#still recovering from no longer living In the same place and having access to each other 24/7 (college) and coming to terms with no longe
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Top 25 Larry Fics of 2020
h 2020 was HELLISH. So thank you to all the writers, and I mean ALL of them, who kept us occupied as the world continues to burn.
You may be familiar with these lists:
Top 25 Larry fics of 2016
Top 25 Larry fics of 2017
Top 25 Larry fics of 2018
Top 25 Larry fics of 2019
We’re going on our 5th year!! As always, I read a lot of fic and the majority of it is Larry. I like making lists and I like Larry so I thought I’d do some minimal research of the top 25 larry fics published/completed in 2020 in order of least to most kudos (with links). All of these fics are top notch so you should all check them out!
25.) a trail of honey through it all by @yvesaintlourent (27k)
The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.
Or, the TPH fic we’ve all been waiting for.
24.) even the best laid plans by @falsegoodnight (25k)
“Anyways,” Louis stresses, narrowing his eyes, “just let me say it and then rate how terrible of an idea it is on a scale from one to ten.”
“Alright,” Zayn agrees, sitting up expectantly.
“I want to ask Harry Styles to take my virginity,” Louis blurts, holding his hands out for emphasis.
The way Zayn’s eyes bulge is almost comical. “Negative infinity,” he says, voice choked. “Negative infinity times negative infinity.”
“Technically, a negative times a negative is -”
“Really negative infinity,” Zayn corrects himself, shaking his head wildly. “Louis, what the fuck?”
-
Or, Louis wants to have sex with someone and decides Harry is the perfect alpha for the job.
23.) A Distant Hazy Light by @greenfeelings (76k)
Life’s pretty ordinary for Harry. He lives with his best friend, got into university just like he’s planned, and manages to support himself just fine for an unbonded omega. If he sustains that lifestyle by getting paid to help alphas through their rut every now and then, that’s nothing to be hung up on. Until he’s hired by an alpha that turns everything upside down.
Or, Harry’s working on taking Louis’ walls down, until he builds his own up.
22.) Ghost Note Symphony by whoknows (96k)
Louis is on tour when he first hears about it. It’s all over the news – Harry Styles Attacked By Fan runs in headlines for days. It’s not even just the gossip rags, either. Actual journalists are covering the story. It would have been impossible to avoid hearing about it. Technically, Oli is the one who tells Louis about it, but it’s not exactly being covered up. Harry doesn’t answer Louis’ text asking if he’s alright, but that’s not really surprising. They haven’t spoken for months, and it’s been a lot longer than that since they’ve had a real conversation. The sting of the text going unanswered is still there, less painful than it might have been a few years ago.
It’s not that it’s easy to forget about, exactly. Louis has a whole life outside of One Direction now, though. So Louis goes on with his life, figuring that if Harry was seriously hurt he would have heard about it by now. He might currently be in the same country as Harry, but being on opposite sides of it puts enough distance between them that putting it in the back of his mind is easy. There’s nothing Louis could do, even if he thought Harry might want him to.
That’s why everything that happens next comes as a complete shock to him.
21.) Until by @allwaswell16 (38k)
Rural Eagle County, Colorado wasn’t the type of place to find a famous musician or actor. At least not until songwriter Louis Tomlinson showed up with pop star Niall Horan to visit his uncle’s horse ranch, and they just happened to find themselves next door to a reclusive former movie star.
20.) Strangers in Love by sweetums (42k)
Louis wakes up to find himself in a marriage with the last man he thought he'd ever end up with.
-
Prompt 51: An amnesia fic where louis and harry were enemies to lovers but after an accident, louis only remembers those memories that him and harry hated each other. now harry has to fix it. I think something like this less dark and less angsty compared to other amnesia fics and it could be funny
19.) A Long Way From The Playground by Pink_Sunsets (170k)
One Direction is broken up. They broke up five years ago. That should be the end of the story, right?
Harry is finished with One Direction. He now has a new life, one with two kids and a successful solo career. And he’s happy.
But a call one night from management flips Harry’s whole new life upside down, and he’s forced to face the life he had left behind.
As well as a certain blue eyed man who had left him behind.
18.) my love’s not simple (it’s fragile) by @falsegoodnight (27k)
“Can I take you out tomorrow?” he asks. “My shift ends at 7 but we can go for dinner at 8.”
Louis is silent for a few seconds and then, “Like… on a date?”
Harry swallows thickly. He hasn’t done this in years, hasn’t ever wanted to. “Yeah.”
He’s worried he’s misread things but then Louis raises his head to kiss Harry’s cheek. “Yeah,” he says easily. “Sure.”
Tension leaves his body swiftly. “Are you sure?” asks Harry. “I know we’re both so busy but I can’t not try with you, Lou.”
“Neither can I,” says Louis. “I think we can figure it out. I care about you a lot Harry. We’ve known each other for a week, but I already like you so much.”
-
Or Harry's new job is threatened by his impending rut. Desperate for a solution, he allows Niall to introduce him to Louis, an omega whose heat begins the same day. They click.
17.) Cocaine for Breakfast by @harryeatsburger (309k)
“It’s an easy job.” He continues, as if Louis wants to listen. “Like I said, a few trips. Parties, students, nothing dramatic.”
Louis gazes over to Harry. He’s looking thoughtful now, eyes on the green like he’s talking more to himself than Louis.
“Clubbing, drinks. Whatever, the business is just a side thing.”
That’s not how Louis remembers it to be, “You lying?” He honestly can’t tell.
Harry shakes his head slowly, meeting Louis' eyes.
“No,” He answers almost toneless. Harry clears his throat, “I won’t put you in any dangerous situation.” His voice is sincere, Louis can tell he means it, his jade green eyes glinting with truth.
or,
- Louis Tomlinson is a drug addict, sent away from his beloved party-scene to recover. There, he discovers that small towns have just as much access to drugs as London did, plus something even better that he just can't get enough of. That something is a boy with green eyes and bouncy curls named Harry Styles. -
16.) Tastes like Strawberries by @sadaveniren (4k)
I’m stressed. I’m nesting and demand cuddles. Come over
Harry frowned and double checked who the text was from. Yup, it still said Louis - Grad, which meant it was from Louis from his grad school.
aka Louis texts Harry by mistake. It works out
15.) the way the storm blows by @rbbsbb (21k)
Louis doesn’t have a habit of thinking about Harry’s dick.
That would be weird, seeing as they’re best mates, and they share a flat, and they’ve spent holidays at each other’s family homes. Their friendship hasn’t ever risen to a point where Louis should want to see his mate’s dick, and he’s happy to keep it that way.
Except, all that Louis can think about is exactly that. The size of it. The shape. The amount of people it’s been in.
Maybe it’s the tequila talking, or the fact that Louis’ just recently walked in to an eyeful of Harry taking turns on some slags that he’s never seen before, but. Louis’ mind can’t stop obsessing over the idea.
14.) bruise you like a peach by @falsegoodnight (40k)
There’s two reasons Harry despises Econ.
The first is that it’s boring as fuck. The second reason is a bit more personal, a bit more focused in a way. As in it’s focused on one specific thing, or in his case, person.
His name is Louis Tomlinson.
13.) Watching The World Fall by whoknows (11k)
This segment has been going on long enough that Louis knows what’s coming before James starts in on it, trying to sell him on something he knows that Louis wouldn’t normally be buying. But there’s four cameras surrounding him, and an audience watching him expectantly, so if Louis wants to continue convincing people that he’s doing just fine, he’s going to have to go along with it.
“We have a whole host of single men backstage waiting to meet you, Louis,” James tells him. “We want to help you find love tonight, on Late Late Live Tinder. Is this okay? Do you want to play?”
It actually kind of makes sense that his first date after the break-up is going to be just as public as said break-up. Something like coming full circle.
“Alright, James,” Louis agrees, hopping down off his stool.
“Okay, come down to the stage,” James says. Louis can’t even tell whether the excitement in his voice is genuine or not. “Right now, come on down!”
12.) Quiet People Have the Loudest Minds by @2tiedships2 (38k)
Broadway shows were one of the few things that could keep Louis’ attention for a full two hours without needing to move about. But not tonight.
The alpha next to him was both infuriating him and practically turning him on at the same time. He needed to leave. The alpha, that is. Louis was staying.
Or the one where Louis is a nonverbal omega who has accepted the fact that he will never find an alpha that will treat him as an equal. On the other hand, he’s never met anyone like Harry.
11.) The Wrath of the Emerald Eyes by @purpledandeli0n (85k)
His chin is grabbed harshly, facing the two deep green eyes that have been getting on his nerves for the past ten minutes. The smirk on the man's face does not vanish. The grip of his hand on Louis' chin does not soften, his thumb at the side of his lower lip.
His smile widens as he answers Louis' question, ''My name is Styles, but you will call me Captain."
•
Pirate AU
10.) Canyon Moon by @eeveelou (40k)
For as long as Louis has remembered, he has been promised to be mated to Harry, his best friend and the future pack alpha. But Louis’s heart belonged to the forest and to the hunt more than he could ever imagine it belonging to Harry.
Then Harry’s father dies in a violent accident, and Louis’s future alpha disappears on the wind.
An A/B/O Lion King AU
9.) We Both Got Nothing to Hide by lovelarry10 (43k)
“Talk to me, Lou.”
“I can’t,” Louis mumbled, knowing he genuinely couldn’t say it. He couldn’t admit to what he was doing. “Don’t ask me to say it, because I can’t.”
“Then… I’ll try and guess. You’ve… got some stuff of Harry’s. Something of his to make it smell like him?”
Louis just nodded, eyes fixated on the floor. This was humiliating, but he knew Zayn wouldn’t stop until he found out what was going on.
“Okay. Like… a blanket, or a comforter or something?”
“Kind of…”
//
Omega Louis has a secret nest. Alpha Harry keeps losing his clothes.
8.) sleeping on our problems by @falsegoodnight (67k)
I’m in love with you, Louis thinks. He feels empty, weighed down by his sadness and the loss of Harry inside him just moments ago before his knot finally went down.
There’s moments where he’s sure Harry feels the same. Like now, when he’s gazing down at Louis with so much adoration and tenderness. It’s like they’re both on the cusp of something more, but neither of them ever say a word.
His confession is on the tip of his tongue ready to slide out like honey, and yet he remains silent. They both do, looking at each other and recognizing the reluctance mirrored in each other’s eyes. It’s then that Louis realizes they’re both scared.
-
Or Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about.
7.) like it’s a game by @soldouthaz (32k)
there is little harry hates more than truth or dare.
and louis.
6.) before we knew by @falsegoodnight (39k)
“C’mon Lou,” says Zayn after a moment, He sounds even more exasperated than before. Louis sort of has a knack for exasperating people, especially people like Zayn who aren’t usually bothered by his brattiness. “Can’t you give this guy a chance? Harry Styles? Aren’t you curious about him at all?”
Despite his best efforts, Louis still flinches at the name. He really shouldn’t be so affected after all these years. He’s seen the name printed down the curve of his waist in obnoxiously and uncommonly large loopy letters every single day since his sixteenth birthday eight years ago. He’s very familiar with the name Harry Styles.
It sounds pretentious and Louis hates it.
He hates everything about his supposed soulmate.
He hates his large handwriting that stands out like a claim on his skin whenever he’s walking around shirtless. He hates his pretentious name. And now he hates his supposed curls and green eyes and dimples.
-
Or Louis has been skeptical of soulmates for years so it seems like fate when he finally bumps into the owner of the obnoxiously large signature printed into his skin since age sixteen: Harry Styles, a human rights attorney who is firmly against soulmates.
5.) Mine Would Be You by @crinkle-eyed-boo (114k)
Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.
Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.
Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.
Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?
4.) You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) by @harryrainbows (95k)
Harry was in the biggest boy band in the world. He was also one half of the best (or worst, depends on who you ask) kept secret relationship in the music industry.
Now, almost five years on, after One Direction has broken up, and Harry and Louis' relationship has as well, a video threatens to put everything at risk.
One determined Irishman, a massive publicity stunt and two begrudging exes are all it takes to bring One Direction back to life and maybe, just maybe, Harry and Louis' mangled love life too.
Or: Harry and Louis are forced to fake-date after an old video from when they were dating emerges.
3.) The Space Between by @lads-laddylads (39k)
Harry Styles is the alpha rockstar who can’t sleep and doesn’t know why.
Louis Tomlinson is the omega PhD student who helps him figure it out.
2.) Nothing But You On My Mind by @absoloutenonsense (83k)
Louis Tomlinson is a PR manager hired to improve the image of royal bad-boy Prince Harry Styles. Unfortunately for him, that means being faced with the Prince's constant innuendos, incessant dirty jokes, and relentless flirting. Louis just wants to make it to Princess Gemma's coronation; once she's crowned Queen, his contract is up and he never has to see the Prince again.
1.) Collision by @tequiladimples (224k)
Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.
(Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)
#larry#larry stylinson#larry fic rec#harry styles#louis tomlinson#fic rec#one direction#1d#one direction fic rec#larry fan fiction#updated because I'm an idiot and added a zarry fic
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Peter Maximoff x Reader // Hello, Monica // WandaVision // Part 2
Part 1
Post Dark Phoenix X-Men & WandaVision fanfiction. FemReader and Peter Maximoff dating when he suddenly disappears.
Xavier returns and a plan is formed.
Word Count: 1892
Warnings: Emotional distress, mentions of violence, blood, gun wounds etc.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
(Y/n) sat by the screen, her vision blurring and bags forming under her eyes. The analog clock ticked with each second as Hank fiddled around with some tech, and the others sat on the floor half asleep. They had eventually contacted Xavier, and he promised to travel back to New York as fast as possible. That was hours ago, and now it was the middle of the night.
There was nothing they could do, even discussion led to nowhere; nothing about the situation made sense. Metal crashed on the floor, causing Scott to Jolt awake and Kurt to bamf in surprise as Professor McCoy gave a frustrated grunt at his clumsiness. The disturbance didn't phase (Y/n) though, as she read the line for the thousandth time,
"Please stand by."
She was somewhere between breaking into tears and punching every wall she saw. In short, (Y/n) was desperate. After hours of thinking, she finally allowed her eyes to close for longer than a short blink. Her mind was crashing around like a restless ocean, and she found herself drowning inside endless possibilities. But at the centre of it all was his face, his smile, his voice... him.
Suddenly the doors opened with a whoosh, and (Y/n) turned her attention towards whoever was entering the labs. A determined looking man wheeled in, locking with (Y/n)'s blood-shot eyes. An alabaster-haired, umber-skinned, and confident woman followed him; shooting a look of concern towards the group.
"Xavier-" Hank exclaimed with some relief at the Professor's appearance. The bald man gave a small hum in response, but he continued to near (Y/n) instead of making conversation. He placed a hand out and gave her a kind look.
"May I?" he crooned in his English accent, as the (h/c) lady nodded and placed her head forward. Closing his eyes and placing two fingers on her temple, and another on his own - Xavier began to see the whole story, without anyone saying a single word. After a few seconds, his pulled back and gave a sharp sigh.
"(Y/n), I am so sorry." the wise man's voice faltered after feeling the gut-wrenching fear that swept through her mind. The worried girl said nothing, but just tried to keep the strength on her face instead of breaking down into tears. "You've got a location?" Xavier turned to the beastly professor, trying to solve the mystery.
"Sort of- I mean, it's unbelievable Charles." he grabbed some pages and handed them to his colleague, "It's like he's traveled to another universe; I've only heard about theories of multiverses, but this- this is more evidence than anything I've ever read..." Hank rambled on, as even Charles Xavier- telepathic mastermind- look on in shock.
Before anyone could say anything, the old computer screen buzzed and the image shifted. (Y/n)'s tired eyes widened as she sat on the edge of her seat. Even Kurt teleported closer in an effort to not miss a second of the developing situation. A lead guitar began to play, and the opening credits rolled...
The group we're unsure if it was the same show, as it looked completely different in style. But their doubts were cleared when that same woman showed up, slamming the door using some sort of powers.
"She's a mutant..." (Y/n) mumbled, as the others looked on in confusion. The opening continued to play on as more characters were shown - most of which they had never seen before. Then finally, a speedy friend appeared.
"As himself?" Scott added, reading the credits. (Y/n) stared at the title and mentally recorded it.
"It's like they're a family." Kurt noticed as Peter integrated himself so naturally with them. The pair of young boys started to monologue about halloween.
"Halloween? This just gets more and more confusing." Scott rubbed his forehead in bewilderment. Ororo stood beside them, barely comprehending what she was watching. She had previously offered to look after the students while the situation was being investigated, and that lost time had undoubtedly caused her to miss a lot of information.
"So Pete's on TV?" Storm questioned in a baffled tone. The silver haired fellow lay on a couch as the twin boys discussed him, and they referred to him as their uncle. "Okay, somebody needs to expla-" she began, but was cut off as Xavier placed a finger to his temple and transferred the information she had missed. Ororo gave a soft gasp, but ultimately was relieved to be filled in. Since the professor had learned about the situation from (Y/n), some of the grief in her mind was passed to Storm; so the loyal mutant placed a caring hand on her friend's shoulder in comfort.
Xavier chatted behind the group of young mutants who watched the show play out.
"She suggested that maybe Kurt could go in, I told her-" Hank whispered to his friend.
"That would be dangerous..." Charles finished his thought, "But dangerous doesn't mean impossible." the telepath looked towards the blue teleporter who stared at the computer screen.
"You can't be serious, Charles." Hank furrowed his thick brows and stared in disbelief.
"Kurt, (Y/n)," the professor called out, catching the pair's attention,
"Come with me."
-------
The small group trailed down the metallic hallway and approached the familiar doors to Cerebro. (Y/n) looked back at the room they had left, still hearing the distant sounds from the broadcast. Her mind travelled to what she was missing; was Peter still okay?
The circular door released and slid open, and the group followed Xavier's lead towards the machine at the end of the walkway. Kurt's tail wrapped around his leg in fear, as he fiddled nervously with his hands. Placing the silver helmet over his head, Charles nodded for the intellectual beast to flip the switch. Immediately, the room lit up and images of people flashed around. A million conversations ran through the professor's mind, but he was only searching for one person.
"Turn it up." Xavier requested as his eyebrows knit together in concentration. Reluctantly, Hank did as he said. Soon the voices faded and a only a muffled conversation echoed through the large room. "The whole way, Hank." the british man added.
"Charles that's too mu-"
"Do it!" Xavier demanded his face contorting with the amplification. (Y/n) gave a soft gasp as the voice grew clearer.
"I think mom and dad would've loved it."
Peter's words reverberated, as tears formed in (Y/n)'s eyes. Despite Cerebro being on full power, the only thing that Xavier could access was the detached audio of the mind he was connected to.
"Where were you hiding these kids up til now? I assume they were sleeping peacefully in their beds."
"Can you speak to him Charles?" Hank asked.
"Something's... Something's not right... It's too powerful to see..." Xavier stuttered out, trying not to loose his connection. Peter's voice continued, as the group wondered to who and what he was talking about.
"I'm not some stranger and I'm not your husband, you can talk to me."
"There's something... dark... clouding his mind." the powerful telepath explained, "but he's still in there, somewhere." he added. The group began to notice a purple hue clouding the entire room. The clearer Peter's disembodied voice became, the more the mysterious smoke descended. Kurt and (Y/n) stood back slightly, scared of what it could mean.
"Don't sweat it sis, it's not like your dead husband can die twice."
The sentence rang through their ears, before the whole room erupted in a blast of ruby red energy. It was exactly like the force that 'Wanda' had used earlier. Energy passed through the mutants, as images of terror entered their minds. Fragments of memories flashed; glowing stones, broken families, and piles of ashes.
Xavier groaned with pain, but he kept the connection despite the immense power that surged through his mind. (Y/n) grasped her head and panted heavily. The image of a young man lying cold, bleeding through bullet wounds, on a pile of rubble haunted her. She didn't know who it was, but he seemed familiar for some reason - and her heart broke at the sight of his lifeless form.
"He's slipping... I- I can't hold on..." Xavier cried out through gritted teeth, "I can't latch onto anyone!" the room filled with a booming static noise as the bald man searched though all the available minds in that reality. Hank writhed on the floor, clutching his ears with the horrible sound. Soon he gained the strength to pull a hand up towards the switch and slowly tune down the settings. The din faded, and the only noise that could be heard was the heavy breathing from the group that tried to recover from the experience.
"I didn't tell you to turn it off." Xavier pulled off Cerebro's helmet and placed it harshly on its holder.
"It would've killed you." Hank rebutted, standing on his feet.
"There was something forming, a gap in the reality, I could feel it!" Charles placed a hand on his forehead in frustration, "It's like all the minds were under some sort of deep control - but I could sense other ones... ones that were free."
"But what can we do about it!?" the beastly Professor retaliated, annoyed at his colleague.
"If I can find the free minds, I can see where they are; exactly where they are." Xavier began to ramble, "Then I can show Kurt, and you can get there." (Y/n)'s eyes grew wide at his suggestion. Even though she had considered it earlier, she now began to doubt her logic. If it were just her, then she wouldn't hesitate to risk her life for Peter - but she couldn't ask Kurt to do it too.
"Professor, what if... What if it doesn't work?" (Y/n) piped up, looking to the powerful telepath with concern plastered all over her face.
"We can't risk more of our lives, Kurt you don't have to do this." Hank tried to assure the German mutant.
"Nein." he responded, "Peter is my friend, I vill not leave him in danger. I vill do it." Kurt nodded his head as he stood confident in his decision. Despite the hatred that Kurt Wagner had received his whole life; he was always the most selfless person in the room. (Y/n) shot him a weak smile, thankful for his kindness.
"This isn't just about Peter. Somebody brought him there. Somebody, or something, has a power that could change everything we think we know." McCoy warned, trying to convince the group of the dangerous situation.
"Which is why we need to know more." (Y/n) interjected.
"I will be able to communicate with you, as long as you don't go under this person's control." Xavier explained, deep in thought. Hank looked at the trio, and finally gave a deep sigh.
"There's no talking to you people." he shook his head, "I'm sure travelling across the multiverse will be a cinch." his tone dripped with sarcasm as Charles placed Cerebro back on his head.
"Have a little faith, Hank." Xavier joked stiffly as he flipped the switch to the machine. McCoy reluctantly turned the power knob and soon the static noise returned, causing a grimace to appear on everyone's faces. The noise flickered as Xavier passed through more empty minds, searching for one that would work. The sensory overload build up in a crescendo, until everything stopped to a halt.
"Hello, Monica."
#wandavision#apocalypse#dark phoenix#peter maximoff#peter maximoff x reader#xmen#quicksilver#kurt wagner x reader#xmen x reader#marvel#xmen imagine#quicksilver x reader#pietro maximoff#evan peters#preferences#peter maximoff imagine#maximoff twins#wanda marvel#disney plus#x men#x men fanfiction#fanfiction#charles xavier
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500 Followers Celebration!!!: Part 1 (La Squadra Backstories)
Hey! Thank you so much for 500 amazing followers! Every single one of you mean so much to me!
Part 1 of this celebration is, as the title suggests, my headcanon backstory for each of La Squadra. As some of you know I was at some point in the process of writing a full multi-chapter fic on this, but since that unfortunately never came to fruition beyond the first couple chapters, here is a shortened version of the stories that were originally planned.
Part 2 is going to be a little something I wrote a while back but never felt brave enough to send to more than a few people. That will be seeing the light of day soon. ;)
Risotto
Risotto Dante Nero was born in a small, poor farming village in Sicily, somewhere in the vicinity of Catania. His parents were a young, dysfunctional couple who weren't ready for a kid in the first place. Seeing their newborn son had 'evil' eyes was the last nail in the coffin for them, and they gave the baby up to his paternal grandmother when he was only days old.
Despite being shunned by his family over the aesthetic defect, Risotto was able to form a close bond with his older cousin, Domenico, who would eventually move in with him and his grandmother after being disowned by the family himself. Domenico helped Risotto find friends, and was the main reason why the next few years were the happiest in the young boys life.
Unfortunately, Domenico was struck and killed at age just 19 by a drunk driver, a millionaire from Milan who on top of his intoxication, was driving incredibly fast. Risotto never recovered from the grief; his personality was altered drastically and he eventually dropped out of school. His grandmother indulged him in his revenge fantasies, believing that he would never seriously carry them out. This proved the biggest mistake of her life.
At age 18 Risotto left home to hunt down Domenico's killer. Despite the years of preparation he was in way over his head and was eventually forced to make a deal with Passione for the resources he would need to break into the mansion and not get caught. But the newly initiated mafioso found that revenge did nothing for his grief. Now, he simply had nothing to work for.
Risotto fell into a deep depression for the next two years, doing his duties as a low-ranking soldato for Passione but feeling utterly empty inside. It became so dire that after becoming injured in a fight with a stand user, he welcomed what looked to be his impending death.
But Risotto did not die that day, being saved by an associate of the gang and rushed to hospital. After hearing word that Risotto had defeated a stand user, Prosciutto became interested and approached Risotto for help with a hit he had been assigned to. Risotto agreed and Prosciutto developed a liking for the young man. A few months later, when Prosciutto was tasked with forming a specialised squad for assassination, he remembered Risotto and requested he become the team’s captain. Risotto was put through at once for receiving a stand, and was seated at the head of the brand new La Squadra di Esecuzione.
Prosciutto
Maiale Crepuscolo was born the daughter of a powerful Don in Naples, and his much neglected wife. Raised in luxury, he came to resent his callous father, especially when the man continued to behave adulterously despite his wife’s failing health. The death of Mrs Crepuscolo was a huge blow to her 16 year old son. It was around this time that Maiale discovered his male identity and chose a new name for himself: Prosciutto.
Mere months after the death of his wife, Don Crepuscolo married his pregnant mistress, a young woman by the name of Loreta. Despite the circumstances, Prosciutto and Loreta got on very well together, and the young man confided in her about his transgender identity, to be met with her full support. Any faith that Prosciutto may have had in his father before was immediately lost when Loreta was thrown out onto the streets by her new husband, along with their infant son Pesci. His sole reason for doing this was that he had become tired of her, and the baby's crying.
Without his father’s knowing, Prosciutto continued to wire Loreta and Pesci money through his hefty allowance, and counted down the days until he could graduate highschool and become eligible for his mother’s inheritance. The very day he gained access to it, he cut his father off for good.
The next few years of Prosciutto’s life were the best. He went to a prestigious university to study politics and afterwards found work as a journalist. With his father no longer an issue, he medically transitioned and upped the money he was giving to his half-brother and former step-mother. Everything was going perfectly.
At age 24, Prosciutto received a visit by members of Passione, who informed him they had annexed his father’s gang and killed him. As much as Prosciutto insisted they had been estranged for years, the men maintained that Prosciutto was still considered a threat, and could only be allowed to live if he joined the gang. Worse, they threatened him with Pesci’s life. Prosciutto knew he had no choice.
Over the next few years, Prosciutto worked his way up. By age 27 he was granted the privilege to develop a stand, and was quickly pushed into the assassination business as a result of its deadly power. At that time, Passione had no designated assassination team, and individuals ordered to carry out hits had to go running around for volunteers if they needed help on a mission. This is why Prosciutto had sought out Risotto.
When the order to form a hitman squad was given, Prosciutto was initially primed to become the captain. However, he was strongly against taking this role, as Loreta was starting to show signs of chronic illness and Prosciutto wanted to make sure he could still take care of Pesci if it became necessary. Tasked with finding an alternative, Prosciutto initially approached his old friends Sorbet and Gelato, who had been part of the squad sent to confront him after the death of his father and had kept in touch out of pity. The pair were cleared to join the team, but were not trusted by the team’s superiors to become captain. And so, Prosciutto turned once more to Risotto.
Sorbet and Gelato
Sorbet and Gelato could not have been born in more different circumstances, the former in absolute poverty, and the latter in comparative privilege.
Sorbet’s mother was by no means a bad woman. It was just the case that through her crippling addictions and mental illnesses, she was in no means equipped to care for her 6 children, forcing Sorbet, the eldest, to pick up the slack. Though he loved his siblings the young Sorbet resented this role and was easily tempted by a street gang at age 12, who offered him escape from his miserable life through drug peddling. Sorbet began to drift from his family more and more. He soon disappeared from school, and became completely estranged from his mother and siblings.
By age 17 Sorbet had developed a reputation in the gang for ruthlessness, and was approached by its leader to carry out a number of assassinations. He soon became the group’s designated hitman, and was paid generously for the role. He was still however, functionally homeless.
Gelato was born to an upper-middle class family in Minsk, Russia. The youngest of four boys, his parents had been hoping for a girl, and their resentment only grew when it became clear the young Gelato was both autistic and ADHD. He suffered from extreme emotional neglect.
When Gelato was 13, the family moved back to Italy where his mother was from. Though he preferred it here, the problems with his family continued and Gelato was eventually kicked out at just 17 years old.
Following the word of a friend, Gelato made his way to Naples and found work running an illegal bar for a street gang in exchange for a room to sleep in. The same gang, incidentally, that Sorbet was working for. The two first exchanged words when Gelato found Sorbet beating up a patron who had been abusive to him, and decided to join in. Within weeks, they were lovers.
One night, while Sorbet and Gelato were asleep upstairs, the police raided the bar. In a panic, Gelato shot two, and Sorbet took out a third. The fourth got away. Knowing they would be hunted, the pair begged refuge from their gang but were denied. They were not a powerful enough syndicate to deal with something of this size. And so, with only each other, Sorbet and Gelato fled Italy.
They were on the run for two years, passing through just about every country in Europe at least once. As a means of surviving, they took on assassination contracts from local gangs and became very skilled, but of course this only turned up the heat to catch them. Eventually, it got too much, and in a final desperate bid to avoid capture, the pair went back to Italy to plead their gang to reconsider.
What they found now in charge of Naples was not their gang, but Passione. A capo by the name of Pericolo listened to their story, and agreed eagerly to dissuade the police from pursuing them in exchange for their loyalty to the new gang. Sorbet and Gelato agreed at once, and developed stands soon after.
Formaggio
A Naples Boy through and through, Formaggio was born in the central city to a large, loving family. Owing to their poverty, all the aunts, grandparents and cousins lived in one house. Although many were part of the mafia, it was always stressed to the children they were under no obligation to choose such a life. Nonetheless, many of them still did.
One night, Formaggio’s eldest brother Miguel sneaked off from the house, telling nobody but Formaggio. His goal was to seek initiation into Passione. The young Formaggio pleaded to come as well, but was told he was not ready yet. Miguel returned a couple of hours later, carrying a metal arrowhead. He told his brother that something unexpected had happened, and he needed to go now, but it was vital Formaggio told nobody of this meeting. He promised it would all be worth it in the end.
Years passed, and Miguel did not return. Then one day- a hastily-written letter, addressed solely to Formaggio. In his final message, Miguel apologised for the absence and announced that he did not expect to survive the next few hours. However, if Formaggio wanted the answers to all that had transpired, all he needed to do was recover the arrowhead that he had last seen Miguel with all those years ago. Most likely, it would have been returned to where he found it, address enclosed. Saddened and eager to understand what had happened to his brother, Formaggio followed the instructions and broke into a heavily guarded warehouse. He found the arrow, just as Miguel had said, but failed to understand how this could solve his problems.
Formaggio looked for a way out of the warehouse, and was suddenly set upon by the guards. He ran for the exit and tripped, impaling himself on the arrow. Little Feet came forth at once, stunning the guards. Not wanting to deal with whatever that was, they called in Risotto and his newly built execution squad, based nearby, to deal with it.
Fortunately, the assassins’ skills were not needed. In spite of the circumstances Formaggio met the assassins with charm and cooperation. Risotto phoned his superiors to see if killing the man was really necessary, and they agreed it wasn’t, provided Formaggio became Risotto’s business. An agreement was reached, and Formaggio was inducted into the hitman squad. It would take two more members for Formaggio to piece together what had happened to his brother.
Ghiaccio
Ghiaccio was dealt an awful hand in life. Poor, and with parents that hated him, he had little respite as a child. He was autistic, but never diagnosed, and had visual impairments that were never addressed. His fondest memory was of a bizarre couple he met as a child, a dark-haired, dour man and his blond lover, who kept him company after his mother walked away from him in anger at a shopping mall. She came back, unfortunately.
When Ghiaccio was 15, a frantic knock sounded at his door while his parents were out. Answering it nervously, an equally frantic man stood on the other side brandishing an arrow-head. He introduced himself exhaustedly as Miguel and begged for shelter- he was being chased.
Before Ghiaccio could answer a squad of men burst onto the porch and attacked Miguel, dragging him out of view. Ghiaccio was thrown to the ground and told in no uncertain terms to speak of none of this to anyone. It wasn’t until later he realised the arrow had accidentally slashed him.
At that time, Ghiaccio’s soul was not fit to manifest a stand, but it was close. And so, Ghiaccio began to suffer the slow, agonising fate that some in his position fall victim to, his half-manifested stand slowly sucking the life from him. His parents didn’t even have the heart to call a doctor.
Two months into this agony, Ghiaccio heard something outside his room. His parents. They were talking about what to do if he died. He’d had enough. He snapped.
And so, Ghiaccio’s soul reached the point where it was strong enough to bare a stand fully, after having already partially manifested one. This unheard of situation created a stand with no physical form, but unspeakable power. A surge of ice broke out around the house without Ghiaccio even meaning it to, killing his parents at once. His sickness gone, Ghiaccio got up from the bed. What the hell had just happened?
Convinced he had lost his mind, Ghiaccio fled, but left a trail of unexplainable events behind him. Realising they were dealing with an unaccounted stand user, Passione had Ghiaccio hunted down and propositioned to join them. Terrified and with no other idea of what to do, he agreed. With a stand like this, there were only 2 options: La Squadra and La Unita. La Unita had no interest in an impulsive teenager, so Ghiaccio was sent at once to La Squadra.
The group was reluctant to house a teenage boy as an assassin, but took him in nonetheless. Formaggio was grateful for the crumbs of information Ghiaccio could give about the fate of his brother. Sorbet and Gelato couldn’t shake the feeling they’d seen the boy before somewhere.
Illuso
He was an only child. There was nothing particularly wrong with his relationship with his parents, but nothing particularly right either. There just… wasn’t a connection. They were a middle class family, well to do but nothing special. An arrogant boy, Illuso struggled to make friends, though he did become somewhat close with a boy in the year below him named Formaggio, for a short time.
When Illuso was 15, his parents came to him with a proposition. A distant relative of theirs was in possession of a large castle, but could not pay for its upkeep any more. The man had asked if Illuso would be interested in becoming a live-in caretaker, to be paid less than industry standards but still a lot by the standards of a 15 year old boy. Illuso agreed at once, and moved out of his parents home in a matter of days.
At the castle, his loneliness only grew. The place was closed to visitors and had no inhabitants apart from his new employer, who even then only lived in the castle 4 days a week. Illuso thought he was okay with this life, but the effect on his psyche was indisputable.
Then one day, the castle had a break-in. Illuso was accosted by a young man named Miguel, who had been squatting in the cellar for days and believed the castle was abandoned. The pair came to an understanding, and Miguel proposed that in exchange for his silence, he would give Illuso something amazing. He pricked him with the arrow.
Thrilled with his new power, Illuso agreed to keep Miguel’s existence a secret and the pair co-existed for many years. Illuso learned that Miguel had stolen the arrow from a gang named Passione, after discovering its power and making the decision to take it on impulse. Passione is still hunting him, hence the need to hide.
But eventually, they found him nonetheless. Illuso and Miguel tried their best to fight but it was an uneven battle. Miguel fled with the arrow, chased by one half of the attacking squad, leaving Illuso to deal with the other half.
But against all odds, Illuso survived, using his stand to eliminate the attackers one by one. Eventually the last attackers gave in and fled, The next people sent to confront Illuso came with a deal: join Passione, and all will be forgiven.
Despite his stand’s power, Illuso’s superiors disliked his attitude. After a few months of being thrown between teams, he was saddled with La Squadra.
Melone
The middle of three children, Melone was born to an upper-working class family in Florence. His parents were eccentric-academic sorts, who encouraged Melone and his sisters to act without regard for social convention. Though intelligent, Melone was never quite top of the class due to his inability to stay on task. Still, he got into a decent university and had plans to become a gynaecologist.
In his second year, Melone was approached by a poor couple seeking antenatal care for their pregnancy. As they explained, they were in a gang and could not go into public care for fear of their identities as criminals being discovered. They pleaded Melone for whatever rudimentary checks he could provide, just so they could have some assurance their baby was okay. Melone agreed, and met with the couple several times.
Over the course of the next year, Melone gave similar services to a couple more women who were recommended to go to him by the first patient. It was only a matter of time before the university discovered what he was doing, especially once he started stealing equipment to improve the quality of his examinations. Melone was expelled and referred to the police, but one of his patients got Passione to bribe away his charges. Unfortunately, this put him in their debt. Melone told his family he was simply going away for a while.
Melone languished around in Passione for a while. Though he did receive a stand, its lethal capabilities weren’t immediately clear, and so he remained in the lower ranks. His main respite was the bar scene, in which he got to mingle with many of Passione’s members from different squads. It was through here that he met Illuso, Formaggio and Ghiaccio of the execution team, and formed a friendship. Through them he even formed links with the group’s leader, Risotto.
The team were eager to help Melone advance to a better position, and aided him in exploring his stand. Eventually, he discovered how lethal baby face could truly be, outshining everyone’s expectations. Risotto was pleased to welcome him into the team.
Pesci
By the time Pesci was 13, it was clear his mother’s illness was terminal. Initially reluctant to involve him around the team, Prosciutto increasingly allowed Pesci to stay with them while his mother was at the hospital, since there was nowhere else for the young boy to go. As much as everyone tried to comfort him, he was terrified.
Two years later, it was clear Loreta was in her final weeks. Pesci dedicated as much time as he could to being with her, sleeping at her bedside more often than not. It was here that he first felt the strange occurrences begin. It would be subtle at first, the peculiar feeling of his mother’s heartbeat in his hands as he drifted off to sleep. It was comforting, then. It assured him his mother was still alive. Then, it got weirder, a long string extending from his fingers and into his mother’s chest. He thought he was just sleep deprived.
When the fateful day came and Loreta’s heart monitor stopped, Pesci felt a surge of panic. Desperate to find some proof this wasn’t really happening, his stand burst forth from his body and shot its hook into Loreta’s chest. Unfortunately, it was all for nothing. Loreta was dead.
As Pesci held the rod in his hands he realised this was far too real to be a hallucination. He could sense everything, the fading metabolism of his mother’s body and the vibrations in the floor. As the nurses confirmed the death, they could not see it. Why couldn’t they see it?
Prosciutto came into the room. With one look, Pesci knew that his brother could see the rod as well. He panicked and ran.
Prosciutto tried desperately over the next couple days to get in touch with Pesci. He knew exactly what had happened- clearly the boy had summoned a stand from the anguish of his mother’s death and had freaked out in confusion. That’s all completely understandable, but if Pesci isn’t informed of what his new power means soon, he could get himself into serious trouble. Especially if Passione found out.
And so, Prosciutto set off with Risotto to hunt Pesci down, eventually finding him at a run down park near his childhood home. Prosciutto comforted him and explained he knew what was happening, but if everything was going to be okay, he had to go with them.
#la squadra#la squadra di esecuzione#formaggio#illuso#prosciutto#pesci#melone#ghiaccio#risotto nero#sorbet and gelato
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Only Temporary: Sebastian Tate
Hello. I was completely blown away by the positive response I got on the first piece of Jaime’s story (title under construction). Thank you to everyone who had a kind word to say about it! You made me really happy I made the mildly frightening choice to post.
In the interest of acclimating to the no-rules, freedom-to-post-out-of-order structure of this community, I wanted to introduce a new piece of the puzzle this time, with a new character that will come into play later.
Also, this piece goes into a little bit of the details, but for frame of reference on the BBU-adjacent thing: this story takes place in a not-so-distant future of the BBU, where WRU has undergone some changes. I look forward to exploring this world building more as I go.
Anyway, I’m rambling again. Thanks for reading. Here it is:
WARNINGS: General BBU warnings, talk of institutionalized slavery, classism, and general terribleness of large corporations. Referenced past homophobia and rough parental relationships, briefly implied/referenced non-con.
When Sebastian reflects on the day he graduated from med school, a sort of emptiness is the memory that first bobs to the surface. Among the cheers and camera flashes in the crowd, white coats and proud smiles, what Sebastian recalls most vividly from that day is looking out into the sea of parents and families and people there to support their loved ones on one of the biggest days of their lives, and not seeing a single person that had come for him.
What should have been one of the happiest moments of his life had been quickly overshadowed by the sinking feeling that none of it mattered as much as it would have if he had someone to share it with. Like there was something so fundamentally wrong with his life, that even something as objectively good and right and decent as becoming a doctor could be dulled over into a feeling of nothingness.
Perhaps, he thinks in hindsight, that moment had been foreshadowing for the following months ahead of him.
Watching rejection after rejection pour in from his top residency programs had felt like nothing short of his own personalized nightmare. He had spent several nights in a row on the phone with Alex, his undergrad roommate and only friend, clamoring back from the edge of many a panic attack, spiraling into all-out existential dread about the future and the past and what all of it meant for him if he couldn’t land an internship, let alone a real job out of school. To his credit, Alex never gave up hope in his friend. Or at least, he did a decent job hiding it if he did. Which was probably exactly what Sebastian needed to get through that particularly dark time in his life, and a good reminder of what a solid friend he had. Even if it was a party of two.
Unfortunately, Sebastian did not have the same faith in himself.
He was able to keep up some facade of optimism as his top five were picked off one by one. Telling himself, despite his devastation, that they were a pretty far reach, anyway. Even with good academic standing, it was famously no walk in the park to land yourself at John Hopkins or Mayo as a first-year. He even maintained a brave face as his first few safety programs reached capacity and moved forward without his name on the roster.
It wasn’t until he received his final rejection letter from some internal medicine place in Bumfuck, Idaho that he felt himself slip into dangerous territory. Sebastian knew himself well enough to know his own depressive patterns by then, and he knew it was only exponential decay from there.
Rock bottom came, as it did, in the wee hours of the night, after a full bottle of wine. Alone in his small apartment, surrounded by half-packed boxes with no destination, Sebastian found himself sprawled out on the floor with his laptop hot against his thighs. He couldn’t have explained why he opted for a privacy browser, but something about it allowed him to justify the words that he typed into the search bar.
It was a new low, and one he had sworn to himself he would never stoop to. Yet there he was.
He gave himself a moment to reconsider, to back out of what was undoubtedly a morally-gray train wreck waiting to happen as his thumb hovered over the enter key. And then the alcohol decided to override his moral compass.
Facility Care is the open secret of the medical profession. It comes with its fair share of stigma, and rightfully so, but it is notoriously easy to break into and pays a decent wage.
There are two types of people who end up stooping to that kind of employment. More often than not, it consists of doctors and nurses who had their licenses revoked or suspended somewhere along the line and needed a way back in. As far as Sebastian understood, they aren’t terribly ridgid about the particulars of each circumstance. After all, in the eyes of the law, the patients they would be treating are a price tag away from being entirely expendable.
The other percentage of Facility Care workers, and the reason Sebastian found himself staring at his too-bright computer screen with a sinking feeling of dread that night, are young medical graduates who find themselves in a tough spot. It isn’t difficult to spell out the logic behind that one when you open the WRU CAREERS tab on the home page and see the bright white words printed across the top of the screen:
LOAN FORGIVENESS.
It is shamelessly predatory and aggressively capitalistic, but Sebastian supposes that particular exploitation is pretty far down on the list of transgressions for an institution of legalized slavery. A few broke and hopeless medical students were hardly going to keep the Powers That Be up at night when they were able to rest easy under the weight of hundreds of thousands of stolen lives.
The whole thing is part of the massive PR overhaul the company did a few years back. In a world that was slowly inching toward civil activism and with the accessibility of platforms like social media to hold them accountable, WRU had to adapt to survive. Adaptation, in this case, took the form of changing the barest of minimums in order to keep themselves above board — to the public eye, anyway. Anyone who dares to take a closer look at the policy changes can see that it’s bullshit.
Changing ownership conditions to a rent-by-contract basis isn’t the humanitarian move they try to paint it as. In the end, it probably just equals out to more money in the company’s pocket when they can get more return on their “investments,” and a larger chance of exploitation for the people being moved around.
Getting rid of the Romantic division is an entirely meaningless gesture when they are still loaning out human beings with no legal rights and the inability to say “no.”
And offering an open job market with good wages and healthcare options to lower class individuals is a pretty convenient way to mute the backlash.
Essentially, you can tie a system of slavery and abuse up in a bow and make it pretty on the outside, but at the end of the day, it’s still fucking slavery.
Not that he has any room to criticize now. Now that he’s one of them.
In the end, Seb tries to justify his decision a few different ways. He is, after all, more or less a young man alone in the world. The odds are stacked against him and have been for a while. With only his own two legs to stand on, the only force stronger than his internal ambition is his instinct for survival, and he’s been running on those fumes for longer than he can count.
He had lasted less than two months under his parents’ roof after he came out of the closet at eighteen. It wasn’t exactly a surprise for anyone involved; Sebastian’s parents had known about (and subsequently bottled) his… urges… since he was in high school. Probably before that, if he is being honest with himself. And Sebastian, for his part, had spent the better part of his teenage years mentally preparing for the inevitable. He can recall long, late nights he had spent crying into his pillow and the perfectly-scripted ‘coming out’ speeches he recited to his mirror when he was one-hundred percent sure his parents were asleep.
Of course, none of the preparation had been anywhere near adequate when he actually found himself wilting beneath the heat of his father’s glare, the weight of his mother’s grief.
But. He had recovered. That is the point he tries to remember when the memories sting fresh beneath his skin, even all these years later. He has more-than proven himself to be a survivor. He has worked harder than anyone he knows for every scholarship, every grant, every dollar to put himself through school. Sacrificed nights out and real relationships for night shifts at shitty diners and long weekends cramming for exams. It hadn’t been easy, but he considers it the price he had to pay for his independence. For freedom, to live the life as the person he is meant to be, despite his unfortunate odds. He spent years telling himself it would be worth it. That one day, his hard work would pay off.
He can’t stop now.
Sebastian doesn’t have the luxury of taking time off to reroute when his navigation has gone amiss. He is walking the precarious line of rapidly accruing interest and student loans and a dwindling savings account, and there is no safety net below him.
Beggars can’t be choosers, and as it turns out, beggars sometimes have to compromise their moral integrity in order to survive.
It’s only temporary.
That is the mantra that gets him through the (half-drunken) application process and the (disturbingly lax) interview process. It is a job. One job. In the medical field, though the details are up for debate, and it is real-life money for rent and food and a savings that will hopefully be sizable enough to get him where he really wanted to be. Which is… really, anywhere else.
He can do ‘temporary.’ And perhaps, some misguided part of him thinks he can do some genuine good from the inside, too. ‘Be the change you want to see’ and all that.
It is a far jump from the floor of his apartment, sloshed and exhausted and desperate, to the cold, sharp reality of walking into his place of employment on his first day of work. Ironically, it feels a lot like an echo of the emptiness from his graduation day.
‘Sterile’ doesn’t quite cover it. ‘Sterile’ is the expectation of any well-respected medical establishment, but the inside of the facility walls has been wiped clean of far more than bacteria and germs. It is completely devoid of humanity. The long corridors that connect the medical wing to the general ward are windowless and dimly lit by flickering fluorescent panels that had make his head pound for the entirety of his first week.
He is given an office, though it is a term he, himself, might use loosely, as it is more akin to what was probably a storage closet before the old prison had been converted into the state’s training headquarters. It leaves him just enough space for a small desk and two chairs. On his first day, he asks if it is okay to bring in some personal items to spruce the place up. The older, balding doctor who had been assigned to show him around merely shrugs, and Sebastian decides to take that as a yes.
The small, pink-framed photo of a six-year-old Sebastian Tate in his grandfather’s white coat and an old-school stethoscope around his neck is hardly enough to make the place cozy from the corner of his desk, but it’s a good enough reminder of why he has to make this work.
‘It’s only temporary.’
‘Be the change you want to see.’
He will do his best.
#Sebastian Tate#bbu#like bbu adjacent?#tw: human trafficking#tw: slavery#implied noncon#whump#Do No Harm: Jaime & Sebastian
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Best Daughter Ever: Chapter 1 “I am Iron Man” pt 1
A/N: this story is kind of going to be an AU. There are specific things that will happen in this story that aren’t canon and there are things that won’t happen that are canon. For example, in the future Steve is going to be closer to Tony and Y/N than in the canon MCU. I hope all of this makes sense. Also, let me know if you would like to be included in my taglist.
Word count: 3,652
General Masterlist
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2008
Y/N sat in the living room of the Malibu house. Her dad was supposed to be on a plane to Afghanistan for a weapons presentation. But, being Tony Stark, he was in his lab working on his hot rod.
Taking over Stark Industries had definitely been hard on Tony back when he was 21. But getting married at 30 and having a kid at 30 was stressful as well. Not to mention that his wife died and he was a single parent. Tony had lost himself in grief and stress. He gambled, he drank, and he spent a lot of his time in his garage. But he did make sure to spend time with his daughter.
Pepper just walked in with the clothes of some woman that spent the night. Y/N figured it was a friend of her dad’s, but she wasn’t so sure about the ‘friend’ part because she was wearing her dad’s shirt from last night with nothing under it but her undergarments. As to not get in trouble for eavesdropping, she placed some wireless headphones on and played ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ on her StarkTablet.
“I’ve got your clothes here. They’ve been dry-cleaned and pressed, and there’s a car waiting for you outside that will take you anywhere you’d like to go,” Pepper spoke professionally. Anyone looking at her, whether they knew her or not, could tell that she was uncomfortable.
The lady walked forward.
“You must be the famous Pepper Potts,” she spoke. Pepper smiled and clasped her hands together.
“Indeed I am.”
“After all these years, Tony still has you picking up his laundry?” The woman jabbed. Pepper looked shocked but quickly recovered.
“I do anything and everything Mr. Stark requires, including, occasionally, taking out the trash. Will that be all?” she asked sweetly. The woman looked taken aback but cleared her throat, turned around, and walked away.
Y/N looked up from her tablet and met Pepper’s smirk.
“How’d I do?” Pepper asked. Y/N looked back down and shrugged.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Auntie Pep,” The little girl said, looking back up and flashing her a charming Stark smile and batted her eyelashes. Pepper chuckled and held a hand out to the little Stark.
“You are your father’s daughter. Come on. Let’s go get your dad,” she laughed. Y/N took off her headphones and set them down along with the tablet. She got off the couch and took Pepper’s hand.
As the two were walking down the stairs, Pepper got a phone call. Y/N chuckled as she heard Tony’s music blasting throughout the garage.
Pepper punched in her access code and walked in, making J.A.R.V.I.S pause the music that was blasting.
“Please don’t turn down my music,” Tony said, not looking up from what he was working on.
“Come, on Daddy. That song wasn’t even good,” Y/N said, letting go of Pepper’s hand and walking over to her dad. Tony turned around and smiled at his daughter, hoisting her up to sit in his lap with an exaggerated grunt.
“When did you get so big, missy?” He teased. Y/N giggled and playfully hit her dad on her shoulder, causing him to gasp and feign hurt.
“You’re supposed to be halfway around the world right now,” Pepper said, after putting her phone away.
“How’d she take it?”
“Like a champ,” responded Pepper. Tony lifted up a cover of some sort that went on his car. Y/N watched in admiration as her dad fixed the old car.
“Why are you trying to hustle me out of here?”
“Your flight was scheduled to leave an hour and a half ago,” Pepper said exasperatedly. Tony put the cover he was looking at down beside him and looked back at the car motor. He pointed out quietly what was what to Y/N who nodded and listened with intrigued eyes.
“That’s funny, I thought that with it being my plane and all, that it would just wait for me to get there,” Tony remarked Y/N giggled, which caused Tony to look at her and smile again. He kissed her cheek, making her squirm away because his goatee was scratchy.
“Don’t encourage him!” Pepper playfully snapped. This caused Y/N to giggle again, but she nodded nonetheless. “Tony, I need to speak to you about a couple of things before I get you out of the door.”
“I mean, doesn’t it kind of defeat the whole purpose of having your own plane if it departs before you arrive?” Tony continued, setting Y/N down and standing up from his stool.
The two adults continued to talk about business stuff while Y/N walked around her dad’s shop. She knew her way around it, but it still amazed her each time. Her father truly was a genius.
As she walked to a metal table, she sat down on a stool.
“Hello, Miss Stark,” J.A.R.V. I.S spoke.
“Hello, JARVIS,” the little girl replied softly.
She listened in on her dad’s conversation, something about buying something unnecessary.
“I’m allowed to have plans on my birthday,” Pepper said.
“Oh! Daddy it’s Pepper’s birthday!” Y/N called out cheekily. Tony rolled his eyes at his daughter but smiled.
“I caught that,” he said. “I knew it was. Already?”
“Yeah. Isn’t that strange? It’s the same day as last year,” Pepper said teasingly. Tony looked at her adoringly.
“Get yourself something nice from me,” he said softly. Pepper smirked.
“I already did.”
“And?”
“Oh, it was very nice. Very tasteful. Thank you, mister Stark,” Pepper said, smiling. Tony smiled bacl.
“You’re welcom, Miss Potts,” Tony replied. Y/N coughed.
“Daddy, don’t you have a plan to catch for halfway around the world?” Y/N teased, breaking the silence.
Tony turned to his daughter and stalked toward her playfully.
“Are you trying to get rid of my, princess?” He asked, getting closer. Y/N squealed and got off the stool, running away from him.
Tony let out a playful roar and caught up to her, picking her up from behind and blowing raspberries on her neck. Y/N squealed as he did so, squirming.
“Daddy, stop!”
“Never!”
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As the two Starks drove down the highway towards the airport, metal music blasted. Tony never liked going anywhere without his daughter, considering that’s how his wife ended up dead. But, there was no possible way that he was taking his daughter to Afghanistan.
Speeding into the airport with Happy behind them, Tony came to a screeching halt. Y/N looked up at the plan and saw Rhodey standing at the top of the stairs.
“Hey, Uncle Rhodey!” Y/N screamed from the passenger side of the car. Rhoday chuckled and waved back.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he said.
Tony got out, laughing.
“You’re good. Oh, I thought I lost you back there,” he called out to Happy as he got out of the car. Happy opened the trunk to the black car and got Tony’s lugage out.
“You did, sir. I had to cut across Mullahound,” Happy said dryly. Tony nodded and walked around to where Y/N stood in front of the Audi. He crouched down and took his daughter’s hands.
“Alright, baby. I’ve got to go,” He said, looking into her e/c eyes. Y/N pouted.
“Do you have to?” she whined. Tony raised his hand and brushed her curly, brown hair out of the way from where the wind had blown it in her face.
“Yeah I do. How else am i going to buy you everything?” He aske dsmiling. The girl pouted but nodded. “ I love you, so much.” He said, kissing her forehead, then pulling her into a hug.
“I love you too, daddy,” she said into his shoulder.
After a few minutes, Tony pulled back.
“I’ve got to go now. Aunt Pepper will be there when you go to bed and Happy will stay at the house until she gets there. Be good for them,” Tony instructed. Y/N nodded. Tony placed one last kiss on her forhead and stood up. She watched as he walked to the stairs leading up to the plane.
“What is wrong with you?’ Rhodey asked. Tony looked up there and shrugged.
“What?”
“Three hours,” Rhodey deadpaned.
“I got caught doing a piece for Vanity Fair,” Tony said as he climbed up the stairs, Happy trailing behind him.
“For three hours For three hours you got me standing here,” Rhodey said. Tony walked past him and into the plane.
“Waiting on you now.”
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Y/N sat in her bed, waiting on Pepper. She was watching TV when pepper walked in, tears running down her face.
“Auntie Pep? What’s wrong?” The little girl asked. Pepper walked over and sat down beside the young Stark.
“Sweetie. Um, your father. He, uh, he went miss..missing in Afghanistan. There was a bombing and he was kidnapped, they suspect,” Pepper choked out. Tears sprung in Y/N’s eyes.
“Daddy’s missing?” she asked in a small voice. Pepper nodded, wiping her tears off and sniffling. Tears began to make their way down Y/N’s face.
“Yes, sweetheart. He is. You’re going to stay with Uncle Rhodey until they find him. It shouldn’t be long.’
But it was long. It was three months. Three, long months without her father. She cried herself to sleep everynight for the first month. Then, for the next too, she barely slept.
All Rhodey could do was watch helplessly as his goddaughter lost sleep and missed her dad. He did everything he could to make her feel better. They even started staying at the Malibu house just so she could sleep in his bed. While she waited on her father, Y/N was no longer the happy little girl that she used to be.
As news reports told about the accident, they let it slip that the famous Tony Stark had a daughter. This caused for Rhodey to basically place her under a lockdown, barely leaving the house.
When they got news that Tony was found, Y/N burst out into tears. Rhodey cradled the girl in his arms as he thanked whoever was out there that Tony was alive.
Y/N went to the airport and waited with Pepper and Happy, since Rhodey was the one to go get him. When the gate let down on the back of the plane, Rhodey was helping Tony up from a wheelchair. His arm was in a sling and he was holding Rhodey’s hand as they walked down the ramp. Y/N began crying as she let go of Pepper’s hand.
“DADDY!” The little girl screamed. She waited until the two best friends were off the ramp to run to him. Tony’s face broke out into a smile at the sight of his beautiful little girl.
Tony, with the help of Rhodey, kneeled on the ground and Y/N launched herself at her dad. She was mindful of his hurt arm. She cried in his suit jacket as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Tony got chocked up as he wrapped his good arm around her. She smelt like home. Oh, how he missed her.
“Hey, princess. It’s alright. I’m right here,” he whispered into her hair. Pulling back, he admired her. While stuck in the cave, he didn’t know if he was going to see her ever again.
“What happened?” Y/N asked, sniffling. She then felt a hard thing under his shirt, right in the middle of his chest. She tilted her head to the side and placed a hand on the hard piece of metal. Tony smiled and shook his head.
“I got caught by some bad guys. But I’m Tony Stark, so I found a way out of there. And about this thing, some scrap pieces of metal got stuck in my chest and thus was the only way to keep me alive. Its a tinier version of the arc reactor at lab,” he explained. The little girl just hugged him again. Tony stood up, bringing her with him. He settled her on his hip and walked towards Pepper.
“Hmm. Your eyes are red. A few tears for your long lost boss?” Tony asked the woman. Pepper smiled.
“Tears of joy. I hate job hunting,” she replied. Tony’s lip quirked up at the corners and walked past her and to his car.
“Yeah, vacation’s over.”
Sitting in the car, Tony set Y/N beside him, allowing her to curl up into his left side. Tony wrapped his arm around her and kissed her hair.
“Where to, sir?” Happy asked from the driver’s seat.
“Take us to the hospital, please, Happy.”
“No.” Tony said.
“No? Tony you have to go-”
“No is a complete answer.’
“-to the hospital. A doctor has to-”
“I don’t have to do anything.”
“- look at you.” Pepper finished.
“I’ve been in captivity for three months. There are three things I want to do; I want an American cheeseburger. I want to hold my daughter, and the other…”
“That’s enough of that.”
“...is not what you think. I want you to call for a press conference now.” Tony finished. Pepper looked at him.
“Call for a press conference?” she asked.
“Yeah. Hogan, drive.”
“What on earth for?”
“Cheeseburger first.”
After stopping at Burger King for three cheeseburgers, they made it to Stark Industries. Reporters and workers were lined up outside the door. Obie was waiting on them opening the door for Tony as they pulled up.
“There he is. Ah. Tony,” he said, pulling Tony into a hug when he stepped out of the car. Tony wiped his mouth and hugged him back, Y/N getting out behind him. “We were gonna meet you at the hospital.”
“No, I’m fine,” Tony replied, throwing his napkin in the car. Happy walked around the car and held the Burger King bag out for Tony, who reached in and pulled out his second cheeseburger.
Pepper walked over and motioned for her to follow her dad, who was talking to Obie about having to get a cheeseburger.
Once they arrived in the press conference room, applause immediately sounded as Tony walked into the room. He had just finished his burger, meaning he was still chewing.
Tony stopped for a moment, turning around and looking for his daughter. She was watching him from beside Pepper. With a jerk of his head, the little girl walked to her dad with a huge smile on her face. Tony grabbed her hand, smiling down at her.
The two walked in between reporters who were desperate for news. Arriving at the platform, Obie stepped behind the microphone and quieted the reporters down. Tony just sat down on the steps in front of the stand, allowing Y/N to sit beside him. He wrapped his arm around her, tucking her into his side.
“Hey, would it be alright if everyone just sat down?” He asked,pulling out a cheeseburger from his suit pocket. “Why don’t you just sit down? That way you can see me and I can… a little less formal and..”
Everyone sat down, including Obie who sat beside Tony. Tony looked over to Obie and muttered a ‘good to see you.’
“I never got to say goodbye to my father.” Tony started. Y/N made a shocked face and looked up at him. Tony just glanced down at her and smiled. “There were questions I would’ve asked him. I would’ve asked him how he felt about what this company did. If he was conflicted, if he ever had any doubts. Or maybe he was every inch the man we all remember from the newsreels.”
Flashes were going off as he spoke. Y/N wondered why she was talking about her grandfather, he never talked about him. Especially to the public.
“I saw young Americans killed by the very weapons I created to defend and protect them. And I saw that I.. had become part of a system that is comfortable with zero accountability.” Tony explained. A young reporter raised his hand on the front row.
“Mr. Stark.” He said. Tony looked at him and nodded.
“Hey, Ben”
“What happened over there?”
There was a beat of silence before Tony got up, Y/N scrambling up with him and taking his hand.
“I-I had my eyes opened. I cam to realize that I have more to offer thus world than just things that blow up,” he said, a hint of anger in his voice. He walked around to platform and stood behind the microphone. “And that is why, effective immediately, I am shutting down the weapons manufacturing division of Stark International-”
This caused an uproar of noise. The reporters were talking over each other to get his attention. Y/N shrunk into her father’s side, not liking the loud noises.
“-until such a time as I can decide what the future of the company will be,” He finished. Obie grabbed him by the shoulders and talked over Tony through the microphone.
Tony picked his daughter up and placed her on his hip, stepping back in front of the microphone.
“I don’t want my daughter to grow up in a world with violence. I understand that violence is inevitable, but I will do the best i can to keep her away from it all. Manufacturing weapons is not doing that,” Tony explained, effectively quieting the reporters. He walked down the steps, ignoring the reporters clamoring. He kissed Y/N’s head, allowing her to tuck her head into the crook of his neck.
“What we can take away from this is that, Tony is back. And healthier than ever.”
-----------------------------------------------------
Tony wanted to go to the lab at Stark Industries. So, Happy drove him there and Y/N waited in the car, watching as Obie drove up on a Segway. He looked unhappy and walked in, leaving Happy to deal with the Segway.
Y/N took out her Starktablet from her bag she takes with her everywhere, and pulled up a movie. She had recently been exposed to the Harry Potter series, obviously she read the books first. Taking out her earphones, she pulled up the 3rd movie, Prisoner of Azkaban.
Arriving home, Tony immediately went downstairs. Y/N sighed and went to her room, wishing her would watch a movie with her and cuddle.
A few hours later, J.A.R.V.I.S announced that her father requested her in the lab. She paused her movie, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, and got up. Dumbledore had just walked into the room, screaming at Harry for ‘putting his name in the Goblet of Fire.”
When she got there, she saw that Dum-E and the other robots had cleared some room and placed a metal table-like thing in the room, along with some monitors that looked suspiciously like an EKG monitor.
“Alright, princess. I need you to help me with something,” he said, turning her attention to him. She gasped as she walked over to her father, looking at the reactor in her dads chest. Reaching out, she brushed her fingers against the cool metal. She grinned up at her dad.
“This is so cool,” she whispered excitedly. Tony grinned down at her and laughed. Dum-E brought over what looked like a better version of the reactor.
“You really are my daughter. Ok. I need your help. I need to swap this old one out for the new one,” he explained, holding up the new arc reactor. Y/N nodded and shook her hands out. “Ah, no. You have to be careful. There is an exposed wire under this device that is touching is making contact with the socket wall and causing a short,” he explained, taking out the old reactor. Y/N watched closley as he pulled it out, exposing a wire attached to it that went deep into his chest cavity.
“Ok. I’m assuming you want me to get the wire, pull it out, and then reconnect the new reactor?’
Tony grinned at her proudly and nodded.
“Exactly. But be careful, if you touch the sides with the wire or pull out the magnet, I could go into cardiac arrest,” he said nonchalantly. Y/N gawked at him.
“Ok.. Grey’s Anatomy don’t fail me now,” she whispered. Tony chuckled.
Y/N reached into the hole and searched around for the wire.
“Wh-what is this in here? Is that discharge?” she exclaimed.
“Yes it is. Just get the wire.”
Y/N searched for the wire until she found it. She carefully pulled it out, being sure not to touch the sides.
“Ok. Ok. Good now just don’t-”
She pulled out the magnet.
“-pull out the magnet. Ok. It’s ok.”
The EKG started flat-lining, making her panic, She really wanted to page Dr. Yang, and charge to 200. Maybe even page Dr. Shepard just to be safe. But, her dad seemed fine.
“Daddy you’re going into cardiac arrest though!”
“I know. Just put the new reactor in, attaching the wires to the base plate,” he said, handing her the new reactor. She reached in, and attached the wires to the base plate like her said. He exclaimed when she did, making the heart monitors come back and set them at a steady rhythm.
Y/N breathed a sigh of relief and she dropped her head onto her dad’s chest. She then playfully swatted it.
“You can’t give me a heart attack at 8, daddy,” Y/n scolded. Tony laughed and ran his hand over her hair. She lifted her head and look at her dad. Tony sat up and kissed her forehead.
“I love you, princess.”
“I love you too, Daddy.” she says, then glances at the old reactor. “What are you going to do with the old reactor?”
Tony glanced her her, then turned back to whatever he was doing with Dum-E.
“Throw it away. Incinerate it,” he said without any care. Y/N frowned and furrowed her eyebrows.
“You don’t want to keep it?”
“Nope,” came his response. Y/N grabbed it and looked at it.
“Well, I’m keeping it. Now, can you come watch some movies with me? You literally just got back from a foreign country where you were kept as a hostage,” she deadpanned. Tony chuckled, but tossed a shirt on and grabbed her hand.
“Yes, let’s go. What are we watching?”
Taglist:
@bxtchboy69
#tony stark x daughter!reader#tony stark x daughter#tony stark#iron man#pepper potts#rhodey#james rhodes#happy hogan#obadiah stane
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Once again I am bored and putting off updating so I’m coming at y'all with a brand new au idea.
Blood God Deo.
The idea of Tommy accidentally befriending gods is hilarious to me for some reason, especially a Tommy who starts out as just some random kid. He has two reflexes whenever he meets a god, friend or fight. So far only Josh and Dream have both triggered the fight reflex.
Deo isn’t particularly open about being the Blood God. He doesn’t even particularly enjoy the job. Sure, he’s ferocious in a battle, but he holds back a lot and he’s no where near as blood thirsty as half of his Acolytes. The voices acting how they do wasn’t even his idea, it was actually a curse from another God placed onto all of his followers. The Original Chat was designed to essentially be a helper. They would help moderate the bloodlust of his followers (who were renown for loosing pieces of themselves to the slaughter) and in addition they’d know things that his followers wouldn’t like the position of enemies and special details about weapons and armor like durability or quality. Original Chat was able to see everything going on around the Acolyte and offer advice in case the Acolyte lost one of their senses or something else happened.
Deo stopped blessing people after Chat was corrupted (probably by Dream. I don’t think Dream should be a Chaos god like a lot of people decide he should be. He should rule over something like Control, Manipulation, or Betrayal, it makes more sense with his current character arc.) Deo starts only blessing people who have enough sense of strength, morality, and self to actually ignore Corrupted Chat, though sometimes if Deo interacts with someone they can become accidentally blessed without him even knowing (read as Techno). Deo kind of closes himself off at some point, hiding himself away on hypixel.
Then he meets Tommy. This little brat who manages to all but force his way into Deo’s good graces and eventually a role of friendship. The first friend Deo’s had in centuries if not longer. Gods have two marks they can give to people. Marks they actively or subconsciously give to their Acolytes and marks that they only subconsciously give to people they care about and want to protect. Their friends. Tommy gets the later and neither notice since the powers associated with the later don’t make themselves readily apparently unlike with a typical Acolyte. (Spoilers, Tommy gets a version of Original Chat that he doesn’t realize is there because Original Chat is way easier to block out and shut up than Corrupted Chat. Still annoying and playful while the marked actually pays attention to it but nowhere near as bad as Techno’s chat. I’m thinking that Tommy probably doesn’t even realize they’re there till exile when he’s so desperate for anything to speak with he’d even settle for talking to himself and accidentally opens the door for Chat.)
I’m thinking that maybe we can make the rest of Business Bay(Wisp Included) + Clara, Clementine, and maybe even Boffy into gods that Tommy accidentally befriended along the way. I don’t have any idea what kind of gods Bitzel or Luke should be but I like the idea of Wisp having something to do with death, rebirth, and second chances. Boffy has to have some kind of link with lightning and destruction because it’s Boffy and we all know what he’s done with that blaze rod. Clara is obviously the god of space and the void. Clementine I actually had a really cool idea for. She’s a flaming moth god and one of the two gods who holds the most control of the nether (Deo being the other.) Clara is the main god of the end and the overworld is in a constant state of fluxing control since there are significantly more gods who want to be associated with rulership of it. Very few gods want control over the void so few challenge Clara and the few who do leave terrified. There are a couple war gods who live in the nether but since Deo and Clementine work together nothing can really overthrow them. Dream is younger than the group of gods associated with Tommy but older than a lot of other gods. He’s working his way up to control of the overworld but that currently still belongs to an unknown gods simply named Prime who never shows itself.
And of course because it’s my brand, at one point all of the gods became so worried over the idea of Tommy dying they made him a phoenix. That way he wouldn’t die unless he chose to, decides he’s ready for his next life. They were still worried though. Sure they were Tommy’s friends, but he had other friends and family that he’d lose being immortal. They realized that one day he’d eventually chose to make his current life the last one. None of them could handle the thought though, they didn’t want to loose him. So then they went the extra mile to ensure that Tommy’s soul would always be semi bound to them and he’d be a phoenix in all of his reincarnations (with the ability to access the memories of his prior reincarnation if and only if he so chooses, which he usually does when he crosses paths with his god friends again). The important thing to remember is that they know Tommy doesn’t “belong” to them. He isn’t a pet, isn’t theirs, he belongs to himself alone. The bond isn’t an ownership thing. It’s more akin to a divine version of Tubbo and Tommy’s compasses. It’s just a way for him to always find his way back to them and vice versa.
Speaking of which, at one point the gods gave him the ability to do something similar. Marking the souls of people he became specifically fond of so he could find them in future lifetimes. So far Tommy has only done this to four people. Techno, Phil, Wilbur, and obviously Tubbo. Tubbo was the first, that was a bond that was made in Tommy’s very first lifetime and the reason the other gods gave him the power in the first place. Techno, Phil, and Wilbur were all done in one go during the Antarctic Empire era because he decided he just really liked this family and would love to be apart of it again some day. Tubbo is someone he always remembers in every lifetime without fail and seeks out regardless. The kids are platonic soulmates, fight me.
Okay. This is evolving way past Blood God Deo. But dang it, we’re rolling with it.
Maybe each SMP/server is a different reincarnation of Tommy. That’s also why the sbi family dynamic is murky. Phil and Techno are immortals, not gods or even phoenixes per se but they can’t died under normal circumstances. Wilbur and presumably Tommy in their eyes were not. During the Antarctic Empire era it was easy to tell that Wilbur hadn’t inherited the same immortality that his twin brother had from their father. They couldn’t tell when Tommy was born and it was a deeply ingrained part of his nature to hide his phoenix traits, so eventually they just assumed he wasn’t. Wilbur and Tommy eventually started their own countries (Tommy recruiting three other gods to help him kill god) and both eventually passed away while Techno and Phil continued on. Technically, the death of Wilbur and Tommy is what slowly started turning Techno from emperor to Anarchist. He blamed the countries his brothers ran both for killing them as well as shortening the amount of time he had with them.
Phil later adopted Tommy and Wilbur during the current Dream SMP because both were orphans and reminded Phil a startling degree of the first Tommy and Wilbur (hence why he even named them after the two.) Techno refused the dynamic because he was bitter over the fact that Phil was trying to “replace his brothers”.
Wilbur is a rare case where he reincarnated almost just the same and has some scant memories of his life as a prince of the Antarctic Empire. Tommy early on decided to recover all of his memories associated with his Antarctic family and treats Techno and Phil as such. Techno continued to reject “new” Tommy and “new” Wilbur as members of his family which caused a lot tension. Phil kept trying to repair his relationship with Techno while raising Wilbur and Tommy but Techno kept making him feel bad which led to the whole “Techno is the favorite situation”. Since Tommy decided to recover his memories he kind of gets why Techno feels the way he does but is also bitter since he is Techno’s Tommy, he just doesn’t know how to put that into words. It’s made worse by Corrupted Chat which being a creation of Dream that is actively trying to pin Tommy and Techno against one another. Lotta room in this AU for sbi hurt comfort. Don’t worry, eventually there’s a reveal. It just takes a while since Tommy has to be the one to do it or Dream has to out him as a phoenix first.
Maybe the whole Ghostbur situation is because as a phoenix Tommy has some control over the people around him who die. He can return lost lives using his feathers and considering the nature of the gods who adore him he can bring people back from the dead. Unfortunately Dream intercepted this and we got Ghostbur. Maybe later down the road as a plot point, Ghostbur existing somewhere between death and life could have access the memories locked in the deeper part of his soul that are associated with his past lives (as well as the Antarctic Empire) and he could be the one to do the reveal.
Then Dream goes overboard at some point (maybe he threatens to chop off Tommy’s wings or hurt one of his family members) and suddenly we end up with Protective God Deo kicking down Dream’s door.
#mcyt#dream smp#dream smp au#blood god deo#timedeo#dream#dreamwastaken#tommyinnit#wilbur soot#philza#ph1lza#technoblade#submission#snapdragon & firefly
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Without A Word
Hotch sits with Emily right after her death.
She spends every Saturday night on his couch, tangled in his unusually long limbs and the blanket he keeps draped across the back just for these nights. Drinking whatever cheap beer she finds at the corner store a few blocks from his apartment until he’s had enough and gets out the wine. Between them, there is no need for long-winded conversations or many words at all. The night turns in and she finds that since stepping into the room neither of them has said a word. Not when he ordered their dinner. Not when she finished his discarded beer.
Not a word.
Those Saturdays are her favorite.
Were.
They were her favorite and they were something she used to do.
She’s no longer allowed these things.
She watches him from the stiff, unforgiving mattress beneath her sore body. Her arm aches where the IV has sat for so long in the crook of her elbow and she knows all she needs to do is say something and they’ll likely move it but she’s afraid of how she’ll sound. To her own ears, all she will hear is the pathetic rasps and whines of such a silly complaint. To the staff, it’s the way they’ll soften and she’ll be forced to see the pity they have for a dead woman.
And, more than anything else, she’s afraid of what Aaron will hear.
To see the quirks of his face as he reasons through what it is that he, himself, thinks. Will he disapprovingly narrow his eyes, tightening his lips as he thinks about his own nightmare. George Foyet and the many nights he spent in the hospital recovering from not just one impalement but nine brutally drawn-out stab wounds. Will he look at her with soft eyes and force her to watch him avoid her eye so she won’t see the pity. Will there be guilt? The hardening of his jaw as he clenches his teeth and cast his eyes anywhere but at her.
It makes her wish she’d never known him.
Not to surpass the worry she feels about his perception of her (deep down she can acknowledge that he must love her to be here now) but to prevent all of this. To pull him from the stiff-backed chair he has restlessly has fallen asleep in and send him home to his son. Go back to a time when she didn’t know what it was like to be hurt -- physically, emotionally, and sexually. To be seventeen again gulping down coffee with no cream or sugar because she thought the bitterness would make her stronger, more of an adult. But life requires one to be greedy about the things in life that feel good.
Reid taught her that, watching him pour mountains of sugar in his coffee. Bitterness is not the measure of adulthood or success. It’s one ability to take one more longing glance at the mug in their hands and decide whatever body part might shut down in a few years is not worth the disgusting sludge in their mug. Indulge while you can before you find there is nothing but bitterness and no sugar to sweeten the mess.
Indulge before it’s too late.
She never indulged herself enough.
“You’re awake.”
She watches the micro-expressions (pain from sitting in that chair, happiness that eats up a dimple, guilt that pulls down his eyebrows like a bar with too much weight on its ends) slip across his face before it settles on passive worry. There’s an intensity to his eyes that makes her aware that she’s being watched, not by Aaron and his soft edges but by Hotch who will fight with nurses and get himself kicked out of the hospital. She wishes she could feel something past the numb itchiness of her nose and the distance of her hands, then she might be able to worm her way into his brain. So she might live alongside his thoughts.
She thinks she’d probably enjoy herself there.
“Emily?”
She looks down where his hand touches her own. Emily. She can’t feel the warmth of his fingers sitting over the top of her own but then he’s always been cold. Blankest always tucked around his broad shoulders. Hands tucked into his pockets. Her favorite part is that he hates summer, despite what could be assumed about its escape from the dreaded winter. But people have a tendency to overcompensate with air conditioners. He fucking hates the summer.
She won’t see that this year.
She’s dead.
“I’m sorry.”
She wonders how it is that he steals the words right out of her mouth. Because it should be her apologizing. For not trusting him despite how many times he’s leaned into her. For running away when she’d called him a coward for wanting to do the same thing. For getting herself killed and hurting him, for making his worst nightmares come true once again.
She opens her mouth and he rises with deep groans from his lower back and his knees old hinges from door frames older than them combined to stretch and get her water. She didn’t even realize how much her throat hurt until she’s greedily pulling from the straw he’s bent to allow her access to the content of the little cup. “Not too much,” he warns softly, pulling away. “Water doesn’t mix well with the meds.” A lesson he learned the hard way when she’d done the same for him when it was him in the bed and her sleeping in the uncomfortable visitor’s chair.
She couldn’t save him from the nausea of her good intentions but he can spare her the pain of too fresh stitches being tugged by a heaving stomach.
“You shouldn’t be here.” Between them, there is no miscommunication. She knows him as she might know her own hand or her favorite book -- as an extension of something past herself. More than Emily Prentiss. He knows her the same. So, there is no need to clarify and even less of a need for her to have to say the words at all.
She’s right, of course. His being here disrupts the flow, it’s a wedge in the crack of the team’s trust, and each time he finds himself here that wedge sinks a little further.
He repeats back to her the words she’d whispered to him only a year ago. “You shouldn’t be alone.” She’s surprised he can remember that at all. There had been only a small debate about who it was that could stay with him that night, but she was glad it was her answering his questions when he woke drowsily with the drugs and when he’d tried to send her home. But insubordinate is a word that perfectly explains their friendship and she’s never been afraid to toe at his “firm” line of what he’s willing to deal with.
She narrows her eyes at him and he does it right back, both baiting the other. He’s right and so is she. She hates it when he’s right.
“Sit.” She croaks pulling her arms up to put weight on them and inch her body to the left so that he can sit.
He grabs her wrist, stopping her. “Don’t,” he commands softly. “You’ll pull your stitches.” Another hard lesson to learn, one he can spare her. He’d done the same for her in the hospital but powered on despite the feeling of the stitches pulling at his skin. The nurses had not liked him very much, he wasn’t very good at sitting still.
Without a word he carefully leans onto the bed, sitting right where her hip is. Close like she wants without actually needing her to move. His eyes wander and he finds himself glued to the heavy gauze wrapped around her abdomen. His mixed feelings are met with a smile from her, “we’ll match.”
He grimaces, “you don’t want that.”
He won’t be there to talk her through healing. The way things burn and itch and ache and that she’ll get so light-headed she’ll nearly pass out. That she might need iron supplements like him and that they taste like death and he’s seen and smelt enough of that to know that it’s a very correct description. How the nightmares ignite the pain and if she thinks the anxiety and the panic are too much she’ll be floored the first time she feels the attack again.
He can still feel Foyet’s hands all over his body. He’d take any punishment, as many tactile nightmares as his body could handle, to save her these things. The betrays of mind and body.
Her body is heavy and she can feel the pain returning. “Aaron?” She needs to say it now because when she wakes up after this she’s going to be in too much pain to think about what she’s left unsaid.
“I know,” he whispers. He knows that she loves him. That she thinks he’s the biggest dickhead she’s ever met in her entire life and no one is as insufferably annoying as he is to her. That someone, preferably Garcia, needs to take care of Sergio and to take care of her plants. That she’s going to miss him so fucking much and she’s not sure how to function when he’s not there anymore.
He knows. God, he knows.
“You’ll be here when I wake up?”
“I have other places to be,” he states, uncharacteristically trying at something playful. She narrows her eyes at him and he caves. “I’ll be here.”
Eyes closed she hums, “it’s not like you have other friends.” The comment is meant to be light but it... hurts. He’s burring his friend. He can’t tell Dave how he really feels. Can’t accept Garcia’s attempts at comfort. He’s sending her away and the false hope that she’ll ever return is more damning than if she’d died.
“No,” he replies thickly. “I suppose not.” Next time, he vows, he will die with her because he won’t survive this again.
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Achilles Come Down
Characters: Shinsou x gender neutral reader
Contains: Mentions of suicide attempt, mentions of self harm, mentions of stress, mentions of minor character deaths, relationship issues, Pro Hero Shinsou. This story contains a lot of heavy and sensitive material, please read at your own risk.
Word Count: 2.7K
Achilles, Achilles, Achilles come down. Won’t you get up off, get up off the roof.
Y/N stood near the ledge of the building, looking down at the chaos of the traffic below. The chill air blew in their face, making shivers cover their arms. Part of them wanted to back out now and just go back inside, where it would be warm, but the little voice within their mind told them this needed to be done. They needed to go ahead and be up here, and they needed to jump before he got home. Y/N knew that as soon as he got home from patrolling that it was over, they would be talked off the edge and back inside.
Y/N slowly and carefully sat down, wanting to spend their final moments, being at peace and calming their nerves before making the leap. Y/N never planned to end up nor did they really want to jump. But things had just gotten so tough lately and it was hard for them to find a reason to keep going. Sure, they had their boyfriend, but Y/N was beginning to feel more like a bother and problem than a decent partner, which was definitely putting a strain on the relationship.
Y/N was struggling with finishing grad school and was tempted to just give up most days, and with the recent loss of their mother, things had only become more difficult. Y/N was close to their mother, more so their mother was one of the biggest supporters in their life, so when she died, it was almost like Y/N was unable to recover. They went to therapy and found local groups to help deal with grief but nothing seemed to help. It didn’t help that their boyfriend, Shinsou was becoming busier being a pro hero, which meant he was homeless and less. So most of the time Y/N was left alone.
Though, in this time alone Y/N began to find ways to relieve any stress from school and to help the grief hurt a little less. They fell back into the hands of self-hatred and the cruel knife it wielded. As their mind wandered to the cruelness they brought upon themselves and looked at their scarred arms, it brought tears to their eyes. Y/N knew life wasn’t supposed to go like this, it was supposed to be a happy ending, just like they were promised so long ago. Their mother always spoke about how they would find their prince charming and would be swept away in a loving relationship and live happily ever after. And for a while, Y/N felt that they had found their happily ever after, but after the death of their mother and Shinsou’s work schedule, that ever after didn’t seem as real anymore.
You’re scaring us, and all of us. Some of us love you. Achilles, it’s not much but it’s proof.
Did Y/N still love Shinsou? Of course, they did, but things were more complicated now than ever before. He was gone so much, his work schedule hectic and with their classes and job, both of them hardly saw each other. Even in the shared apartment, they owned and the bed they shared, most nights the best was half full, one of them missing. At first, Shinsou not being home most nights really hurt Y/N, but as it happened more often they grew numb and used to it.
Y/N loved Shinsou, they remember the first day they met him. He came into the café that was closest to UA. He had come in one afternoon after classes had let out and ordered a black coffee with 4 espresso shots. Y/N remembers being taken back by this order, but still made it. Eventually, Shinsou became a regular customer and got the same order every visit. The more he came in, the more the two exchanged words and got to know each other. Y/N remembers the day they were brave enough to write their number on his cup and how nervous they were the rest of their shift. Shinsou, of course, texted them right away and they slowly began talking.
The rest of their relationship went from there, both of them growing closer every day. Y/N was there when Shinsou was moved to the hero course and learned to strengthen and embrace his quirk and what he could do. From there he graduated and started training and making his way up the ranks of being a pro hero. All while Y/N continued on with school in hopes to follow their dream of going into psychology and psychiatric work. Together they found a small place on the far side of town, a quiet and safe place for them both. A place they called their home and could be together after a long day, in peace. As the two grew older and their schedules grew busier they grew further apart. The talk of their future together became a distant memory and Y/N secretly longed for it.
When Shinsou was home, he hardly spoke much to Y/N. He would say hello and say a quick I love you, before going off to eat, shower, and sleep, all within that order. When both would be in the same bed, Shinsou no longer would hold Y/N and no longer let them hold him, they were just completely against any affection, which was completely odd for Y/N knew he loved affection. And as a very affectionate individual Y/N needed the affection as well, and just wanted to know they were still loved and appreciated by their boyfriend. Y/N knew they still loved and cared for Shinsou somewhere within them, but whether or not he felt the same was unknown. For saying the words “I love you” was one thing, but meaning it was another. For all they knew, it could be a force of habit for him at this point and he just didn’t mean it at all.
Remember your virtue. Redemption lies plainly in truth. Just humor us Achilles. Achilles come down, won’t you get up off, get up off the roof.
Some would claim there are other ways to fix issues and problems going on within a person’s life, but for Y/N this was the only answer. The main support from their mother no longer existed. Then there was the loving relationship that was failing and no longer sparked the same joy and happiness it once did. And maybe Y/N wasn’t to blame for it all, but they took it upon their self. In their eyes, it was their fault for everything, and maybe if they only focused and stopped worrying about things would have turned out differently.
As time passed, Y/N became more anxious about going through with this. They had begun to have second thoughts and maybe, just maybe, there was another solution to their problems. But the voice in the back of their mind egged them on, convincing them that they needed to jump and sooner rather than later. This was the only answer, the correct solution that would make everything better for everyone. And Y/N knew if they were still on the ledge by the time Shinsou got home, it was over. They would break down and run to his arms, seeking comfort even if he truly no longer loved them or cared.
Y/N sighed and began to push their self up, finally done making peace with what needed to be done. They were ready to jump and finally be free. Their nerves began kicking in as they looked down and saw a small crowd forming below, clear they were concerned for Y/N perched upon the roof’s ledge. It was only a matter of time before a hero or worse Shinsou arrived at the scene.
The self is not so weightless, nor whole and unbroken. Remember the pact of our youth. Where you go, I’m going. So jump and I’m jumping, since there is no me without you.
The door from the roof access point slammed open and a voice called out, “Y/N, dear please get away from the ledge.” Well speaking of the devil, it was Shinsou. He must have heard the news about a crowd forming around Y/N and their building and assumed the worst, though it was unclear if the Shinsou on the roof was the pro hero or their boyfriend, both two different people.
Y/N shook their head, never once turning back to look. They knew if they turned around and saw his dark purple eyes it would be over. And Y/N had to do this, it was for the better, wasn’t it? “N-no I need to do this. It’s for the best, I can finally be free Shinsou. I can finally be free of all hurt and pain I’m feeling. Don’t you want me to be happy?” Y/N yelled back, their eyes never once leaving the ever-growing crowd below.
“Y/N, please don’t do this, we can get you help. We can work through this together sweetheart, just get down and let’s talk about this, okay?” Shinsou spoke, his tone of voice never shaking or quivering, almost as if he was incapable of any emotions or feelings. Y/N sighed, tears starting to form in their eyes. Of course even during their lowest and darkest moment, as they stood on the ledge, he didn’t truly care. Typical Shinsou.
Y/N went to respond to Shinsou, barely catching themself when they realized Shinsou ended his sentence with a question. He was trying to use his quirk on them, so they would get off the ledge and he could be the hero everyone loved and adored, but Y/N wouldn’t let him have that satisfaction. So Y/N resorted to simply shaking their head no.
How the most dangerous thing is to love. How you will heal and rise above.
Y/N could hear Shinsou’s feet tap against the rooftop, meaning he was moving closer to them. This only caused Y/N to let out a groan. God, why was he making this so complicated and difficult, didn’t he realize how better this would be? Could he just stop being the hero for once and let things play out how it should go?
“You were always too smart for your own good, Y/N. So I’ll make you a deal, I won’t use my quirk on you, but please just come off the ledge. Let’s just talk about it, explain to me what’s going on in your head. I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.” Shinsou pleaded, the sound of his footsteps stopping. Y/N turned out slightly, to see him standing only a few feet away, both of them a little more than arm’s length apart.
“Shinsou, just give up the hero act, alright? There is only one way I’m getting off this ledge and we both know how I’m going. You can’t save me, you had your chance but you were too absorbed in your hero work and being a hero to everyone else except to me. Just give up already, it’s over.” Y/N cried out, tears running down their face, as they locked eyes with their boyfriend. They watched as tears ran down his cheeks. It hurt Y/N to see him hurting so much but they needed to go through with this, it was the only way.
“Y/N….please. I love you, baby, don’t do this.” Was all Shinsou could muster out, a sob escaping from him. Y/N knew the man on the roof was no longer the pro hero but their boyfriend, which only made this so much more difficult. Part of them was tired and ready to fling them self off the roof and to finally be at peace, while the other half was tied down by the love they held and had for Shinsou.
You may feel no purpose nor a point for existing. It’s all just conjecture and gloom. And there may not be meaning so find one and seize it. Do not waste your self on this roof.
“You don’t understand, do you? I have to fucking do this Shinsou, I just need to go through with this but god you are making it so hard for me to jump. I hate that I love you and the feelings I have for you are the only thing keeping me on this ledge right now and I hate that. I hate the effect you have on me and how you just make everything so difficult!” Y/N screamed out, their entire body shaking, tears pouring down their face.
Slowly but surely, Y/N sat down on the ledge, just sobbing. Y/N could see Shinsou moving closer to them now but they were too tired to fight it anymore. They let their boyfriend come and pull them off the ledge and into his arms. Shinsou held them close, both of them crying. Neither said a word though, Y/N’s mind was still running, the urge to fling them self off the roof still a prominent thought in their mind.
“Shinsou...I need help. I don’t think I wanna die, even if every part of me is craving and wanting me to. Wanting me to hurt myself and others. Wanting me to just run and fall off this roof. I’m just so tired, I don’t wanna do anything anymore and just everything is falling apart.” Y/N cried more into their boyfriend’s hero gear, gripping onto the sleeve of his uniform tightly, scared if they let go, Shinsou would be gone and they would be alone once more on the ledge.
How the most dangerous thing is to love. How you’ll heal and rise above. Crowned by an overture bold and beyond. Ah, it’s more courageous to overcome.
“Sweetheart, we will get through this together. I’ll help you get the help you want and need and be there by your side through it all. I love you, I don’t wanna lose you.” Shinsou quietly whispered into your ear, afraid if he would speak up he would start crying once again.
“Shi...you don’t gotta lie anymore, I...I know you are losing feelings and it’s okay. You can move on and be happy being a hero with me supporting you in another way that isn’t your partner.”
Shinsou upon hearing this, gently pushed back and looked Y/N in the eyes. “Y/N, what are you talking about? I still love you so dearly and wanna be with you, where did that come from?”
“You’ve been distant lately and well I just assumed you no longer cared or worse...no longer loved me…” Y/N mumbled out, looking away from him, afraid to make eye contact with him right now.
He gently grabbed their chin and turned their head so they were looking at each other. “Y/N, I love you with all that I am. Without you, I don’t think I would have made it this far. I don’t think I would have become a pro hero or anything. You showed me what love is and I’m sorry I’m not the best at it giving you the same treatment and love you give me. And lately? God, I’m so sorry about lately and I know there are no excuses here. I’ve just been stressed from work and nervous.” He moved his hand so that it was on Y/N’s cheek. “It was going to be a surprise, but nervous cause I’m planning to propose to you Y/N.”
“Shinsou….I’m so-”
“Stop, you have nothing to apologize for one this matter baby. I shouldn’t have pushed you away the way I did, that’s my fault.” He placed a small kiss on their forehead.
And see life as a means to a triumph, today of all days.
Both slowly got up and went to the roof access door. It was going to be a long journey to recover for Y/N, but they were no longer afraid. Of course, there would be road bumps and difficulties along the way, these thoughts never truly going away, at least not overnight. But, with Shinsou by their side, it would be a little more bearable. They were given a purpose to live and keep going. Y/N had Shinsou and to some, that may not seem like much, but at that moment, it was just enough.
#bnha#bnha fanfiction#bnha x reader#bnha fanfic x reader#bnha shinsou#pro hero shinsou#my hero academia#my hero academia fanfic#my hero academia fanfiction#my hero academia x reader#shinsou x reader#shinsou x gender neutral reader#songfic#achilles come down by gang of youths#heavy angst#referenced parent death#referenced self harm#referenced suicide attempt#implied relationship issues#implied stress#Angst with a happy ending#bnha angst#my hero academia angst#shinsou x y/n
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Wolf Kisses 3
Pairing: Stucky x Shapeshifter reader
Word count: 1897
Warnings: none on this chapter, sorry for any typo.
A/N: ok ... I think I already know where I want this fic to go. I have currently 3 more chapters planned, but since I got stuck writing this (it covers only half of what I had planed for this specific chapter) I might take longer with the others. I’m just publishing this one like this because I feel like I’ve been stuck long enough and I might need a new perspective. I hope you all like it!
Tag lis is OPEN
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Part 2
You were in the communal kitchen, having breakfast with Bucky and Steve when Tony walks in and stops when he looks at you. he whistles slowly and looks between the two men.
"You go Capsicle, finally getting on with the times I see." he winks at them and slaps Bucky on the shoulder when he passes him on the kitchen, going in for the coffee pot to make himself a cup. This makes Steve choke on his coffee and a scowl to appear on Bucky's face.
"What is that supposed to mean, tin man?" Bucky grumbles, turning on his seat to look at Tony. Tony merely looks at the three of you and makes an obscene sign with his fingers, making a collective groan to leave you all.
"First of, eww, we're still eating!" you say "And second of, I'm still recovering from an injured leg, I don't think those activities are advisable." you sass back, looking at Tony's shocked face when you tell him you're the injured wolf the two super soldiers brought home.
"What? But…"
"Wolf got your tongue?" you are now openly laughing at his reaction, with Steve and Bucky snickering beside you. "By the way, I have some really strong words for you if you think I'll let you do any testing in me without me bitting back." you are glaring at him by the end of your sentence, making sure he knows you don't want any probes anywhere near you whatsoever.
"Will a bite from you make me turn?"
"I'm not a werewolf, I'm a shapeshifter."
"Sure thing Lupin, whatever you say." he picks his cup and leaves the kitchen, trowing that comment over his shoulder.
Tony didn't talked more to you that morning. But in the afternoon you did got a manila folder under Steve's door with information about your species, that Tony had collected from one of Shield's servers, along with a written note that a room would be prepared for you that same afternoon so you wouldn't have to sleep on Steve's couch. Yeah… like you had been doing that anyway. But maybe a room would be nice. You would be able to give them their space and you could have yours.
You have dinner alone with them in their apartment that night, and after, you are shown to your new room. There were some clothes set out for you, that seamed about your size, so you wouldn't need to keep wearing Steve's and Bucky's oversized shirts, although to be honest, they were quite comfortable.
You take your precious time in the bath that day, making sure you are thoroughly clean and relaxed before sleeping on some clothes and flopping belly up on the bed, just staring at the ceiling. The soft shadows caused by the lights from the buildings outside made the room appear cold, dark, and empty. Made you feel alone. When did you stop feeling like you were alone in the first place? You had barely noticed it… but now that it was missing, you craved it once more.
You didn't want cold and dark and alone.
You wanted toasty warm, and cuddly. You wanted the comfort both men provided without really asking it of them. You wanted the security they gave and how they made you feel like you didn't have to be alone ever again.
You get up and walk to the door before stopping abruptly. No. You couldn't. You had intruded on their lives enough already. And now you had your own room, and not even one excuse to go and see them. You were alone once more and you had to live with it. So you crawled back to bed and pulled the comforter atop your head, hiding underneath them to keep warm.
Your night was restless, you got little sleep, and had sore muscles from the lack of rest. Your eyes were still a bit puffy from the time you burst out crying with no idea what you were even crying about. Overall, you looked like a freshly crawled out of a grave zombie. That was plainly clear when Tony and Sam spent the entirety of breakfast teasing you.
"So… where's Steve and Bucky?" you ask, not having seen them yet that morning.
"Last I saw them was when we went on our morning run." answered Sam, between bites of his toast.
"FRIDAY, were are Capsicle and Barnes?" Tony quips from his seat, eyes never leaving his tabled and occasionally sipping his coffee.
You looked at him weirdly until a disembodied voice ranged all around you. "Captain Rogers and Sargent Barnes are currently on the training floor."
"What was that?" you ask a bit startled with the voice that came from thing air.
"That was the AI that powers this building. You can ask her anything if you ever need help around here. She'll also let you know what floors you have access to and what floors are off-limits." that could come in handy.
"Cool… do I have access to the training floor?" Tony merely hummed, and so you went back to finish your breakfast. Sam comes with you to the training room when you both finish breakfast, him going to the locker room first to change to something lighter than the sweater he was wearing.
You go ahead and open the door, the sound of flesh hitting flesh and grunting could be heard right away, the overpowering smell of the leather of the machines hitting your nose with the slight tang of sweat. You can see both men in a sparing mat, trowing and dodging punches right and left, with barely time to take a breath.
You don't want to distract them, so you lean against the wall, just watching them. Roling muscles expanding and coiling with each new movement an entrancing sight. Sam shows up a few minutes later, wearing a black t-shirt with the Avengers logo on it… subtle. He walks up to you and smiles.
"Do you spar?"
"Oh… not really. I only fight when others get too close for comfort. And even then I have sharp teeth and claws to help me out. Like this, " you point with a hand at your body, "I'm basically useless." he chuckles at you and nods at one of the punching bags.
"Care to help?" you nod, following him and grabbing the bag so it wouldn't move too much whenever he punched it. You could feel the strength of his punches traveling through the bag, and you could also tell he was holding back, maybe so he wouldn't make you fall down. "So… wolf girl. What's it like to live as a wolf?"
"It's thrilling. The rush I get when turning, when running or hunting, it's amazing. The power flowing through my veins, making me faster and stronger, making me be able to see better in the dark, and to ear and smell more enhanced than when I'm human? It's addictive really." you can see the fascinating in his eyes with every word you say, his focus on punching the bag slipping away so he could better hear your story. " But all extremely draining, the more time I spend as a wolf the weeker I progressively became, and if I get injured, my body can't even turn back."
"So like, you can only be a certain amount of hours turned?" he asks, resuming his punchings when he notices he had fully stopped his training to look at you.
"No, with experience, and by pushing my limits I get to extend that time. The most I've staying turned was about three weeks, it was during a blizzard, and honestly, being human in that situation would have killed me." a loud bang reverberates in the room, making the both of you look over to the two super soldiers. Steve was pinned to the ground, whit Bucky's metal arm in his throat pushing him to stay down while he straddled the blond's hips, also pinning his legs so he couldn't move.
"Ready to give up, Stevie?" Bucky taunted, leaning furder down to whisper something on his ear, making him shift his head softly to look in yours and Sam's direction before looking back at Bucky.
"I can do this all day." Steve manages to topple Bucky over and get the upper hand, pinning him now to the floor mats. Gripping Buckys arms to the side of his head, sitting on his thighs.
"Get a room you two." Sam throws at them, making you laugh at the light blushes on their faces when Steve helps Bucky up.
"No need to get jealous birdbrain, we can share you between us." Bucky quips back, just to rile up Sam. Your friendly bickering is stoped when Natasha walks in, with a serious face.
"Fury is calling all of us for a meeting. Now." she leaves the training room without waiting for an answer.
"(Y/N), why don't you go up to your room and order something for lunch from FRIDAY, we'll probably take a long while at the meeting." Sam leads you to the door, while the three of them go to the locker room to change before the meeting.
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Being cooped up in this fancy room wasn't your idea of fun. In fact, you've been living so long on the wild that being in this place as long as you have is starting to make you climb the walls. Almost literally.
Maybe you should have taken Sam's offer to throw some punches and let out some pent up anxiety. Maybe a walk outside would help you calm your nerves. You walk to the elevator and after some awkwardly pacing around, you speak up.
"FRIDAY, can you take me to the ground floor please?" you can feel the moment the elevator starts to move, and a short few minutes later the doors open up to a massive lobby. "Thank you." you step out and walk along the vast space, boots making some squeaky noises every few steps. The doorman tipped his hat at you and opened the door, bidding you farewell.
The air outside was warm, but the cool wind that was blowing felt refreshing on your skin. You pick a direction and start walking, not caring much about where you're going. The streets were busy, but no one really paied any attention to you, making you blend in naturally with the city.
You are so distracted by your own thoughts that the next thing you know you are walking at a park, the lush green canopies of the trees making the air cooler and more refreshing. You walk to a bench and sit there, looking at the small playground infront of it, watching the children playing.
You longed to be able to run as a wolf once more, but it wouldn't be smart to do it here, the bystanders would only call for the authorities and you would be shot on sight. So running freely would have to wait. You wondered how the meeting was going, what they were talking about, and if it involved you. You where living there rent-free after all, and with a questionable background to warrant you lots of questions about it, none of the superheroes were doing.
Taking a deep breath once again you decide to return to the tower, you had been away for far too long without having told anyone.
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Part 4
Tags: @hidden-treasures21 @jelly-fishy-babie @thedarkplume @fallenoutofrose @animegirlgeeky @salveangeli @lokilokilokilokilokiloki @artemis629 @buckysknifecollection @glimmering-darling-dolly @ rebekahdawkins @amiets2 @tite-rose @ animegirlgeeky
#Bucky Barnes#Steve Rogers#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#steve rogers x reader#steve x bucky#stucky#stucky x reader#steve x bucky x reader#fluff#wolf#shapeshifter#My writing
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Owed Part 2
Steve Rogers x reader
(Word Count: 2689)
(Gif not mine, but I love it)
The view from your penthouse was everything you could ask for after a long night.
“I want you and the team waiting for me in Paris by next week. You know the drill.” You said, picking up one file in particular.
You ignored Mo’s groan and whatever it was she was trying to explain. You grimaced at the photo staring back at you.
Alexander Pierce. He was long dead, but some of his associates had yet to be uncovered. The name of one in particular caught you off guard. Avon. Presumed dead, body never recovered.
The images of his face hovering over you, forcing you to use your powers bombarded your senses. You crumpled the paper out of instinct. He was too slippery to be dead, and you were going to make sure he really was.
“I have another job that requires my attention. Solo.” You told her.
Mo nodded at your seriousness and pulled out a pair of pearl earrings. You marveled at their simple beauty. After living a life filled with ugly things, you had earned each and every luxury.
“Recording device made in your style, boss. Leverage, if need be.” Mo explained. You immediately put them on and smirked.
“Thanks, Mo. Now tell me how distro went.” You sat across from her, taking time to compare notes and make sure all the money was delivered to all the right people.
You took ten percent. Your team got five per person. And the rest, went to your people. Stacks of money left on project window sills, in a fifth grader’s backpack during the afterschool rush, left in a college kid’s dorm room. The money was scattered across the city, securely in the hands of struggling black families who certainly weren’t getting help from anyone else.
You nodded, impressed with the good team you had and their dedication to your cause. It was exactly why you couldn’t let them get involved in your personal agenda.
“Lock up for me. See you, Mo.”
You grabbed your purse from the counter and headed out the door.
…
It had been one of those restless nights Steve was becoming more and more familiar with.
He and Sam stayed up all night trying to get Bucky to remember you. Anything about you, actually. Confirmation that your name was really Y/N, more clarity on your powers. Steve did not appreciate the interruption that was Tony Stark busting into the room.
“Heard you had a special night, Boy Scout. Too bad you couldn’t get laid in the process. Anyway, the bombshell you ran into stole thirty million dollars up under your noses.” Tony announced.
So that’s what you were buying time for. A robbery. Steve placed his hands on his hips in frustration.
“Anything useful, Stark?” Steve asked begrudgingly.
He was going through a dozen or more screens, his mind going a mile a minute. Tony hadn’t even acknowledged Sam or Bucky and probably wasn’t going to. His attention was solely on whatever information he was fixated on.
“Got her. She looked directly at the camera on fifteenth.” Tony said in an annoyed voice. He blew up the photo, and it was definitely you. You were dressed more casually than last night, but the way you held your chin, the slight part in your lips, everything was the same.
Steve couldn’t help the small smile that found its way on his face. You weren’t hiding from him or anyone. Bold, if nothing else.
“Find out if there are any Hydra members that were never caught and cross reference with her file. If it matches, she’s going after them.” Steve said.
Bucky had a lost look in his eyes, something Steve had learned was his knee jerk reaction to anything Hydra. His friend had lost so much to those people, and he could only imagine what Hydra took from you.
“What’s our next play, Cap?” Sam asked. Steve reached for his shield.
“Suit up. And don’t let her get a beat on you.”
…
Access to Avon’s office wasn’t hard.
You slipped into the building afternoon rush, right off the street. Using the security officers to bypass each checkpoint, making it into his private office wasn’t hard, either.
You kept your head held high as you opened the door, making sure to have each guard flank you. Avon was sitting at his desk going through papers when you strut into the room.
“Six eight three.” He said, his panic never outweighing fascination. You sat down in the chair across from him, never once breaking eye contact on the way down.
“Hi, doc. You didn’t forget about my promise, did you?” You asked.
He was much older than before. His salt and pepper hair had gone gray and he shaved off his mustache. For all intents and purposes, Avon looked like a normal old man. His unassuming appearance hid the evil he had committed in his life from plain view.
But you knew as soon the good doctor laid eyes on you, he hadn’t changed at all. The same lingering gaze still made your skin crawl.
You spurred into action. In an instant, you had Avon under your spell, guiding him towards you.
“The roof. Move.” You prodded.
As he trudged on completely at your mercy, and you knew he’d be dead by nightfall. It was the only ending you could accept. The ghost of his needles and his gloves fingers pressing into your skin over and over again...
And the memories always stayed.
You clenched your jaw as all the anger and hurt tried to bubble up to the surface. You couldn’t even lose your cool to a dead man walking. He needed to die with the image of the woman you had become in his mind, not the little girl who cried until she had no tears left.
Your little group calmly made it up to the roof. It was bare for the most part. Cold. Gravelly, too. You flinched as the strain of occupying so many minds grew the longer you held it.
“Please. Please, six eught three.” Avon cried. Bastard couldn’t even call you by your name, even if he knew it. Just an experiment number.
You reared back and decked him square in the face. Blood dripped from his nose as he stumbled back. You could see the wild eyes of a mad scientist, admiring his handiwork.
You snarled and tagged him again, forcing him to the ground. He whimpered as you squatted down next to him, knife in hand.
You were about to kill him yourself, but a wicked thought came to mind.
“You worked so hard to make me, doc, it’s only right you offer me the same courtesy.” You whispered devilishly.
As you rose to your feet, so did Avon. He trembled all over, but he had no retort, no defense, no excuse. Avon made you to his standards; he knew exactly what you were capable of and how efficient you were in the field.
You offered him the knife and he took it with shaky hands. He would die by his hands, the same hands responsible for the death of hundreds. A familiar feeling stirred within you, your powers intensifying.
Avon’s eyes glazed over with purple for a second, before returning to their usual brown. His death would dox you from the country for years to come, and if it rid him from the world, then so be it.
“Y/N! I know what they did!”
Steve.
He’d seen your little message, because he and Bucky were running full speed a rooftop away. Their powerful bodies absorbed the impact and kept them moving, with Steve pulling slightly ahead of Bucky. There had to be more.
A glimpse of movement above you alerted you to Sam. When you met him in person, he seemed normal enough, but maybe he was enhanced. That left you to deal with three bogeys alone.
Good thing you were good at improvising.
“I know what he did.” Steve said in between ragged breaths.
He had just landed on the other end of your rooftop with Bucky just a few yards away from him. The two men had their whole get ups on, minus the helmet. His blonde hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, and his chest heaved from the effort.
You didn’t respond, you couldn’t. You just stared out at Steve without releasing your hold on Avon. If he knew about the doctor, he had to know what Hydra trained you for. Violence and death was always going to be your path, at least with Avon you’d get a say about who, where, or when.
“You should’ve stayed in your tower, this doesn’t involve you.” You warned. Steve was supposed to be a story you told about the time you met Captain America, and now he was in front of you again.
Where your last meeting was fun and playful, it wasn’t just business anymore. A hardness that came from years of waiting for the chance to end your torturer once and for all outweighed any new feelings you might have had.
“You tried, Steve,” You added, just loud enough for him to hear.
Steve shook his head and a hard determination settled in his face.
“We’re not done yet,” He said. Your hair blew from the wind behind you, and your eyes glowed purple. With a wave of your hand, Avon stabbed himself in the gut.
With a strangled cry, the scientist dropped to his knees.
At the same time, you let go of the security guards and they clambered for the exit. Taking advantage of their spectacle, your powers seized on Bucky. Beads of sweat trickled down your face from the effort of Bucky’s mind alone.
The man stilled for a split second as his eyes turned purple. In the next breath he was tackling Steve, seeing his friend as Alexander Pierce.
You picked him because was probably one of the few people who could hold Steve back until the task was complete. It made tactical sense, and you had to make your little tricks last.
The irony and guilt of controlling a man who had lived a long life under the thumb of others with no free will, wasn’t lost on you. It had to be done.
Avon’s cries became louder and his blood was everywhere, the strong sickly smell burned your nostrils. You stared at the dying man without an ounce of regret.
Just before you commanded a second strike, Bucky had pinned Steve to the ground and you let go of your hold on him. Avon would be dead soon enough and it wouldn’t take long for Steve to go after you once freed.
Avon opened his mouth in a silent cry, his teeth bloodstained as he tried to stay alive. You hovered over him and spat.
“Hail Hydra,” You snarled. His gurgles were the tell tale sign he was fading fast, choking on his own blood. You wondered how many black girls Avon had deemed failed experiments until he succeeded with you.
As you began to make your escape, a shot rang out.
Avon’s body fell backwards as the bullet pierced his skull. Even though your heart raced and you couldn’t hear much of anything, looked up and it clicked immediately.
Bucky was standing with his gun still pointing at Avon. The lone shell casing laid at his feet. Everything went into an uneasy silence with each person waiting to fall off the edge.
Steve flung his shield your way, and it caught you in the shoulder. You fell backwards, and black spots interrupted your vision. For a moment you laid there in a daze.
Steve hovered over you, flipping you on your stomach, holding your hands behind your back. You struggled against him, to no avail. Taking a deep breath, you surveyed your surroundings.
“It didn’t have to go like this,” Steve said wistfully. You stilled, and only the sound of heavy breathing and the occasional gravel crunching under your weight.
Bucky was behind you somewhere, and you were eye level with Avon’s body. It sent an involuntary chill down your spine.
Sam had been circling the skies above the chaos, and he would be your way out. It was over once he landed in your line of sight.
You made Bucky the target. Sam made a beeline for the brunette with a twisted face. You bucked up at Steve, who wasn’t easily moved, but he didn’t need to be. The second he looked down, you had him under your grasp.
But once the super soldier lifted you to your feet, you let him go, indulging for one last time. No powers.
You leaned into Steve and crashed your lips onto his. In response, he gripped your waist, and held one of your hands in his. You snaked your other one up to the nape of his neck, nudging him even closer to you, if that was possible.
For at least one moment in time, the two of you were utterly and completely lost in each other.
You slowly pulled away from him, the fantasy disintegrating before your eyes and his. Phantom heat from his lips still warmed your own as Steve’s conflicted gaze stared down at you.
You blinked and quickly regained control, this time showing Steve his first love. It was a dark haired woman with bold red lipstick. She seemed strong and daring.
You regained your focus.
Luckily, Bucky hadn’t gotten to Sam yet. You broke out in an all out run, drawing him nearer. He believed he was holding Steve up instead of you, and that he was taking him to their tower. In reality, he was flying you to a drop off point at the docks. The strain of Steve’s mind and Sam’s was taking a toll. You ran faster.
In seconds he dove down towards you, taking you up in the air with him. Steve was out of range after the first block. But Bucky’s haunted gaze was stamped into your brain, even as his figure disappeared on the horizon.
The weight that he had helped you kill Avon was something you two would share forever, just like that cell. You gulped and wondered what he would tell Steve about you.
The wind whipped everywhere as you soared through the air. It was a welcome noise to black out the silence.
When you landed, you took the opportunity to make Sam sleep. When he awoke in an empty shipping container he was sure to have a headache, but he’d be fine more or less.
You stumbled to the guard, whose eyes widened at your haggard appearance. Your shirt was full of dirt stains, you had Avon’s blood on your jeans—your saving grace was the fact that you made it in time.
“There must be a mistake, this ship travels during the night shift.” He said.
You pushed a stray strand of hair out of your face and smiled.
“I’m sorry, I’m looking for the one that leaves at dawn. To see the sunrise.” You replied.
Titan and his games. You clicked your tongue, antsy at being out in the open for so long.
The guard guided you up the port, to a massive ship. As you boarded, the man led you to a room deep in the heart of the vessel.
As soon as the door opened, you smiled at the older man in a Captain’s uniform.
“You smell like shit.” He told you, motioning towards the decadent bathroom. You scoffed and rolled your eyes.
“You’re a lifesaver, T.” You said. All of your things were waiting for you in the bedroom. The guard had disappeared.
Titan walked past you, and out the door without another word. You thanked your lucky stars you had friends and favors to collect all around the world.
Finally alone and safe, you shrugged your shoulders and stripped everything off. A hot bath was waiting for you. The water swayed softly as you got in and the boat left the port.
You closed your eyes and let your muscles relax in the heat.
“Paris.”
#black!reader#marvel mcu#poc!reader#steve rogers x black!reader#steve rogers x poc!reader#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers
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Lore: The Netherese in 1492 DR
Disclaimer Game Version: All these analyses were written up to the game version v4.1.104.3536 (Early access). As long as new content is added, and as long as I have free time for that, I will try to keep updating this information. Written in June 2021.
Detail: BG3 takes place in 1492 DR.
To understand what's the context around "Netherese magic" and, let's hope, its nature, I think it's of vital importance to know a bit about Netheril and what happened in recent years.
The game does a good job in showing us what happened with their fall at Karsus' hands. I explained in the post of "Well-known Characters" a good amount of information about him. His desire for godhood was a bit more complex than just wanting to be a god, even though the game shows it as blind arrogance and ambition: so far we know, it was Mystra who commanded her priests to spread this version of Karsus' Folly, as if he only wanted power alone.
After Karsus' folly, all the floating cities of Netheril fell to the ground, destroying their population with them. However, only three cities were saved since they were too high in the air: their fall gave enough time for Mystra to be reborn in minutes and saved them. A fourth enclave, ruled by Telamont Tanthul—also called Lord Shadow—was teleported to the Shadow Plane (now called Shadowfell) days before the catastrophe. This was possible because Shadow Lord had been experimenting with the Shadow plane energies for a while. When he returned to Faerûn to see the aftermath of Karsus' folly, he recognised the need to stay in the other plane and gather strength to rebuild Netheril. After 1700 years, he started his plan for the return of his Civilisation in 1372 DR.
This is the context in which the trilogy of The Return of the Archwizards is set. This also belongs to 4e, which is one of the concepts that have annoyed more players, since this return made the Shadovars the Big Bad Evil everywhere. Maybe WotC wants to clean this aspect in the game. Maybe not. We don't know for sure. But we may suspect that Netherese people are returning in BG3: many details ingame keep giving context about them: Gale's explanation about Karsus' Folly, Excavation of the Enclave of Nhalloth (book), The Approachable East: Vol5 (book), and then the presence of Netherese magic not only in Gale's "orb" but in the tadpoles.
I think it's worth checking the ingame book called “Excavation of the Enclave of Nhalloth”. Nhalloth was a Netherese city floating above the Sea of Fallen Stars in Faerûn. After Karsus' folly, it sank into the sea, claiming for some underwater creatures. As a consequence of the Spellplague, the geography changed, the waters lowered, and allowed a bit of exploration. Little was found, and explorers reported odd feelings and ghosts around it.
What do we know about the Return of Netheril in 1372?
These new Netherese people started to spread their influence in Faerûn, looking for Netherese old artefacts and spying on people and places that could possibly hinder their ultimate goal of creating a new Netheril in their image. But, were these people truly Netherese? The question comes from the fact that living creatures can't stay in the Plane of Shadow (currently merged with the Plane of negative energy which transformed it into the Shadowfell) without being affected by it. So, in an attempt to be short but still provide important facts I will numerate vital details of them that may become handy in BG3:
This floating city used to be called Thultanthar, and after its return, it's more commonly referred as the City of Shade.
Somehow, the Netherese people survived, and became more united and secretive.
Over 1700 years, each generation of these netherese people become more and more attuned to the shadow plane, some of them even turning into Shades: twisted, dark, humanoid creatures with longer lifespan than humans. Lord Shadow was still the main ruler of the City of Shade because he is now a Shade.
A big percentage of their population are worshippers of Shar.
The archwizards (ruling class) in the highest ranks are called Shadovars. Not every Netherese or Shade person is a Shadovar. Despite this, most folk refer to all Netherese as Shadovar nonetheless.
Most Shadovars are followers of Shar.
Shadovars are masters of Shadow Magic. It's a common mistake to think that Shadow magic is the same as Shadow Weave magic. Shadow Magic is magic using the energies of the Plane of Shadow. This can be done using Weave or Shadow Weave. Since most shadow casters are evil-aligned, Shar tried to offer them the Shadow Weave as a means to cast their magic without using the Weave (an element of a neutral-good aligned deity). This is related to the effect of worshipping without consent: Using the Weave is always a way to worship Mystra even if the caster wants it or not. This always gives power to Mystra. Shar created the Shadow Weave as a way to divert all those evil-aligned casters into her own worshipping. More details in the post of "Mystra and her Chosen ones"
With the return of the Shadovars, they tried to corrupt the recently recovered Weave and turn it into Shadow Weave.
In 1487DR, Lord Shadow tried to gain the power of the Mythal of Myth Drannor, but Elminster killed him and the City of Shade fell upon Myth Drannor, destroying both cities.
However, this was not the end of the Shadovar. We may have some information about how they are in 1490s DR (let's remember BG3 is during 1492 DR):
Lord Shadow may be part of the Weave now (I have no idea why Ed said this. Lord Shadow was not a Chosen of Mystra, why would he be a weaveghost now?)
Two of his daughters and a Netherese arcanist survived: The sisters Lelavdra and Manarlume and the arcanist Gwelt have been calling themselves "The Three".
The Three have been collecting Netherese and others loyal to the Shade Empire from the ruins of the Citadel of the Raven in the western Moonsea region since late 1487 DR. They had collected at least 60 low level arcanists and 20 low born Netherese within a short period of time.
Gwelt was leading the hunt for others calling their group "The Court of the Three."
Their goals were supposedly to collect other Netherese, make allies, identify foes, take command of the remaining floating Netherese cities, and find a remote location to regroup and plan their re-emergence. It is unknown how far they have come.
Why all of this may be important?
Because part of this canon material may or may not be part of the story of BG3.
It's true that Larian has already changed some very consistent canon facts, such as the spell of the Hag eye (Ethel justifies her spell as a very personal customised one) or—the most impressive change—the Ceremorphosis process: Gale explains that the normal process removes the personality of the person in the sixth day after the infection, when in Forgotten Realms canon it should happen few hours after the infection. So my expectations for them to follow all canon material are not blind. They will change canon concepts as they think suitable, which is how DnD works. Still yet, it seems reasonable to read about all this in order to have a better context of what we will see, since the canon context is undeniably there.
Personally I always saw the presence of Netherese/Shadow Magic in the tadpoles as the intervention of Shar, but I never could find a group of mortals who would do that work and have such specific knowledge. We know that, with the exception of Mystra, contact with mortals is forbidden to all gods; therefore, Shar could not be the one to have approached these Mind Flayers. Now, the presence of the Court of the Three, working alongside or co-opting The Three Dead's plan seems a more reasonable possibility for me.
So far, what we know is that
Shadow Magic is equivalent to Netherese Magic ( EA, Ethel's words)
Shadow Magic is magic related to the plane of Shadows. This plane was altered by Shar when she merged the negative energy plane with it, causing the Shadowfell. The Shadowfell was Shar's realm for a while.
Shar was a great loser in the last edition. She could not change the Weave into Shadow Weave and become the greatest deity of magic as she planned. So she may want to counter-attack now.
Shadovars—who tried to help Shar in turning her into the Goddess of Magic—are masters of Shadow Magic and Shadow Weave magic.
The Shadow Weave was not destroyed, it's recovering at a similar pace to the Weave.
The tadpole can't turn the host into a mind flayer because Netherese magic (the dream person) attached to it works as a stasis process. ( EA)
The Netherese magic—aka dream person—seems to restrain the Mind Flayer transformation while having strong connotations of Bhaalspawn essence. ( EA)
These small details may suggest that maybe the Shadovar are returning, or the three dead are using Shadovar's knowledge or vice versa. The possibilities are many and it seems hard to decide which ones are more likely since EA gives little information for such estimation.
Sources:
2e: Sea of Fallen Stars
3e: Lost Empires of Faerûn
4e: The Return of the Archwizards, The Herald, Grand History of the Realms
Article: After the Fall by Ed. Greenwood: https://dnd.wizards.com/articles/features/after-fall
Ed Greenwood Twitter
This post was written in June 2021.
→ For more Gale: Analysis Series Index
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How do Rein and Alistair rule their kingdom? Are they strict on laws? Are they lenient rulers? Are they sympathetic to the poor? Do they hate Mages?
Forgive me if this was asked before but I’ve been thinking about this with my own Warden and now I’m curious about others now. Also as always flawless work!
Hi! Thank you for such an interesting ask! I’m sorry that it's taken me so long to answer it. I just have too many thoughts and headcanons on how Ferelden could've changed between events of DA:O and DA:I and I lost track of the time writing them all down. 😶
I would say that Rein and Alistair are strict when it comes to enforcing their reforms for Ferelden. They do not have an easy task - Ferelden had barely started to recover from the years of occupation when the Blight began. When Rein and Alistair took over the crown, the country was under the threat of famine. Many villages were destroyed, their crops tainted. Denerim and a few other major cities were seriously damaged and Ferelden became an easy target for another invasion as half of its army was dead.
It was no time to play nice with the nobles, it was time to act. Ironically, the dire situation that the country was in, was obvious even to those opposing the new king and queen, and the protests were not as widely spread as one could imagine. Still, a few not-so-successful assassins and conspirators lost their lives during the first ten years of Rein and Alistair’s reign.
Here are some more important changes they've introduced:
- a royal decree was announced throughout Ferelden that any volunteer who decides to restore an abandoned farm and after a year manages to achieve a set amount of yield from it will be granted the rights to that farm. Any citizen of Ferelden, regardless of their race and social status, could apply for this task. As, in accordance with the Fereldan law, any freehold chooses the bann to whom it pays allegiance (and a head of every freehold can be elected bann by others) it was a great opportunity for the underrepresented people of Ferelden to gain some independence and political power. After Alistair named Shianni the first Bann of Denerim's Alienage, some city elves started to believe that they may have a chance to follow her example. Many succeeded and in a matter of a few years the influx of elves moving to the Fereldan countryside has lead to the situation in which many Ferelden villages have a larger population of elves than humans. A few small bannors with elven leaders were formed too (though they are not very politically powerful just yet, as human noble houses more often than not were not interested in alliances or trade agreements with elves). Immigration to Ferelden has grown, not only among elves but also surface dwarves and human peasants,
- elves were granted the right to carry weapons. They were also officially allowed to join the military and the city guard. The jurisdiction system was reformed to ensure equal rights of people of all races. It does not work perfectly and elves are still often treated unfairly, especially in places far away from the royal hand of justice. A few years after the Blight, the first elf in Ferelden was accepted to study law at University of Denerim and soon a few others followed,
- the sea trade with Free Marches and the land trade with Orzammar developed, while the land trade with Orlais worsened. The mountain trade routes have only been fully restored by the Inquisition when Skyhold became an important fortress on the border,
- what could be spared from the tight budget was spent on education. The court hired specialists from other countries (including Tevinter) and sent them to travel across Ferelden and share their knowledge to speed up the restoration of the country. Children are now encouraged to attend local schools for at least a few years. Now it is not much, but Rein and Alistair still hope that during their reign there will be new schools and even universities built across Ferelden and that soon Ferelden will no longer fall behind other countries,
- after the Blight, the necessity of having mages work outside the Circle was so clear that not even the Chantry could avert their eyes from the truth. The mage reformation is going slowly (to the monarchs’ frustration), but a few small compromises have been reached. The Chantry now allows small mage units to be transferred from the Circle to the cities. At first this rule applied only to Denerim, with Wynne as the royal enchanter, but with time every major city in Ferelden has began to host mages. The city mage unit consists of a Senior Enchanter and up to five assistant adult mages. Their duties include aiding the hospitals and assisting with restoring the land from the effects of the Blight,
- upon the Chantry’s request, each mage unit in the city is accompanied by a Templar unit of a similar size. The tension is still present as the templars can report any “suspicious” mages and request their transfer back to the Circle,
- after long negotiations with the Chantry, mage children up to age 13 were finally allowed to study in the city under the supervision of a local Senior Enchanter so that they have a better chance to stay connected with their families and learn the basics of magic in a more friendly environment. Unfortunately, the compromise was not perfect - afterwards, teenage mages must still spend at least 5 years in the Circle and go through the Harrowing. The same conditions apply to any mage who wants to work outside the Circle. The Harrowing is still required of every mage, except for those volunteering to be made Tranquil. As the Chantry is still guarding its independence from the country’s jurisdiction, the situation of Circle mages is not much better than it was under Irving and Gregoir’s rule,
- Circle mages working in cities slowly gain access to foreign spell books. While they're technically forbidden, the dangers of being caught with the wrong book - despite the Templars' supervision - are low,
- the Chantry still does not allow the Tranquil to work away from the Circle's control. They do not want to share the profits from the Tranquil's work,
- the fate of the apostates has not improved much, though not for lack of trying. Technically, under the new agreement, they could be hired outside the Circle but only after serving 5 years in Kinloch to “prove that they are worthy of trust”. Almost no one accepts those terms. Apostates still chiefly live in hiding, join the Mages' Collective or try to work as mercenaries,
- Grey Wardens are quite popular in Ferelden. The travelling units of Wardens are a welcome sight as stray darkspawn still appear above the surface. Queen Rein herself is often seen in the field with her most trusted companions,
- the first serious attempts at trade with the Dalish clans travelling through the Brecillian Forest have been made - in the first year after the battle of Denerim Alistair invited Sabrae clan to organize a trade meeting. It was agreed to take place in the outskirts of Brecillian Forest and last three days. King Alistair attended it personally to show his support for the Dalish (and to help prevent humans from assaulting or robbing the Dalish). During the event there were a few incidents where the royal guard had to intervene, but fortunately no one got hurt. Human merchants, at first, were interested more in getting close to the king and gaining his favor than anything else but they soon realized that the quality of Dalish products is simply astounding. The Brecillian Solace Market (as it was named) soon became an annual event,
- unfortunately, there is not much money left to spend on the military and the country's defenses. It is something that bothers Rein very much as even she has to admit that if Orlais wanted to attack again, Ferelden would be too weak to defend itself. It may sound cruel, but she gladly accepted the news of the conflict between Empress Celene and Gaspard...
...and then Dragon Age: Inquisition happens.
#rein cousland#alistair theirin#ferelden#headcanon#ask#thank you for asking!#BUT ALSO#thanks Karolina for proofreading you save my life
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So I finally decided to write a tfp oneshot; I didn't really want to write anything multi-chaptered since I probably wouldn't have time to finish it, sooo I did this instead. Might try writing some other oneshots in the future, if I find the time. I haven't been able to write anything in months, so it probably ain't that good haha
Title: Hamaka
Characters: Starscream and Knock Out
Word count: 1,696
Pairings: Mentioned Breakdown/Knock Out, somewhat implied Starscream/Knock Out if you wanna interpret it as more than friendship
Summary: It was unfortunate when the minutes blurred into hours, the words came to a halt, and Starscream felt he had perhaps overstayed his welcome. He stood and made his way toward the door, mumbling about having something to do, only glancing back when he heard the other bot call his name.
---------
He strode down the hall of the Nemesis with a forced air of purpose; body tensed, wings up, head held high, and face set in a grim, focused scowl. Not a single other soul was present in the hallway, so it seemed to all be a show for no one, but he knew better. There were cameras everywhere.
Turning the corner, he finally reached his destination and activated the panel to open the massive door in front of him, not daring to look back and see the trail of blue spatters that marked his path through the ship.
The instant the door slid shut behind him, Starscream let the facade drop. Wings fell, shoulders slumped, and an exhausted sigh escape him as he trudged to the examination table near the back wall of the room, ignoring the red optics that were already assessing his injuries from across the room.
This was one of the few places without a camera; Knock Out had made a big scene about 'doctor-patient confidentiality' when Soundwave had tried to install one cycles ago. After enough ranting and dramatics, Megatron finally caved just to shut him up. Soundwave installed one just outside the door instead, and even if the medic wasn't happy about it, he didn't push his luck on getting it removed. The walls were soundproof anyways; only when the door opened was the spyware liable to pick anything up.
With a quiet hiss, Starscream perched on the edge of the table as Knock Out gravitated to his side. He mumbled something inaudible about the Autobots, and the doctor gave a vague nod of understanding and pretended to believe him.
A few metallic clicks sounded somewhere just out of his peripherals as Knock Out's hand turned into a welding torch and he got started on mending any of the wounds that were bleeding. "You really ended up in bad shape."
He hadn't expected much more than that; consoling wasn't something the other bot excelled at. In fact, Starscream was surprised the response was so mild. No sarcasm or mockery that he was accustomed to when visiting the medbay, no prying for information with insensitive questions. That didn't mean he wouldn't make use of his own snarkiness. "Is that really your professional opinion, doctor?"
There wasn't an immediate response, and a period of silence elapsed as Knock Out continued his work, patching each and every open wound and split-open metal until no more energon trickled down to collect in the puddle on the floor. Starscream managed to get through the painful part of the procedure by gritting his teeth and waiting it out, until finally the blowtorch disappeared with another series of clicks. He closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief as the sound of receding footsteps reached his audio receptors.
He realized he must have zoned out for a moment; next thing he knew, the red bot was at his side again, this time with a rotary buffer, and was nudging his arm away from his side with a gentle hand to get better access to the scuffed and dented armor there. Starscream complied to the wordless instruction, lifting his limb out of the way as the buffer spun to life with a soft whirring noise and began it's work smoothing out any unsightly marks.
In the span of a few minutes, the Seeker felt himself relaxing and his wings returning to their normal positioning rather than hanging miserably as if made of lead. This was one of the few things that could be looked forward to these days, it seemed, even if the relief was only temporary.
"So, are you going to tell me what really happened?" Knock Out finally spoke up again, moving on to work on his right wing and lightly tilting it up. "Must have been pretty serious if Megatron left you in this condition."
Starscream rolled his optics. There it was. Knock Out could never get through one of these sessions without saying something insensitive. His words were always barbed and laced with poison, in such a stark contrast to his handiwork, which was always carried out with such care. It made him wonder if it was some window into the doctor's life - pre-war life - anyways. Despite how much Knock Out talked, he never really said much. At least, nothing that mattered. All of the cycles he'd known the medic, and he knew nothing of his life before the war or why he'd joined the Decepticons, anything even remotely personal. And on top of that, he was near impossible to read. He knew how to guard his emotions, and he had no obvious body language to go off of, such as how he had his wings that often reflected his inner emotional state. Had he been kinder, back then? Or was he reading into something that held no meaning at all? "It's none of your business."
Knock Out merely hummed in acknowledgement and kept any further questions on the matter to himself, continuing his work with slow, methodical movements of the buffer. "If you say so."
Despite being quite the extrovert, Knock Out usually preferred to provide a type of company that was almost feline in nature. Simply being in the same room, talking about nothing, fixing up any blemishes- Actions doing all the communication because words just didn't fit his style of serious self-expression.
He wasn't really ready for the procedure to be over, and the internal sense of dread came bubbling back up nearly instantly when Knock Out stepped back and the buffer came to a halt. Being fixed meant he had to leave, had to return to difficult decisions and scrambling to stay alive. Had to risk ending up right back in the medbay if something went wrong, and that was if he was lucky.
Normally he would stand immediately, test his limbs and joints to make a show of ensuring the medic did his job correctly before excusing himself typically without any thanks. This time, Starscream stayed where he was as Knock Out returned his tool to its rightful place, hoping not to be asked why he lingered. The medbay was the one place he could relax, and expect a degree of comfort and understanding; it was safe.
[But no, that wasn't quite right, because the room had nothing to do with it, the room was nothing. The medbay wasn't safe, Knock Out was safe. It's such an important distinction, one Starscream still struggled to fully comprehend because trust was usually deadly in his experience.]
And safety was so rare and precious here, more valuable than any gem or riches one could ever hope to fathom.
It was no wonder, then, that the troops were drawn to the medbay for similar reasons as he was, all like moths to a dazzling light. The vehicons were all nobodies, created simply for the purpose of being bodies to throw at the enemy. They were mostly neglected and treated as tools, or at best, just ignored and deemed irrelevant, so a doctor's visit was as good as it got. Even if Knock Out didn't particularly care about the soldiers, he still treated them as living beings when he tended to their injuries, not to mention they got to be the center of his attention for those brief few minutes.
In fact, Starscream had an inkling that some of the vehicons' rather common injuries from the energon mines weren't quite as accidental as they claimed. He had no doubt at least a few of them had a little crush on the doctor and just wanted an excuse to visit the medbay to get their paint jobs fixed. He couldn't say he blamed them; Knock Out glowed like a flame on a starless night.
After a few moments passed, he felt the medic's gaze on him once again, and braced himself to make some excuse of why he hadn't left yet, though the question never came. Rather, Knock Out stated, "At least the war can't drag on for too much longer, with the limited resources left. We'll be able to return to Cybertron soon, I imagine."
The change in topic was welcome, anything to distract from the reason he was there to begin with, not to mention to focus on a more hopeful prospect.
[A part of him recognized Knock Out chose the topic with a level of subtle deliberation, specifically to get his mind in a better place. The automobile was never too concerned with the fate of Cybertron; he'd grown too fond of Earth over the years, Primus knows why.]
The conversation meandered from there, drifting like a raft lost at sea between topics and non-topics, words that hardly even made sense and were just there to fill the void.
It was unfortunate when the minutes blurred into hours, the words came to a halt, and Starscream felt he had perhaps overstayed his welcome. He stood and made his way toward the door, mumbling about having something to do, only glancing back when he heard the other bot call his name.
"Be careful," was all Knock Out had to say, but there was a tone of concern and hurt in his expression that Starscream wasn't sure he'd ever heard or seen before.
[Because Breakdown was dead and the doctor was still grieving for his conjunx, in his own internalized way, and there wasn't much left he had to care about now.]
He didn't know what to say or what he even could say to ease the other's worry, and just turned away. The medbay doors slid shut behind him, and the sudden, oppressive isolation was like a physical blow that required a moment to recover from before he started down the dark hallway, this time without any limp or biting pain. His path of blood splotches still remained, the glow of the energon having dulled with the passage of time, like an eerie breadcrumb trail beckoning to him. He followed, vaguely aware that it was luring him back into the vicious cycle of war and violence he'd grown accustomed to over the millions of years, and with every step, further away from home.
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Relaxing?
A/N - This was a request, hope it lives up! SMUT WARNING!
After a long day of surgeries, Amelia walked into the apartment she shared with her boyfriend and flopped down on the couch. Link walked in at that moment and smiled
“Hey, how was your day?” he moved to sit next to her, letting her head rest on his shoulder “Long and exhausting” she smiles back at him
“Is Scout down?” she asked, to which Link nodded his head.
Amelia felt lucky to have Link, he was an amazing dad to their son and amazing to her. He always seemed to know what she needed. Link let his fingers run through her hair, watching as she relaxed against him
“You should go to bed babe” he kissed her head softly “I need to shower” Amelia rolls her eyes exhausted.
Link starts to get up, holding his hand out for his girlfriend to take “How about, we have a relaxing bath?” Amelia’s eyes glisten at the mention as she nods her head and stands in response.
Link leads her into the bathroom where she sits on the closed toilet seat as he begins running the bath. He turns and helps Amelia undress before undressing himself. Once the tub is full to their liking, Link shuts off the water and climbs in, resting against the side of the tub before holding his hands out to help Amelia join him. She climbs in and settles her body between Links legs, leaning back against his chest and resting her head on his shoulder as he places a kiss on her head softly.
After a while, Amelia begins to relax against Link, feeling his finger tips softly running up and down her thigh. Amelia decides she wants to try a different relaxation game and takes Links hand in hers, guiding gently up her side to cup her breast. Link got the message and moved his free hand up to her other, beginning to massage her boobs and lightly flick her nipples with his thumb, causing them to become erect and receiving a soft moan from Amelia. She feels Link shift beneath her as he begins to get hard, right hand leaving her breast and starting to travel down her body.
“Ohhhhhh” Amelia moans as his fingers make contact with her centre.
He’s always so good with his fingers. Link starts rubbing gentle circles on her clit, slowly, as her legs move up onto the sides of the tub to grant him more access. She leans back further into him as his fingers start picking up their pace on her sensitive nub. Link feels the water change as her juices begin spilling out of her.
“Oh god” Amelia moans feeling Link increase his speed on her clit again “I need more!” her begging causes Link to groan as his erection gets harder.
Granting her wishes, Link pushes two thick fingers into her dripping opening, wasting no time in finding her g-spot.
“Oh my god don’t stop!” Amelia’s moans start to get louder as his fingers pump in and out of her, Link hitting the spot that he knew would send her over the edge.
Link increases his speed, knowing she won’t last much longer as profanities spill from her mouth
“Link! oh my god!” Amelia begins to get breathless as Link feels her starting to clench around his fingers, he leans forward and whispers in her ear “Cum for me baby”.
His words sending chills down her spine and hightening everything she’s feeling, sending her flying off the edge, screaming his name as her orgasm hits. Link feels her walls clench down on his fingers as her legs close over his hand, Amelia breathing heavily as she comes back down to earth.
Having taken a few minutes to recover, Link slips his fingers out of her. Amelia shifts her body, feeling the hardness below her and turning to smirk at her boyfriend.
“Your turn” Amelia stands up, stepping out of the bath and holding her hand out for Link to follow. By the time both his feet are on the ground, Amelia is already on her knees with her mouth wrapped around his erection
“Amelia!” Link moans her name in surprise.
He looks down to see his determined girlfriend bobbing her head up and down on his hard cock, the sight causing him to moan and his eyes to roll back.
“God Amelia stop I’ll-“ Link tries to get her to stop, worried he’ll finish too soon with how much she’s turning him on.
Amelia ignores his words and continues her task, massaging his balls at the same time, gaining a louder groan from her boyfriend as he panics, feeling himself nearing the edge.
He moves his hands to hold Amelia’s arms,
“Amelia stop- I don’t want to finish like this” Link gently pulls Amelia up, his hardness bouncing as it’s released from her mouth.
Amelia smirks as they make eye contact for a split second before Link spins her around to face away from him, bending her over the side of the tub. He wastes no time in lining himself up to her dripping entrance, rubbing his tip against her wetness a few times before pushing into her. The couple simultaneously moan at contact, taking a second to saviour the moment and for her to adjust to his size.
Amelia began grinding against him, signally for him to move, so he did. Link pulled fully out before slamming back in and beginning to pump in and out of her. He was so big and she was so tight, he knew he wouldn’t last long.
It didn’t take long before he began hitting her g-spot over and over, causing Amelia to moan loudly as he second orgasm began to build.
He pumped his hips against her, hearing the slickness of her walls as he slid in and out of her, his balls slapping against her skin
“Oh my god faster!” Amelia demanded as he picked up his pace, granting her wishes for whatever she wanted; faster, harder, deeper. This wasn’t love-making, this was pure animalistic fucking.
The couple were both moaning each other’s names loudly as they neared their edge
“Oh fuck oh my god-“ Amelia’s head fell back against Link
“I’m so close please don’t stop please” she begged as he continued fucking her, reaching a hand around to rub her clit, matching the rhythm of his pumps.
“FUCK! I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” Amelia screamed as her body began convulsing around him. The feeling of her walls tightening around his cock bringing Link closer to the edge.
“Amelia i’m about to-“ he began, being cut off by his orgasm taking over. He pushed deep into her as he spilled his hot liquid inside of her, his fingers still rubbing her clit helping her to ride out the waves of her orgasm.
Links pace slowed as the couple came down from their intense highs
“That was-“
“Relaxing?” Link joked “Incredible” Amelia let her body fall against him, forcing his length to slip out her her.
“Thank you” she smiled and leaned her head up to kiss him softly.
#amelink fanfic#amelink#amelink smut#amelinkfics#amelia and link#link and amelia#amelia shepherd#Atticus Lincoln#greys#greys anatomy#greys anatomy smut#Amelia Shepherd and Atticus Lincoln
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Devil’s Sweet Star (40)
Fandom: Dead by Daylight
Ghostface x Female Reader
Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut
***
Aaaaaah.... what a beautiful night. A clear sky, stars dosing this beautiful black sky, A full moon, well round, very bright. If werewolves existed, it would be a perfect full moon for them, an ideal evening of blood and chaos for them. But even though he's not a werewolf, tonight is a perfect night for Danny. Finally.... FINALLY, he will be able to kill Hoggins. Finally, he will be able to finish what he started so long ago. Finally, he will be able to turn the page. What to do next? Keep killing of course. But here or elsewhere.... that is the question. He couldn't wait to see you too. But not tonight.
The question that everyone must ask themselves is: but how could he go out with all his equipment, and above all, what will he be able to tell you, given that you live together? well the answer is very simple, and luck is definitely on his side. For the answer, he will simply find a great excuse, out of his awesome and insane mind. And as for luck, you are not at the apartment tonight. No, you spend the evening at Melina's, the latter having invited you to come and watch horror movies at her house. Danny really has a very good star over his head, although he would have had no trouble finding an excuse to go out tonight: being a journalist can be a curse for sleep but also a blessing for murder.
Danny was posed against his van as usual, observing the home of his future victim and revenge: Richard Hoggins. Good god it burned his whole body to go there now and massacre him without any mercy, without any strategy, just... a good bloody murder. But he must remain calm, this is not the time to be spotted and suspected by the police. And amazingly, even Jed, who is only Danny's alter-ego, an identity he had created from scratch, even he wanted to kill him.
“A beautiful night to kill, isn't it? Well... only you can see it.” said Jed inside Danny’s mind.
“I expected you to give me yet another lesson in morality as you know how to do so well. What's going on Jed? Would I have ended up rubbing off on you?” responds Danny chuckling.
“Don't claim victory too quickly. I would never endorse what you do, but let's say I'm going to make an exception for this asshole. He has to pay for Carla.”
“You talk about Carla as if you were the one who lost her forever. Whereas you are just an invention. A simple name. You don't know anything and you don't feel anything.
“You created me the very second you needed me. I may not be real, but I am a part of you, your good side, your past innocence. And also, your psychologist in a way. And I will continue to exist, as long as you need another identity. Involuntarily, you let me access your life, and now we are two sides of the same coin. People would say that... I am your imaginary friend. That looks like you like two drops of water.”
“Oh, shut up...” replied Danny, sighing and looking away.
“... What will you do, when (y/n) learns the truth. Are you going to kill her or are you going to let her live?” said Jed looking at Hoggin’s house.
“It will depend on her reaction. If I could leave her alive.... that would suit me. But if she confronts me or tries to call the police... I will have no other choice.”
“Will you only be able to... that’s the question.”
Danny got up, looked at the house one last time before putting on his mask and taking his knife. It’s time. Let us not make Hoggins wait any longer. The house was just as guarded as McKellan's. But that's not what was going to stop Danny. Far from it. The harder the victory, the more delicious the reward will be. He walked to the side of the house where Hoggins' office was located. The window was closed at first glance but it is better to check.
As usual, he will use the equipment he finds on site. One of Danny's golden rules is never buying any equipment. Otherwise, the police will be able to trace him via his bank account. Beginner error. He climbed up to hoggins' office window and effectively it was closed. But the one in the next room, on the other hand, was not completely. It was an archive room, surely where he kept his contracts, press articles, and anything else that could interest him.
“Well... a real library... I am sure that even the police archives room is not as large and as full of documents as this room... Hoggins protects a real time bomb. If anyone stumbles upon all this... His entire family over thousands of generations will be dishonoured.” Said Danny looking inside the drawers.
And why not take a look? it won't hurt anyone. And with a little luck... Danny opened each drawer and looked at the different files until he found the one looking for: the file recounting the events of 4 years ago. The juicy little contract he had made with Dr. Pheels was to vomit. Certainly, he gave funds to the hospital for each death... but he recovered the double because he took 3/4 of the state aid that Pheels gave him. In the end everyone was a winner. And Hoggins even more.
“Motherf*cker. I hope you have taken advantage of this money, asshole. Because you're going to pay a lot tonight.”
Danny put the files away before passing the door that linked the archive room to the office. The office was empty, Hoggins was not there yet. Perfect. This gave him time to inspect the room. No camera. No alarm. Nothing. Good. The ropes of the curtains could be used to tie Hoggins. Or even more. Compared to McKellan, he did not exhibit artifacts or sharp objects in his office. Fortunately, he had taken his own knife. The office stinked of luxure, we saw that it was made to measure and at a price ... to fall to the ground.
Danny really wonders if he paid for it with "clean money". Rotten as he is, Hoggins may well have paid workers with dirty money, or not paid at all. It's possible with men like him. They are so stingy, so conceited, that they are able to do anything to keep a single penny. Noises were heard in the corridors. He’s coming. Danny got to the door and when Hoggins arrived, he did not see the latter hidden by the door.
“These cop bastards are seriously starting to hit me on the nerves to take care of my business! And that journalist... this Olsen.... if I could make him disappear... I thought I wouldn't fall back on him here. Maybe... maybe I could swing everything on him. After all,... I know who he really is.” said Hoggins before drinking.
Danny quietly advanced behind Hoggins ready to knock him out. The latter still drank a few sips of his glass of whiskey before turning around and falling face to face with Ghostface. The latter did not give him time to do or say anything that he punched him in the face, causing him to fall to the ground, knocking him out instantly. Danny sneered at the inert body before taking a chair and the ropes from the curtain, then lifted Hoggins up to tie him up on the chair. He locked the door of the office and then returned to the archives room where he found a closet in which there were boards, nails and an electric nailer.
He prepared the scene by nailing the boards together, took the remaining curtain ropes and installed all his work in such a place and arrangement that when the police enter, Hoggins' body will be the first thing they will see. And if it could be Willhelm first... the pleasure will be all the greater. Hoggins woke up after a few minutes without panicking, without trying to free himself. As if he knew what lay ahead.
“Well, well... McKellan had acted like you at the beginning... you want to play the big hard... but you are only little girls.” Said Danny chuckling.
“It's funny coming from a man who doesn't take responsibility for his crimes and hides under a Halloween ghost mask. But we have to believe that criminals are all bad guys who want to play the big tough.” responds Hoggins before taking a punch in the face.
“You have more mouth than the other idiot. But you will quickly regret it, it’s me who tells you. You forget who I am.”
“Oh no... I know exactly who you are... Jed Olsen ... or you'd rather I call you... Danny Johnson?”
“...I see that you have done some research... and you have learned your lessons well. After all, you've had plenty of time for 4 years. But you're going to pay for it. Up to the last litre of blood.”
“All this for a poor little girl who was going to die anyway? You're resentful Johnson. You could have simply turned the page and avoided poking your nose into my stuff. I was very saddened to learn of the tragic death of Pheels...”
Danny punched him again before pulling out his knife and planting it in Hoggins' leg. The latter groans in pain before falling with his chair to the ground. Danny put himself on top of him and chained the blows more and more loudly. He lifted Hoggins by the hair and dragged him for meters to place him in front of a wooden cross large enough to hang a man on it.
“You see my dear Richard... this "poor little girl" as you call her had a future. And she could have got away with a treatment. The problem is that Carla had the misfortune to stumble upon you and your dear partner, Pheels. And YOU have decided to let her die in the name of profit. What's stupid for both of you is that you're falling on me. Young journalist... and crazy to bind. She was the only thing that helped me stay upright and you killed her. Pheels paid his share. You're going to pay yours. But for you the bill is going to be heavier. You know why? Because you're also going after MY girlfriend. And that... you should never have.” said Danny, preparing the electric nailer.
“When she learns of it, your little café boss will swing you at the cop. Anyway, you're screwed. I have a whole file on you and when Wilhelm sees it and read it...” said Hoggins with a sneaky smile.
“Oh. Are you talking about that?” replied Danny by exiting the folder. “You've done some really good research tell me. I loved rereading all these things about myself. You could have made it a novel even. Too bad this file disappears with you. At least it's going to burn. You... I'm reserving you for something more... artistic. I hope you are ready to meet your creator. Because you're going to join him right now. And in the same way as him. Or rather in a bloody way than him.”
Danny took the electric nailer and equipped it. He began by shooting Hoggins in the legs, who groaned again in pain. Unfortunately for him no one could hear him. He shot again, but this time in the arms, then in the torso. Blood was dripping from everywhere and Hoggins was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe. Danny detached him and put him on the cross where he nailed him like Jesus.
“You are...completely twisted. You will burn... in hell.” Said Hoggins.
“Maybe. But for now, it's you who's going to rot in hell. Suck the devil’s d***, you son of b**ch.” responds Danny before killing him with a nail in the head.
A demonic smile stretched over his face. That's it... He's dead. But it's not over yet. Much remains to be done. Danny used the curtain ropes to tie Hoggins to the wooden cross. Then with the little one remaining, he created a kind of crown with nails, which he fixed to hoggins’ head. Then he bombarded the whole body with nails, causing it to bleed from all sides.
He then nailed Hoggins' hands and legs to make sure he did not fall and turned the cross over to make the symbol of the devil. This is a very successful work of art. However, one or two small details are missing. It's not bloody enough for his liking. He used his knife to eviscerate Hoggins, then slashed an angel's smile. Danny used Hoggins' blood to write a message on the wall and backed off to admire his work. There... there it’s better. There is only one thing left to do: to make this folder disappear. And the only way... it's to burn it.
But Danny is not stupid, he is not going to put the fire at home. He will burn it outside in the garden. He observed his work one last time, took a picture in order to have a proof to show you, then he left the place. Once away, halfway between the van and the house, he pulled out a lighter and set fire to the folder. He let go of the latter, watched him burn for a few minutes, then went to the van and left the place to go home.
“Finally... It's over. I will be able to turn the page...” said Danny, looking at the road.
“Yes. But you're going to keep killing. And that's not cool.” responds Jed sitting on the passenger seat.
“Did you honestly believe that I was going to change after that? Oh no, obviously I'll continue... but I would no longer be alone. I hope you enjoyed the show from my mind.”
“Make Hoggins the counterpart of God and crucify him? I must admit that I loved it.”
“This is normal... you are me.” replied Danny looking at the passenger seat before focusing on the road again.
Danny arrived in the parking lot of the building. He changed in the back of the van, put his suit in his bag and went up to the apartment. When he opened the door, he noticed that it looked empty. He walked to the bedroom which was also empty. You hadn't come back yet, it was perfect. He went to his office to put down his bag, take out his suit and put it in the washing machine. Once the latter was washed, he began to dry it in his office, which he locked. He took a shower, put on his pyjamas, and threw another washing machine. At the same time, you return, all smiling, exhausted but delighted from your evening. Danny took you in his arms, kissed you and guided you to the room so that you could both go to bed.
What you didn't know yet was that the job was done. Finally, Danny could turn the page on his past. And he shot it in the most beautiful way.
An inverted cross on the photo of a demon.
***
(My first injection of the vaccine is only next Tuesday! I'm a little stressed because I don't know how I'm going to react to this first injection of vaccine. So, I prefer to warn in advance that this could delay the release of the next chapter of DSS. But don't worry! I'm solid so everything should go well! As I told you, I will try to do a small teasing post for fanfic re8, but it is complicated to summarize something without telling too much. And I always struggle to find a title. I hope you’ll like this chapter like the others ones! Well, it's time for my brain to rest! Have a great weekend to you all! See ya!)
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together wing to wing || chapter two
Read on AO3 | Masterlist
chapter one
Series Summary: He's offered his protection before, on the Green. In the hospital, Cee wonders if he'll offer it again, and Ezra wonders if she'll even want him to.
Chapter Summary: Cee has a nightmare.
Pairings: Ezra & Cee (platonic!)
Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort, angst | Word Count: 3.3k
Warnings: hospitals, injury, nightmares, mentions of canon-typical violence
A/N: I love writing Ezra and Cee so much. I love this sad gruff accidental dad and his daughter who’s not as strong as she thinks she is. I love writing them discovering that it’s ok to trust each other. I hope you guys enjoy it too! ♡
The doctors came, and he asked them to be quiet.
They shot him full of something that made him tingly like the syrettes, but at least his wounds didn’t pain him so terribly. They checked his incisions and bandaged him again. They set him another breathing treatment before they left, and he tried not to cough himself into a spin with every inhale.
Cee didn’t wake, and he didn’t rouse her.
He rested back against the pillows, sore with all that coughing, his breaths still noisy but less painful. The sun had gone down, and the room was dark; the city lights of Central sparked outside the blinds like a sheet of frantic, trembling stars. He wondered idly if the people on Central had ever really seen stars - not the dull pinpricks washed out by the city, but the magnificent jewels that covered dark nights on less populated planets, lights so bright up there in the blackness it seemed like they might come to life and start eating you whole. He could read the stars on the Green Moon as easily as he could read his own handwriting, and if he never saw them again it would be too soon.
If he was honest with himself - and he made it a point to engage in honest conversation, whenever feasible - he had never really thought he’d get off the Green. It would have been too much to ask of the life he’d so carelessly given over to violence at every opportunity. He deserved to die on the Green, bleeding out and choked with dust. It would have been the one redemption of his miserable character to have died for a fatherless little girl, and for what it was worth in the grand scheme, he had been ready to do it.
But then, if her commitment to such a sorry, broken-down old bastard had been any indication, she hadn’t been quite so ready for their unhappy encounter to end. He couldn’t imagine why - he’d more than expended his usefulness, and was no more advantageous to her than the mercs they’d left on the Green. Perhaps less, as his wounds had not been lucky enough to kill him outright.
He burned with fever for cycles before they landed on Central, delirious and frequently unconscious. The foam kept him alive, but only just; he could feel it holding bits of him together, sticky and hot and unnatural. The pain was intolerable. In more lucid moments, he guessed the mercs had used the syrettes in the rock jumper’s med pack to get high, and there was nothing left for him to do but grit his teeth. He distinctly remembered how distraught his little bird had been, fluttering nervously around the cabin for something, anything to ease his affliction.
He tried his best to soothe her and to keep a hold of his senses, but control was a rare thing out in the vastness of space; she was frightened, tear-streaked and tightly wound, and there was little he could do to comfort her. He kept it together until he couldn’t, and if he was lucky, she fell into a restless sleep before he submitted to the fevered, painful tears that threatened every waking moment.
He hadn’t been conscious when they landed. He supposed Damon had done some good in teaching her the landing sequence; otherwise, it would have been of little advantage to them to get off the Green just to crash flat into Central. Cee had confessed to him later, with the pale of guilt and distress, just how dire his situation had been: the medics had been doubtful he would make it off the transport to the hospital. By some miracle, or just his own damn stubbornness, he’d made it through surgery and been returned to Cee breathing and neatly bandaged.
Now, several tedious cycles later, he was finally starting to improve. The doctors often remarked on his expeditious recovery, and he wanted to say that he’d rather lose his other arm than leave Cee to a deathbed vigil. He’d recover if it killed him, if only to keep from being a burden on her any longer.
As it was, recovery vexed him something awful. He was a man of action; lying around had never suited him well. All his life, he’d never known more than a moment’s leisure: there was too much work to be done, too many debts to be paid. He’d tramped up and down the Green with a half-rotted arm, breathing in dust with every wheeze of his spent filter, tied to a nervous little girl with a thrower aimed at his back. To be in a clean, safe hospital, in Central of all places, with nothing to do but rest? Ezra had never known such unimaginable luxury, and it grated on him. He needed something to do.
But there was nothing for it. He could hardly sit on the edge of the bed without terrible swings of dizziness, and breath escaped him with the smallest aggravation. So he busied himself with worry - for Cee, for their future, for whether she wanted a future with him at all.
He looked over at her, studying her face in the dim light. She looked even younger when she slept. He wondered again how her father could have justified bringing her to the Green, how he had rationalized taking such a little thing like her to that awful place. Ezra didn’t have children, had never had anyone to care for other than himself; but if he had, he would have done damn near anything to keep them off the Green. He fervently hoped it was pure necessity that drove Damon to bring Cee there, but Ezra knew a prospector’s heart - aurelac was the only thing that mattered, and greed for it drove men to terrible things. Violence, thieving, killing. Ezra knew that well enough, and he’d pay for indulgence in that same greed as long as he lived.
Cee, though. She needed better, deserved better. The galaxy was wide open for her, and he would do whatever it took to allow her access to it. He’d already decided she should have his point collection, as paltry a sum as it was, but he was no stranger to the ways of the world. She was young still, a Floater, with no kin or place to call home. To go off on her own could be a death sentence, or worse. He knew what happened to Floaters like her; he’d been a Floater like her, when he was younger, and would tear heaven and earth apart to keep her from the pain that had been inflicted on him in his youth.
He’d offered his protection, before. Flush with pain and dazed by medication, a thrower pistol held in unsteady hand towards him. Troubled even then with how easily she could be swallowed up by the vilest, most unsavory things. Mercs like those were a dime a dozen, lying in wait for a little bird to come flitting in before they devoured it.
He wanted to offer his protection again. He would stay by her side as long as she wanted him to. But, with all that had transpired between them, all the pain and hardship he’d brought her - he couldn’t blame her if she decided to leave him without a backwards glance. It surprised him, his grief, when he reconciled himself to that possibility - he knew with certainty that he would miss her and worry over her as long as they were apart, and he couldn't remember the last time he’d felt that way about anyone.
The monitor notified him of another release of painkillers, and he sighed when the drug flooded his system. He might have fallen asleep, lulled by the diminished pain and the woozy feeling in his head, but Cee started to stir.
“Ezra,” she said. Her voice was strained, thick with sleep. Like a half-muted warning through a faulty comms system, and it sent a thrill of agitation through him.
He sat up a little. “Right here, birdie.”
She didn’t answer. He saw she hadn’t opened her eyes, and he grimaced. He’d wondered if she’d have nightmares. His sleep was too heavy with drugs to allow any night terrors yet, but he knew once he was sleeping on his own again they would set in with an unparalleled passion. That she was enduring them now spoke of the trauma that still weighed heavy on her, despite how well she seemed to cope while she was awake.
Her expression crumpled with fear as whatever night terror had a hold of her remained unwavering.
“Don’t take me,” she whimpered. He’d never heard her voice so tight with misery, and it felt like a deeper wound than any he’d suffered before.
He winced and pressed his arm over his stitches as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Without thinking, he tried to reach out to her with his right hand; the frayed nerve endings protested, sharply, and he gave a growl of frustration. Damn his weak, useless body. He couldn’t do a single thing without an objection or outright refusal.
“Please,” she said quietly.
He moved his left hand towards her, gently gripped her shoulder and shook.
“Come on, birdie, wake up,” he coaxed, raising his voice a little. “Cee, it’s just a dream.”
She seemed to hear him. “Ezra,” she said again. He had never heard his name called so pitifully.
“That’s right, little bird. Go on and wake up. I’m right here.”
He shook her gently, and that seemed to do the trick; her eyes flew open, pupils blown in the dark as she looked around for something familiar.
“Ezra,” she said for a third time, voice ragged with panic and relief.
He withdrew his hand and hoped he hadn’t overstepped. “The very same.”
Then, before he could say anything else by way of comfort, she disentangled herself from her blankets and launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck in a bruising hug. His breath came in a slightly pained huff, aching and sore with the impact. It was a good hurt, if there was such a thing. He was so stunned by the gesture he could only act on instinct, and like the warming of a tired old machine that hadn’t been used in years, he caught her against him and slowly put his arm around her.
“Easy, little bird,” he said. He splayed his hand over her back as she held him tighter; he felt her shoulders shake with quiet tears.
“You’re alright,” he said gently. “I believe something gave you an awful fright while you slept.”
He felt her stiffen; not a moment later did she pull away from him, a brilliant blush over her cheeks visible even in the dim light. She hastily wiped the tears from her face and crossed her arms over her chest, defensive.
“Sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to - I hope I didn’t hurt you. That was stupid.”
He cleared his throat to fend off a cough. “You didn’t hurt me, birdie. Takes a lot more than that to lay me low, I assure you.”
She sat back on her cot, curling in on herself; she refused to meet his eyes. He hoped she wasn’t embarrassed by the way she’d acted; sometimes a body needed comfort, and was so keen to get it that little could be done to deny such a demand. He didn’t mind, and would not withhold any solace she was willing to take.
“It was just a silly dream,” she said. She was embarrassed; he’d heard that color in his own voice too often to be unfamiliar with it in hers. He wondered how often she’d had nightmares before, and if they had ever been met with any kindness or sympathy.
“I’m afraid I must disagree with you, birdie.” He paused a beat to steady himself, to let the wave of dizziness pass. “Nothing so unsettling could rightly be counted ‘silly’.”
They sat in silence for a moment. It didn’t escape his notice how she continued to brush tears from her cheeks.
“It was the Sater,” she said finally.
He looked up and met her eyes. “Your nightmare?”
She nodded, pressed her hands to her face as if to hide behind them. She drew a hitching breath.
“Thank you for not giving me to them.”
He sighed. “Oh, birdie.”
He had told her the truth on the Green: he was never going to give her to them. He may not have been a virtuous man by any stretch of the imagination, but he could honestly say that he hadn’t considered that, even for a moment. He’d never had problems with the Sater before; he wasn’t religious, but he was of no mind to deny any man whatever consolation he could find. Their proposal, though, a little girl in exchange for his healing - Ezra could have torn the whole place apart and still have not satisfied his wrath. Even now, he felt an acetous, clawing disgust that threatened to overwhelm him at the thought.
He’d placated them as best he could, and the words were bitter in his mouth. I beg your forgiveness for the little one’s impertinence. She’s a nervous thing, fatherless. Allow me to search her out and bring her back to you.
They’d let him go, with the promise that he would be healed if the girl was returned. He didn’t know where Cee had gone, nor did he have any strength to go hunting for her; he’d barely made it back to camp with his spent filter and festering wound. As he set blade to skin, he sent a prayer up to no one - not for himself, but for the little bird in the woods, hoping she would find something or someone to help her find her way off the Green.
She looked less ragged now than she had looked then, stumbling into his tent, breathless, terrified. Food and clean clothes and sleep, even broken as it was by nightmares, had done wonders. And yet, she was still that little bird in the woods, and he was still the only thing she had in all the world. A pitiful hand to be dealt, certainly.
“No thanks required,” he said tiredly, weary with the weight of his culpability in her troubles. “Least I could do.”
Her expression clouded. “He would have given me to them.”
It didn’t take much to guess who he was, and Ezra was wary of stepping into this kind of territory, unsure what he should say or if he should say anything at all.
She twisted her fingers together, wrung them so her hurt would have somewhere to go.
“Dispensable,” she muttered.
He frowned. Surely Damon hadn’t -
“That’s what he called me, once,” she said. She looked up at him, defiant even as tears streaked her cheeks. “He was high, and I accidentally broke one of the rods for the thrower. Make yourself indispensable, he said. There’s barely enough room on this pod for me.”
Ezra wished she would stop telling him things about her father. He felt his hatred towards a dead man, one he’d delivered the final blow to, wouldn’t do him any favors.
Cee shook her head and bit her lip; it did bleed, finally. Ezra raised himself from the bed with some difficulty and wet the corner of a washcloth in the refresher sink, then offered it to her. She looked up at him in confusion.
He nodded towards her. “Your lip’s bleeding, birdie.”
She took the washcloth and pressed it to her mouth, watching him with a careful gaze as he sat heavily on the edge of his bed again.
“You shouldn’t have gotten up,” she said.
His laugh was little more than a huff. “You are mighty keen on fretting, aren’t you?” He took a deep breath. “Mind you don’t worry that lip any more, or you’ll have a hard time getting on to me when I do something that’s not to your liking.”
She studied him like he might break apart at any moment. He felt like he might; the night’s activity was testing the limits of the pain medication.
“Are you sure I didn’t hurt you, earlier?”
He nodded. “Positive. And you know me to be an honest man, whenever possible.”
“Candid discourse,” she remembered.
He smiled. “Precisely. So I hope you won’t take offense when I tell you, honestly, that nightmares trouble every creature from time to time, and certainly trouble those who’ve spent any time on the Green.” He gave a few weak coughs. “There’s no shame in it, birdie.”
She twisted the washcloth around her fingers in her lap, the bleeding abated for the moment. “You have nightmares?”
“Indeed,” he said. He leaned heavily on his left hand to keep him upright. “And I will undoubtedly have many more before my time is up.” Such was the price of a life of violence, inflicted or endured.
“How do you... deal with it?”
He gave a half-shrug; his right shoulder disliked being jostled, and he tried to keep its movement to a minimum.
“Not much to be done for it, I’m afraid,” he admitted. “Best not to be on your own. It’s hard to orient a mind consumed by fear without a helping hand.”
A precious few times in his life had he known someone he could call a friend, and it was only with them that he’d been able to soothe the nightmares that cropped up so often. A hand on his shoulder in the dark, a consoling word - that had made all the difference. He’d been without it more often than he’d had it, and sleep was a common point of contention between himself and his body. Usually he fell asleep when he was simply too exhausted not to, and he woke himself up, alone, in sweat and terror more often than not.
For the first time since he’d woken her, she looked a little less weary and upset.
“Good thing we’re not alone, then.”
Oh, but that eased his ills better than any dose of medication could have. He gave her a smile, pleased when she returned it with a small one of her own.
“Quite right, birdie,” he agreed. “It is a very good thing.”
She settled back against the wall, covering herself up in her blanket for a little warmth. They kept his room cool as the medication was liable to make him run hot, but he knew it was a little chilly for her liking. He reached over to grab the extra blanket from the foot of his bed and tossed it to her.
“The doctors should be in again, soon.” He looked at the clock and determined it was likely time for another one of his breathing treatments; his chest had begun to tighten again.
She pulled her notebook and a pen out of her bag. “I’m staying up this time.”
He gave a soft grunt as he lay back in bed. “Fine by me, birdie. Don’t...” He stopped for a breath. “Don’t worry about falling asleep again, if you need to. I’ll wake you if I fear there’s something amiss.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment; then, very softly, “thank you.”
He turned his head to look at her, buried under her blankets, her fictional world spread out in her lap as she tapped the end of the pen against the page.
“You’re welcome,” he said. He hoped she knew how much he meant it.
He closed his eyes and tried to come to terms with the dull, aching pain. “Read me a little something, birdie. If you’re not opposed.”
He heard her flip the pages in her notebook. “Just a little bit,” she said. “Not enough to give away the story.”
He hummed in agreement. “Just a little bit.”
He listened as she started to read, weaving stories about her favorite characters, her voice steady and relaxed as she sank into the world of her imagining. It was a good thing they weren’t alone right now, and Ezra tried not to think of what it would be like to be alone again.
Read chapter three!
pedro pascal character taglist: @punkgeekchic, @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl, @stardust-galaxies, @theorganasolo, @qhbr2013 ♡
let me know if you’d like to be added to my pedro pascal character taglist or this series taglist! ♡
#i know this series isn't going to be as popular as some x reader fics but i just enjoy writing it so much#it's making me think outside the box because i don't usually write platonic relationships ahbsjhbjhb#and i think their characters are so compelling#idk i'm just writing it for me mainly and maybe someone else will like it too!#ezra prospect fanfiction#ezra prospect#cee prospect#prospect 2018#prospect 2018 fanfiction#ezra fanfiction#maddie writes stuff!
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