the only person brave enough to try Ham’s Aunt May’s “world-famous casserole” and Noir actually likes Mercury-fried seaweed and Parquagh has seven siblings and two of their friends comprise ninety percent of the cluster’s tech support, there’s usually plenty of leftovers which accidentally seem to travel home with them without their asking or sometimes even knowing.)
232. Marley
Very well. We shall do this one last time, and that is all.
My name is Ebenezer Parker. I was bitten by a cursed spider from an ancient Hopi idol, and for seven years I have been the one and only Scion Spider. (Yes, I am aware. But Grandmother Spider, who is an aspect of God Himself and who wove the universe in Her webs, has deemed me her grandson and I shall not fail her.) I am certain you know the rest. I...went back to my moneylending business, basically did nothing with my powers for a long while aside from go on midnight runs across the San Francisco rooftops, learned the responsibility that real power commands, refused to use that power as a loophole not to have that responsibility, was visited by a spectre or three—
“You are all...alike to me?”
“Ohhhh no. No, no, nooo. We’re literally Scrooge here?”
“You’re Scrooge. I have a completely different bloodline, thank you very much.”
“Shut up, O’Hara.”
“Prithee, who might this Scrooge be?”
“Right, Shakespeare. Dickens is a while away yet for you, Parquagh. Basically the guy’s a jerk who gets scared into doing the right thing when he gets visited by ghosts of the past, present, and future.”
“Ah. So Time herself appears before him and bids him reconsider.”
“As we are apparently here to do ourselves. For whatever shocking reason.”
“Right. So. Benny, me ol’ piece of coal—”
“Why do you suddenly have a horrible Cockney accent, Parker? We’re in San Francisco.”
“Shut up, it’s for authenticity. Here’s what you gotta know...”
—and was basically shanghaied into becoming a vigilante. Odd, but, well...surprisingly fun.
233. Chick
Hida looks a lot like Peni’s mother, but she can’t be the same person at all. For one thing, she’s all of a year older than Peni. For another, she’s far younger in, well, spirit. More clueless at first, yes, but also more eager. Less tolerant of Peni’s favourite music (“She said it was like a thunderstorm having a heart attack—...you don’t need to laugh that hard, Gray”), but also less likely to judge Peni for her actions as SP//dr (“Plus she actually likes Takara. That seals the deal. Takara’s been calling her okaa-kun when she thinks I’m not looking. Yes you have. Aw, don’t worry, I’m not mad, it’s cute”). And so it’s kind of natural that Peni learns a bit more about her background. For the sake of having something to talk about.
(It’s not replacement. She’s Hida, not her mother. It’s not like the awkward looks Mabel still gets sometimes from the Peters. If anything, Hida seems to think of her as a big sister, sort of. And Jorōgumo has finally started settling down and isn't eating people anymore.)
What Peni is getting at is, she is sorely tempted to mess with continuity and introduce the Gregorian calendar about twenty-six years early in Japan so she can actually get something for Christmas Day for Hida instead of having to wait until some time in January for the Lunar New Year.
(“Um...do you celebrate it, Peni?”
“Well, no. But still.”)
234. Wraith
It was that wreath. That’s when it happened. She went to put a wreath on Peter’s grave, about two years into the Spidering business. A few days after coming home from another dimension. She didn’t need to, but...maybe she could finally let him rest. She’d talked to Peter Parker again, dimensions aside. That was all she wanted.
“Hey. I know it’s a bit past time, but...well, Chinese New Year is coming up, and I thought you might wanna decorate a bit.”
And something must have happened there, because just a few minutes after she laid it down she heard...something. Something she didn’t quite know how to quantify. Like it came from all around her and from inside at the same time. Like it occupied a similar place to her Spider-Sense.
Nonononono—ah-aah-aaaaaaaah-CHOO!
And then, with a voice that was familiar enough to break her heart and fix it again in one go:
Sorry, sorry...but seriously, we’ve been friends since, what, first grade? And you still don’t remember that I’m allergic to pine? Dude. ...Gwen, you’re staring. Why are you staring? You’re freaking me out, Gwen, I don’t get freaked out by a lot anymore but this is doing it. Gwen? Gwenny-Gee? Gwendoly—
“Don’t call me Gwendolyne,” she snapped, and then realized precisely what she’d said and what she’d heard. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god—Peter Parker, if you’ve been alive all this time I am gonna kill you!”
...yeah, about that. Oh, damn, oh no, no, please don’t start crying, otherwise I’m gonna cry and you know how weird it is to cry without a body? You keep expecting tears and all you get is a kind of shudder somewhere around where your pancreas used to be. Look, I—
“I��m so sorry, Peter, I didn’t—”
She didn’t feel his arms. But she did feel his voice. Gentle and soft, not like it was in those last days but more like it was for most of her life.
I know. ...also it was kind of my fault, so, you know, sorry about that too.
“D-damn right it was.”
You’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead, you know.
“Shut up.” But she was smiling again.
Oh, look at that, finally she gets evidence of spectral presences after death, and what’s the big phrase of the day? ‘Shut up’. I shouldn’t have to take this lying down—
“Dammit, Peter, how many of these have you been saving up?”
That’s for me to know and for you to find out. The voice sounded desperately pleased, but still mildly surprised. But...Gwen, you can hear me. You can hear me. What happened to you that you can hear me?
“Well, it’s kind of a long story.”
It’s a Chinese New Year miracle is what it is. Spill, Stacy.
And with a laugh, she settled down on his gravestone to tell the tale.
(Ooh, kink—
“Shut up, Parker, you want the story or not?”
Shutting up now.)
235. Heathen
“I’m Jewish, Noir is Jewish, Mayday and her dad are Jewish (obviously), Pavitr and Roshni are Hindu, Hida is Shinto, Miguel is...Miguel, I thought you were Catholic?”
“Nah. Gave it up when I left the house. Atheist.”
“But you...still celebrate Christmas.”
“Gabriel celebrates. I just get dragged along.”
“...right. Miguel’s an atheist. Peredur is, I dunno, pagan or something. Peni is...what religion were you again?”
“Huífùjiāo. But I can celebrate it if I want to, I just don’t have to.”
“...okay, there’s that. And I have no idea what Ham is.”
"What do I have to do, wear a yarmlke?"
“Right, so that’s eleven orders for Chinese food.”
“Two vegetarian, please!”
“One with extra pork!”
“Behave, Porquito.”
“...fine, extra chicken.”
236. Merry
One of the nice things about being Spider-Man, Miles reflects, is that he gets to be a lot cheekier than he would ever dream of being. Once he finds the confidence.
“Mind if I just...wrap this up?” Good thing he remembers how Peter did it.
“You know, I’d feel less humiliated if you weren’t wearing that hat,” moans Doc Ock, arms bound at her sides and hanging upside down.
Spider-Man adjusts the Santa hat at a rakish angle on his head. “I think it’s cool. You're under citizen's arrest, by the way. Mind if I just make a call?”
“Looks like I’m not going anywhere.”
“Uh, hello, Officer. Got a webbed-up Doc Ock at the corner of Fifth and Main. Yeah, bagel run gone bad. Who’d’a guessed, right? Yeah. Cool. You have yourself a good holiday season, yeah?”
“Why do you always put on that weird voice when you talk to the police? You sound like my high school mentee with a bad cold.”
“Please shut up?” explains Spider-Man.
237. Epiphyte
Something is off about the Boxing Day party in Miles’ world.
“Hey, Goggles? Why is everyone spaced out across the room like this?”
Goggles scratches the back of his neck, trying to edge away without looking like he’s edging away. “You celebrate Christmas?”
“Generally.”
“And you know about mistletoe.”
Cindy stares at him with one raised eyebrow. “Just a little bit.”
“Porker has the mistletoe.”
“...ah.”
“And webs. And is hangin’ around looking for strangers to rope together. This is basically coronation.”
“...basically what?”
Goggles sighs. “Training for fighting. You know, learning how to put up your dukes?”
“Ohhhh.” She laughs. Goggles turns a slightly darker shade of grey. “Yeah, makes sense.” Then she pauses, remembering their conversation a few months ago right when she doesn't need it. (Eidetic memory—sometimes it’s a curse.) “So.”
“Uh.”
“Yeah. I should probably not...”
“I mean...”
She blinks. His intonation is a bit strange. A little nervous. “Peter?”
Warm grey eyes don’t quite meet brown.
"Well, you know—"
There’s a yelp across the room from, of all people, Miles and Gwen, who are now caught in webs up on the ceiling.
“Well, lookie here, I caught a couple a’ lovebirds!” crows Ham.
Peni, standing near Peter, is filming using her phone. She’s grinning. (So is Peter B., who was standing quite close to where Miles and Gwen were standing.)
Surprisingly, they stop struggling shortly afterwards. But they don’t move to kiss.
Instead, Miles’ eyes glow.
There’s a sudden blast of what seems to be electricity, which produces a brief cartoon skeleton of a pig and a mild explosion which ends in two free Spiders.
"OOOooOOooOOhh…I smell bacon…"
The room erupts into laughter.
Miles offers a hand to Gwen, who accepts it and pulls herself up. They walk across the ceiling—
"Nothing to see here, people! Party's still swinging!"
"You're insufferable."
"No I'm not."
—and swing out the door.
"...how long has Miles been able to do that?" asks Cindy.
“Almost ever since I knew him.”
“That’s cheating,” complains Peter B., covered in bits of web.
"Tell me about it," mutters Peni. Then she grins again. "Still, I won the bet."
"You developing fortune-telling skills, kid?" grumbles Peter, fishing in his pocket for what looks like a candy bar.
She smiles, and pockets it. "I might be. Nice save, right Cindy?"
Cindy blushes. "I—don't actually know what—"
"Hey," complains a still-smoking Ham, "where'd my mistletoe go?"
238. Rudolph
“If you think I’m missing this, Peni Parker, you’ve got another thing coming.”
“Addy...I don’t know. I mean, yes, you got bitten, but...I’ve never met another Addy Brock out there. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Addy tosses her head back and offers her friend an easy grin. “Then I won’t get hurt. Simple as that. Trust me, Peni. I know when to pull back now.”
Peni sighs. “Fine. But be careful, right? Follow my lead.”
The red SP//dr enters the hole in space just before the black Ven#m does, and leads the way.
And on the other side—
“Hey!” calls Miles happily, coming over to meet them. “Glad you could make it!”
“...hi,” says Addy, blushing quite pinkly all of a sudden.
Peni rolls her eyes. “Excuse my friend. Addy, this is Miles Morales, Spider-Man. Miles, my best friend and coworker Addy Brock and her Spider Weying, alias Ven#m.”
“...how are you pronouncing that?” asks Ham. “Hey, I thought me and Mister Egg Cream over there were your best friends.”
Gray looks like he’s trying not to grin. Peni can feel a blush coming on herself. “I’ve got four best friends. Addy’s the only one you guys haven’t met yet.”
“Well, welcome to the team,” says Miles easily. “And Happy Hanukkah!”
(“Should I talk him you’re a Zuhariyya Muslim?”
“Nah, it’s okay.”)
239. Confusion
"It's an action movie. With a body count of something like forty."
“It takes place in winter,” argues Gwen.
“Lots of movies take place in winter!” Porker retorts.
“It did have a Christmas song in it,” Miles points out.
“For about thirty seconds! If that!”
“It’s got a heartwarming message about family!”
“The main character dies twenty minutes in!” protests Peter B.
"So who says that guy's the main character?" says Gwen, smirking. "Maybe it's those three students of his, ever think of that?"
"Pfff—come on, you think mister 'strap my guns across my chest with an open trench coat' isn't gonna have a thousand cops on him within about two seconds?"
Peni plops herself down next to Peter on the armchair with a bag of liquorice and nestles against him. “Did we choose a movie yet?”
"They're arguing about whether Hard Death IV is a Christmas movie.”
"…is it?"
"No idea, the last film I saw was A Night at the Opera and you couldn't get further from Christmas if you tried. Could I have some liquorice?"
240. New
Miles wakes up on Christmas morning excited and fresh. He makes sure to give his parents a hug, and they all exchange gifts (what with the new job, crazy as it is, Miles is finally able to buy them something too and isn't that a nice feeling). There's a board game or two. ("I cannot believe that an officer of the law would cheat—" "Now, hang on, that's well within the rules—" "Anyone mind if I add another house to Boardwalk? No? Fair enough." "Rio, honey, you are mean." "And you just landed on Boardwalk, mi amor. Pay up.") They try not to think about Uncle Aaron, at least for most of the day.
Gwen wakes up feeling calm and relaxed. She and Dad talk through their breakfast, and then head out to church. (She doesn't believe, not really, but he does. Besides, then they visit Mom and Peter, the latter of whom actually passes on a message from her mother which she manages to relay to Dad without sounding completely crazy and which nearly has her crying.) After that, the day's free.
Peter wakes up feeling…oddly hopeful. There's a blanket of snow across New York, the soft texture of the drifts as white here as anywhere else in the multiverse. He doesn't visit many people—just goes swinging—it's not his holiday. But it's nice and peaceful out in New York today. The Monkey King, an old Black man named Joe Hogan, is out too, the deep, rich Blue that surrounds him as he jumps along the streets mixing nicely with the warm Red that Peter exudes more and more of since jumping between worlds. They nod, one professional to another, and go their separate ways. (Joe's on his way to visit his grandkids.)
Peni wakes up feeling…okay, slightly exhausted, she only got about two hours' sleep, but happy nonetheless. It isn’t her holiday, but she still does her meditation like she would on a festival day, and joins Aunt May and Uncle Ben (whose holiday it is, both being loosely part of the Arabian Reformationist Church) in the small shelter they built in their living room, decorated with rings of lights, to exchange tokens. They smile at each other, and at her. It’s a good day, with them.
Peter wakes up nice and early, and insists on bringing Aunt May some breakfast in bed. She may be Jewish, just like him, but he can take care of his aunt on this day.
That’s their morning. By the afternoon, things have usually gotten...complicated.
But in the evening, without fail, they’ve got people to talk to.
#spiderman into the spiderverse#spiderman across the spiderverse#spider man#peter b parker#hanukkah#peter parker#christmas#peter porker#miguel o'hara#peni parker#carols#spider man noir#peter benjamin parker#a christmas carol#jorogumo#lunar new year#gwen stacy#miles morales#doc ock#cindy moon#mistletoe#Addy Brock#die hard#sun wukong#fanfic#chinese new year
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Oooo 16 mixed with 39 w Jon for the fluff/angst prompts?
Hello there, anon! Can you believe, that in all of my whump fics, I’ve yet to tackle the bread knife incident? High time we corrected that. The two prompts this is referencing are- “Do you need to go to the hospital?” and “If you don’t rest you won’t get any better.” Had this written for a bit, but I spruced it up and decided to post as I’m working on reconstructing chapters. Hope you like!
“Jesus Christ.”
“I-It’s not as bad as it looks.”
Admittedly, it doesn’t look great.
There’s a trail of blood following Jon to the sink, a bloody handprint or two on the counter (and probably a few door handles), and his shirt is similarly stained, the rumpled white button-up painted with red. The slice (more than a slice, probably a stab) to his arm bled more than he anticipated and is probably still bleeding under the towel he’s currently using to stifle the flow. Jon’s swaying where he stands; the loss of blood has him feeling weak, and the dizziness and dull throb in his head leftover from Michael hasn’t abated. All in all, he must look a mess.
Judging by Martin and Tim’s expressions, this is probably a fair assessment. Martin immediately goes to his side, though Jon flinches away as he tries to reach for his arm. He tamps down the guilt he feels at Martin’s look of rejection. “It’s n-nothing, really-”
“Nothing?” Tim scoffs, slowly making his way over as he dodges Jon’s mess. “We leave you alone for twenty minutes and suddenly you’re finger painting with blood. The hell happened?”
“Did you reopen one of your wounds?” Martin’s hands are hovering above his arm, like he’s trying to approach a skittish animal. “I told you not to pick at them-”
“Uh, n-no.” Jon leans against the counter- his vision’s starting to go, he should’ve sat down instead of puttering about like a fool. “It’s-it’s a new one.” Sufficiently cowed by Martin and Tim’s worried stares, he gently removes the towel with a hiss and yes, it’s still bleeding profusely. Damn.
Tim hurriedly pressed the towel back down, leading him over to a chair as Martin lets out one of his disbelieving squeaks. Tim’s always been good in a crisis and Jon wants to lean into the touch but something in the back of his mind rebels against it, whispering paranoid nothings in his ear. Wrong wrong wrong. There’s something wrong, something bad. Find out. So instead he flinches out of his hold as soon as he’s sat down, ignoring the exasperated look this gets him and putting pressure on the wound himself.
“What did you do?” he asks but Jon doesn’t meet his eyes, instead looking down at his lap. “How’d you get that?”
“A-A sandwich.” He can feel Tim’s stare, practically hears Martin’s fretting. “I-I was-”
“A sandwich,” Tim repeats, his voice deadpan. “A ham and cheese stabbed you.”
“No!” Words aren’t making sense, they’re hard to put together. He wants to lay down, he wants to sleep, he wants to be far away from these people and what they’ve done and what they might still do to him. “I cut myself...making a sandwich. W-With a knife. A bread knife.”
“A bread knife.” Martin’s talking now, his voice high-pitched and concerned. “A bread knife did that.”
“Where is it, then?” He wishes Tim would let up, would just take the story and leave him be, let him bleed.
“I-I put it back. I cleaned it and I put it back.”
“Let me get this straight-”
“For God’s sake, Tim- that doesn’t matter right now!” Now Martin’s at his side, hauling him up out of his seat with a steady hand that takes the brunt of his weight as he lists to the side. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”
“I-”
“Why am I even asking? Of course you do.” Martin’s muttering, already dragging him halfway out the door. “I’ll get us a cab. You two will just bicker the whole way. Take care of all this will you, Tim?” He gestures with one free hand to the mess Jon’s made and Tim just sighs wearily, nodding his head. He throws Jon one last glare but it’s weak and more worried than anything. He feels the guilt bubble up again. He should apologize for the inconvenience, tell them what happened, who visited. But then the voice creeps up, starting its chorus in the back of his mind.
He stays silent. He doesn’t speak as Martin takes more and more of his weight and the world tilts around him. He’s in a cab. Martin’s hand is warm and should be comforting but it isn’t. His arm stings and Helen’s gone and Michael’s laughter echoes and he can feel the worms burrowing back in, and over this cacophony of pain is the miserable choir singing wrong, wrong, something’s wrong someone’s there someone’s watching, waiting until they’ve got you alone-
He struggles in Martin’s hold but its weak and must seem more like a squirm of discomfort, for Martin doesn’t let go, just keeps up his murmured reassurances and his touches that sting like a thousand tiny needles.
He doesn’t know how long they’re at the A & E for. He barely registers Martin dragging him inside or talking to the nurses. He watches dispassionately as the wound’s stitched up, his other scabs disinfected from constant picking. Nobody lectures him or says much of anything- one mention of the Magnus Institute shut them right up. Jon is as much thankful as he is discouraged. He really is alone. He feels it even as he’s shoved back into Martin’s arms with a disingenuous smile and a ‘get well soon!’
Martin’s eyeing him critically as they wait for the cab; Jon’s too tired to fight at the probing hands that inspect the bandages. “Still your story, then?”
“Hm?” The world is hazy, but Michael’s laughter is starting to fade.
“Bread knife.”
“Oh...yes, yes it is.” He tries for some defiance but his voice is small and weary. Martin sighs in turn.
“You know you can tell me about these things, right? Me o-or Tim, maybe Sasha-”
Jon snorts. “Tell you when I’m making lunch?”
Martin’s face remains serious. “If that’s what you want to call it, sure.”
Jon doesn’t want to have this conversation so he nods in a clear dismissal, sighing in relief as a cab pulls up outside. Martin reaches for the car door, helping him in before hurrying to the other side. Jon’s about to tell the driver to take them back to work when Martin interrupts in a no-nonsense tone, rattling off an address with a please and thank you.
It’s Jon’s address.
How does he know my address? Has he been following me? He is the one who found Gertrude’s body, after all. What if- what if-
“I can see your mind going a mile a minute, Jon. What’s wrong?” He startles, moving as far away from Martin as possible and hitting the car door with a wince. Martin continues, his eyes betraying nothing but concern as Jon’s mind spirals. “You’re not going back to work. You just got stitches-”
“How do you know my address?” The words are meant to be an accusation, but they just sound like the bark of a small dog. Martin seems to agree with this assessment because he rolls his eyes, running a hand through his hair. It takes him a moment to gather himself, and every second makes Jon’s heart beat faster until it’s rabbiting in his chest. What does he know, what did he do?
“You don’t remember, do you?” Martin sounds sad, disappointed. It hurts more than Jon would like to admit.
“R-Remember what?”
“You don’t remember the three times I had to do this, back when you were supposed to be on sick leave?” Jon blinks.
He doesn’t remember much of that time. He remembers the pain, the paranoia, the fear- all of it tuned up to a fever-pitch. Trying to go back to work and being promptly shooed out by Martin, who took one look at his limp and still-bleeding wounds and shoved him back in a cab. Was he covering his tracks? Is that why he didn’t want me around? He has the faintest memory of arms scooping him unceremoniously from the trap door to the tunnels at night, this time accompanying him in the cab and making sure he got home, since Jon had exited the cab early and snuck back several times before. It’s embarrassing and disconcerting, these gaps in his memory. Gaps that Martin has to fill. Martin, who he can’t trust. Martin, who’s talking right now.
“- really, Jon- if you don’t rest, you won’t get any better. Tim tells me you’ve been skipping physical therapy, skulking about-”
“I don’t skulk-”
“Well, it’s sure as hell not sneaking if you leave a trail of blood wherever you go!” Martin’s voice raises in frustration, though it immediately quiets as Jon flinches, again. He heaves a massive sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose as if fighting off a headache. “We’re worried, Jon. We’re all worried. About you, about Gertrude, this whole mess- but you’ve got to talk to us. You’ve got to let the police do their job. And for the love of god, let us help you. Because-” he swallows, his next words earnest and spent. “-because we’re scared too. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Martin’s worried. Martin’s scared. Martin found Gertrude’s body. Martin’s always outside his office. Tim’s tired, Tim’s getting angry. Sasha smiles when she shouldn’t smile. Elias is up in his office, telling him everything’s fine and to rest but something’s watching, something’s wrong, Gertrude’s dead and someone killed her and someone’s coming for you next-
The next thing he knows he’s standing outside the door to his flat, Martin at his side. The door looks like a normal door, but Helen went through a door and didn’t come out. She didn’t come out, and Michael laughed, and there’s a war coming and he’s so stupid, so ignorant-
“Are you going to be okay?”
Jon takes the key from his coat pocket with shaking hands, shoving it in the lock. He doesn’t want to go in but he can’t stay out here, not with Martin who found Gertrude, who knows where he lives. “Y-Yes. You can go. Thank you.”
He’s inside before Martin can protest any further, slamming the door shut and leaning against it wearily. It looks like his flat, he hopes it’s his flat. Martin’s talking on the other side, asking him to call if he needs anything. Jon’s not going to do that, of course. He waits for the inevitable sigh, listens until Martin’s footsteps fade away. He’s safe, for now.
He locks the deadbolt.
ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28073586
#prompt fill#my writing#tma#the magnus archives#jonathan sims#martin blackwood#cw blood#injury#paranoia#it's season two and jon's not having a good time#martin tries his best#Anonymous
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For black!au
......can I like.....just request a follow-up to that last act of violence you committed last snippet you wrote of Buck going ham on Eddie and then peacing tf out. Please? For my sanity? I'll give you free reign 🙏🏾
Eddie looks in the mirror, willing the collar of his uniform shirt to cover more. There's a faint bruise, just barely a bar of purple, from the weight of Evan's forearm across his throat. It's been a couple days, but the bruise is still too visible, and people are going to ask questions about it he doesn't know how to answer.
He can't just say, Oh yeah, Maddie's brother who I've been seeing and can't talk about? He did this to me and wouldn't stop, and then he left and I haven't seen or heard from him since. He can only imagine the phone call to Athena that would prompt. It's just complicated. Of course Eddie knows Evan didn't mean to hurt him- he was scared and confused and out of it. In his right mind, he would never hurt him. In fact, Evan had punched someone in the face for starting so much as a verbal argument with Eddie in a bar, getting all three of them kicked out.
So he resigns himself to excuses and goes to work, keeping his eyes down when he can feel everyone staring at him. He makes it about three minutes before Hen pulls him aside in the truck bay and asks him what happened.
"It's nothing, I swear. Just a misunderstanding."
This doesn't seem to comfort her. "Did Evan do this to you? Eddie, if he's hurting you, we can help."
"No, it's-" he swallows. "Can I talk to you? About him? You can't tell anyone."
Hen leads them somewhere more private and quiet, and sits patiently with him while he organizes his racing thoughts. Finally, he says, "Evan's some sort of secret agent."
"That makes sense."
"Yeah." Eddie nods and rubs his throat. It doesn't hurt, but he feels protective of the area in the wake of what's happened. "He- he compartmentalizes, right? There's my Evan, who loves me and Chris and Maddie, and takes care of us. Then there's whatever version of him is out there, doing what he does. He went to Maddie's the other night, high on something, and he- he wasn't my Evan."
"What does that mean?" Hen asks. Her voice is free of judgement- she's just listening, taking everything in with this calm air about her that sets everyone at ease.
"He didn't recognize me and Maddie. It was like he didn't even see us. He was just pacing and talking to himself, and I tried to touch him, but he- he freaked out. I think he thought I was trying to hurt him."
"That all sounds familiar."
Eddie ducks his head. At first, in the bunks, he had some issues. He was having nightmares almost every night at that point, and once, Chimney tried to wake him up. Still half in a nightmare, Eddie had panicked and punched him in the face trying to defend himself from the perceived threat. That incident had been the one to get him to go to therapy.
He hadn't genuinely considered that Evan might be traumatized. Sure there's the nightmares and the rules and the paranoia and- he blinks. He should've put the pieces together sooner, probably. But what's done is done, and now he can move forward with this new information.
"He may be hurting, but Eddie, please keep in mind that you shouldn't have to- that you can't fix him. You have to protect yourself and Christopher first."
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“more than ever, hour (work is never over)”
Summary: Logan goes for a run, and hits a snag when Roman seems to have found himself in trouble. Again. (This happens about a year before “Cherry Cola”, to be clear. Sanders Sides, Gym Rat AU. One-shot. Ao3 link.)
Genres: Slice of Life, Fluff, Light Angst, Sickfic(?)
Characters: Logan and Roman centric. Janus, Patton, and Remus mentioned.
Relationships: Logince (platonic), Background Intrulogical (platonic/ambiguous), Background Roceit (sexual/QPP*), Background Loceit (platonic)
Warnings: Lots of numbers, Himbro Roman, Roman Is A Disaster, illness, over-training, sleep deprivation, heat exhaustion, (not as bad as what happened in “Cherry Cola”), vomiting (mentioned), Logan Is A Good Friend
-
Logan was running his typical checklists before setting out for another HIIT routine over at the gym. He highly valued maintaining his cardiac and overall health. He wasn’t in the medical field like Janus is and Patton used to be, but he didn’t need those credentials to appreciate it.
Considering he was a 28 year old Homo sapien, his maximal heart rate would be 192 beats per minute. Obviously, he wasn’t keen on achieving nor surpassing exactly that red zone. To say there were diminishing returns, would be an understatement. Remus would take the notion as a challenge… to be sure.
But that value was necessary to calculate his initial target – 65% of that, to be relatively precise. 125, rounded up. He intended to reach that after some warm-up routine and the first lap or two. He would consider this the yellow zone.
Once that holds reasonably steady, his next goal was to go for 87% at the highest intensity. So, 167 BPM. Holding that line for at least a minute. 2 minutes, if he was feeling particularly bold, he was in pretty good shape at this juncture. This would be more of an orange zone.
After the spike in intensity, he would go down to 50% for recovery, or 96 BPM. Rest at that load for 3 minutes, in the proverbial green zone. And then crank the figurative gears back up to the 87% target.
He intended to repeat this for at least 10 rounds. Add more, if energy is willing. Sounded like a plan.
To hit these marks, one of the simpler ways Logan enjoyed were via the exercise bikes. But today, he thought he’ll do some laps around the indoor track. He felt he needed to work in some more devoted arm action, and that would be a reasonable way to hit this workout paradigm. This outline seemed elegant and flawless.
He reviewed all of that while he swapped out his casual shoes for runners, in the locker room.
-
It was exactly noon when he approached the starting line. He popped in some earbuds to his prepared playlists.
He was listening to the mix named “Warm-Up Playlist”. He knew his fellows would jab him for the plainness of it, but the utility simply couldn’t be argued with. It was a selection of songs that started at 50, incrementing up to 100 BPM in tempo. It helped him keep his pace.
He stood to the side, spending a couple minutes doing some preliminary exercises. Ankle circles, leg swings, pelvic loops, arm circles, and hula-hoop jumps. It’s important to keep all the relevant joints stable and readied. Janus would probably congratulate his refreshing fastidiousness, among their motley crew.
After that micro-checklist was completed, he started going toward a brisk walking pace. He was going to check his heart rate after a couple laps to see how close to 65% he was getting.
Halfway into his first lap, he was nearly knocked over by a blur wearing a red crop-top sweatshirt and matching shorts. Roman, clearly not paying attention to what he was doing. Predictably. Logan snorted and rolled his eyes. He had to table his thoughts about his friend’s whole methodology (or lack thereof, as far as he was concerned), or else he’d fall too far out of rhythm!
Roughly a quarter of the way into the second lap, Roman closed in on Logan again, he was going at a jogging pace to a slightly faster walk to match up with Logan. Roman waved and smiled at Logan, “Hey! Didn’t expect to see ya here, Specs!”
Logan thought the voice was Roman-typically cheery. Frankly Logan would be mystified about this man’s energy, if he hadn’t met Remus first. “Salutations.”
“Why are you going so slooow? Wanna race me? I bet I can totally run circles around you!”
“No. I have a plan I intend to stick to, Roman. You know this.”
Roman melodramatically threw up his arms and pouted at Logan, somewhat impressively coordinated to his slow jogging. “Fiiine. I’m off – I want to see how many laps I can get in, like... the next hour. Adiós, for now~”
Roman went from a jog to a run before he could get a response. Logan tutted before refocusing on getting to that 65% - that yellow zone. After the second lap, he drank some water and checked his pulse… hmmm, 55%. It was time to hit a jog. He skipped a few tracks toward that range and worked to match.
By the time Logan completed lap 3, he reached and held at 65%. So, he turned on a 1-minute interval timer and his “HIIT Playlist”, on his phone. Much of the music went at 120 BPM, give or take 30. This phase, he was going to rely on his fitness bracelet to tell him where he’s at, not enough time to do things digitally… rather, manually or with his fingers, to clarify.
He and Remus programmed this thing to flash his percentage progress, freeing up some mental space to not need to calculate that value repeatedly, whenever he looked at the monitor.
He picked up to a run for about another quarter-lap and broke into a full-tilt sprint. Every 20 or so seconds, he glanced at the bracelet, while keeping the majority of his attention to his surroundings and form.
20 seconds, 73%. Not good enough.
40 seconds, 84%. Logan grimaced and pushed his cadence up a bit more.
50 seconds, 86%. For the love of Archimedes… it’s okay. It’s close.
BEEP! 60 seconds, 88%. Orange. FINALLY. Okay, he thought he had a good read now, being consistent for the next sets should be easier.
-
Time to, figuratively, dial things way down. He spent approximately 20 seconds running, 40 more jogging, and BEEP.
He took a couple sips from his water bottle, before spending the remaining 2 minutes going at a walk.
1 minute, 30 seconds, 78%.
BEEP. 2 minutes, 71%.
2 minutes, 30 seconds, 60%.
2 minutes, 50 seconds, 53%.
BEEP. 3 minutes, 49%. Green. Logan sighed to himself, “Margin of error, you have to account for it… anyways.”
-
Round 2.
20 seconds, 76%. Better.
40 seconds, 85%. Almost there.
50 seconds, 87%. Orange, again. Locked on, Logan smiled. Now hold this for 10 more seconds…
BEEP!
-
Second active rest cycle.
Once he got down to a walk again, he observed that Roman was on the opposite end of the track. Still going at what he could only describe as an absurd pace.
Roman closed in when Logan was 2 minutes into this interval. 69%, by the way. Logan groaned, some of Remus’s sense of humor “rubbing off on him”. Why must people ascribe such crudeness to an arbitrary number, he wondered.
Roman was panting quite loudly, shouting down Logan, “Nerd- Nerd’s got some SPEED!”
Logan took a swig of his water bottle. “This is not the first time you’ve seen me manage this.”
Roman looked like he just realized he should have followed suit, smacking his lips and drinking several gulps from his own water supply. “R-riiight.”
“You really should pace yourself. On everything. Honestly.”
“HEY. Only Snakey McSnakerson gets to tell me that!”
“Is he here right now? Am I wrong?”
Roman was back to pouting, “I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”
“But you just-”
Roman cupped his hands over his ears, “Lalala – I can’t hear you!”
Roman ran off ahead of him again. Logan could only shake his head.
2 minutes 55 seconds, 51%.
BEEP. 50%. Green.
-
Round 3.
30 seconds, 80%. Not bad if he said so himself.
40 seconds, 84%. Margin of error.
50 seconds, 89%. Overcompensated somewhat, it would seem. Perhaps Roman’s competitive streak was “infectious”, today.
BEEP! 60 seconds, 91%. Orange, approaching red. Yeah, he was definitely overcompensating.
-
Third rest, fourth active, fourth rest, fifth active intervals... hitting his marks, pleasingly and without incident.
He was on his fifth rest, soon enough.
Once Logan was walking again, he thought he was up for extending his active intervals to 2’, for the next 5 sets. Things have been building palpable fatigue, but very manageable.
Roman still appeared to holding up, a short distance ahead of Logan, at this point. Perhaps he was slowing down. It was a few moments before the distance was closed again.
Roman was drenched, so Logan decided to ask him, “Are you quite alright?”
“Might be getting a little tired now, no big deal.”
Logan recalled some things Patton instructed all of them about and he looked at Roman more carefully as they walked slowly. Roman looked paler than usual. “Hmmm, is your head hurting, perhaps?”
“Maybe a little. Didn’t get enough sleep again, it’s probably that.”
“I imagine it couldn’t be helping but-”
Roman got a little agitated, “But what, Egg Head?”
“Are you nauseous?”
“I’m not ready to puke, not just yet, Bro Ham.”
“May I check your pulse? Or rather, how does it feel?”
“What are you getting at!?”
“Cramps? Dizziness?… I think you are exhibiting the signs of heat exhaustion.”
Roman looked like he was going to be short with Logan, but it was clear now that he was starting to get somewhat wobbly. Logan decided to prompt him again, “Here, let us go to the showers, you need to cool off.”
Roman knew he couldn’t fight Logan in his current state, “Fiiine.”
Logan was annoyed about cutting his workout short, but he could always resume later. This was more important, anyways.
-
Roman was lying on his back on one of the benches in the locker room. His outfit then saturated with cool shower water, holding a battery-power fan to himself that Logan let him borrow.
Logan was at his feet, “How are your symptoms now?”
Roman groaned, “You’re not “the doctor” in our group, would you please stop acting like it.”
“I do not wish to see you in the hospital, Roman.”
Roman sputtered a little, “Yeah well, I’m fine.”
“Stable, I suppose, yes. But I know you enough to know you are not “fine”.”
Roman almost shot up to rebut, but a wave of dizziness forced him back down. “Look. I just didn’t get enough sleep – mind was running a bajillion miles an hour last night. So many IDEAS to write down. And couldn’t get to sleep until way after… you know what? Nevermind.”
Logan did care and frankly saw a lot of similar tendencies between the two brothers. It disturbed him and made him wish he was able to help them get a better handle on their sleeping and general health habits. It seemed as though they were both at very high risk of something serious occurring. But at the same time, he recognized that this was not his area of expertise. All he could really do was try to be there for them.
“Speaking of which... I think I see my wall… approaching… going to-”
Before Logan could latch onto any inquiries about walls, Roman dropped the fan and started snoring. After a brief moment of worry, Logan was reasonably sure this was simply a nap, not a loss of consciousness. To his relief.
Logan thought idly, “I suppose I should at least inform Janus what occurred. Roman might not be fit to drive for a while longer.”
Logan tapped out a message, “Hey. I’m in the locker room with Roman. He likely had an episode of heat exhaustion, today. He appears to be doing okay right now. But I felt that it was worth mentioning it to you.”
It was not even 2 minutes before Janus responded with, “WHAT!?”
“He’s safe, just taking a nap. I suppose he wouldn’t mind if you took him home.”
“… omw. That dumb ass has some explaining to do. With love, of course.”
“Indeed, I shall see you shortly then?”
“Yeah, ttyl… thanks, btw.”
Logan supposed he should stick around to make sure Roman was safe before resuming his own agenda. He had to admit, like with Remus, he did enjoy seeing them get some greatly needed rest.
#spilled musing#sanders sides#logan sanders#roman sanders#janus sanders#patton sanders#remus sanders#(*i think that may be a more accurate label to this AU's Roceit)#(honestly both the twins are complete disaster humans)#(but they're in good company)#gymrat au
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more Blakeworther headcanons!! i want you to go ham with em too!! :D
Go ham, huh? So...I probably went the opposite direction of what you wanted or expected. But I just read “Our Coffin Is a Twin-Sized Bed” (Blakeworth fic, REALLY ANGSTY) and I loved it but it also made me very depressed. Anyway, it put the idea of CHARACTER DEATH in my head, and so I’m like...what if you took Vincent, Victor, and Albert, and you have an AU where each one of them dies, and how would the other two react?
Except I want to have my cake and eat it too. That prompt on its own is a bit...disheartening. So I had to treat myself by saying that each time, the death was actually a fakeout, and whoever “died” turns up just fine later. Which made for extra reunion headcanons!
Get ready for: the one where each one of them “dies” and the other two grieve in their own special way, only for the “dead” to have been fine the whole time
VINCENT
· They were setting up bombs in a facility owned by Myers, hoping to bring down one of the bigwigs – possibly Monseiur M himself – in the explosion. Albert and Victor finished their rounds, then came back outside to wait for Vincent. Vincent radioed that he was almost finished – and then the whole building went up in smoke.
· It took Victor and Albert a few minutes to process what had happened. He…he had to have gotten out, right? There’s no way Vincent would die on this mission.
· But he doesn’t show up.
· Watching the conflagration, agape and wide-eyed, Victor and Albert reach out to draw each other closer, hoping it just isn’t what it looks like.
· Eventually, there are sirens, and they have to escape back to the mansion.
· Albert finds the nearest piece of furniture he can sit on, sinks down, and starts sobbing. It doesn’t help that this is HIS house they’re living in, this is HIS chair Albert’s crying on, and he’s not even here.
· I’m not actually sure if Victor’s eyes have tear ducts, but he is similarly distraught. He sits down beside Albert, trying to reassure him, “We’ll be okay. He’d want us to keep going. We’ll…we’ll be fine…”
· His voice cracks. He can’t deal with this. Now he’s holding onto Albert not only for the sake of comforting him but of getting comforted.
· They rattle around Vincent’s house for the next few days, utterly depressed. Everywhere they go, every corner they turn, they’re reminded of the spaces where he’s not.
· Albert is caught talking to himself – and berating himself in a bad imitation of Vincent in order to simulate their arguments. Victor can only listen for so long before he’s too emotional and has to leave.
· “You promised me you wouldn’t do this,” Victor says as he kneads a bedsheet between his fingers.
· Eventually, the two of them hold a small service. They construct Vincent a grave out back in the yard. Each says a few words –
· Victor: “I still don’t regret it. Not a day.”
· Albert: “If you think I wanted to win our rivalry this way…you were wrong. I’d give anything to have you back.”
· When behind them they suddenly hear “If I’d’ve known you two would get this morose, I wouldn’t have bothered to plant those explosives in the first place.”
· They turn around, and…he’s here. Vincent’s here, looking quite grumpy.
· “I thought it would be fairly obvious that I wasn’t dead. You two really went all out on this?”
· Albert: “You’re not an exact replica with Vincent’s memories, are you? Actually, I have no problem if you’re an exact replica with Vincent’s memories.”
· Victor and Albert run to him, embrace him tightly. Vincent’s rolling his eyes because these idiots got themselves worked up for nothing – but he’s lying if he says he isn’t really, really touched by how much they missed him. He’ll have to be careful not to make them worry in the future.
VICTOR
· Assassins have the mansion surrounded. Victor urges Albert and Vincent to go on ahead without him. He’ll catch up. But first he has to buy them time.
· Albert and Vincent head to a motel three towns over – only to hear that the mansion was cleared out, then raided by authorities, and after the cyborgs were put down, no living people remained in the house.
· “No,” Vincent says. “He’s fine. He’s FINE.” And he won’t hear otherwise.
· Not even after a week.
· Albert is starting to grieve, but Vincent keeps yelling at him, “STOP! HE ISN’T GONE! YOU’RE BEING AN IDIOT!”
· Vincent is angrier than Albert has ever seen him in his whole life. The more days go by that Victor hasn’t turned up, the edgier Vincent’s mood gets.
· Albert has to lock himself in the bathroom if he wants to cry it out.
· But he also knows enough about psychology that he knows Vincent has to be dying inside. “Vincent, you need to talk about what happened.”
· “You’re not even a real psychologist. Don’t fucking tell me what to do.”
· At one point, it gets so bad that Vincent locks Albert out of the motel room and refuses to let him in, no matter how much noise he makes.
· That’s when the notes start showing up. The door’s definitely locked, but Vincent finds notes around the motel room that definitely weren’t there a moment ago.
· “I love you. ~AK” “I’m worried about you! ~AK” “Vincent, talk to me. ~AK” “I know many fates worse than death. Do you want to push me that far? ~AK” “Please, Vincent, I need you. ~AK” “Fine. Die alone. ~AK” “I take back my last note. Don’t die alone. I love you. ~AK”
· So eventually Vincent lets him back in, and Albert suggests, one final time, to have Vincent sit through a legitimate therapy session. No Dream Eaters, no tricks, no shell game. And Vincent agrees.
· Vincent lies down on the bed. Albert sits on a chair beside him and starts asking questions – about Victor, about the memories they had, about what Victor means to them both.
· Vincent slowly recalls their entire history – laughing, crying, smiling. And by the end of it, he’s outright sobbing.
· “How can someone who was such a big part of our lives be gone, Albert?”
· And in a historical first, Albert actually lies down on the bed to cuddle Vincent, stroke his hair, and tell him “I miss him too. So much. It’s okay. Just cry.”
· Eventually, they get a message from Winston, saying he has some important information and “cargo” to trade to them if they meet at a rendez-vous point. So they agree. Albert and Vincent head to the alley around midnight to find Winston and…a man in a black hood.
· He throws back the hood. It’s Victor, whose metal eyes are twinkling. “Miss me?”
· All of Vincent’s psychological work is undone; he just says “I knew you weren’t dead.” Albert, on the other hand, TACKLES Victor at unprecedented speed and pins him to the street.
· Once Albert lets him go, Victor goes up to Vincent, and the two of them hold each other’s gaze. They kiss, briefly. That’s all they need to put closure on this.
ALBERT
· He doesn’t come home from a walk one night. Instead, a Dream Eater shows up and hands Vincent and Victor a letter.
· “My beloved Victor and my frustratingly wonderful Vincent, if you are receiving this letter, it means you are not likely to see me again in this lifetime. I have run afoul of enemy forces, and, well, I’ll finally get to see what murder looks like from the other side. I want to thank you for the laughter and tears you both have given me, and for the good times and the bad. I hope you’ll remember me fondly, or at least as a memorable nuisance. With all of my love, goodbye. -Dr. Albert Gerald Krueger”
· This is a joke, right? Victor’s convinced it’s a joke, and Vincent insists this is exactly the kind of prank Albert would find funny…
· Until a month passes and he hasn’t come back.
· Vincent takes a stance: “We never needed him. It was always just you and me from the start, Victor. We can return to our roots. He was always just an extra.”
· Victor: “I know you don’t want to admit you miss him, but that was heartless, Vincent.”
· The two of them end up fighting, sleeping on opposite sides of the mansion for days.
· Victor tries to drink the pain away. (It happens in all three of these scenarios, actually, but this one’s plot-relevant)
· One night, he wakes up at three and decides he’s not drunk enough. So he shuffles down to the bar and…there’s Vincent? Already drinking?
· Victor decides to bite; “What’s all this for?”
· Vincent turns to Victor, and Victor can now see he’s been crying for a while. “I can’t keep this up much longer, Victor. The two of us were happy before he broke in…why can’t I be happy? Why do I still miss him so much? Why can’t I just function?”
· Ah. Now Victor knows it is definitely about Vincent not wanting to admit he misses Albert or even liked him. Because here’s Vincent just distraught without Albert.
· Victor sits down by Vincent. Pours himself a drink. “We can’t erase him, but we can dull the memories for a night.”
· It’s a miracle they don’t die of alcohol poisoning that night. They toast Albert’s memory, and at one point, Victor, a little out of his mind already, just poured a whole bottle of brandy on the floor in his honor.
· Then, a couple days later, they’re trying to figure out how they’re going to break this to Taylor. They’ve avoided Taylor for so long so they didn’t have to bring this up.
· There’s a knock on the door. Vincent gets up with trepidation, gun in hand because he’s not sure who it’ll be. Victor follows, ready to throw down.
· The door swings open…
· Albert: “I apologize. I didn’t think I’d be gone that long.” And he’s smiling like he’s just a couple hours late, not a whole month and change in which the other two thought he was dead. “What did I miss?”
· There’s a silence as Victor and Vincent gape. Then Victor breaks into a wide smile; “Alb – “
· Vincent DECKS ALBERT IN THE FACE.
· Albert, on the ground, says “I deserved that.”
· Vincent: “How could you do that to me? How could you tear me apart? How could you make me so empty inside over someone like YOU? How could you make it hurt so badly to love you?”
· He’s getting rather emotional, a tear or two falling, and Albert realizes that Vincent actually…missed him. And the immense potential for blackmail this will bring.
· Victor steps forward to help him up off the ground. Pulls Albert into a too-tight hug in the process. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”
· Then they head inside because Albert kinda needs an ice pack for the eye Vincent hit now.
#vincent edgeworth#victor blake#albert krueger#blakeworther#this episode powered by 'when the party's over' by billie eilish!
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Lotor Rewrite
I’ve given my thoughts on how horrendously Prince Lotor’s character arc was handled. I’ve reblogged a couple posts that sum up my thoughts on the matter.
https://blue-bower.tumblr.com/post/185061129226
https://blue-bower.tumblr.com/post/185061352401
https://blue-bower.tumblr.com/post/182574536376
So, this is going to be my personal re-write of the end of season 6, and the events following in seasons 7 and 8. This is not going to be a rewrite of the entire last 2 seasons; I'm just focusing on Lotor (and Allura later on). There's just so many forced/rushed plot points and distasteful choices on the writers' part that it would take an entire essay to break everything down. But ultimately I feel like Lotor - and at the very end of the series, Allura - were given the worst treatment of any character.
Also, keep in mind that it’s been four years since I’ve watched the series in full, so I may not be remembering things 100% accurately. But frankly I do not feel like returning to season 6-8 again just to flesh out a headcanon.
This also isn’t a fully set-in-stone fanfic or script, just a general gist of ideas. I have several ideas for potential rewrites with various branching paths.
There are two main ways that I believe the end of season 6 could be revamped.
In the first rewrite, the plot twist with the dead Alteans in the lab never happens. A lot of people saw it as a very ham-fisted way of adding conflict for the hell of it. There could (and imo, should ) still be an Altean colony founded by Lotor, and Romelle would still be a character that is introduced to the Paladins at some point. But I feel like the only thing she would really contribute - at least in season 6 - is siding with Allura in trying to warn Lotor about the dangers of messing with quintessence. If she had a bigger part in the last couple seasons, I personally would have liked to see more of her learning magic and fighting from Allura.
In my opinion, there was already a plot element in place that could have just as easily led to a conflict and possible falling-out between Lotor and the Paladins: Giving the Galrans access to unlimited quintessence. It baffles me that no-one at any point even questioned this, or tried to warn Lotor of the possible ramifications of handing over this kind of power to a power-hungry empire. They just went along with it. So I think they should have steadily built up the unease with going through with this plan, ultimately leading to a battle over whether the gate should be destroyed. It could still be revealed that Lotor did have the ulterior motive of starting his own empire, using quintessence for his own gain. But it would still paint Lotor as a sympathetic antagonist, who truly believed he was doing the right thing.
If the twist with the Altean colony & lab has to happen, then at the very least, it should have been given more time to be resolved. The audience should have been given more answers.
So in this rewrite, the confrontation with Lotor and Romelle still happens. She explains what she and Keith saw, she explains her brother's death and sees Lotor attempting to cover up his death. Lotor still looks like a deer in headlights, but also seems to look guilty. He doesn't deny the facility existing, however. Cue his ass still getting knocked out by Allura.
Whether the facility happens or not, season 6 still leads to Voltron and Lotor confronting each other at the rift gate. In the first scenario, Lotor tries to reason with them; he claims that under his new leadership, the Galrans will not be using the rift for evil purposes. In the second scenario, Lotor pleads with Allura to let him explain himself; that he never intended to kill Alteans. Allura and the Paladins are conflicted on what to do, and whether to believe him. Most importantly, though,
Allura does not compare him to his shitty abusive father.
If anything, I think she may point out that he's actually a lot more like Honerva than he's willing to admit. It still stings, but doesn't send him into a violent frenzy or a cringeworthy monologue fitting of a Saturday morning cartoon villain. Allura tries to compromise with him; she says she'll come with him to the Altean colony if he destroys the gate. He refuses.
I can see either of these rewrites branching into two potential scenarios: A solo battle between Lotor and Voltron like we saw at the end of season 6, or an interruption to their confrontation: A fleet of Galran ships appearing in an attempt to claim both the phase gate and Voltron. Lotor and the Paladins are forced to cooperate, and get into a battle with the Galrans. Lotor realizes the only way to get them to back off is to destroy the gate, but he also tells the paladins that his ship can phase into the Quintessence field at will - which prompts Voltron to do the same. He convinces them to phase there with him after they destroy the gate.
In either of these conflicts, Lotor starts to lose control of himself in the Quintessence due to his stress and heightened emotions. In a rage, he starts phasing in and out of the quintessence field in order to attack the Galran fleet outside, despite his own advice on staying hidden. The Quintessence starts messing with his mind, making him start to go power-mad (because let's face it, this scene is still hot).
The Paladins try to get through to him, and Lotor fights off the darkness that corrupted his father. But it isn't enough. Voltron is forced to fight him, and blasts him into unconsciousness.
And instead of leaving him to fucking rot in the quintessence field, they manage to save him in time.
Mortally wounded, they place him in a stasis pod. It's going to take him a while to recover, but it's clear that the quintessence is healing him - and quite possibly making him undead like his parents.
In the meantime, Allura wants Romelle to take her to the colony (or the research facility if that plot point stays), but Romelle keeps refusing, saying it's too hard for her to go back - not to mention the fact that travelling there is extremely dangerous and has the effect of warping time - plus it's imperative that Voltron focuses on undoing the damage done by Lotor creating a rift in spacetime.
I see most of season 7 playing out as normal, since it mainly focused on the Paladins fighting for Earth. I feel like we should have gotten a season 9, because there was just too much going on in season 8 and not enough time to tie up loose ends. The main plot point I would change is Lance’s confession. He does still confess his love to her, but acknowledges that she may not reciprocate it. And she doesn’t. She tells him that she’s just not in a place to move on yet, or pursue another relationship. And he respects her decision.
After Lotor recovers, he isn't quite the same. He seemingly hasn't been corrupted the way his parents were, but his Altean marks are now permanently glowing bright purple, and his eyes are glowing light yellow, mirroring the vision that Honerva had of him.
The others reveal that everyone's actions in the Quintessence had altered time, and two years have passed. He feels remorseful for his actions, but also angry that the Paladins didn’t listen to him. They nearly get into a fight with him because he is still somewhat unstable, and very clearly carrying a massive amount of power within him due to the quintessence, putting him on par with Honerva’s abilities. Allura demands him to take her to the colony, against Romelle's wishes. Lotor’s powerful magic enables them to transport the castle/ship directly to the colony; something they weren’t able to do before because of the massive amount of spacial distortion coming from that region. And again, depending on whether the facility is kept, it can go one of two ways.
They arrive at the colony, and it’s clear that the Alteans don’t worship the ground he walks on the way they did before. Not only do his glowing eyes remind them of Zarkon, but Romelle has been sowing the seeds of distrust in some of the Alteans since the beginning. I know a lot of people were expecting Romelle to be outed as a traitor, but personally, I don’t really see her as the type to try and frame him. I just believe she genuinely disrusts him because of what Galrans did to Alteans in the first place, and she doesn’t feel comfortable with him declaring himself as their new ruler. But hey, maybe there could be a twist that Romelle lied about the facility all along? Some food for thought. But the combination of genuine unease about the half-Galran, and the testimony of what happened between him and Voltron, makes it clear to Lotor that he no longer has their complete trust.
If the facility stays: When they arrive at the colony, there is almost immediate distrust and maybe even hostility toward Lotor. As it turns out, before Romelle returned to the Paladins, she told other Alteans what she saw that night her brother died. He tries to talk them down, explain that what he was doing, he did for the sake of Alteans and their future. Some of the Alteans don’t believe Romelle to begin with; others want to banish Lotor. Since he can’t persuade the masses to believe him, he tells Allura to come with him.
When they arrive, Allura sees the chambers that Romelle described. When asked about Romelle's brother again, Lotor explains that he tried to save him, and that he never intended to kill the Alteans. He only wanted to harvest a partial amount of quintessence, because it would be the key to locating Oriande. This would make sense as to why he specifically needed quintessence from Chosen Alteans. But somewhere along the lines, something went wrong with the process. Lotor attempted to cover up the deaths, partially out of shame, but also because he knew Romelle already didn't trust him and didn't want more reason for her to lead a revolt against him.
Though he feels remorse, Allura calls him out on his bullshit: Covering up the tragedy was a cowardly move. The consequences of Lotor always being the type to leave unfavorable outcomes in the past and keep moving forward have finally caught up to him, and now it’s his responsibility to face his mistakes. At the very least, he gives the Alteans’ bodies a proper burial.
The arc ends on a somber note. Lotor is not a hero, nor a villain. He is the culmination of the tragic life that he had been forced to live; for better and for worse.
After this point, it's up in the air as to how the last season (or two) could be rewritten. I can still see a plot with Honerva trying to recruit Alteans to her side in the time span that Lotor was gone, manipulating them into believing that Lotor would have wanted them to continue Honerva’s experiments, and to fight Voltron in revenge for what they did to him. But ultimately, Lotor would confront them and force them to surrender.
All I know for sure is that, before the final endgame battle, Lotor would sacrifice himself for Voltron and to protect the universe. Likely in a very intense, emotional battle against his mother. I know that the most ideal outcome would be for him to stay alive, marry Allura, and rule the new Altean colony together. But this series has never been a stranger to death and the theme of sacrifice. If done well, I think a heroic sacrifice - especially from a character that was previously a villain - can have an extremely positive impact on a story.
Maybe, in a scene mirroring his first encounter with the White Lion on Oriande (maybe Honerva has taken possession of the White Lion instead of just destroying it?), he would realize that fighting won’t do any good anymore. He’s forced to surrender. And in doing so, frees the white lion, the massive amount of quintessence within him, and all of Oriande. Honerva no longer holds power over the Alteans. And in a tragic sense, it means that she can no longer be accepted by Alteans either.
I’ve been very back and forth on whether or not Allura would still die in the end. I completely understand the fanbase’s frustration with the decision to kill her off. It felt very gross for PoC fans to see a main PoC character die in such an unceremonious manner. It felt like a cheap way for them to pay homage to the fact that Allura dies in the original series. But like I said, if done well, the theme of heroic sacrifice will leave a positive lasting impact on a series. On top of that, Allura has been shown since the beginning of the series to be an extremely self-sacrificing character. She was willing to put her life on the line on many occasions; and I almost feel like the scene with her surrendering to the white lion was foreshadowing her ultimate fate.
If Allura does stay alive, then I feel like she would become queen of the new Altean colony, but would still leave on diplomatic missions across the universe. Altea IS NOT RECOVERED after all the space-time bullshit. The universe doesn’t just magically overlook complete time paradoxes to bring back dead planets. Allura and the Alteans have long come to terms with the fact that they will never get their original home back, but they can start anew.
But, if Allura does die, then it damn well be a goddamn Iron Man from End Game moment. No cheap off-screen Deus Ex Machina, no half-assed goodbyes. Her sacrifice would leave a lasting impact through the universe/multiverse. We’d need a solid full episode of the Paladins (AND CORAN BECAUSE HOW THE FUCK DID THEY LEAVE HIM OUT OF REACTING TO HER DEATH) mourning her passing.
Truthfully, the ultimate reason I believe they both might die is because I’d want to keep the final image of the series (before all the epilogue stuff). It’s such a profoundly beautiful image that perfectly encapsulates the sacrifices that Allura and Lotor made in order to bring peace to the universe.
And that’s obviously meant to be Lotor right next to her. The figure is purple. You can see his hair, boots, even the outline of his skirt thing. Why would they put this in if Lotor was always intended to end up as a villain? The fact that they kept that silhouette after treating his character arc so poorly makes it clear to me that he was meant to have more of an overall impact on the story, but was ultimately thrown to the wayside just so the writers could go “WhAt A tWiSt!!!”
And that about wraps it up. Like I said, there isn’t one set storyline that I have in mind, because I have a few different ideas. IMO literally any path the story could’ve taken would be better than what we were given.
If anyone has any suggestions or feedback, feel free to comment/reblog and add your thoughts. Again, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve watched the series in full, so there may be some key moments I’m forgetting. What would you change?
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Who you are. (Hamish Duke) Part 4 Finale
Summary: You were an Adepti for The Order but you were also a spy for Gnostic council. The council called you back to Belgrave to spy on Vera after the recent werewolf attacks which is when you find out something about one of your old best friends.
Words: 16k
Requested: yes.
Prompts:
A/N or warnings: I'm not sure if Adepti is higher than Temple Magus but in this one shot it is..
Y/N's POV
You knew Hamish didn't mean to stay what he said but he said it none the less and you just couldn't stop replaying that memory of him saying. "Y/N, focus,"
Vera's voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you looked at the other members chanting the spell and you joined in.
After the ritual, you saw Jack, Edward, Vera, Renee, and Alyssa talking about how Alyssa and Jack were going to ride along to take Renee home to get the Necrophone. You questioned why Jack and Alyssa were going instead of Vera and Edward in which they replied with they were too busy. You laughed and said that you wouldn't be surprised if they didn't come back with it at all and walked out of the temple.
It had been a few hours since you've done the ritual and you were sitting on one of the benches outside the school, thinking if you wanted to go and talk to Hamish or not but you didn't know if that was a good idea. You sighed and started walking towards your car to go home and get drunk when you got a text from Vera saying to come to the temple.
Why can't see just leave me alone? I just want to go home and either sleep or get drunk.
You texted her back that you were beat and wanted to head home.
Vera: The werewolves killed the elementals.
You stopped dead in your tracks, sighed, and stared walking towards the temple.
You: On my way.
You walked into the temple and saw Vera talking to three other members.
"Y/N, you're here. Great! These are Gabrielle, Brandon and you already know Kyle,"
You looked over at Kyle and he was already ogling you. Since Kyle was inducted he always had a thing for you but for the brief time he was into Alyssa. You choose to ignore Kyle. "Nice to meet you two,"
Gabrielle just scoffed at you while Brandon reached out and shook your head. You looked at Gabrielle. "I'm sure that Vera hasn't told you about your attitude but I will. You better knock it off or I'll make you wish you never came to Bellgrave, got it? I'm not the Adepti to fuck with,"
Gabrielle just looked at you bored. "Yawn. You're aren't as badass as you think you are,"
Vera looked at Gabrielle annoyed.
Gabrielle just laughed. "What? She needs me,"
You bent down to pull your knife out of your boot and cut your hand with it. "Membra huius beluae obtorpescantur,"
Gabrielle tried to move but couldn't. "Why can't I move? What did you do?"
You chuckled and ignored her. What do you need me for Vera?"
While Vera handed Kyle and Brandon a book, you used the heal incantation to heal your hand. "I need you to read whatever you can and report back to her what you find that can kill a werewolf and if any of you suggest a sliver bullet,"
Kyle and Brandon just stood there and you rolled your eyes. "Go,"
Kyle and Brandon nodded and walked out of the temple. "Alright, if that's all. I'm heading home. It's been a long day,"
You walked up close to Gabrielle. "While I'm not the one that will killed just anyone. I'm the one who will torture someone for however I want even after I get what I want. Best remember that,"
You cut your hand one more time and use the incantation to unparalyze her. "One more thing, I don't need you. There are hundreds of others that I will choose over you and if that’s not clear, you are off this mission,"
Gabrielle scoffed. "But Temple Magus-"
"She's the temple magus, I'm an Adepti. I have more power over her. So my say is final,"
Gabrielle looked over at Vera. "Is that so?"
"It is,"
I looked behind me and saw the Grand Magus walking in. "But Y/N rarely ever goes above Vera's head cause she has the upmost respect for Vera so if she just went above her head that means you did something to piss her off. Now what should be your punishment?"
You looked over at Edward. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure she won't disrespect me again, will you?"
Gabrielle nodded her head. "Yes Adepti,"
"Good. Now run along before I change my mind,"
----
Its been a day since the wolves killed the elementals and Brandon and Kyle have yet to report to you. You were walking around campus to see if you could spot anything and that's when you see Kyle and Brandon run into the English department. It had been a couple of minutes since they walked in and you were about to walk in after them because you knew Brandon and Kyle's classes and they didn't have an English class but then you saw Hamish running out holding his side and limping. You instantly know why.
Fuck.
You let Hamish run off while you waited for Kyle to come out. "Did you see the wolf?"
You shook your head no. "How did you see it?"
"We used true sight and we found the werewolf and I stabbed him with a poisoned knife,"
"You fucking idiot,"
He looked at you like you were nuts. "That was my job,"
"No, you fucking moron. Your job was to come and report to me. You just stabbed someone in the middle of a school building. You're lucky no one saw you do it. Also, don't drink anymore of that true sight potion. There's a reason why Vera didn't mention it,"
Brandon walked up behind Kyle. "Why's that?"
"Because dumbasses, it'll cause you to go blind,"
"We read the direction-"
"Listen to me Kyle. It doesn't matter if you follow the directions, you drink anymore of it, you WILL go blind. Don't believe me? Go ask Vera. Now, go wait for me in the temple while I go find this werewolf,"
You started to leave the boys but you turned around. "And I mean it, do not leave the temple till I come,"
You started walking towards Hamish's house when you got a phone call from Jack. "What Jack?"
"I don't know why I'm telling you this. Maybe because I know you care about Hamish a lot and don't want to see him get killed-"
"Jack, I've known y’all were werewolves for a while now. I just didn't think y'all were smart enough not to get caught. I should've known Kyle would do something stupid. I'm on my way to the house,"
`` "Wait, how'd you know?"
"Jack, I have super smell. I have a wolf hybrid at home. Y'all smell like her but way worse,"
"Oh ,"
You hung up the phone and ran to the house, you didn't even bother knocking. You hear them yelling and trashing shit around. You walked into the living room to find Hamish bleeding badly. "Y/N? What are you doing here?"
You shook your head and walked towards where the banging was coming from. You walked downstairs to their basement to see Lilith and Randall throwing books and different things around. "Here's what you're gonna need,"
They both looked at you confused. "Yes, I know you're werewolves. Yes I'm apart of The Order. Can we have this conversation after we save Hamish?"
---
You were standing Hamish's room just staring at him. You had healed him about ten minutes or so ago. You had already told Lilith and Randall most of it when you were making up the potion. Hamish had asked to speak to you alone after healing him so that's where you are now. "So you were apart of The Order since Freshmen year?"
You nodded. "Yes,"
"And you never told me,"
"You were told me you were a werewolf,"
"Why did you save me?"
"I saved you because you're you,"
"What does that mean?"
"Just because I'm mad or was mad at you doesn't mean I'm gonna let you die,"
"Even after I said those things?"
"Ham, I know who you are and what's truly in your heart. I know you just want everyone to be happy. You made say stupid shit in the heat of the moment but I know you don't actually mean it,"
"So are you gonna tell The Order about us?"
"No but you have to be careful from now on, okay?"
"But what about-"
"Hamish, I get that your duty is to stop people that are using bad magic but you have to be careful,"
Hamish was quiet for a few minutes while he was looking at his shoes but then he looked up. "I was going to break up with Cassie that night,"
"What? Why?"
"Because I realized something,"
You looked at him funny but before you could respond, his lips crashed onto yours. The force of the kiss actually made you take a couple steps back until you back touched the wall. He pulled away quickly after realizing what he had did. "I'm so sorry. I should’ve gotten consent-"
"Shut up,"
You grabbed his shirt and pulled him to you and kissed him. He tangled his hand in your hair as he deepened the kiss. After what seemed like a good amount of time, you pulled away. "What did you realize?"
He did the half smile that you always loved. "That I was in love with you. I started realizing it the more we grew apart but I didn't fully realize it until I started seeing you with that one guy senior year by the time I realize it, it was too late, you were already half way across the world,"
You hovered your lips over his. "One call. One text saying that I would've flown right back,"
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Femslash February 2021
Day 2: Tears
This one is also for the 6 month anniversary of LCBC, I’m using multiple prompt lists x Here’s the A03 link if you prefer reading on there x
It’s unexpected, mostly. When you give your entire heart to someone, you don’t expect them to stamp on it. Marisol found herself replaying the same section of the episode over and over, watching Lottie getting ready to leave.
On screen, the door opened and a tall redhead ran through, and hugged her from behind.
“You can’t leave. I seriously won’t let you. What am I going to do without your witchy love to support me?” Just the soft voice of the redhead breaks Marisol’s heart again. Aderyn Bevan had stolen her heart from the moment she had arrived all those months ago. She had tried to make relationships work with everyone but her mind always came back to her.
When they finally got together, she was so happy. It hurts to remember those memories, but she doesn’t have a heart to break any more. She feels it beating occasionally, but feels so entirely numb.
She forces herself to turn back to the TV, her eyes drawn in by Aderyn, even now. The musician had played her like a fiddle, and managed it effortlessly. Pretending to be in love with her despite holding a small crush on Lottie persistently. Despite taking your side during Roccogate, you could tell how much it hurt her to do that. Going against Lottie wasn’t something she could do without guilt.
“I wish I could stay too, you know. Seeing you and Marisol together, made me realise something. I’ve been sitting on these feelings and pretending they don’t exist, but…” Lottie’s cut off by Aderyn pulling her close and kissing her on the lips. Lottie gasps in surprise, but kisses her back, her arms wind around Aderyn’s back and pull her close. They only separate to breathe and stare into each other’s eyes.
“I’m sorry, was that too forward of me? Have I seen something you didn’t?” Aderyn watched Lottie with wild eyes, strands of hair escaping from her elaborate braided bun. For someone who usually looks so polished, to see the mascara tears trailing down her cheeks and the hair slowly escaping and coming loose in wild auburn curls, felt so strange. Come to think of it, Aderyn had always kept part of herself hidden around you. It was only Lottie, and Lucas who she let herself loose with. You were just left with the public image version of her, the one who kept all emotions hidden and solved all problems with a wide smile on her face. Elisa had warned you about her, said she was far too good to be true. But she had everyone else wrapped around her little finger, so there was no hope for you, really.
Fresh tears spilt down Marisol’s cheeks and she let them go. Her flat was such a tip currently, pizza boxes stacked in piles on every available surface, and tissues. She was usually so neat, but the current situation had left her unable to clean up her own stuff, she had become such a mess. She no longer cared about her flat being a mess, she had barely been out recently. She only went out for the essentials and nothing more. Her phone beeped and she left it on the table, not having the energy to move from the sofa.
“No, of course not. I feel it too. But what about Marisol? I know I left it so late to even say anything, and I have to leave soon. I just never thought you might like me in that way. And can you promise me something? Win, and we’ll work out what’s happening from there,” Lottie squeezed her hand before letting go. She grabbed her suitcase and they left the room together.
Marisol fast forwarded the rest of the episode, not able to see herself and Aderyn together, and in love. Or was she even in love with you? She didn’t accept to be your girlfriend, and looked...uneasy when you said ‘I love you’. Did she just lead you on and were you too blind to see it?
Her flat turned silent as the episode finished and she turned off the TV. She sat in the silent dark room, unable to convince herself to move. We were something, don’t you think so? You’ve turned from someone who as a rule doesn’t listen to Taylor Swift and hates too much noise to needing noise all the time and having a full playlist of sad Taylor Swift songs. Anything to prevent your thoughts from spiralling. But you were the same after Olivia, so of course this happened again.
Her phone beeped again and she continued to leave it. She was in the Islanders group chat, but struggled to see everyone so happy. Everyone found their person, even if they didn’t always leave with them. Hope and Lucas were together, which fit far better than Hope and Noah. Noah himself was with Priya and those were just the people she remembered. She struggled to stay in touch with most of them and could feel them slipping away from her. Hope and Bobby were the only ones who keep contacting you, but they’ll give up eventually. Priya was always saying that she was the outcast, but that was more like you.
As for her, she who cannot be named, the little bird was enjoying life with Lottie. No sign of an apology, or anything to even explain what happened. You were the first person to give her that nickname. To call Aderyn little bird, which started as a joke. To her, you were the sunshine, she took that from your name. Now you can’t even see the sunlight without thinking of her.
She snapped herself out of her head, the loud knocking coming from the door making her jump out of her skin. The knocking didn't appear to stop, so she stood up and slipped her feet into her slippers and made her way to the door, retrieving her keys as she passed the key bowl. She slid her keys into the keyhole and opened the door, to see Bobby and Hope on the other side. She tried to smile, but fresh tears spilled down her cheeks and she stepped backwards into her flat.
“It’ll probably be better if you come in, don’t particularly want to be a mess out in the hallway. Excuse the mess, I didn’t plan for guests,” she laughs slightly. She was such a mess she didn’t feel like pretending otherwise, and she was relieved they didn’t comment on it.
They followed her, Hope closed the door behind her and locked it. She put the keys back in the key dish as she passed it.
“I’ve been very worried about you. You haven’t been answering any texts or phone calls, I know that the...situation with Aderyn must really hurt,” Hope moved forward and puts her arms around Marisol, giving her a hug. Marisol sniffed, and let out fresh tears into Hope’s shoulder. Hope stroked her back, and held onto her. The small attempt at comfort helped her relax a little bit, and eventually they separated.
“T...thank you. I keep wondering if you’re going to give up on me eventually. If you’re going to leave like she did. I don’t even know what I did wrong, why she chose me of all people’s hearts to break. She had the pick of everyone, even Bobby. As for Lottie, after last time she kissed Gary and there was all that backlash, you’d think she’d think twice about starting another kiss gate. Trust my luck to be fucked over twice,” her eyes flash in anger as she looks over to Hope. It’s a relief to feel something other than heartbreak, or numbness.
“It was far from your fault. It was her choice to make, entirely. I won’t give up on you, and that’s a promise,” Bobby nodded from next to Hope.
“And same for me, too. I don’t support either of them with that decision. I’m pretty certain Aderyn knew all too well what she was doing. She appeared too good to be true, I got ensnared myself by her. Don’t blame yourself for that either. You deserve better, I know that,” Bobby took her hands in his and squeezed them tight.
“What about Gary? How did he take this? Considering how he was together with Aderyn for so long, until I coupled up with her, this must’ve hurt him too…” she wiped her eyes with her sleeve and looked back at them.
Bobby sighed.“About as well as can be expected, really. It was a surprise for him too. And both of them are just pretending they did absolutely nothing wrong, and have moved to California to get away from all the backlash. The rest of us are very much there for you, though. You deserve so much better.”
“Elisa warned me and all. She said Aderyn’s far too good to be true. Yet I was too stubborn to listen. Not only that, but she was always hiding stuff from me, so I guess I expected it...anyway, I could do with a distraction. This is going to sound pathetic, but I keep replaying that kiss, and noticing something. How different she seems with Lottie, how much more free and happy she is. But an apology would be nice, but of course that’s too much to ask…” Marisol bit her lip hard and blinked. She ignored the tears reappearing and moved into the kitchen. She stared at the mess, sighed softly, and turned back around.
“Do you fancy pizza? My treat,” Hope winked at her. “I’ll even get ham and pineapple. Even though I can’t stand it,” Marisol’s eyes lit up and she grinned.
“Sure. But maybe split it, so half ham and pineapple, and half ham and mushroom. As you like mushrooms, right? I would make something, but…” she gestured towards the mess in her flat. It’s weird you no longer care about the mess, but oh well.
Hope retrieved her phone and started to order pizza.
“I’ll help with the mess, if you’re comfortable with that,” Bobby said from beside her.
“Thank you. I’ve been meaning to tackle it. But don’t have the energy, for obvious reasons,” she gave him a wobbly smile.
Once Hope finished her phone call, the three of them started tackling the mess. The stacks of boxes are nearly taller than Marisol herself, and as she started to see the countertops beneath the mess she breathed a sigh of relief. Nearly normal again. Hopefully soon you can heal.
She heard a knock at the door and Hope scrambled to answer it, getting there before Marisol and paying the delivery person.
“I did say I would pay. Now you need to relax. Maybe we can find something on TV?” Hope moved with the boxes and drinks towards the sofa, and Marisol and Bobby followed suit.
Marisol retrieved the remote and switched on Netflix. As they choose something to watch she feels a smile settle on her face and relaxed, focused on her food and the pleasure of having company. Maybe you didn’t find love in Love Island. But you found something more valuable, friends for life.
#litg#love island the game#litg marisol#marisol x mc#femslash february 2021#femslash february#litgs2#litg fanfic#bubblelaureno#fanfic
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Hi i saw the prompt list and they are cool and i had a request feel free to deny them darling can you do 39 and 47 for drarry and if it's possible it will be harry who says this sentences to draco thanks sweetheart you can just ignore it❤
So... This got out of hand. I meant to go for a 500 word drabble, since I’d never actually written anything for Drarry before.
Then somehow I ended up with this 2k chapter, research about the UK juvenile delinquency system and me memorising the map of the London Zoo... Oh and I may have possibly written an outline for three or four more chapters... No joke. I’m not sure if I’ll ever end up finishing it, but I do like how this turned out! Stay tuned ;)
If anyone else feels like sending me a prompt, the list is here.
Prompts:
You are safe now. I am here.
At least let me clean it.
.
“Really Potter, staring at the penguins again?”
Harry rolled his eyes. Of course he’d been caught staring at the little dweebs again. And of course it had been the Malfoy prat who’d found him.
Harry had interned at the London Zoo ever since he was old enough to apply for a summer job. He adored spending his time around the animals, adored seeing how they all had their unique personalities and little quirks. He’d spent summer after summer cleaning out cages and feeding all sorts of wondrous creatures. Harry volunteered to take up extra shifts whenever he could and would often spend his time around the animals’ enclosures long after he’d been done for the day.
Animals, Harry found, were easier to be around than people. Much, much easier. As if to prove a point, one of the most difficult specimens to have in his vicinity, had just shown up. Harry sighed and turned around.
“Anything you need, Draco?”
“That’s Malfoy to you, Potter.”
“Sure, Draco, whatever you say,” Harry retorted, trying not to show his amusement at the blond’s scowl. “You done for the day then, yeah? Need me to sign your papers?”
“Yup. Only twenty more days to go. I’ll be done with this shit.”
“Trust me, I’ve been counting the days, same as you, mate.”
“Not your mate, Potter.”
Harry couldn’t agree more. He didn’t respond and just walked off towards the administration tower. Whether the blonde followed him or not really was none of his concern. Harry badged into the admin tower so he could fill out Draco’s forms.
COMMUNITY PUNISHMENT AND REHABILITATION, the document read.
Harry signed his name next to today’s date and checked the necessary boxes. He hesitated when he had to rate Malfoy’s dedication. His hand hovered over the box labelled “adequate” for a moment, but then he ticked “outstanding” instead. Even though the boy was an utter twat, Harry didn’t really feel like putting him in a bad spot. Unlike other kids who had been ordered to perform their community services here by the juvenile court, Draco actually did his job while he was here. He didn’t slack off and was kind to the animals.
Harry remembered when another boy had been executing a community sentence, a few years prior. They had found out he’d been twisting the warthogs’ tails. They’d kicked him out immediately, but to this day poor Mathilda still didn’t trust anyone who entered her enclosure. Harry wondered what happened to the guy. Nothing good, he hoped.
“What’s got you frowning, Potter?”
Harry hadn’t realised he was. “Oh, nothing. All done. Here.” He handed Draco a piece of paper to prove he had actually been there today. Draco took it and quickly put it away, before heading towards the door. He turned around to look over his shoulder, his hand already on the door knob.
“You’ve never asked why I’m here. Everyone else has. Why?”
“It really isn’t any of my business, is it?”
“Yeah. No. I guess not.”
If Harry didn’t know any better, he would have sworn the corners of the blond’s lips turned up a little before he left.
Harry had wondered what had brought Draco here. He didn’t seem like he was looking for trouble. Didn’t make you check if your wallet was still in your pocket whenever he passed you in a corridor either. If Harry didn’t know better, he’d have thought the other boy had walked into the staff room by accident after getting lost during a school trip, really. Sure, he hadn’t actually said anything nice to Harry or any of their co-workers since getting here, but he had been polite to the visitors, which was more than most comm kids, as the staff referred to them.
Harry glossed over tomorrow’s schedule before gathering his things. Oh, sweet. They’d put him in the Northern part of the zoo in the morning. That meant he’d be on duty when it was time to feed the lions. Harry checked the others’ schedules. Looks like they’d paired him up with two interns. Neville and... Draco. Great.
Normally they only paired the interns up with regular staff members, but Harry had been here for so long that most of the regulars asked him what to do anyways. Harry loved how much faith the Zoo’s director had showed him over the past couple of years. Minerva never really showed anyone much warmth, but Harry knew she appreciated his work. Just this once, however, he wished she didn’t trust him to do a good job, because it meant he’d have to spend a day listening to the blond prat’s insults. Just great.
The next morning, Harry’s suspicions were confirmed before he’d even entered the changing rooms. He Malfoy’s sneers from down the corridor. Judging by the stuttering response he got, Harry assumed they had been directed at Neville.
Harry quite liked Neville. The boy was a bit younger than he was, and it was his first ever summer job. He wasn’t very good at it, though, but Harry blamed it on a streak of bad luck that somehow followed the kid around. Whenever he was hauling around bags of animal feed, one was bound to tear or he’d trip over his feet. A few days ago, when the kid went out for hay for the zebra’s once, a giant spider had climbed out, causing him to drop the bale, leaving straws everywhere.
It was almost endearing, really, if it hadn’t been for the fact that Neville was a total clutz, so whenever he tried to tidy up the mess he’d unknowingly created, he usually ended up making a bigger one that required Harry or whoever was on duty to help him fix it. Whenever he got nervous, Neville’s clumsiness seemed to amplify. A day with Neville and Draco, Harry thought to himself, would definitely prove interesting to say the least.
“... managed to teach you how to dress yourself, for crying out loud,” Harry heard when he entered the room, to find Neville attempting to do up the buttons of his overalls. His hands were trembling so severely, he couldn’t quite manage.
“Good, you’re ready, Draco. We need someone to go fetch the meat from the kitchens. I’ve been told it’s done,” Harry said, in an attempt to get Draco out of here so Neville could calm down a little, at least.
Draco eyed Harry up and down and left with a knowing smirk on his face. “Whatever you say, Potter. I’ll leave you and your boyfriend to it.”
Harry rolled his eyes at the pathetic insult and turned towards Neville as soon as Draco had left the room. “Don’t mind him. He’s a twat.”
“Oh, yeah I know. It’s just that he... I don’t really...”
“Whatever he said, don’t pay it any mind. He gets off on tormenting people.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it either,” Neville mumbled.
“What’s that?”
“I... I just asked if he needed some ice or something to put on his bruise. It looked like it hurt.”
Harry shot him a questioning look.
“On his side. He looked like... like he’d gotten beaten up or something.”
They didn’t say much after that. Neville calmed down enough to get dressed and by the time they got outside, Draco had returned with a wheelbarrow full of meat for the big cats. He did seem to favour his left side, Harry noticed.
Without asking the blonde’s permission, Harry took the wheelbarrow from him. They took the staff’s passageways and followed the arrows that read “Land of the Lions”. None of them said a word. Neville fumbled with the sleeves of his overall on the way there.
Neville didn’t trip on the way to the enclosure. He didn’t push over any garbage bins, didn’t lose a shoe or walk straight into a bush instead of taking a turn. Harry should have known, honestly. He should have known that just meant Neville’s bad luck was saving itself for something big later on.
And it did.
Harry, Draco and Neville stood on the platform overlooking the Land of the Lions, where they fed the lions their breakfast. Harry did, rather. The others weren’t allowed this close to the platform’s edge.
Harry was about halfway through the wheelbarrow’s contents when he noticed one of the hams Draco had brought was still wrapped in plastic. “Neville, hand me a pair of scissors, will you,” Harry mumbled under his breath, so the spectators couldn’t hear.
Harry shouldn’t have asked him.
In hindsight, Harry probably should have asked Draco. Or he should have gotten up and grabbed the scissors himself. Or he should have just tossed the ham in, plastic and all.
But that’s not what happened.
Harry had asked Neville to hand them to him. And Neville did, only to trip over his feet on his way back. He tumbled over, his limbs going in every direction... until his leg hit Draco in the back of his knee. The boy lost his balance.
And fell.
Harry didn’t realise the scream he heard was his own, when he saw Draco fly over the edge of the platform. The loud crash was followed by the screams of the spectators.
“Draco, the ladder!” Harry shouted, already dashing towards it himself.
He leaned over the edge only to find Draco was having trouble hoisting himself up. His left side had been hurt, Harry remembered, when he saw how the boy tried to pull himself up on the ladder using only his right arm. He had a gash in his forehead, Harry noticed. Blood was running over his cheek onto his overalls.
The lions had been startled by their unexpected visitor, but Harry could tell by the way the lionesses started to circle around to where Draco was, that it wouldn’t take long before they’d get over the surprise.
“Fuck it. I’m an idiot,” Harry muttered to himself, when he swung his leg over the edge and started to climb down the ladder.
“Neville, call Dean. Now!” Harry shouted. “Tell him to open the sleeping den and keep his hand on the button so he can close it when we get in.”
Neville looked baffled.
“NOW!” Harry shouted. He didn’t look back to see if Neville did as he told. There really wasn’t any time.
Harry hurried down the ladder, straight into the enclosure. His heart pounded between his ears. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
When he reached the bottom, he saw Draco was even paler than usual, his grey eyes filled with panic. They didn’t have time for this. “Draco, listen to me. You need to calm down. You’re safe now,” Harry said. “I’m here. But we can’t stay here for much longer. When I tell you to run, you run! Got that?”
Harry assumed the whimper that escaped Draco’s throat meant yes. He grabbed the other boy’s hand and tried to look through the bushes, tried to figure out where the pride’s alpha, Neytiri was. When he saw her, Harry shouted at the top of his lungs, grabbed the nearest rock he could find and threw it at Neytiri as hard as he could. “Run!” he yelled and he dragged Draco behind him. He ran towards where he knew the entrance of the sleeping dens was, praying Neville had reached Adam. Praying that they’d get there before... It was open!
“Faster!”
Harry heard a snarl behind him. Neytiri must have gotten over her surprise. Shit.
Shit!
They were almost at the den. So close.
He heard the thuds of lioness’ paws on the ground behind them. Closer. She was closer.
When they made it to the den, so did Neytiri. Harry pulled on Draco’s arm and dove into it, right as the barrier started to close again. They both crashed into the wall in the back of the den.
Neytiri snarled and clawed at the barrier.
Harry manhandled Draco towards the small door in the back of the alcove and almost lost it when he saw it swing open.
“Neville, thank god,” Harry breathed. “Help me get him to first aid.”
“...’m fine, Potter,” the blonde mumbled.
“You’re not. You nosedived into a pride of lions, you idiot.”
“...No doctors.”
“Whatever.”
“Harry, please.” Draco squeezed Harry’s hand. Harry hadn’t realised he’d still been holding it. He looked down into the pleading grey eyes and hesitated.
“You’re bleeding, you hurt your head. At least... at least let me clean it?”
#drarry#drarry fanfic#I think#draco malfoy#harry potter#and lions#and penguins#Drarry ficlet#Drarry fic#Drarry fanfiction#draco x harry#draco malfoy x harry potter#Harry x Draco#harry potter x draco malfoy
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I had this scenario keep playing in my head so I thought I’d bring it to life.
An Overboard Surprise
“Hey, Varian!” The alchemist looked up from his plans to help restore the King and Queen’s memories to see Lance standing in the doorframe of the royal lab.
“Oh, hi, Lance. What’s up?” Varian still don’t know about him yet, but he’ll be friendly until he gets to know him. Lance had a big grin on his face as he motioned him to follow. With a shrug, Varian put down his quill and followed Lance. What is so important than making plans? he thought to himself.
Lance led him to the royal dining room. Opening the doors, he peeked in the room with Varian doing the same. “What is it?” The alchemist asked him.
“Look at that sandwich.”
Varian noticed the double stacked sandwich sitting on the table. He frowned. This is what he wanted to show him?! Food? “Yeah, I see it. I see and make sandwiches all the time. So?”
Lance chuckled at his sassy remark.”I think it’s made for someone extra special.” Varian glared up at him. “Okay, Eugene told me you love food, so don’t even think about eating it.”
“Alright, alright. I won’t.” The sly tone in the large man’s voice made Varian a bit skeptical. “You know what? I’m gonna guard that sandwich from you and maybe anyone else until this person comes for it.” The alchemist declared, stepping into the room. Lance rolled his eyes heartedly. “ Well, go right ahead, little man. No one’s stopping you.” he said, making a shooing motion with his hands.
And with that, he left closing the doors leaving the alchemist really confused.
“Um...ok?”
That was strange.
He went over to the table, standing in front of it with his arms crossed. Varian felt like a royal guard for some reason. At least he’ll be an competent royal guard.
Just then, he caught the scent of the sandwich causing him to look back at it.
Is...is that ham? Varian turned around so he can get a better look. He saw the right amount of ham on the double stacked sandwich. The alchemist smiled to himself. “Someone can make a well planned out sandwich. Well, not as better as me, heh.”
Staring at this masterpiece was starting make him hungry. Varian felt his mouth watering. “It looks.... really good actually.” He licked his lips. The alchemist snapped out his trance.
“Gah!” he cried, turning back around. “No, Varian. Y-You can’t eat somebody’s sandwich!”
Varian didn’t know how long he been standing. Maybe for one hour or something. There was no clock in the room. The alchemist groaned as he tried to wake up his feet that had fallen asleep from standing too long. He walked to the other doors and peeked outside. The hall was buzzing with work. So far no one dared to come in to eat the sandwich. Varian closed the door with a sigh. Where is this person? At least I’m doing a good deed for someone.
The alchemist glanced at the sandwich to check on it.
Still intact.
Varian suddenly heard his stomach rumbling. He gasped, putting his hand on his stomach. “Uh-oh.”
It’s clear that the double stacked sandwich was making him hungry. But he had to control himself for this person who is coming for his lunch. The alchemist continued on his job, now trying to ignore his stomach.
I can do this. I can do this. I can- I wonder what it taste like?
Varian went back to the sandwich. Maybe if he can just sample a tiny piece of ham. So he did....and man, did it tasted great!
Varian detected the ham was high quality. Not like back in Old Corona. The alchemist swallowed nervously.
“Maybe just....one m-more piece wouldn’t hurt.” After he ate another sample he carefully pulled off, his belly rumbled again. Varian bit his lip, knowing that he lost control.
Rapunzel and Eugene walked down the halls, just finished royal duties. “I wonder if Varian found the sandwich I made for him.” Rapunzel said.
Eugene chuckled. “I don’t think he got out that lab, so I had Lance lead him to the dining room.” He put his arm around her.” You know how busy he is. The kid never stops.”
The princess had to admit he was right. When Varian starts on a project, he has full focus on said project or experiment. “Well, hopefully he likes it.”
Just then, they heard someone moaning and groaning. Pascal on Rapunzel’s shoulder squeaked in alarm.
“What the heck was that?” Eugene asked, coming to a stop along with Rapunzel. Listening to the sound, the princess could identify who it was.
“That sounds like Varian!”
They rushed to the dining room. Eugene kicked open the doors. “Varian?”
The alchemist was sitting on the floor by the table doubled over in pain as he hold his stomach. Rapunzel went over to him, concerning expression on her face. “Varian? What’s wrong?”
Varian looked up at her, now noticing the princess standing in front of him. “Oh. Rapunzel, Eugene. I...I didn’t notice your here.” The ex thief came over as well. “We heard you moaning.” he told him.
The alchemist glanced away. “I feel so bad. I-I was suppose to guard this person’s sandwich, but I end up eating it.”
“So much for making a good deed.” Varian sighed, closing his eyes. Rapunzel and Eugene both exchanged looks at each other. Then, they burst out laughing. Varian opened his eyes and stared up at them, surprised. Why are they laughing? “What?”
Rapunzel gave a apologetic smile. “Oh, Varian. That sandwich was for you.” she said.
“Really?”
“Yes. I should’ve put a note on it.” Eugene rolled his eyes while smiling. “I think Lance gave you a hint that it was yours, kid.” The alchemist grinned sheepishly. “Heh. I didn’t catch it. So...who made it?”
Eugene pointed to the princess.
“Rapunzel?”
Rapunzel nodded. “Yup. I made it perfect for you.” At this, Varian want to hit himself of how dumb he is.
“I must be dumb today. I should’ve known.” he muttered.
Pascal chirped. “Pascal’s right, Varian. Your not dumb. You just didn’t know.”
“Thank you for the sandwich, Princess.” Varian said smiling at her. “Your welcome, Varian. How was it?” The alchemist licked his lips again, remembering how it tasted. “Amazing. Heh, almost as good as mine.”
Rapunzel raised her eyebrow amused. “Oh, really?”
“Oh, yeah. I can make a mean sandwich.”
Rapunzel chuckled. “ We’ll have to do a contest some time. But who will be our tester?” Rapunzel and Varian both looked at Eugene. The ex thief started to shake his head no, but saw the look on his girlfriend’s face. He let out a defeated sigh. “Fine.”
With a squeal, Rapunzel hugged him beaming as Varian chuckled at the scene. Varian stopped laughing when he felt a sharp pain in his stomach. He groaned.
“Ohhhh.”
Rapunzel let go of Eugene and got on the floor with the alchemist. “What’s the matter?” she asked.
“I....I think I ate too fast. My stomach....oh, it hurts!”
Rapunzel and Eugene exchange concerned looks. They didn’t expect him to actually wolfed down his sandwich. “Varian, let me see your stomach.” she told him in a gentle voice. Varian was a bit uncomfortable but he let her check his stomach. His belly bulged out just a little, which he was relieved for but still, it’s embarrassing.
The ex thief suppressed a snicker. “ I thought you would take your time, but you actually stuffed your face!” Varian looked at him blushing. “I know. I-I don’t know what happened. I think Rapunzel’s sandwich made me lose self control. The ratio of the ham was-” Varian did a chef kiss gesture.
Eugene bust out laughing. “Oh, Varian!” He wiped a tear from his eye. Rapunzel giggled. “ You should have just took your time instead of getting a tummy ache.”
Varian tried to look defensive, but it was hard when his stomach hurts. “It was that good!”
“I think we should get the doctor for you. Maybe get you in a guest room while we’re at it.” suggested Eugene. Rapunzel agreed. “Good idea, Eugene. Can you get up, Varian?” The alchemist tried to get up but winced as his stomach protested. He slumped back down. “Ugh. No.”
Eugene stuck out his hand. “Here. I’ll help you up.” Varian took his hand, the other clutching his stomach. “Please go slow.” he told him.
Eugene took Varian to a guest room while Rapunzel went to get the royal medic. The royal medic checked Varian and gave him medicine for his stomach ache. She requested him to rest which Varian reluctantly did, lying down on the bed. The alchemist had taken off his boots, not wanting to stain the bed. After he set his goggles on the night stand, another twinge of pain caused him to gritted his teeth. He wrapped his arms around his middle. Oh, why did I do this? Varian thought.
He can hear his stomach protesting. Guess I’ll get back on finding how to restore Rapunzel’s parents memories once I feel better. A knock prompted Varian to look over to see Rapunzel with Ruddiger. “Hey, Varian. How you feeling?”
“Not so good.” The alchemist replied, wincing a bit. “But hopefully I’ll be ok.” Walking over to the bed, she petted the raccoon who was held watching his friend with a concern look on his face. “I told Ruddiger what happened to you so you have company.”
Varian smiled. “Oh, thanks. Hey, buddy.” Ruddiger hopped from Rapunzel’s arms and on Varian’s stomach. The weight of the raccoon made the alchemist groan in pain.
“Ruddiger, g-get off my stomach!” Ruddiger quickly got off, sitting beside him. He chittered his apology to his friend. “Are you ok, Varian?” Rapunzel asked.
“I’m fine.” Varian said, trying to soothe his aching middle. “Ugh. I don’t think my stomach is.” The alchemist’s stomach grumbles in response. Ruddiger folded his ears and nuzzles Varian’s face.
Varian chuckled, reaching to pet him. “I forgive you, buddy. I know you didn’t mean to.”
Rapunzel started to rub her arm nervously. “Sorry you got a stomach ache, Varian. But at least you liked the sandwich. That’s what it matters, heh.”
Varian agreed. “Yeah. Now I know how Ruddiger feels when he eats too many apples.” The raccoon flicked his tail angrily as he crossed his arms.
Varian and Rapunzel both laughed.
That’s the end! I hope you enjoyed!
#tangled the series#rapunzel's tangled adventure#tangled varian#tangled lance#tangled eugene#tangled rapunzel#tangled pascal#tangled ruddiger#fanfic#brotp: i'm not giving up on you
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