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wylanslcve · 8 months

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Something I don't see anyone speak about (if you have and I just haven't seen it... I'm sorry :( ) is how Wylan not only reclaims his identity by the duology's conclusion, but he also reclaims Marya's. I feel like we as a fandom overlook just how much J*n put Marya through in an attempt to erase Wylan from the public memory: he had her declared insane as a grounds for divorce and institutionalised her, leaving her "abandoned along with her defective child" in order to "forever rid himself of any evidence that Wylan had existed". This transcended to J*n not allowing Wylan to grieve his mother's 'death' because, as he put it, "it didn’t pay to dwell on the past" - and Wylan tells Jesper that J*n never brought Marya up after breaking the news of her finality to his son, confessing "we just stopped talking about her".

What we also need to remember is that the Van Eck mansion "had belonged to Wylan’s mother’s family for generations before Van Eck had ever set foot through the door". (Edit: I didn't mean to write that the mansion belonged to the Hendriks - it was part of the property under the Van Eck name. Sorry about that!) Just like how J*n separated Wylan from his mother, he simultaneously took so much from Marya - first her home, then her name, her fortune, her own child. This is why Marya was admitted as Marya Hendriks, not Marya Van Eck: this is J*n quite literally stripping her of her name to permanently erase her from the public memory. The nurse addresses Marya as "Miss Hendriks", to which Marya mutters "Van Eck" in response, because "she was not Marya Hendriks, she was Marya Van Eck, a wife and mother stripped of her name and her fortune." So why is it that Wylan says, "I am Marya Hendriks' son" if Marya Hendriks is the woman who's left after Marya Van Eck had her name and her life taken away from her? Because this is Wylan reclaiming his mother's identity.

If we examine the moment Wylan visits his mother at Saint Hilde, Marya's first words to him are "did you come for my money? I don’t have any money" to which Wylan replies that he doesn't have any money either. The money neither of them have comes to signify the lack of autonomy they have over their identities, which have spent so long confined by J*n's contempt as he gradually works towards making them vanish entirely. J*n tried desperately to erase Marya's memory as a means of gradually erasing Wylan's - however, Wylan is the only one who keeps his mother's memory alive, just like how Marya keeps her son's alive. Upon arriving in the Barrel, Wylan detaches himself from his father's name and, instead, uses his mother's maiden name. Yes, he's doing it to not draw attention to himself (because what would the child of one of the richest men in Ketterdam be doing in a place like the Barrel?), but he's also preserving Marya's memory, clinging to it like a lifeline without even realising it. In a way, it's saving him.

Before I go on any further, I'm taking a brief detour to discuss the transition in Wylan's motivations upon discovering what really happened to his mother (it's relevant, I promise). Wylan completely breaking down when he realises that his father is indeed evil is such a pivotal moment that marks a major transition in his motivations. Jesper comforts Wylan during his breakdown, assuring him that "Kaz is going to tear your father’s damn life apart" - a sentiment that "felt like cool water cascading over the hot, shameful feeling of helplessness he’d [Wylan] been carrying with him for so long". His continued contribution to the Dregs’ mission is no longer about making the money to “get out of town and never speak the name Van Eck again” - now, he's "here for her". Now, it's about punishing his father, saving Marya and returning all J*n took from her: “what am I doing here? But he knew the answer. Only he could see his father punished for what he’d done. Only he could see his mother free.” He realises that J*n's life falling apart means that, with his money, "he could take his mother from this place. They could go somewhere warm. He could put her in front of a piano, get her to play, take her somewhere full of bright colors and beautiful sounds. They could go to Novyi Zem. They could go anywhere." He could save her, liberate her from the confines of J*n's contempt - and only he can do it, because who else would?

Meanwhile, Marya clings to the memories of her child even though J*n took him away from her. While institutionalised, Marya would paint - and in her paintings, "repeated again and again, was the face of a little boy with ruddy curls and bright blue eyes". We know that J*n wanted Wylan to disappear "the way he’d made Wylan’s mother disappear" - what we don't know, however, is what J*n told Marya during the time she was institutionalised. Did he visit her after sending Wylan away, supposedly to study music in Belendt, to tell her that Wylan is dead? Did he ever visit her before then and tell her that her son is dead to expunge his memory from Marya? We can only speculate - but what we do know is that, regardless of whether or not she thinks he's dead, Marya is grieving the loss of her child.

Something that Wylan fears if the Dregs’ mission is unsuccessful is that he’s “going to die and there will be no one to help her. No one to even remember Marya Hendriks” - and the same could be said about Marya’s feelings of responsibility for preserving the spirit of her child. Amidst her grief is the strive to save him and his memory, because she’s really the only one who’s willing to remember him. At the asylum, her paintings are thrown out “every six months” because “there just isn’t enough space for them” - but that doesn’t stop her from continuing to paint the face of her child and, thus, remembering him, making sure he doesn't disappear. Wylan confesses to Jesper that his parents “fought all the time, sometimes about me”, revealing how Marya has always fought for Wylan - and her being institutionalised, having her paintings thrown out every so often, won’t put an end to her fighting for him. She's hellbent on ensuring he doesn't vanish, because there’s no one else who would. (Think of this in relation to the meaning behind “no mourners, no funerals” - if Wylan disappeared, “no one would come looking”, as is the case with the rest of the Crows.)

Now, let's examine how, by the end of the duology, Wylan not only liberates himself from the pain caused by his father's wrongdoings, but also saves his mother. He'd "chosen to use a portion of his newfound wealth to restore his home", exemplifying how inheriting his father's fortune represents him reclaiming his identity from the pain and abuse J*n's contempt inflicted upon him. However, I mentioned earlier that the Van Eck mansion didn't actually belong to the Van Ecks in the first place - it belonged to the Hendriks. (Edit: again, not the mansion, but part of the property under the Van Eck name.) Thus, Wylan's position by the end of Crooked Kingdom also comes to represent him reclaiming his mother's identity as he returns everything J*n took from her. By "restor[ing] his home", he's also restoring Marya's.

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jiangwanyinscatmom · 9 months

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I saw your post about "feel free to vent" and god, I don’t even think that I love that pathetic guyfailure in your way, but I follow you and read your posts, because they bring me joy (although I don’t always agree with everything you say) and you’re one of the few people who’s willing to talk about how unhinged, pathetic and entirely deranged jiang zongzhu is. I’m so fucking tired of jc fandom, the way they turned him into something entirely unrecognisable from his canon self, turned him into weepy little bitch with gaping hole for every single "gege" on the block to fuck.

They make me genuinely hate him. I see that oc!jc committing identity fraud and I hate him. I hate him so much. My only content in this fandom is the novel, it’s the only thing that provides me with content. How fucking delightful he is there? I don’t fucking get. Jc stans say you’re a fucking jc anti or whatever the fuck, but no one actually hates jc more than his fucking stans do. the fucking torture of watching your fave being flandarised. their fucking omegaverse rotten brains yelling and crying about his tiny waist and childbearing thighs. Have you seen the art of him? What kind of caricature they turn him into? Fucking twink that will be blown away by the wind and his "geges" that will catch him midair and fuck everliving fuck out of him because uwu he did nothing wrong, he’s innocent, he’s little precious baby boy meowmeow tsundere. They yell so hard about how misunderstood he is, but they’re the ones misunderstanding his character most. They have no respect for canon material. Most of them haven’t read the fucking novel because they HaTe wAnGxIAn sO mUcH, they pick up disgusting fanon bullshit and run with it claiming it somehow to be canon.

Canon!jc would fucking rip that oc!jc in tiny little shreds, torture him violently and vomit on his corpse.

what have they turned his relationship with jin ling into? what are they fucking doing to that precious golden brat? why no one fucking enjoys their canon relationship that don’t lack complexity and depth. Why do they turn him into weird kid obsessed with his uncle? who has no life outside his uncle, who fights "jiujiu stealers" like it’s his full time job??? Jin ling is his own character, he’s going through so much, his fucking family is insane, he’s dealing with bullying, he’s working his ass off to impress his uncle who put high expectations on him.

what they turn "geges" into? they come and yell how lwj has no personality, that he’s just a "top" but then they do exactly the same shit with other characters? they’re genuinely making me hate lxc. I despise xicheng with burning fucking passion. I’m in a ooc competition, and xicheng stans are my opponents *insert squidward here*

chengxian makes my fucking blood boil because THATS ONE WAY TO ENTIRELY MISUNDERSTAND BOTH OF THEIR CHARACTERS AND TURN COMPELLING "BROTHER" CONFLICT INTO THE MOST BORING FUCKING SHIT THAT THE EARTH HAS WITNESSED. they way they just go OMG WWX LOVED JC SOOOOOO MUCH LWJ HATES JC BECAUSE HE KNOWS WWX LOVES HIM MORE THAN ANYTHING, HIS SACRIFICE IS AN ACT OF LOVE, HE LOVED HIM, HE DID IT OUT OF LOVE. why would they entirely erase wwx’s character development like that? wwx’s entire fucking arc is about learning to see his self worth, learning that the life he had at lotus pier wasn’t it, FUCKING HELL yllz literally was comforting himself with thoughts of never meeting the jiangs. My guy literally was lying there unable to sleep and was thinking about how running away from dogs and being a beggar is infinitely better than the jiangs. It’s literally in the fucking book. I don’t fucking GET IT.

I remember one time mentioning that of fucking COURSE, the manhua would erase the "golden core reveal" as in how jc lost it, because ultimately wangxian is the most important part of the story and jc is some guy wwx finally gets rid of in order to digest his traumas in a safer space and find happiness elsewhere because clearly he wasn’t happy at lotus pier. and they fucking??? came up with an AU???? as a response to me????? where wwx comes back to lotus pier because HE LOVES JC MORE THAN ANYTHING WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO very good argument, very nice talk.

I’m so fucking sick and tired, I muted jc’s name and tag on twitter and here even though I genuinely like the guy. It pains me. It causes me fucking brain damage. I want to enjoy my fandom experience, I want to be able to talk about this dudenobody and have fun. I so hate being here, I want to be free.

I’m so sorry to vent like that. 😭

I will use this as a general jump start of fandom griping regarding this entire debacle since this, this right here, should not be a normal thing that fandom has to send anonymously due to being scared of the vitriolic backlash received.

I have been nice, I have been sarcastic, I have been a troll, and despite my initial kindness and patience when I first started interacting with this fandom, I was met with consistent death threats and homophobia about a fictional male character and why I am less then patient now for Jiang Cheng stans. Other people should not HAVE to apologize for not enjoying a completely made up fandom persona and getting bit at for this. By all means go ahead and enjoy a fanon persona, by all means ask for supporting evidence when someone is arguing they do not like a character.

I interact with other Jiang Cheng fans just fine outside of this, they are not the ones I speak of in this. The ones I am addressing are the vitriolic ones that are angry about anything close to being taken as "anti" regarding an in story antagonist that does exhibit antagonistic behavior time and again with leading text and citations. It doesn't matter if he is someone that is enjoyed, somehow it's "wrong".

And hey. I DO disagree on several different interpretations in this fandom, but NONE of them have ever garnered the hate I have gotten in my 3 years in this fandom the way I chose to discuss Jiang Cheng. When told to use another tag, it was done, but again it was done incorrectly, when I stopped using anti at the behest of other fans, I did because hey, it was able to reach a wider audience, that did enjoy the character himself and wanted deeper understanding outside of fanon only that pervaded the tag meant for "Jiang Cheng".

I certainly do not deny his instances of kindness, but how dare I ascertain that all if this in context is not a reflection of positivity for him within the plot he is meant for, no matter time and again saying he has an opening for himself to do better in the future for others that have yet to be hurt by him, or are willing to salvage what they still have.

I should not have to be told I just want to fuck a dude as a "joke" and a comeback because of how I go and point out what he's like in the work. That is casual homophobia and shockingly sexual harassment. Or be told to think of it as a sibling who uses drugs and it's therefore alright to demean said character, or deny the blatant abuse this character exhibits or uses because he also had been abused by an adult.

I do not need to be tolerant of a side of fandom due to all the above treatment and others deal with.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #lol fandom #oh fandom

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clonerightsagenda · 1 year

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I was going to save this for one of my podcast girls week entries, but I wrote it out and then thought, why sit on it, so here is today's ladies night content before I go on a walk: Alien zombie Alana Maxwell is an underutilized concept and here's why.

She'd be cool with it. Maxwell works with AI who are ported between containers without that changing who they are, so she's primed to view her mind and memories being rebooted in a new container similarly. I don't think she'd have any identity crises. Also, her dad was a preacher, she's not on good terms with her family, and she tried to ditch the holiday party, which makes me guess she's ex-Christian. How better to spite your Christian parents than coming back from the dead in a distinctly non-God honoring way? This could generate some interesting conflict with Lovelace, who is significantly less cool with it and might be annoyed and dismayed to see someone else taking alien resurrection in stride. Bonus points considering I hc Lovelace as being raised Catholic and the soul question being an additional level of identity angst that Maxwell immediately dismisses.

The aliens have motive. It's clear that watching through their surrogates' eyes doesn't mean they understand what they see. Once Lovelace gets back to Earth, they might want help with context. They seem to have grasped that humans don't like multiple copies of a person running around, and of the others they have on file, they dislike Kepler and Cutter, and Rachel and Riemann were there when Cutter killed one of their meatsuits, so Maxwell seems like the one they'd have the least aversion to. Then she would immediately try to talk them into roadtripping to see things in person, which is how we can get all the other interactions I'm describing.

The aliens have opportunity. It's not stated what the crew did with Maxwell's body, but the likely options are either tossing her into the star or freezing her on the station, which later went into the star. Lovelace was frozen (albeit alive) when she got scanned, and Word of God is that the Dear Listeners are perfectly capable of creating a functioning surrogate from a corpse. If you don't want to go that angle, almost everyone got hit by multiple rounds of stellar activity in "Persuasion". However, the corpse angle creates an opening for...

Fun body horror. I am a 'came back wrong' enjoyer and think it would be very good if the aliens got their scanned corpse up and running but didn't fuss too much about the cosmetic stuff. Maxwell's skin is colder than it ought to be. She has a gnarly scar on her forehead. Neither of these bother her much, but she's not a fan of the tingling neuropathy left over from tissue damage or the brain fog from the bullet that went through her head. (A fun parallel to the issue she first helped Hera with. Hera is now in the brain damage club with Doug, Miranda, and Maxwell. She hates this.) She can fun-terrorize Jacobi with perma-cold hands and real-terrorize Minkowski by making her look at the hole in her head. She's honestly over it but it's still funny to watch her squirm.

The Hera thing. Hera was furious with Maxwell immediately after the mutiny, and although her opinions softened near the end of the show, I think she'd be furious again if Maxwell actually showed up. She embraced non-human solidarity with Lovelace and now here's Maxwell. What is she supposed to do, have non-human solidarity with her too?? Did Maxwell become an alien to spite her??? The nerve. I got the impression that Maxwell saw her actions during the mutiny as for Hera's own good - better than deleting her, right? - just as she was willing to ignore Hera's wishes and erase her memories in Memoria. She'd probably insist on that if they had a chance to argue about it, and I could see Hera throwing the restraining bolt incident in her face. ("If you're so comfortable putting something into people's brains to make them more useful to you, I'm sure you won't mind hearing how Jacobi got that scar on the back of his neck.") Could be juicy, is my point.

Meanwhile, Jacobi: Of course this is my very good friend Maxwell back from the dead. Yes this has implications for the version of myself I listened to die screaming. No I'm not going to unpack that.

Finally, I think it's a missed opportunity that Pryce and Maxwell never got to meet. I suspect pre-mutiny Maxwell would want to believe she was ethically better than Pryce while pre-finale Pryce would see Maxwell as a bleeding heart amateur, but after all that? I think they'd still get each other's hackles up, but there's room for some interesting interaction, especially as I think Miranda's memories would start trickling back after a while, and immortal alien surrogate Maxwell is basically her white whale. Miranda trying to navigate social niceties enough to determine an acceptable way to ask someone for tissue samples. Maxwell might be willing to swap some for custody over a few of Pryce’s experimental AIs.

In conclusion, while I enjoy postcanon scenarios dissecting people's trauma, I think it's fun if while everyone else is grappling with the Horrors, Maxwell is also there enjoying herself. *commercial voice* Add an alien Maxwell to YOUR postcanon today.

#for 12 low payments of $0.00 #perpetual perpetual ladies night #wolf 359 #visibly undead Maxwell dragging an alien doing a really bad human impression around Florida: :D #everyone else seeing this: D:#spending my last day of winter break blogging furiously

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ssa-atlas-alvez · 2 years

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100 (y/n hotchner)

Warnings: Panic attack, death, vomit, all the stuff that happens in the episode happens here basically

Word Count: 4.7k

You’re gathered around the table with the rest of the team, choosing to sit down so that you could anxiously bounce your leg while listening. Apparently, there was a possible lead to Foyet. Aaron hadn’t told you what it was, which wasn’t unusual, he didn’t like to repeat himself often. On the way to Garcia’s Batcave, Aaron had asking everyone to gather in the briefing room.

You listen during the geographic profile, choosing not to say anything. Geographical profiling wasn’t exactly your strong suit - and you weren’t going to attempt it now, not with your family’s life on the line. You’d have to get better at it some other time.

Your head snaps to the door a moment later, Garcia running in. “Hey, me and the boy found a thyroid medication that has no substitute over the counter, you have to get it from the pharmacist. But a lot of people are on it,”

“Find the midpoint between the two cities and isolate within a twenty five mile radius” Rossi replied.

“153 names.”

“He’s not going to use his own name, what kind of aliases should we be looking for,” Derek said.

“He could have easily stolen someone’s identity,”

“No, he’s a narcissist in love with his own mythology,” Your brother said, “He’d use a name connected to the case,”

“A victim, maybe a cop,” Rossi suggested.

Nothing,” Penelope said, shaking her head.

“Wait a minute, guys, Foyet likes things to have meaning to him,” You watch as Reid and Aaron bounce off each other, Spencer coming to the conclusion of ‘Peter Rhea’.

“There’s a Peter Rhea in Arlington,”

After identifying Foyet, Garcia had an address in seconds and you all split up, making your way to the address. You made yourselves comfortable in the parking lot outside the apartment, waiting on Derek’s orders. Eventually, Morgan gave the all-clear for Swat to go further and you were all watching the check. You felt your eyes widen when you spot the clump of letters on the floor.

“That’s his mail,” Rossi said, Aaron gave a ‘yep’ before running off, gun in hand. You sighed, gripping your own gun before running after him. Honestly, your brother just ran into danger sometimes without even thinking about the possible dangers. Typical. You made sure to keep close to him as you could whilst running. You weren’t about to let him get shot or anything, not on your watch.

“If he’s in a hurry he’ll make a mistake,”

“Yeah, but when Foyet gets cornered, he starts killing people,” Aaron said.

“We’re not going to let that happen,” You promised firmly, holding eye contact with Aaron until he looked away. You weren’t going to let anything happen to your family.

“We need to get Garcia on this,” Emily said, bending down to take a closer look at the computer. You furrow your eyebrows.

“I think he’s erasing the hard drive as we speak,” You said.

You watch in awe (as always) as Garcia starts to repair the system Foyet was trying to erase. It doesn’t take long before surveillance photos of a man start appearing, almost like a slideshow.

“Oh my god, isn’t that-”

“That’s the US Marshall assigned to my family,” Aaron rushed, immediately fishing out his phone.

“Foyet’s been watching him this whole time?” You ask, Aaron doesn’t answer, instead, he dialled a number on his phone. He doesn’t answer, so Aaron leaves a message and hangs up, mind racing.

“We need to deploy another swat unit,” Derek said.

“That’s gonna take another half hour,” By the time JJ had finished speaking, Aaron was already on his way out of the apartment.

Your eyes widened as you ran after your brother, “Aaron! Aaron!”

You note that Rossi is right behind you, but you don’t slow down. You needed to try to talk some reason into your brother. When you finally caught up with him, he was out of breath and in a panic. Placing a firm hand on his shoulder, you make direct eye contact with him. “Aaron, Aaron, you need to take a deep breath and try to stay calm,”

“Calm? He’s- He’s going to find out where Haley and Jack are-”

You squeeze his shoulder for a moment and Aaron’s eyes flick back up to you, “We’ll stop him,” You said, your voice leaving no room for argument, “We always catch the bad guys, okay? Always.”

Aaron’s calm(er) when Rossi joins the pair of you and the three of you jump into the car. Despite the dread flowing through your veins, you couldn’t help but noticed how much like a father Rossi had become to the pair of you - you almost felt like he was driving you home after picking you both up from school.

When you reach Kassmeyer’s house, the first thing you notice is the droplets of blood by the front door. Aaron enters first, then Rossi, then finally you. Aaron heads straight over to the couch, where Kassmeyer’s laying in front, a pool of blood staining the carpet around him, you quickly clear the rest of the house while Rossi calls for an ambulance.

“It’s all clear,” You say, Rossi nods saying the same, before you both turn to Aaron.

“I tried, I’m sorry,”

“What are you sorry for?”

“I tried,” Your head snaps up as Derek and Emily enter, guns lowered. Spencer and JJ enter next, but you pay them no attention, fixating on your brother’s conversation.

“Are Jack and Haley safe?” Aaron asked, panic seeping through his voice. “Sam, tell me what happened,”

“I don’t know how he got in,”

“Sam, I need to understand, does he know where Jack and Haley are?” Your hand goes to your mouth as you begin to bite on the nail of your thumb, ignoring it as it tremored. “What about her phone number? What’s her safe phone number?”

“It won’t matter,” Kassmeyer muttered, “I tried Hotch,”

The paramedics rush in and Reid spouts off the injuries. You can’t hear them over the light ringing in your ears.

“Hotch,” Sam mumbled.

“It’s alright, I’m right here,” Was your brother’s instant reply.

You watch as your brother climbed into the ambulance with the Marshall. There was only enough room for one person. So you watch, standing next to Rossi, panic flowing through your veins as you wait for your next instructions. You had no clue what to do. What were you supposed to do? Aaron always knows what to do.

Relief floods through you when Aaron phones Morgan. Your still at Kassmeyer’s house, helping process the place.

“Foyet called haley from Kassmeyer’s phone.” Aaron said, voice echoing over the speaker.

“Alright we’ll get garcia to trace it, JJ.” Morgan soothed, nodding to JJ, who quickly left the room to make the phonecall to Garcia.

“He told her that she was compromised and that I was dead,”

“Have you called her?” You asked.

“No he said to throw away her phone and to buy a disposable,”

“Hotch we’re gonna come get you right now,”

“No Anderson’s bringing me a car.”

“You want to meet back at the office?”

“I’m hoping that she’s just going to call me at least to check,”

You swallowed, “Aaron, Foyet posed as a marshall, even called from a number haley recognised,”

“And then he did what gets him off, he scared her,” Rossi added.

“No he paralysed her, he overwhelmed her,” Emily chimed.

“And now she trusts him, where do you think he would take her?” Reid asked.

“Witness protection had her living in New Jersey,”

“He has a headstart, he could be there now,” You listen, silent, as Reid and Emily theorise.

JJ walked back into the room, phone in hand, “Garcia’s got a trace,”

“He’s bouncing around a few towers,”

“Where?” Aaron’s answer is immediate, nearly cutting Garcia off.

“Fairfax county,”

“He’s still local?”

“Send the coordinates to my phone,”

“Done,”

“Why isn’t he on his way to New Jersey?” JJ asked.

“Wait that phone’s on?”

“Yes,”

“Hotch?”

“He hung up,”

The dread in your stomach doubles and you subtly take a step back from the group, just needing some air. Somehow, it didn’t feel like there was enough air. It felt suffocating. Suffocating. Danger. Death. Haley and Jack. You curse your mind for playing ping pong with the worst-case scenarios, but you can’t help it. Jack and Haley were on the way to the man who had killed thirty-six people and stabbed your brother nine times. And here you were, doing nothing. Offering no real help. You gulp in another breath of air, feeling only a fraction of it reach your lungs, so you try again and again. Soon your breaths are shallow and fast-paced.

“(Y/N)?” You hear your name but it’s distant and you can’t quite place who it is, so you ignore it, continuing to try to breathe. Except, now, that mundane task seems particularly hard. A hand is placed on your shoulder, firm. Not too hard, but enough to ground you.

“Kid?” Rossi. His voice feels close and safe. You trust Rossi. Rossi’s always been someone you could trust. You force your eyes up, meeting with the man dubbed ‘Dad 2.0’, “Take some slow, deep breaths for me,”

You follow his instructions, watching his chest rise and fall, listen to his counting slowly guiding you through. When it’s over and your breath is finally reaching your lungs, you give him a strained smile. “You okay, kiddo?”

“Yeah,” You mumbled, biting the inside of your lip, embarrassed. Rossi, reading your mind, gives you a reassuring smile and pats your shoulder.

“What’s that?” You asked.

“Hotch is calling Foyet,” Garcia rushed out.

“He’s what-” You’re cut off by Foyet’s voice.

“Agent Hotchner,”

“If you touch her-”

“Be gentle, like I was with you.”

“What the hell took you so long? I was beginning to think this phone was dead or something,” Foyet’s voice made your stomach churn. “Why so quiet you usually lash out when you’re frustrated,”

“I’m not frustrated, you’re more predictable than you think,”

“Am I?”

“You didn’t know where Haley was so you made her come to you,”

“You make me sound lazy,”

“It's just another way for you to show control,”

“Oh, that’s terrible,” Foyet mocked, you shuffled in your seat, wanting nothing more than to track him down and-

You force yourself to zone out, not wanting to hear the rest of this conversation. You couldn’t deal with the back and forth between your brother and Foyet.

“You know what I’ve been thinking? Haley looks pretty good with dark hair. She’s lost some weight, must be all the stress you’ve caused her. Where’s little man? Oh, there he is. does he like Captain America because of you?” Your breath catches in your throat. A faint ringing sounds over the phone. “That’s your wife. Sorry, ex-wife, now isn’t it? Either way hold please.”

You listen as Foyet fakes an accent, getting Haley to open the gate and let him in.

“Aaron? I really gotta go,” Then the line goes dead.

“No,” You shook your head, “No, Garcia, keep tracing it,” You point at the screen, ignoring how your fingers shook, tears getting ready to blur your vision.

“I- I can’t there’s no signal,” Garcia said, tapping at her keyboard.

“Oh God,” You mutter, “He’s got Jack and Haley,”

“Foyet has to be in control, he has Haley come to him,” Derek said, snapping you out of your panic.

“Yeah, but where would he take her?” Reid asked.

“He wants Aaron to find him, to see where he was, to see what he did,” JJ stated, looking anxiously at the rest of the team.

“Which means…?”

“He said something on that call which tells Hotch where to go,” Rossi summarised.

You listen to Reid reciting the phone call, furrowing your eyebrows, “Aaron and Haley’s house has a gate.”

Within seconds, you’ve all piled into cars, speeding towards Aaron’s old house. Derek whipping his phone out, calling Aaron. “He’s going to your house… I’m sending a full tactical deployment… We’re on our way.” Then, the phone call is over and you’re all sat in silence.

You phone starts buzzing moments later, and you immediately answer it, seeing Garcia’s name flash on your screen.

“Foyet’s calling Hotch,”

“Garcia, can you get us on?” Morgan asks. Normal Garcia would answer that with a witty comment about being magnificent, today, however, she didn’t reply, instead simply patching the phone call through to your phone.

“Foyet,” Aaron’s tone is sharp. He’s pissed (understandably).

“Aaron? You’re okay?” Relief floods your body hearing Haley’s voice over the phone. You could make it there in time. You could. You had to.

There’s a pause before Aaron answers. The dread making its way into his voice, you hear it crack ever so slightly towards the end of the sentence. “I’m fine,”

“But he said that- oh Aaron,” You heard the moment she realised in her voice. How she choked up, eyes probably welling with tears, heart racing.

“He can hear us right?”

“Yes. I am so sorry,”

“Haley, show him no weakness, no fear,”

“I know,” You hear Haley take a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself down. “Sam told me all about it, is he, um?”

“No Sam is fine,”

“Aaron, Aaron, Aaron, is that why your marriage broke up? Because you’re a liar?”

“Don’t listen to him, Haley.”

“I have Sam’s service phone right here, they sent out a mass text about his death, you can take a look if you want,”

“He’s trying to scare you,”

“Did you even tell her what this was about? About the deal?”

“He’s just trying to make you angry.” Desperation leaks through Aaron’s voice despite trying to keep himself together as much as he can. He’s just a man, he can’t help it. He so desperately wants to get to Haley and Jack. To his family. He wants them to be okay, he wants Foyet dead or behind bars, he wants him and Haley to get remarried, and he wants the life he once knew back. But you don’t always get what you want.

“Well, she should be. She’s gonna D-I-E because of your inflated ego.” You clench your fists, ignoring how the nails dig into your palms, tensing your jaw you continue to stare ahead, willing Derek to just drive a little faster.

“Ignore him, Haley,”

“I’m sure you don’t want her to know this part either,” Foyet paused, “You know all he had to do was stop looking for me and we wouldn’t be in this mess,”

“Don’t react,” Aaron responds.

“What is he talking about?” You can hear the plea in Haley’s voice.

There’s a small pause. “Tell Jack I need him working the case,”

“What?”

“Tell Jack I need him working the case,”

“Jack, did you hear that?” Muffling sounds come from the phone as it’s passed over to Jack.

“Hi daddy,” Your hand moves up to your face, covering your mouth as you look out the window. You wanted nothing more than to sob, knowing what was going to happen. But you had to hold it together. You had to. There was no choice in this, you had to get to that house - the one that Aaron had taken you into when you went to live with him at sixteen. The one you had tried to sneak in drunk at 1 am when you were seventeen, Aaron chewing you out about being responsible before Haley made you go up to bed. The one where you had watched your nephew grow up in. You had to get home and save your family. You had to be there for them. You had to be there for your brother.

“H-i buddy,”

“Is George a bad guy?”

“Yes he is, but Jack, I need you on this case with me. Do you understand? I need you to work the case with me,”

“Okay, daddy,”

“Jack hug your mum for me,”

“Mum you hug me too tight,”

“I’m sorry,”

“Why are you sad?”

“I just love you so much.” You sniff, wiping the tears from your eyes in a quick motion before you take a deep breath, your gaze out the window growing hard as you force your emotions into a small box the best you can.

“Mum I gotta go I'm working the case,”

“Okay.”

“He’s so cute he’s like a little Junior Gman, I’ll be right up jacky-boy,” Your breath caught in the back of your throat.

“Is he gone?”

“Yes.”

“You’re so strong Haley, you’re stronger than I ever was,”

“You’ll hurry, right?”

“I know you didn’t sign on for this,”

“Neither did you.”

“I’m sorry for everything,”

“Promise me that you will tell him how we met, and how you used to make me laugh,” You had given up trying to wipe away the tears that traced down your face, opting to tilt your head down and hope that Rossi and Morgan couldn’t see them.

“Haley-”

“He needs to know that you weren’t always so serious Aaron - I want him to believe in love because it is the most important thing but you need to show him. Promise me.”

“I promise.” It’s silent, the only sound being Haley’s heavy breaths as she desperately tries to calm herself.

You flinch, hand going over your mouth when the gunshots start. You blinked the tears out of your eyes. You couldn’t let your emotions get the better of you. Not now. You had to get there, get Jack, be there for your family.

“Drive faster,”

“(Y/N)-”

“I don’t care about whatever the fuck you’re gonna say, just drive faster,” You snapped.

When Derek pulls up, you’re out of the car before it’s fully stopped. Gun drawn, ready to shoot if needed - and you firmly held the belief that you would not hesitate if it did come down to that.

“Aaron?” You ask, making your way past Morgan, approaching your brother, watching as he repeatedly punched Foyet. “Aaron? He’s dead, Aaron, stop!” When he failed to stop, you moved forward, wrapping your arms around him. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” You murmur, desperately trying to get him to calm down at least a little bit. He turned his head into your chest, sobbing loudly as he did so. You sat, holding your brother, trying to keep your breath steady.

“Aaron, Aaron, I need you to listen to me,” You said softly, “Where would Jack hide?”

You follow Aaron as he stands, pushing himself away from you and staggers to his office. His strides were long and desperate, but you kept up. You watch, close behind Aaron as he opens the seat.

“I worked the case, daddy, just like you said,” The relief that flows over you is indescribable and you shut your eyes and thank God for small mercies.

“You did a great job, buddy,”

“What happened to you, daddy?”

“I’m okay, I want you to go outside with Ms Jareu, okay?”

“Come here sweetheart,”

When you see that Jack is okay, you head over to the master bedroom. Seeing Morgan about to bend down, you shake your head. “I’ll do it,” You mumble, ignoring the lump in your throat. You don’t wait for him to agree, instead, you kneel beside Haley, gently taking her hand in yours before you check her pulse. Hearing footsteps, you watch as your brother approaches, kneeling down opposite you, taking in Haley’s features.

“I’m so sorry, Hotch,” Morgan says behind you. You watch as he scoops Haley into his arms, bringing her close to his chest as he sobs into her shoulder. You sit, a silent witness, as your brother sobs over the body of his high school sweetheart. The one woman he’s ever loved. The mother of his child. You stand up.

"Can you- Can you watch him?" You asked quietly, turning to Morgan. Morgan nodded. "Okay, I just- I just need some air,"

You stumbled out of the room, thankful that it was unnoticed by Aaron. You blink, the image of Haley's lifeless body flashes against your eyelids. You ignore everyone you pass asking if you’re okay. You follow the hall, down the stairs, trying to ignore the bloodstains that scattered the floor. When you reach the living room, you realise they’ve moved Foyet’s body. You walk out the front door - it’s already open, so you don’t close it behind you. You walk down the front steps, heading straight to the corner of the front garden. You grip the fence tightly as you throw up what little food you have in your stomach, after, you let out a loud, heart-wrenching sob seeing that no one else was outside. You place a hand over your mouth for a moment before you’re throwing up again. And again.

You jump when a hand softly touches your back. Turning your head slightly, you see the concerned gaze of Morgan. You face the fence again, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, ignoring how it shakes. “Aaron-?”

“And Jack are both with JJ and Rossi outback,” Morgan reassured. You nod slightly, your hand returning to it’s previous position on the fence. Morgan takes a step forward, ready to continue to comfort, should you need to throw up again.

“I’m fine, you don’t need to stay here,” You whisper, waving him off.

“I know,” He responded. “Sometimes we all need a little company,” Any other time, Derek’s reply would have given you butterflies. Now, it simply choked you. Haley would say that to Aaron when you were younger. You would turn up at their door, unannounced, you, Aaron, and Sean (if he wasn’t at a friend’s house). Aaron would apologise for taking up her time and she would chuckle, placing a hand on his arm.

“Sometimes we all need a little company,” She would smile. You would watch as your brother gave her a shy smile in response, pink dusting his cheeks.

What were you supposed to say? You don’t know you’re sobbing until Derek pulls you tightly to his chest.

“It’s okay,” He mumbles, gently rubbing his hand in circles on your back. You grip the back of his shirt tighter, sobbing harder as you shake your head.

“No, no it’s not,” You whisper, “She’s gone. She- She got Aaron- both of us- through so much. How are we gonna-? How’s Jack gonna-?”

“You will all be fine, do you hear me?” Derek asked strongly, “You will all be okay,”

You gave one last sniff before removing yourself from Derek’s embrace (despite wanting to stay there forever). Wiping away the evidence of tears, you take a deep breath. “I’m okay now,” You said, nodding before you repeat it. This time stronger. “I’m okay,”

Derek looked at you, unsure, but didn’t argue.

You swallowed, “I’m going to go check on Aaron and Jack,”

Morgan nods, following you around back, saying that he needed JJ and Rossi for the reports. On any other day, you'd see through his excuse.

You wake up, turning over, a groan on your lips. A few days had passed, and you were currently sleeping on the couch in Aaron's apartment. Aaron and Jack both asleep in Aaron's bed. Jack hadn't wanted to leave Aaron's side recently, which was completely understandable and expected. You had to go back to work today, Strauss wanted a run down on everything that had happened. Aka, she wanted a way in which she could pin everything on Aaron.

You were all up and dressed for the day before Jessica came round. Jessica had offered to watch Jack whilst you two went to work, you for the day, and Aaron for the interview. But Jack had cried and cried until Aaron said that he could come with you both, Aaron telling Jessica to make herself at home in his apartment whilst they were gone.

And so, the three of you walked into the bullpen together. You and Aaron both in suits, Jack holding Aaron's hand dressed smartly and clutching his beige rabbit teddy (Snuggles) in his other hand. Garcia greeted you all with a hug (and some sweets for Jack, and then you when you looked at her in betrayal). Everyone was hot on her heels in greeting you.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news," Anderson said, walking up to you, "But Strauss wants to see you,"

You walk into the room, not sure what to expect. You're one of the last ones to go in, but you haven't seen anyone who could tell you what's going on. You sit in front of Strauss.

“Please say your name and rank for the record,”

“Supervisory Special Agent (Y/N) Hotchner,”

“How long have you been working at the BAU?”

“Er,” You took a moment, “Four years? No, no, five, sorry,”

"Do you think Agent Hotchner acted irrationally?"

“Oh my god, it’s like you just want to say this is all his fault and be done with it,” You groaned, “And honestly, if that’s all you’re going to do, just get it over with,”

“Agent Hotchner-”

“What?” You asked sharply. “You’re keeping me from my family right now and they need me,”

Strauss sighed, “Do you think this could have been prevented if Agent Hotchner waited for backup,”

“I think my nephew would be dead too if he did,” You answer bluntly. “Is that all?”

"Yes Agent Hotchner," Strauss said tightly, knowing she wasn’t going to get anywhere asking you questions. "That is all. Please send your brother in,"

"Yes ma'am," You shut the door behind you and head straight to the briefing room. "Hey Aaron, you're up. The bitc- boss wants to speak to you," You smile innocently as Aaron gives you a glare for your close call with bad language around Jack.

"Okay. Watch Jack for me, and no bad language,"

"Sir yes sir," You respond, Aaron rolls his eyes. When he's gone you turn to Jack. "You're my favourite," You whisper, Jack giggles running at you, hugging your legs. "Come on, shall we go explore?" When Jack nods you pick him up.

"I can walk uncle (Y/N)," Jack giggles, placing Snuggles on your shoulder.

"I know, you're like ten!" You exclaim.

"I'm four," Jack laughs. You stop, looking at him in confusion.

"What? No, you're not, I could have sworn you were getting ready to learn to drive,"

"Nu-uh!" Jack says, "Daddy says it's bad you swear,"

"Your Daddy had a mouth like a sailor when he was my age all those centuries ago," Jack looked at you, confused. "I'll tell you when you're older,"

"Otay!" Jack chimed, turning back to Snuggles.

"Hey, Jack," You whispered, "Shall we go beat up Uncle Derek? I reckon we could take him down together,"

Jack giggled, nodding his head, "Yeah!"

"Charge!" You exclaimed, Jack quickly joining in as you ran towards Derek (who was just trying to get a cup of coffee).

"Agh!" Derek yelped as you charged into him (gently, not wanting to hurt Jack). "Alright, you got me, you got me! I surrender!"

"Never let them give up!" He yelled, you gave a cheer, setting Jack down so you could both attack. Derek 'fell' to the floor.

"Rossi, quick, help!" Derek called out, extending an arm to the older man, who shook his head with a chuckle.

"Ha ha!" Jack laughed. Derek scrambled up, exaggerating as he did so.

"That's it," Derek said, shaking his head, he grabbed Snuggles who had somehow fallen to the floor. "Stay back or Snuggles gets it!"

You and Jack exchanged a look before tackling Derek to the floor.

"What's going on?" Aaron asked eyebrows raised at the three of you.

"He started it," You and Jack chimed, pointing at each other. Derek gave a loud snort.

“(Y/N), what happened?” Your brother asked, turning to you.

“He started it,”

Jack looked at you in disbelief, you turned, whispering, “One of us had to take the fall, man,”

Aaron rolled his eyes, “I’m grounding you,”

“Ha ha,” Jack laughed seeing the confusion on your face.

“What? I’m not a kid you can’t ground me-”

“Yes I can,” Aaron grinned, knowing your next question would be why, he continued “And I’m grounding you because you’re trying to blame a four year old,”

“Ugh, this is so unfair,” You groaned.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #david rossi #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #x male reader #y/n hotchner #male reader #hotch has another brother #reader is said brother #brother reader #hotch x brother reader #haley brooks #jack hotchner #jennifer jareau

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davnittbraes · 1 year

Text

The Third Step - Chapter-Twenty-Four

Part of The World Is Light, Embodied.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (not this chapter but the series as a whole)

Word Count: 2600

Warnings, etc.: fluff, introspection, mentions of strict religious code, ridiculously adorable domesticity, like so so sugary sweet, my teeth hurt, anxiety, injured animal (but it’s okay in the end)

Notes:. okay this one is shorter than usual but it’s a natural conclusion to the Third Step so I’m going to cut it here. I’ll try to give y’all a bit extra in the next one. Also, I’ve modelled the tree-dwelling creatures after the tarsier, who has a special place in my heart as the permanently surprised old man gremlin of the primate world.

Mando’a translations at the end of the chapter.

Please check out the Series Masterlist page for more info.

A swirl of cool air pulls you from sleep with a shiver over the skin of your naked back.

What -

Your eyes fly open, panic already clawing up your throat at the sensation of blankets on your bare skin - why are you fully naked, where is your shirt -

A warm hand brushes your arm, pulls the blankets back up over your shoulder, rests there with a steady weight. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Breath you didn’t realize you were holding releases in a rush, thoughts finally shaking off the last dregs of sleep.

You slip your fingers through his and turn your face to kiss his palm. “Oh good. It’s only you.”

“Yes, only me.” His voice floats over you in the dark, light with humour.

Rolling your eyes at his unseen form, you turn over, squirm under the blankets to close the distance between you.

He’s sitting up - must be close to day cycle, he’s getting out of bed to get dressed - so you curl an arm around his thigh and settle your cheek against it. “Obviously I don’t mean only you, I just mean only you.”

He hums in amusement, hand drifting down your back over the blankets. “Makes sense.”

You pinch the inside of his thigh, pretending to ignore his muffled sound of protest. “It’s too early for banter. Come back in an hour after I have time to wake up.”

“Go back to sleep, tionas.” His voice quivers with suppressed laughter as he bends to press a kiss to your temple.

You tilt your lips to meet his, catching his smile with one of your own. A soft kiss, the sweep of his thumb over your cheek and then he’s pulling away, easing you back down to the floor and standing up.

The blankets are warm, full of his scent, and you burrow into them, tuck the edge over your nose as you listen to him move about the hold. Soft rustles of fabric and muffled clinks of armour being jostled in his arms, then his footsteps are moving away, heading toward the ‘fresher. The woosh of the door opening, and again closing, and then you’re alone, nestled in a corner of the world that’s become a safe-haven, a sanctuary. A place of comfort and trust.

For both you and him.

That warm bright thing in your chest flares.

For both you and Din.

Din.

Soft and hard, a sharp consonant and a gentle exhale, a pleasing hum.

Contrasts. Layers.

It suits him.

You shift onto your back, staring up at the dark ceiling. The day cycle is starting, you can already make out the various storage bags hanging there, the row of cables running the length of the ship.

Names weren’t important to you. A name for you is insignificant, something that can be changed or hidden or falsified. You shed names and grow new ones at will.

But for him…

That’s how we ensure the Creed stays true. By erasing who we are. Making us only Mandalorian.

His words from last night drift through your thoughts.

It makes sense that his people are so strict on personal identity. They’re facing extinction, struggling to hold on to the last vestiges of a long-standing, noble culture. It’s in their best interest to eliminate outside influences if they want to preserve their heritage.

So you know how much his admission means.

I survived before I met you. Now, I live. Din lives.

Your heart thuds loud in your chest, a mix of emotion turning your stomach.

His name means something. It’s an identity, a part of himself he thought long gone. Someone buried under years of devoting his life to others.

A person hidden, tucked away behind layers of armour, beskar and cloth, silence and solitude.

Everyone’s got their own armour, of sorts.

Kriff, so much has changed since you first said that to him, back when you were fleeing Bakura. You’d said it by way of apology for teasing him about not removing his helmet, a recognition that you would respect his creed and a reinforcement that you had secrets of your own.

Because you did. You had secrets, and armour that you’d strapped on tight to protect them.

You still do. But you had peeled back your armour, piece by piece, and let him see those secret parts of you.

Just as he has done for you.

Pfassk. Things have gotten real deep, haven’t they?

You snort in amusement at your own inner ramblings.

They sure have. And you should be terrified, but that warm bright thing in your chest is grounding, a wall that stops any sharp spikes of anxiety from digging in and making you question why you’ve let someone so close.

Because there’s no sense in wasting time thinking about the why, when you already know the answer.

The ‘fresher door slides open, and you hear bootsteps head toward the ladder.

Smiling, you sit up, stretch out your back, take a deep breath and release. Stand and find your clothes scattered around the blankets, pull them on quickly and efficiently.

Sleep is a trifling temptation when Din is around.

*****

“Ok, ready for the next?” You prop the datapad up on your bent knee, displaying the letter as the kid watches closely. “This one is grek. It makes a ‘geh’ sound.”

His wide, amber gaze takes in the shape on the screen, ears perking with interest. It’s hard to tell how much he’s understanding, but you’re going to try going through the alphabet a few more times and then start with some simple words. That should give you an idea of how much he’s getting out of these lessons.

You shift a little to ease the ache in your knees - sitting on the floor of the hull isn’t exactly great for your joints but it’s become the place where you have these lessons and you don’t want to change the routine now. Pressing the button on the datapad to move to the next letter, you grin when it flashes on the screen.

“This one is my favourite, remember?”

The kid chirps excitedly, hands already reaching for you.

“This one makes a ‘heh’ sound. What’s it’s called?” Scooping him up, you dump him in your lap and tickle your fingers along his sides. “Herf! Herf! Herf!”

He cackles and squirms, tiny clawed hands pretending to bat yours away, and you renew your assault, finding his most ticklish spot right under his arms and skittering your fingertips over it relentlessly.

A soft, modulated huff of laughter drifts over the kid’s giggles.

Din leans forward from his seat on a crate to pick up the datapad, which had fallen off your knee. “There’s a reason why it takes so long to get through the entire alphabet.”

“Incorrect, there’s three reasons.” You pause your attack, letting the kid take a breath. “Remember what they are, kiddo?” He coos happily, bright eyes shining. “That’s right. Herf, mern and nern. Mern nern mern nern -“

He screeches with laughter as your fingers resume their attack, his giggles weaving through your own and the quiet huff of Din’s, filling the hold with a light that rivals the sunshine pouring in through the open crew door.

Another sound pricks your ears and you let the kid settle, turning your gaze to the direction of the sound. Din hears it, too, black visor trained on the door, gloved hand resting over his blaster.

A tiny scritching, like claws on metal -

Your heartbeat stutters as a small, furry head pops around the top of the door, bright blue gaze finding yours almost instantly.

Nobody moves. The creature stares at you, upside down eyes unblinking. It’s a little unsettling, being pinned under that gaze, but your instincts tell you the creature isn’t going to attack. It’s just curious, in some way.

Throwing Din a reassuring glance, you shift the kid in your lap, holding him firmly, ready to run and get him to safety in case your instincts are wrong.

You clear your throat, looking up at the creature. “Hello.”

It twitches, head tilting one way then the other. The kid coos softly, and that bright blue gaze shifts to him, sharp.

Your hands tighten just a bit around the kid. “He’s with us. We can be friends, but you can’t hurt him, ok?”

Din moves slightly, fingers curling around the grip of his blaster.

The creature suddenly darts out of sight, only to peer back around the doorframe again a second later. It stares at you for a moment, then skitters down the frame onto the ramp, grey and silver fur sparking in the sunlight, long tail flicking as it crouches in the doorway.

There’s something about it that’s nagging at you, something about it’s posture. It’s acting defensive, not aggressive, but why would it approach the ship if it’s afraid? Tree-dwellers like this animal usually just keep to the trees where they feel safe, rarely do they approach any perceived threat.

True, it’s obviously not used to people, doesn’t quite understand them enough to realized how much of a threat they are. But that’s not enough to pull it from its home.

Unless it’s looking for something.

The creature flicks it’s tail again, this time you notice it’s purposefully pointing it, drawing the tip into a sharp angle. Pointed right at you.

Slowly, you lift the kid, pass him to Din, and stand, facing the creature. “What do you need?”

The helmet tilts out of the corner of your eye, looking at you, questioning. But you can’t risk taking your gaze off the creature, you’ll have to trust that Din will trust you.

The creature shifts to its hind legs, sitting up. Ok, that’s more friendly than aggressive behaviour. That’s a good sign.

Taking a deep breath, you cautiously step toward it, watching for any sign of it changing it’s mind. Another step, and another, then the creature turns and scurries down the ramp, stopping at the bottom to look back at you.

You pause in the doorway, meeting the bright blue gaze.

Well. Got this far. Might as well see what it wants.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the bright sunshine, then you move slowly down the ramp, the creature keeping its distance with quick, twitchy steps but always looking back at make sure you’re following. It takes you to the edge of the clearing, then stops, chirping loudly.

A rustle in the leaves above your head draws your attention and suddenly there’s another pair of bright blue eyes staring down at you.

Then another. And another.

You take a step back, pulse quickening, muscles flexing, ready to run.

The trees are full of these grey-furred creatures, dozens of pairs of blue eyes looking down at you.

Ok. This might have been a mistake.

Then the one who had lead you here - maybe it’s the same one that you met yesterday? Hard to tell, they all look the same - scurries up the trunk of the nearest tree, grabbing hold of another one of the creatures and hauling it onto its back before running back down the tree.

What in the crikking hells is it doing?

There’s a furry shuffle of movement and the second creature is suddenly in front of you, only a couple paces away.

It looks up at you with that same unsettling blue gaze.

You clear your throat, looking down at it while still making sure to keep the others in your peripheral. “Uh, hi. How are you?”

Silence. The only thing that moves is the trees, swaying gently with the warm breeze.

“Ok. Not sure what I’m doing here.”

It doesn’t do anything, just sits there. Staring at you.

Your thoughts sift through the situation, try to figure out what is going on, what this creature needs -

Oh.

It’s holding one paw in the other, tiny little fingers wrapped around it’s wrist.

Sunlight glints off a shard of silver piercing through the paw.

Your stomach twists with sympathy, and you slowly drop to your knees, lifting your hand out. “Poor thing. Can I see it?”

The creature stares at your hand, stock still. Then the other one - your friend - makes a quiet sound, almost like a growl but much softer, and it moves forward, shuffling awkwardly on its hind legs until it’s right in front of you.

Holding your breath, you keep your hand steady as it gently lays its injured paw in your palm.

The shard isn’t long, and luckily not very big. The wound looks fresh, luckily. Probably won’t cause too much damage, especially not for a tree-dweller like this little one, whose paws are made to heal fast.

You let your breath out slowly, and curl your fingers around the tiny wrist, careful not to apply too much pressure and spook it.

Lifting your other hand, you grasp the end of the shard, pausing until those bright blue eyes flick up to meet your gaze. “I’m sorry, this is probably going to hurt.”

With a sharp tug, you yank the shard free.

Chaos ensues.

The creature chirps loudly and scurries away, tearing up the nearest tree trunk. Your friend follows, and the trees above shake with the movement of dozens of others fleeing as fast as they can deeper into the forest. A few leaves break free, drift down to the ground, and then you’re left standing alone, examining the metal shard curiously.

A rustle of movement and a gentle babble at your side - Din and the kid. Must have kept back while the impromptu operation was taking place.

You turn, hold out the shard, careful to keep it out of the kid’s reach. “Know what this is? Little dude had it stuck in its paw.”

“Does that happen often?”

“What?” Looking up from the shard, you meet the black visor’s gaze.

“Animals coming to you for medical assistance.”

Laughter bubbles up in your chest. “Not really. Though I once had a pregnant loth-cat give birth under my cabin. Took me days to get her used to me so I could move her and the kittens inside - it was just before winter, they wouldn’t have made it.” You sigh dramatically. “Of course, then I was stuck living with seven loth-cats for another year, before I found them all homes and moved on. Let me tell you, not a single scrap of fabric survived in that house unscathed.”

The helmet tilts, flashing in the sunlight. “Some people would have left the loth-cats. Treated those tree-dwellers as pests and scared them away.”

“Well, some people are assholes.” You lightly tap your fingertip on the kid’s snub nose. “That’s a bad word, buddy, forget that one, ok?”

He coos back at you while Din takes the shard from your fingers, holding it up. “Looks like durasteel. Freshly broken, edges are still sharp and unweathered.”

Something cold tightens your chest. “Durasteel? On an uninhabited planet?”

“Doesn’t mean others haven’t stopped here. Like us.”

You glance up at the sky, chill spreading down your back. “Also doesn’t mean others aren’t still here.”

He slips the shard into a pouch on his belt. “Should probably leave before we find out if that’s true.”

“Yeah.” Looking back at the forest, you take in the sight of the slender white-trunked trees and delicate blue leaves fluttering in the breeze.

Beautiful. Maybe you’ll be back, someday.

Funny, the thought of returning to somewhere you’d already been didn’t scare you like it once did.

Turning back to Din and the kid, you smile, chill fading at the sight of the two of them, brightly lit by the warm sunshine. “Let’s hit the black.”

***** Mando’a translations

tionas - question

***** Previous Chapter Next Chapter

#the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #mando x female reader #mando x reader #mando x you #mando x f!reader #reader insert #no y/n #the world is light embodied #TWILE

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thelightofthebane · 8 months

Text

through the good and bad and all in between

Summary: Magnus was born a warlock. Magnus became a mundane for love and by self-sacrificing tendencies. Magnus turned into a vampire after an act of spite and revenge.

A story about survival, new identities, love through adversities, and accepting changes.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s03e17 Heavenly Fire, Vampire Magnus Bane, Turned without consent, Major Character Undeath, Immortal to Mortal to Immortal, Magnus Bane Deserves Nice Things, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Boyfriend Alec Lightwood, Soft Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Cat & Alec friendship, Domestic Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending

Rating: E

Chapters: 10

Words: Around 23k~

This fic was created for the Shadowhunters Mini Bang 2023: Presented by the @malecdiscordserver

You can read it on AO3 or the eighth chapter below ~

Chapter 8 - You taught me to live each day like it's my last

“Are you really a vampire now?”

“I am.”

“And you only drink blood now?”

“I do.”

“And no magic? No more extra chocolate sprinkles?”

“No magic. But I can still give you extra chocolate sprinkles. In secret, or else Uncle Alec will punish us with a lot of tickles.”

Madzie giggled.

Children were so simple. In the best of ways. Although it hurt admitting some harsh truths out loud - like not being able to use magic anymore -, it was nice doing it only to fulfill an honest curiosity, full of wonder and awe.

Magnus wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t nervous at finally meeting Madzie again, but he missed his goddaughter too much to keep pushing back a visit. Since the successful mission against Camille three weeks before, Magnus was making more visits to the New York Institute - and New York overall. He was slowly trying to get used to the city again with his new senses and also going to the Hotel DuMort to talk to the clan.

If he was also using the opportunity to keep an eye on his very, very stubborn fiancé who was still healing from the mission, well, nobody but him needed to know that.

“Are you okay with this new me, Sweet Pea?”

“I am.”

See? Simple.

“I like your fangs. They are cool. Much cooler than Uncle Simon’s.” Then, as if telling him a secret, she lowered her voice and came closer to him. “But don’t tell him that. Or he will have puppy ears.”

“Puppy ears?”

“It’s puppy eyes, kiddo.” Cat corrected her after snickering.

Madzie shrugged, then went back to play with her dolls in what seemed to be an imaginary tea party.

Magnus, who was drinking a special blend of blood tea, turned to Cat then.

“I know that I shouldn’t be surprised, but she took this change better than I anticipated.”

Catarina took a sip of her own actual tea, not bothering to hide a grin afterward.

"Your little brood of Shadowhunters plus Simon took it upon themselves to play with Madzie and distract her while her Uncle Magnus was away. But she spent more time with Simon. Alec’s idea. This way she could get more used to vampires and not feel uncomfortable when visiting your future clan."

Alexander…

“Anyway, vampire or not, that boy was a perfect babysitter. He talked so much, that even Madzie got tired. She never napped so quickly in all the time she has been with me.”

Usually, Magnus would make a teasing comment about that, but his mind was still processing what Cat told him about Alec’s idea.

"Cat, how the hell did someone like him choose me? If we weren’t already engaged, I’d barge into the Institute right now and ask him to marry me."

"Magnus Bane finally settling, huh? In all the centuries that I know you, you never mentioned wedding bells, not even with the demon."

Magnus chuckles. Everyone around him stopped saying her name - not out of fear, but because they believed it could erase her from their memories sooner than later.

"Alec makes me dream about things that I've given up a long time ago, Cat."

Marriage. Family. Children.

"I want everything with him."

“I’d say you’re already halfway there.” His friend wiggled her eyebrows, jutting her chin towards the ring he was wearing.

His real engagement ring. A couple of days after Alec was discharged from the infirmary, he received a message from the warlock jeweler to let him know that the enchanted pair of rings were finished. Even without his powers, Magnus could feel the magic pouring from them - it was very powerful.

He knew Alec had ordered them specifically for Magnus, to keep him safe, but Magnus was glad and relieved to know it went both ways - Alec would also have an extra layer of protection and he would know if the Shadowhunter was in true danger.

“Have you chosen a place to hold the wedding?”

“Not yet. Alexander and I are still discussing all the details. He said he wanted to get involved in the planning this time.” Magnus smiled, then chuckled. “But I called dibs on the decor. I love Alec, but his concept of color is black and different shades of gray.”

The warlock frowned. “I thought you would go with the traditional gold of a Nephilim wedding.”

“No. In another time, we would’ve gone with a mix of Nephilim gold and Warlock blue, but now…” Magnus sighed before putting his teacup away.

Suddenly, Madzie piped in.

“Are you and Uncle Alec marrying like those princes and princesses of fairy tales? Uncle Alec looks like a prince.”

Magnus laughed. “And you’re absolutely right, my love.” He picked her up, and she immediately snuggled with him.

“Auntie Izzy told me I could be a flower girl. Does this mean I’ll wear a dress full of flowers?”

“If you want to wear one, we can arrange that. But being a flower girl means you’ll create a path full of flowers for me and Alec. This way, our marriage will start more colorful, fragrant, and beautiful.”

“I like that.” Magnus could hear the smile on Madzie’s voice, and his heart couldn’t help but melt at that.

“Me too, Sweet Pea. Me too.”

~*~

“Alex reminds me of you,” Magnus commented, earning a deadpan look from Alec.

They were sprawled on the couch, Magnus bracketed by Alec’s legs, his head resting on the Shadowhunter’s chest - the sound of Alec’s beating heart still being Magnus’ biggest source of comfort.

Lately, this was how their date nights went by. A movie or a show, a nice meal, cuddling - or a delicious session of make out - until they fell asleep. It was a good way to keep the nightmares at bay, and gradually Magnus has been feeling more relaxed and settled again.

Unfortunately, they couldn’t share popcorn anymore - Magnus had his own snack soaked in blood.

“Because we both are called Alexander?” Alec drawled.

“That too, but you two are very good with politics, always trying to help others, born leaders, adorably oblivious when it comes to crushes, and have a dangerous public sex kink.”

“I don’t have a public sex kink!”

“Darling, Underhill has to deactivate the training room’s cameras every time we’re there.”

Alec grumbled under his breath, and Magnus snickered.

“Well, I’m sorry if it’s too hard to keep my hands off you, Your Royal Highness.”

This time, Magnus gasped.

Then, they both broke into a fit of giggles.

Alec let go of his popcorn in favor to hold Magnus closer and took the opportunity to nuzzle against the side of the vampire’s head. Magnus closed his eyes for a moment, sinking into that warm feeling so uniquely Alec, and only after a couple of minutes he went back to pay attention to the movie.

It was only when they were in the middle of the second movie, some underrated rom-com, that Magnus noticed how Alec was distracted.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Lydia.”

“Ah, I see. You’re thinking about your ex-fiancée while I’m right here with you.” Magnus teased.

Alec rolled his eyes. “It’s not that. It’s just…” He waved a bit upset to the TV. “I can understand that guy being afraid of coming out, but does he need to treat the guy he loves like that? Like a dirty secret?”

“Sometimes you don’t have a choice if you want to be with the one you love the most,” Magnus whispers, and there is an underlining of a past experience there.

Alec sighed. “As much as I hate how I treated you in the past when we first met, I think it was better than treating you as someone who should be hidden. No one should, but especially not you, Magnus. You are too big to conceal. If someone did that, they were a major asshole and didn’t deserve you. People should be proud to show you off, not hide you.”

Magnus looked surprised at Alec who was still fuming and cursing the main character of the movie.

“Even when I lost everything and was a mere mundane, you never minded, did you?”

“Of course not. I love you. All of you. And I accept any version you choose to be.”

“And if I became like one of those villains from superhero movies?”

Alec shrugged. “Some villains are hot.”

Magnus fully grinned by then.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe I am. But that’s okay. I got you.”

I will always get you.

They stayed in silence for some more time, until Magnus broke it.

“Alexander?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m ready to move back to New York.”

#shmb2023 #shadowhunters #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #my writing #colorfulwarlock

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qandnoablog · 2 years

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Love (Marvel Imagine)

Title: Secrets

Pairing: Loki x TVA!Reader

Warnings: This is a spin-off based on my previous work Discovered (Marvel Imagine) and the TV series - Loki Please be sure to read my previous work (link below) as well as watch the show before continuing to both understand the story and not be spoiled!

Discovered (Marvel Imagine) - Part: [18], [17], [16], [15], [14], [13], [12], [11], [10], [9], [8], [7], [6], [5], [4], [3], [2], [1] Short story: [3], [2], [1]

Part: 10, [9], [8], [7], [6], [5], [4], [3], [2], [1]

Key: Y/N - Your Name Y/A - Your (TVA) Alias

Word Count: - 2,173

Summary: [Y/N], who has centered her whole life around the TVA, now encounters a man who proclaims himself to be a god. Her whole life as she knows it crumbles after meeting Loki. How is he so different from all the others the TVA had succeeded in erasing? And why? Why did [Y/N]’s heart stir every time he looked at her, as if peering into her very soul?

Note From Author: Here’s part 10! Enjoy :)

Part 10 - Love

By some miracle, and some assistance from Sylvie, they had succeeded in getting onto the train.

Sylvie had made herself comfortable on one of the booth seats, so Loki had acted the same and took the seat across from her. Moving slightly more inwards, he motioned for [Y/N] to join but she remained standing.

“How long does this,” [Y/N] began as she gestured at the uniformed donned on her, “last?”

“As long as I need it to,” Loki replied with a mischievous smile. “If that’s all you’re worried about, then come sit.”

“Hmmm,” [Y/N] reciprocated his smile before her face fell into a familiar TVA-esque stoicism. “You two stay put. I’m going to look around.”

The smile on Loki’s face fell almost instantly, but he quickly replaced it with another award-winning smile.

“Whatever for?”

“I’m going to survey the area,” [Y/N] explained with a blank stare, as if she was just on another mission. “But I don’t trust either of you after that whole ‘asking for directions’ fiasco. So stay put.”

“No.” Loki shook his head as he made a move to stand. “I’ll go with you. The magic might not last if I’m not around.”

“I guess all of us are going then?” Sylvie sighed as she, too, began to stand from her seat.

“Sit. Down.” [Y/N] commanded, her voice dripping with irritation as an invisible force pushed them down back to their seats.

Loki was about to protest, but [Y/N] shot him a glare so cold that even his Frost Giant blood couldn’t save him from the chill.

“And don’t even think about using your tricks on me,” [Y/N] warned with a threatening smile. “You said it yourself. The magic will last for as long as you need it to.”

Before either of them could say anything more, [Y/N] turned away from the two and left them to their own devices. Although she didn’t trust them, she put her faith in their distrust towards each other. And… And a bit of her couldn’t help but feel certain that Loki would never run away with the TemPad and leave her to die here. She was so sure of that feeling, that the thought of it never even crossed her mind. That’s how she was able to leave the two alone and go off to examine the train.

“FYI, that wasn’t even a plan.”

Loki finally turned around, looking away from the closed doors [Y/N] had long gone through.

“Oh, really?” He replied in a bored manner, already aware of Sylvie’s disapproval.

“Plans have multiple steps. Dressing as a guard,” she lectured, but quickly decreased her volume as other guards began to walk past them, “and getting on a train is just doing a thing.”

Although he couldn’t shake his anxiety without [Y/N] beside him, within his sights, he centered his attention back towards the one he was assigned to capture. The reason the TVA even let him live past his own capture. Sylvie, she called herself. An alias. Something he couldn’t even begin to dream of. To replace his own identity, his title as a god, with another.

“Oh, you a bit tired?” He asked, his voice laced with sarcasm, due to her yawn. “Feel free to, you know, get some rest.”

“I can’t sleep in a place like this.” She grunted in response.

“You can’t sleep on a train?” Loki mocked as he feigned confusion.

“No, I can’t sleep around untrustworthy people,” Sylvie clarified with a huff.

“Oh, right,” he whispered, “That me?”

A dime in a dozen that label was. A liar. A trickster. A traitor. All of them amounted to the same thing. Untrustworthy. He had been called worse, and all of them were told to him again and again after his outburst against Thor, his blissfully ignorant brother. Even before his treasonous actions against his own father, regardless of blood, he was always labeled as such. Only one person ever saw him differently and stood by his side all those years ago.

“My mother.”

Loki’s trailing thoughts coincided with the two’s conversation. After their back-and-forth with who should sleep, she claimed that she wouldn’t waste her time anymore with the TemPad when someone had taught him “fairly decent magic.” He only confirmed her thoughts, an answer Loki found obvious to her unasked question.

Sylvie turned away with a soft chuckle, an almost lonely expression peaking behind her fake smile. She inhaled slightly, her gaze shifting as if debating her next words carefully, and finally came to a decision.

“What was she like?”

Now it was Loki’s turn to hesitate.

Kind. Warm. Gentle. All sorts of answers rushed through his mind as his childhood flashed across like really-watching an old movie. Noble. Elegant. Compassionate. More and more words came rushing in as he continued to recall his fondest memories with her. Strong. Wise. Just.

“She was, um…” Loki began, sorting through his thoughts.

Frigga. Wife of Odin. The one who raised him, even while knowing full well what he was. Treating him equal to her own blood. Loving, yet stern. Someone who could both nurture and scold. Morally good in every way.

He knew how much she cared for him. Even while he struggled in Thor’s shadow, keenly aware of all the differences between himself and his brother long before he discovered just how different the two really were, there was no comparison to Frigga’s love. She saw him as no different than her own child. To her, though he did not share a single drop of blood, there was no question that he was her child.

A mother.

“A Queen of Asgard,” Loki continued, locking away those complicating emotions as images of his future resurfaced.

Frigga… His mother… Lying still on the ground. Blood trickling down her lips. Her eyes forever closed.

Deep down, he couldn’t forgive himself. Even though none of that happened to himself, even though he knew it was a future that would now never happen to him… Loki knew that he shared the blame.

If the TVA had never taken him away, if he had never happened upon the Tesseract and escaped his fate, he knew his choices would mirror the future he saw. The blood on his future self’s hand, he shared that burden. How could he still call himself her son after what he had done?

“She was good. Purely decent.”

“Are you sure she was your mother?” Sylvie scoffed, poking fun at his distant answer.

She didn’t realize this, with how quickly Loki fired back that he was adopted, but that joking question cut deeper than any knife could. It was no question that Frigga considered herself to be his mother. He didn’t doubt for a second that she would ever change her mind about that. Even if she knew his actions would lead to her death, the thought of being anything but his mother would never cross her mind.

And that made him feel all the more guilty.

“You know, when I was young, she’d do these little bits of magic for me.” He smiled at the memory, letting his guilt be replaced with a wave of nostalgia. “Like turn a flower into a frog, or cast fireworks over the water. It all seemed impossible, but she told me that I’d be able to do it because…” He paused as he could faintly hear her in that distant past. A very, very long time ago.

“Because I could do anything.”

And as if recreating that piece of history, Loki demonstrated that same bit of magic for his counterpart.

“She was the kind of person you’d want to believe in you.”

“Sounds like she does,” Sylvie replied, a faint strain in her voice as her own mix of emotions began to surface.

“Well, she did.” Loki agreed as his eyes shifted downward, the nostalgia ending and guilt flooding his heart once again.

He couldn’t let himself think about this any more. And so, he did what he always did when it became too heavy. Too personal. He deflected.

Loki asked about Sylvie. How she learned magic, if not from the Frigga from her timeline. How she was able to Enchant people. And how exactly the magic worked on one’s mind. It was something he had been dying to know when he saw it happen right before his eyes. But he dared not experience it for himself. Not when he didn’t know the mechanics of it.

Sadly, Sylvie knew exactly what he was up to. A shame, but what could he do? He didn’t need to know, since it didn’t work on him regardless.

“Cheers,” Loki softly proclaimed, tapping the two glasses of champagne he accepted from the server. Who could refuse alcohol at a time like this? Especially when there were things he desperately wanted to forget.

The glass made a crisp clink! and he continued.

“To the end of the world.”

With a light sip, he savored the taste, albeit the alcohol’s weak effect on him.

“A pity the old woman chose to die.” Once again he changed the subject. “Don’t you think?”

“She was in love,” Sylvie replied.

“She hated him,” Loki countered.

“Maybe love is hate.”

Now that was something Loki couldn’t agree with. He couldn’t say this in his current predicament with… Well, he couldn’t say anything about his situation, but he most certainly knew his “future” self would highly disagree.

“So, on the subject of love…”

It was finally time to address the enormous elephant in the room.

“What is going on between you and [Y/A]?”

Loki nearly choked on his drink that he had gone for another sip.

“What?” Sylvie questioned as she observed his reaction. “There’s obvious tension. I’m not stupid. Besides, now’s the best time to ask. When she’s not here to listen.”

He really didn’t want to answer that. In fact, he didn’t even know how.

“Hmmm,” Sylvie mused at his silence. She could tell he was struggling, but she really had no idea why. “Then let me change my question. What is she to you?”

Now that was an equally complicated question that Loki found even harder to answer.

What was [Y/N] to him? They barely interacted with one another, so was she an acquaintance? But he disliked how distant that felt. So a lover? That clearly wasn’t the case with how she reacted towards him. Then what? A crush? Unbelievable. What was he? A child?

“A partner to pass the time?” Sylvie guessed, knowing it wasn’t the right answer. “Or just someone to keep you going?”

“No.” He denied her answer with a conviction he didn’t realize was clear in the sound of his voice. “Not her.”

The two sat, one observant while the other lost in thought. One calm while the other trying to silence the chaos that swarmed his mind.

“You know it won’t last,” Sylvie finally spoke up, leaving the question unanswered.

Loki knew what she was referring to. It was the same thing his “future” self had used as an excuse, losing so much valuable time. Time he just didn’t have. Time that had gone by faster for her, but was ironically taken from him first.

“You know, don’t you?” She asked again.

“Yes,” Loki said, his eyes clear without a hint of its usual tricks. “I know.”

There was no explanation, but the confirmation was enough. Both had lived long enough to know the mortality of a human’s life. Both had lived amongst them enough to see it happen. And both knew the risks of falling for one. Falling for someone not like themselves.

Loki understood the weight of that knowledge, but had chosen to learn from his “future” self’s regret. He wouldn’t pine needlessly yet run away from the possibility of being with her. Even if he didn’t understand the relationship between himself and [Y/N], time would never be the reason he would distance himself from her. If time was limited, he wouldn’t run away from it. He would savor every second of it.

“But is it-” Sylvie began, but she was quickly cut off.

“Real?” He finished the question before it could be asked. Yet another he just couldn’t answer.

“Love is mischief, then.” She stated, a smirk spread across her face.

Just from her reaction to his constant hesitation, his consistent loss for words, she came to the conclusion she had come to all her life. Love is tricky. Love is dishonest. Love is… Not real.

“No.” Loki rejected the notion before he could even ask himself the very same thing. “Love is…”

What was love? Did his “future” self know it when he came to the conclusion about [Y/N]? Did he have the answer that his present self didn’t? Even while watching the future play out before his eyes, knowing each and every choice his “Sacred Timeline” self made, did that Loki know something he didn’t?

“... Something I might have to have another drink to think about.”

[Previous] | [Next]

Author’s Side Note: Hope part 10 left you hungry for more~! Part 11 should be out in 2 weeks, so stay tuned!

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libraryben · 3 months

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Even in our supportive responses to those leaving, we don’t want to face what’s being lost, so we try to find ways to tell people it hasn’t all been in vain. One response is to tell the person that this doesn’t mean they’re not a historian, that they can still publish, and that they should. “You can still be part of the conversation!” Some of you may be thinking that right now.

To that I say: “Why should I?”

Being a scholar isn’t my vocation, nor am I curing cancer with my research on 19th century Catholic women. But more importantly, no one is owed my work. People say “But you should still write your book – you just have to.” I know they mean well, but actually, no, I don’t. I don’t owe anyone this book, or any other books, or anything else that’s in my head.

“But your work is so valuable,” people say. “It would be a shame not to find a way to publish it.”

Valuable to whom? To whom would the value of my labor accrue? And not to be too petty, but if it were so valuable, then why wouldn’t anyone pay me a stable living wage to do it?

I don’t say this to knock any of my many colleagues who write and publish off the tenure-track in a variety of ways that they find fulfilling. I just want us to be honest with ourselves about who exactly we’re trying to comfort when we offer people this advice and what we’re actually asking of those people when we offer it.

We don’t want these people to go and we don’t want to lose all the ideas floating around in their heads, so we say “Please give us those ideas, at least. Please stay with us just a little bit.” But we’re also asking people to stay tethered to a community of scholars that has, in many ways, rejected them, and furthermore, asking them to continue contributing the fruits of their labor which we will only consider rigorous enough to cite if they’re published in the most inaccessible and least financially-rewarding ways.

[...]

But we also emphasize it, I think, for the same reasons we encourage the departing colleague to keep publishing. We don’t want to face how much knowledge that colleague has in their head that’s just going to be lost to those who remain, and even worse, we don’t want to face how much knowledge that colleague has in their head that’s going to be utterly useless in the rest of their lives.

I teach my undergrads skills through content, and I keep the amount of content low, but as both a teacher and a scholar, I personally know so much stuff. I have forgotten more about Martin Van Buren than most people around me will ever know. I might find a job that uses that content, but in all likelihood, I won’t. I knew what job would pay me to know a lot about stuff that happened in the past. I just couldn’t get that job, and now I have to do something else.

[...]

Most of all, though, I don’t know how to come to terms with the fact that I’ll probably never see most of my colleagues again. I won’t get to work with so many of you that I’d hoped to work with. I won’t even ever get to meet some of you. My friends.

I’ve lost a huge part of my identity, and all of my book learning on identity construction can’t help me now. What hurts the most, in a way, is that my loss has been replicated a thousand times over, and will be replicated a thousand times more, barring some mass rejection of capitalism, and rather than face what that means, we have, as a profession and as people, found ways of dealing with it that largely erase the people we lose, erase their pain and grief, and erase our own.

#Quitlit #Erin Bartram #Historians

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lachouettefr · 5 months

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This post will contain spoilers about the last Doctor Who episode (The Star Beast)

Content warning: this is about writing queer / trans characters in fiction and contains mentions of transphobia.

———

Watching the last episode of Doctor Who I found myself both extremely happy to finally have a more fleshed out trans representation in the show than Cassandra, and disappointed that this representation didn’t live up to my expectations.

I will admit that my expectations are my own problem, but I do want to talk about writing queer and especially trans characters in fiction. This obviously includes non binary people because we are both queer and trans.

Skip this part if you want to avoid spoilers.

The context of this post is basically: Rose is a trans girl (who may also be non binary). She is brilliantly played by Yasmin Finney, she is creative, makes toys and has a loving supportive family. She is Donna’s daughter.

Rose’s character is mostly defined by her transness though, as it has been used a plot device to save everyone.

We get to see a sweet moment between Sylvia and Donna where Sylvia admits she still makes mistakes and doesn’t want to hurt Rose. It’s beautiful, it’s a perfect scene to show your audience supporting trans people means being kind and trying, but that you can make mistakes.

We get a non so sweet moment where Rose is deadnamed. We hear her deadname. It happens early in the episode. And frankly, I can understand why it’s there, it’s supposed to show how hurtful and wrong it is, but I don’t think using trans people to show only misery, pain or teach a lesson is very good.

So I’m going to talk about my own view of writing trans characters and it’s ok if you’re trans too but disagree with me, we’re not a monolith.

End of spoilers

———

I’ve created a lot of trans and queer characters throughout the years and I will admit that my first trans (non binary) character was basically made to express my suffering. I understand making stories about pain and coming out or about how shitty this society can be because that is how it started for me.

Alex, my fursona, was named after me when I couldn’t hope to legally change my name. Their deadname cannot be erased, I’ve made it so they lived in a culture that was falsely progressive when it comes to gender identity so you’d be born, be given two name (one masc, one fem, the first one reflecting your AGAB) or a gender neutral name and couldn’t change them.

And Alex has two, which means their deadname is not only omnipresent but also constantly outing them as trans.

I wrote that because I felt trapped. I felt I couldn’t escape my assigned gender, I couldn’t transition, I would never be myself. Because being my true self seemed miserable at a time trans people were expected to fit a specific narrative.

Since then, things have changed. I came out, I socially transitioned, legally changed my name. Taking my time with the medical stuff, but I feel happier and I don’t feel trapped anymore. This has also helped me identify my past feelings, the prison I was living in.

And now my trans characters don’t have a deadname. Because I don’t know them, I don’t think about their deadnames, I found out that it’s not actually relevant in most stories. I have fun writing stories about characters, some of them end up being queer because I am queer myself and it feels comfortable having characters who are like me, but they are people and their queerness is just one aspect of their life, it doesn’t define them entirely and certainly isn’t the main plot.

Fun fact: at least one of my cisgender character has a deadname too, which I don’t know either because cis people can change their name too.

Apart from some very specific stories written by trans people, I think this obsession to know a character’s deadname is very revelatory of how cis people tend to think they ought to know. Nobody deserves to know a trans person’s deadname.

I also don’t want us to be used as plot devices. I think we should be people first, queer second. Integrate queephobia to your stories in an authentic way: don’t make us miserable because that is the only narrative you can think about, don’t think of us as just a way to teach tolerance and acceptance.

(I am going to mention another show)

One Night did a brilliant job at creating a queer story. You have lesbians (married, with kids) and a possibly bi woman (we don’t know how she defines herself) having actual lives, the show explore trauma but doesn’t exploit their sexual orientation in any way in this context: it could have happened to straight women. They just happen to be queer, they’re allowed to just be queer, there is lesbophobia because you can’t exactly be a gay woman and not face lesbophobia ever but it’s brought up in an authentic way, it isn’t overdone and it is certainly not used to teach us anything.

It feels real.

Compare this to shows that have married lesbians to teach you to respect this kid’s two mums, or to sexualise them, or to make them utterly miserable BECAUSE of their queerness, I think it’s great.

And it’s ruined me because now I expect everything to be this.

So my point is:

I need queer characters to be PEOPLE first and queer second. Especially when they are not being written by queer people, or when it’s a trans person being written by a cis person.

Some stories can work when they are made for very young children, and I’m 100% supportive of queer people writing about their own experiences though.

I am not a good writer (I am a beginner) and I cannot tell people how to write, but I would just like to suggest thinking about your characters as people first, always. Then the layers will add up naturally, feel more authentic.

(And use sensitivity readers if you can.)

The goal is not to sanitised representation, I cited One Night especially because it’s not sanitised at all and this is why it is so good. We just need to move past ‘any representation is better than no representation at all’ or else we’re never going to be people in fiction.

#writing #creativity #queer characters #doctor who spoilers #trans #non binary #just a thought #one night

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flightfoot · 3 years

Text

Perspective From Another Timeline

Thanks to my betas @steelblaidd and Izzybusy!

I ADORE @buggachat new Bakery Enemies AU. This idea just kept on swirling through my head, I had to write it! This is set between parts 13 and 14, so after Adrien meets Alya and Nino but before Marinette starts sympathizing with him. AO3

---------

“You okay?”

Alya shook her head, trying to clear it. “I’ll be fine. I’ve weathered worse than that - we both have.”

Nino grinned at her. “True that.”

Alya smiled at him fondly, remembering Heroes Day. It was a bittersweet memory, with her having been turned against Nino and them both being akumatized.

But they had fought to protect each other as best they could. She’d seen Prime Queen’s footage, how Carapace had struggled to get her to fight against Dark Cupid’s magic, how he’d only given into despair after she’d given into akumatization.

“What did that blast do to us?” Nino wondered. “Everyone else the akuma blasted just disappeared. Why’re we still here?”

Alya’s brow furrowed. “I dunno… hold on, let me check to see whether any new info on the akuma’s been uploaded.”

Pulling out her phone, she tapped on the Akuma News Alert app.

An error message popped up, telling her that she had no internet connection.

Puzzled, Alya checked her phone’s other settings.

No wifi - no wifi even recognized, much less connectable - no cell service, no connection to the outside world at all.

She glanced over at Nino. “Hey, you got any signal?”

Taking out his own phone, he quickly checked his connection. He shook his head. “Not a single bar.”

Frowning, Alya looked around. “Maybe all the cell towers were taken out?”

Everything looked intact though, no sign of any destruction at all.

Something else caught Alya’s eye. “Hey Nino, what time should it be?”

Nino blinked. “Well I mean lunch just started so it should be a little past noon-”

He glanced around, noticing the long shadows and the pinkish-orange of the evening sky.

“-which it clearly is not anymore,” he concluded.

Great. “Guess Ladybug and Chat Noir must’ve taken a while to defeat the akuma,” she said, putting her phone away. “Hopefully my parents aren’t too worried. They like me to text them just after an akuma attack, but right now…?” she gestured to her pocket.

“My folks aren’t as worried,” Nino said. “But they still expect me back home before the sun goes down. They’ll be getting nervous soon.”

Alya let out a small sigh. “So much for playing Super Penguino together.”

“Hmmm…” Nino’s eyes gleamed. “You know… it’s not night just yet. And I’m sure my parents would understand if I was a few minutes late because I grabbed a bite to eat.”

Grabbed a bite to eat? What was Nino hinting at…?

Alya looked around at their location more closely.

Wait… that blast seemed to have carried them to that one park, the one near-

Alya grinned. “I think my parents will forgive me for not calling in if I bring them fresh-baked treats from the best bakery in Paris.”

---

*ring ring*

The scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the store.

Instantly Alya felt her shoulders loosen up, releasing tension she didn’t even know she’d had. There was just something so warm and comforting about the bakery.

Of course, a lot of that was due to the people running it. Good luck finding more friendly, caring people than Marinette’s parents. Sabine often checked up on anyone who seemed to be struggling or upset (and ready to protect them if they were - Alya had seen the video of the time a TV crew decided to invade Marinette’s privacy), and Tom was basically a giant teddy bear in human form.

But neither of them were manning the counter today.

Instead a young woman stared back at them.

A very familiar-looking young woman.

“Marinette?” Alya asked cautiously.

The woman stared at her for a minute. “Alya?” she finally asked. “What happened to you?” She paled. “Did a new supervillain attack? Is that why you and Nino are younger?”

Huh. Weirdly scared reaction from Marinette. They’d all gotten used to supervillains by now. She’d expect an older Marinette to take them in stride even more than the current Marinette.

Hm… an older Marinette, a different time of day, and Marinette not seeming to know about the latest akuma attack?

“Marinette… what year is it?”

Marinette blinked for a moment. Her eyes widened.

Seemed Marinette understood what she was getting at.

She told Alya the date.

Her hunch was right. “We’re in the future,” Alya breathed.

A wicked grin slowly spread over her face.

Five years was a long time. A lot of things could have happened. A lot of information could’ve come to light.

Like Hawkmoth’s identity.

Or more information on the Miraculous.

But most importantly right now-

She leaned in close to Marinette, making sure to keep her voice down, just in case someone else was around in the back. “So did you ever get together with a certain blond-haired, green-eyed model?”

“Uh… what?” Marinette asked, looking puzzled.

Alya snapped her fingers. “Adrien. Did you and Adrien finally get together? Ooooh, if you did you’ve GOTTA tell me how the confession went! Or, no, wait, don’t tell me, I want to get the deets at the time. Just let me know how long I’ve got to wait, girl!”

Marinette just stared at her, slack-jawed. “Adrien… like ADRIEN AGRESTE?!” she said, her volume rising with every word.

Alya’s eyebrows flew up. “Um… yes…?”

She’d thought that Marinette would be glowing about finally getting together with her crush, or dejected about still not being able to spit out what she wanted to say to him, downcast over him rejecting her, or maybe even infuriated because he mistreated her and they subsequently broke up.

(The last one was VERY unlikely though. After the Felix debacle, she’d learned to have a bit more faith in Adrien’s good nature.)

Shock at the concept of dating him? Not something she’d anticipated.

Footsteps echoed from behind Marinette.

So one of Marinette’s parents must’ve been in the back-

Adrien popped his head around the corner.

Seemed both he AND Marinette had aged well.

Not that Adrien looked all that different. Taller, definitely, maybe with slightly messier hair and… were those earrings? They looked good on him.

“Hey dude!” Nino waved at his best friend. “What’s up?”

“Uh…” Adrien said, scratching the back of his neck.

“WOW those outfits really take the years off, huh?” Marinette said loudly, shoving them out the door. “Make you look smaller than usual. Well we better go talk about plans later okaybye-”

She promptly slammed the door behind them, physically pushing them away from the bakery.

After Marinette had dragged them a good distance away, Alya finally got over her shock, turning around and glaring at her. “What was that about?!” she asked Marinette indignantly, hands on her hips. “You know me, I wasn’t going to spill anything to him. That’s why I was talking so quietly! Why’d you have to do that?!”

Nino frowned, seeming more concerned than annoyed. “Adrien looked really hurt by that. Not cool.”

“There’s nothing to spill!” Marinette protested, gesticulating wildly. “I only met him for the first time two days ago!”

*record scratch*

Two-

Two DAYS ago?!

Ok, hold up.

“Adrien joined our collège class the day after I did! He sits in front of you in class! What’re you TALKING about?!”

“Uh… no…?” Marinette tilted her head to the side, befuddled. “I think I would remember that, even if it was a few years back.”

Alya let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, no kidding. He would be uh, difficult for you to forget. Heck, even if your memory was erased, you’ve got so much stuff revolving around him, I couldn’t see that lasting long.”

Marinette blushed. “Why do you think I have a crush on him?! He’s HAWKMOTH’S SON!”

“WHAT?!” Alya and Nino yelled in unison.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir defeated Hawkmoth a couple years ago,” Marinette explained, pulling out her phone.

A moment later she held it up, showing a blog post from the Ladyblog.

Oooh, that’s a nice graphical design. I’ll have to look into updating my site, Alya thought.

Turning her attention to the picture, she squinted. “Hey, can you enlarge the photo?” She asked.

Marinette complied, enlarging it and turning her phone sideways, letting it fill the entire screen.

Gabriel Agreste being led away in handcuffs by the police, with Ladybug and Chat Noir in the background. Ladybug looked satisfied, with maybe a twinge of melancholy, but Chat Noir…

He stared vacantly ahead, seemingly not focused on anyone or anything, a smile on his face - but the most forced one she’d ever seen.

“What’s wrong with Chat Noir?”

Marinette frowned, looking troubled. “I don’t know. He seemed really, really upset when Hawkmoth was defeated. It was a tough battle, bad enough that neither of them have returned since, but that doesn’t explain why-”

She trailed off, lost in thought.

A moment later she looked up, meeting Alya’s eyes.

Immediately she waved her hands around, trying to ward off… something. “I- I mean, that’s what I read on the Ladyblog and what I could piece together from video footage, it’s not like I was there, NOPE. I was huddled in my room the entire time. Not like I have any insight into what Chat Noir was acting like during the battle, not beyond what any other civilian would know! That would be ridiculous, utterly ridiculous!” she let out a few forced guffaws.

Alya’s eyebrows flew up.

O...Kay…?

Maybe Marinette had been following Ladybug and Chat Noir during the final battle and hadn’t wanted anyone to know? She’d wondered whether Marinette might have a thing for Chat Noir, but her crush on Adrien dwarfed any feelings she might have had for him. Plus it’s not like Marinette would actually know Chat Noir, unlike Adrien.

Thinking about Adrien…

“He must’ve been devastated,” she murmured. Marinette looked at her questioningly. “Adrien, I mean,” Alya clarified. “Having your father turn out to be a terrorist? I can’t even imagine.”

Marinette buried her face in her hands. “Not you TOO,” she said, her voice muffled.

Nino slowly started edging his way behind Marinette.

“What’s your problem with Adrien?” Alya asked. “Did he do something?”

Marinette glanced away. “Not… exactly… I just… I’m afraid that it might all be an act. That he might’ve been helping Hawkmoth secretly, and… and even if he wasn’t before, that he might just be biding his time, waiting until he figures out who Ladybug and Chat Noir and then BAM!” she slammed her fist down on her other hand. “He takes them out, steals all the Miraculous, frees his father and rules Paris FOREVER!”

Alya reached out towards Marinette tentatively. She collapsed into Alya’s arms.

Hugging her tightly, she sang a soft nonsense song, rubbing small circles in Marinette’s back.

She’d done this a few other times since she’d met Marinette, though she’d never thought she’d do it underneath these circumstances.

Whatever these circumstances actually were.

Did everyone have amnesia or…?

“Do you have any big memory gaps?” Alya asked once Marinette’s breathing had calmed down. “Especially from five years ago?”

Marinette shook her head.

She’d shelve that theory for now then. More likely it was…

“An alternate timeline, huh?” Alya said.

Marinette looked up at her questioningly.

“That’s what I think this is,” Alya explained. “I WAS thinking that maybe there’d been some sort of mass amnesia, but if you don’t have any memory gaps - and trust me girl, with how involved you were with Adrien, there WOULD be memory gaps - that seems unlikely. I’m betting this is some sort of alternate universe, one where Adrien never got to go to school.”

“I still don’t get why you think there’s something between me and Adrien!” Marinette said. “I mean sure, he’s pretty, but did I really fall for him just for that?”

Alya shook her head. “Actually, you hated him at first. Chloe’d been bragging about how he was her friend, and with that on top of you catching him trying to remove the gum Chloe’d planted on your seat and mistaking it for him PLANTING the gum… well… both of us just assumed he was a spoiled rich bully, just like Chloe. Luckily that turned out not to be the case.”

“How’d that misunderstanding get cleared up?” Marinette asked. “And how did your Marinette jump from that to crushing on him?”

Alya grinned. Marinette had ranted about this moment to her SO. MANY. TIMES.

“School let out later that day. It was raining and Marinette had forgotten her umbrella, so she hung back a moment, long enough for Adrien to approach her. At first she looked away from him, not wanting to acknowledge his greeting. But then he told you - told her I mean - that he hadn’t done it, promised that he’d just been trying to take it off with such sincerity that she had no choice but to believe it. He opened up to her, even though she’d been shunning him just moments ago. And finally he gave her his umbrella, just because he could. Because it was the kind thing to do. She’s been a goner ever since.”

The Marinette in her arms looked away. “I can see why she might have developed a crush on him. But I still dunno whether I trust him.”

“I don’t know whether I have anything that could convince you on that,” Alya admitted, “especially since this is probably a different timeline, and for all I know he could be evil here. Just make sure that you’re judging him on his own merits, okay? Not who he’s associated with. Not his fault he has so many crappy people in his life.”

“I’ll… take it under consideration,” Marinette said reluctantly.

Marinette looked from side to side. “Where’d Nino go?”

“Oh, he snuck back into the bakery several minutes ago.”

“WHAT?!”

---

Nino opened the door to the bakery, letting out a small sigh of relief. He really wanted to check in on his best friend, and judging by Marinette’s behavior, she wasn’t exactly keen on him or Alya chatting with Adrien.

Thinking back on what he’d just heard, he frowned.

He wished he could say that he’d never have suspected that Gabriel was Hawkmoth.

That he didn’t think Adrien’s old man could ever be capable of such evil.

But he knew better.

The guy threatened to withdraw Adrien from school and isolate him from everyone else at the drop of a hat, paid little attention to his son when he was at home, and was a very negative influence on his life in general. He might have been grieving, but… so was Adrien. He needed the only parent he had left.

And instead Gabriel had chosen to respond by becoming a supervillain and terrorizing Paris, endangering his own son in the process.

He really wished he’d gotten to hit Hawkmoth with his turtle shield more. At least he got to relish the smack he got in.

“You’re back!”

Nino looked towards the voice.

Adrien walked closer to him, a tentative grin on his face. “I didn’t think you’d return so soon!”

“I had to come back to talk to my best friend,” Nino said.

“Best friend?” Adrien asked, blank-faced.

Oh, right. According to Marinette, Adrien hadn’t joined their class. She hadn’t even met Adrien until recently.

Had some sort of memory-wiping akuma attacked? Wouldn’t have been the first time.

“Do you know who I am?” Nino asked, pointing at himself.

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh… well I know you’re friends with the Ladyblogger and Marinette, and… sorry, that’s it.”

He looked really apologetic, like a dog who’d ripped up a bunch of toilet paper and acted guilty about it once caught.

Hm. If it had been a memory-erasing akuma, maybe he could jog Adrien’s memory…?

And even if it wasn’t, he wanted to let Adrien know that someplace, somewhere, people cared about him. If Marinette’s reaction to him was any indication, he’d need that reassurance. Being looked at with suspicion, having people run from you just because of who your dad was, thinking that you might’ve been involved in his crimes… he couldn’t imagine.

“You joined our class the day after Hawkmoth first attacked,” Nino told him, pulling out his phone.

Adrien shook his head, looking confused. “Uh… no? I wanted to, I REALLY wanted to go to school, but Father-”

He cut himself off, looking away.

“Marinette said the same thing,” Nino told him. “That you hadn’t enrolled in our class, that she’d only met you recently. I don't know what that’s about, whether everyone’s memories were wiped, or an akuma messed with the past, or what.”

Come on, come on, where was it- ah!

He clicked on a photo, one taken a few months ago, holding his phone up so his friend could get a better look.

Adrien squinted for a moment. His eyes widened. “That’s-!”

Nino nodded. “Our class photo. The official one, anyway.” He chuckled. “I liked our unofficial ones better.” Swiping to the side, he showed the new ones the class had taken at the park.

Adrien’s jaw dropped more with every new photo. He let out an involuntary bark of laughter at the one of himself, Nino, Kim, and Juleka posing. “I- I always wanted to mess around like that at photoshoots,” Adrien said. His voice trembled slightly. “But I wouldn’t be able to get away with it. And that’s mostly fun when you can share it with friends, at least share the picture, and I- I couldn’t. Chloe wouldn’t have appreciated it, and L-”

He cut himself off, shaking his head.

“Luka?” Nino asked.

He didn’t know why Adrien would know Luka and not anybody else, but he seemed the most likely option.

“Uh…” Adrien scratched the back of his neck, looking away.

Hm, he’d have to see if he had- ah!

“You played in Kitty Section too, with Luka, Rose, Ivan, and Juleka.” Nino explained, clicking on the video.

Adrien’s hands shook as Nino handed him the phone, watching the mini-concert.

“I- I was allowed to- I got to-” Adrien’s voice quavered.

“Not at first.” Nino grimaced, remembering how bummed Adrien had sounded when he called him. “Your old man said that Agrestes were soloists, and that we were all bad influences.”

“HE was the bad influence,” Adrien said. A current of anger, of venom ran through his voice that Nino had never heard before.

“Well I already knew that, even before finding out he was Hawkmoth,” Nino said, making a face. “Dude needed to chill out.”

Adrien snorted. “If he had any ‘chill’ he wouldn’t have decided that becoming a supervillain was the best way to heal my mother.”

Oh.

So THAT was why Gabriel had done it.

He’d just thought it was standard ‘I’m an asshole and want to rule the world while being a jackass to everyone in my life’ behavior.

(He still wasn’t going to rule out that being a factor.)

Nino put a hand on Adrien’s shoulder sympathetically. “At least he’s gone now and you’re free, right?”

“Right,” Adrien said. He didn’t meet Nino’s eyes.

“Not you TOO,” Marinette had said, burying her face in her hands.

As if she found it exasperating that Alya sympathized with Adrien. As if she had expected differently.

Those worries she’d voiced as Nino had been tiptoeing away, about Adrien helping Hawkmoth, about him lying in wait, biding his time… Marinette probably wasn’t the only one to have that concern. And with Adrien’s face being as well-known as it was...

“You AREN’T free, are you?” Nino asked, eyes wide.

Adrien sighed. “I was as surprised as everyone else when I found out who Hawkmoth was. That someone who’s caused that much harm, that much trauma to this city, lived in my own house.” He clenched his fists, digging into his jean’s fabric. “I could barely believe it… no… I didn’t WANT to believe it.”

He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “I- I only remember snippets from right after his arrest. The police chief talking to me. Riding back to the station. It’s all a blur. Everything felt like I was processing it underwater. It was all so blurry and muffled. Even- even then, though, I could feel everyone’s accusing stares.” “I understand why, don’t get me wrong,” he cut in hurriedly. “Who wouldn’t be suspicious of the son of the terrorist who’s been making everyone’s life miserable for the past four years?” Adrien almost panted with exertion, his eyes wild. “And- and it was happening in my own house! Underneath my nose! I should have KNOWN! I could’ve stopped this!”

Reaching out, Nino pulled his friend into a hug.

Adrien stiffened for a moment, before melting into his embrace.

“It’s his fault, not yours,” Nino murmured. “Remember that, dude. He was the adult. He was your parent. Your ONLY remaining parent. I’ve met the guy. And I’ve heard you talk about what he’s like. If you had investigated more?” Nino shuddered, thinking about the disproportionate punishments the bastard had enacted. “And knowing he was HAWKMOTH on top of that? I’m kinda glad you didn’t. Yeah, maybe you could’ve ended things sooner. Or maybe he would’ve hurt you more before you had the chance. I’m just glad you survived.”

“I-” Adrien’s throat sounded tight. “I’m- I’m glad I survived too.”

They stood there for a moment, Nino feeling Adrien’s breath go in-and-out, his heartbeat racing, until it gradually started to slow.

*ring ring*

Adrien and Nino broke up their hug just as Marinette burst through the door, Alya on her heels. She skidded to a halt in front of Adrien - but not quite in time, sending her careening towards the floor.

She never made contact.

“Woah!” Adrien shouted, catching her in his arms.

Nino detected a hint of pink to Marinette’s cheeks before she abruptly sprang to her feet.

“So, uh,” Marinette said awkwardly. “I’m guessing Nino talked to you about some stuff. I mean, of course he talked to you about stuff, because that’s what talking is about. What- what I mean is, what were you two talking about?”

“I wanted to show him how much we care about him,” Nino told her. “Especially since with this… amnesia?”

“I think it’s an alternate timeline,” Alya said.

“Especially since in this timeline,” Nino continued, “it really doesn’t seem like he had anyone.”

“I had a couple other friends,” Adrien told him quietly, giving a melancholic smile. “But I lost contact with them right after Hawkmoth’s defeat.”

Noticing Nino’s frown, he hastily added, “they didn’t abandon me or anything! They were online friends. One moved somewhere without internet reception, and the other... we never knew each other’s names. But we talked all the time. We chatted, laughed, defeated villains together…”

“In the video games we played, of course!” he added after a moment. He chuckled fondly. “We played as a team. Together, we were unstoppable, no matter what our opponent threw at us.”

Adrien swallowed. “But in the aftermath of Hawkmoth’s defeat, with all the turmoil, with everything that happened… I lost my means of contacting her. I- I don’t know whether I’ll ever get to see her again.”

“We’d promised to meet up after Hawkmoth’s defeat,” Adrien said. His voice cracked. “That- that once it was safer in Paris, we’d finally tell our names.”

His eyes dropped to the ground. “Instead, we lost each other. Maybe for good.”

“I know what that’s like,” Marinette said. She sounded strangely distant. “I had a friend like that too. I cared about him. A lot. Maybe… maybe even as more than a friend.” She said the last part haltingly, as if she’d only just admitted it to herself. “He- he wanted to know who I was. For me to know who he was. But- but I couldn’t do that. Not in Hawkmoth’s Paris. I already cared for him so much it ached. If I was closer to him than that- if I’d accepted his rose- I’m- I’m afraid Hawkmoth might’ve used the strength of those feelings against me. That I could’ve gotten akumatized, or he might’ve, and if we knew who each other was, knew WHERE the other one was… I just… I couldn’t accept that we might be sent to hurt each other.”

“We talked while the final battle was raging,” she continued. “He seemed really upset, more angry than I’ve ever seen him before, but… also kind of sad. I wanted to know what was wrong, but there wasn’t really time to press him. And after that battle he just… disappeared. I knew there was going to be some sort of disruption, but- but I’d thought we’d have more time to talk beforehand, that we’d be able to exchange new contact information. We were cut off before we had the chance.”

“I- I think of him every day,” she said quietly. “Wondering how he’s doing. He was always so positive, no matter what life threw at us. I hope that wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, he hasn’t lost that positivity, that optimism, the ability to see the best in the world and in others.”

“I’m sure he’d be happy to know you cared for him so much,” Adrien said, giving her a warm smile.

Marinette blinked, giving herself a small shake. She turned to Alya. “I dunno whether you’ll remember any of this after the Ladybug in your time restores anything, but on the off-chance you do, is there anything you need to know?”

“Oh!” Alya pulled up some footage. “You told me who Hawkmoth was, but what about Mayura?”

“Mayura?”

“Who?”

Alya snapped her fingers. “You know, the Peacock Miraculous wielder, the one summoning the sentimonsters! Did she not exist in this universe?”

She pulled up part of the fight against Mayura, the sentimonster Ladybug, and Hawkmoth.

The video ended, she took another glance at Marinette and Adrien.

Marinette seemed to be in shock, staring straight ahead.

Adrien frowned, thinking. “I’d wondered for a long time how Father managed to hide his supervillain activities from Nathalie, considering she was around him most of the time. I thought maybe she was just really good at never asking questions.”

He grimaced. “Looking at that? I’m betting she didn’t ask questions because she already knew the answers.”

“You think Mayura’s Nathalie?” Alya questioned.

He nodded. “Unless something’s different in your universe. My father doesn’t have a lot of associates, and the way he acted around Mayura there, how he was willing to pass up a chance to fight Ladybug for her Miraculous in exchange for catching her… the only people I can think of who he’d do that for are my mother and Nathalie, and mom…” he trailed off.

“I- I didn’t even think about that,” Marinette said guiltily. “I remember reading something about Gabriel having a secretary, but I didn’t think about her much beyond that.”

“Maybe you could ask this universe’s Alya to post something on the Ladyblog, telling Ladybug and Chat Noir she has a lead on who Mayura is?” Alya said. “I mean, I know they haven’t shown up in ages, but maybe that’s just because they haven’t had reason to.”

Marinette winced. “I… really don’t think that’s it… plus Ladybug and Chat Noir never said that someone was helping Hawkmoth. Mayura never appeared, at least in public. I don’t know what we can do about this right now, especially without proof. Maybe if Ladybug and Chat Noir appeared, but…”

She sounded doubtful. Alya was beginning to think that the final battle was even worse than Marinette had alluded to.

She hesitated a moment, before turning to Adrien. “I- I think I owe you an apology. I thought you might’ve been helping Hawkmoth, but… well… I was just judging you by who your dad was. You’ve been nothing but sweet and kind.”

Adrien smiled at her, though it was slightly strained. “It’s fine. I’m used to it. A lot of people in this city have suffered at Hawkmoth’s hands. I don’t blame them for being scared, or angry at any reminders of him.”

“That doesn’t make it RIGHT,” Marinette said heatedly.

Nino nodded. “Dude just because something’s done to you it doesn’t mean it’s justified, or that it shouldn’t be made better. Like with your old man forbidding parties. I didn’t let that stop me from bribing your bodyguard into letting me and the other guys throw a party at your place for you!”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “It kinda escalated though. I think half the guys at Paris were partying in your room by the end!”

Alya gave Nino a sideways look. “And ONLY the guys because they ditched us girls while we were planting trees with a lame excuse. Seriously if you’d said you wanted to throw a party for Adrien while his dad was away, you could’ve just told us!”

Nino winced. “Yeah, my bad. At least we got to have fun there for a while before the akuma attack.”

“Akuma attack?” Adrien asked, eyes wide. “But I thought you said Father was gone!”

“He was- OOOOOOOH.”

“Yeeaaaah I don’t think he was actually gone,” Alya said. “You threw a ‘secret’ party in Hawkmoth’s house, WHILE he was still at home.”

Adrien gaped at Nino. “How’re you not DEAD?!”

Nino chuckled. “Lucky I guess?”

*twinkle twinkle*

A familiar red mass flew towards Alya and Nino.

Adrien’s eyes widened.

“Behind the portrait!” he blurted out, just as the two of them were enveloped by the ladybugs, spiriting them off to whence they came.

It was silent for a moment.

“Do you think they heard?” Adrien asked Marinette.

“I hope so,” she said, looking off in the direction the ladybugs flew.

She turned to him. “I was planning on setting up some hang out time with Alya and Nino later this week. If you’re not busy… would you like to join?”

His smile told her everything she needed to know.

#bakery enemies au #ml fanfic #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #marinette dupain cheng #buggachat

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soulmate-game · 3 years

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Curiosity Killed the Exorcist

“And then, see here? You have to be on the lookout for subtle signs like these. This indicates that he’s…” Marinette nodded as Tim continued explaining, pointing out various body language and other clues out on the Batcomputer. It had only been about six months since the Batfam collectively adopted the little ladybug into their menagerie of heroes, and started teaching her deductive habits and skills. She would not allow them anywhere near Paris on pain of death (some of them had already tried, and Bruce was still recovering from the bruise to his ego. The bruise on his ass from being teleported out of the city and onto the stone of the Batcave was gone, though) but she welcomed any help they could give from within Gotham’s city limits.

Usually, at least in the beginning, they did their mentorship at a distance over video call. But then Tim found out her identity, and Marinette made the excuse of wanting to meet with them in person to gauge their trustworthiness for herself and erase their memories of her identity if they failed her test— and, well, it all snowballed from there until she was teleporting to the Batcave every few days for detective lessons. She was practically a Bat herself, if not for her out of theme codename. And she found herself surprisingly comfortable with the thought of them being a… very eccentric extended family.

Tim was flipping to another saved video in the Batcomputer archives to show another example of his current lesson, when Tikki flew up to Marinette in a hurry. She was holding Kaalki’s glasses. The little kwami whispered something in Marinette’s ear, instantly making the teen blanch and force on the glasses.

“Sorry Timmy, gotta cut this short! I’ll come back tomorrow to make up for it! Okay? Okay! Awesome, you’re the best, bye!” She ignored all of Tim’s protests and rapid fire questions, instead opening up a portal and jumping through it as fast as humanly possible. The portal has barely disappeared before an all-too-familiar voice rose up from behind Tim.

“Maybe I’m still drunk, ‘cause I could’a sworn I just saw a portal closing in the damned Batcave, of all places,” the British-accented drawl was accompanied by the flick of a lighter and accompanying fizzle of a flame. Tim groaned, mentally making a note to ask how in the world Marinette had known that John “Annoying asshole” Constantine was showing up soon, and if he could be in on the warning next time. Bruce, cowl still off, walked over from where he had been sparring with Damian and crossed his arms. He had also heard Marinette’s hasty exit, and made a few mental notes of his own before focusing on the exorcist in front of him.

“What do you want, Constantine?” he grumbled. Any time the blond brit showed up, things only got far more complicated than he ever enjoyed. And he always gave Bruce a migraine, to boot.

“Two things actually, Batsy,” John held up to fingers as his free hand tucked his lighter away in his pocket. His unlit cigarette stayed in his mouth though, probably just for the familiar feel of it. “One; I’m gonna need you to tell me why there was a portal closing when I walked in, because I’ll be honest. The implications there are way more interesting than what I came here for in the first place.”

“None of your business. What’s the second thing?” Bruce immediately shot him down, but John was not one to be deterred. He never fucking was.

“But you hate magic! You make sure I know that all too bloody well every time I pay you a visit, so why the sudden change in heart? Huh?”

“Drop it, Constantine. What. Do you. Want?”

“Fine, fine. I need your help with…”

— * — * — * — * — *

A week later, Marinette was sitting with Jason and Damian in one of the manor’s sitting rooms, the three of them just minding their own business and silently enjoying one another’s presence. Even if two of them would never admit it. Jason was reading Jane Eyre for the millionth time, Damian was leaning against Titus on the ground as he sketched, and Marinette was embroidering a sunhat. Unfortunately for her, Alfred the Cat was currently asleep on her lap and thus holding her hostage.

Even as Tikki flew up to her ear in a panic and whispered, making Marinette prick herself with her needle. She hissed for a second but shrugged off the familiar pain, much more concerned with whatever news Tikki had given her. Damian and Jason were already on high alert from the second that a whispered curse had left her lips, and were staring straight at her and her kwami and Marinette frantically tried to find a way to get up without awakening the cat sleeping on her.

“Uh, what’s wrong?” Jason asked, feeling thoroughly confused and left out. On one hand, he knew that if they were in physical danger she would have moved Alfred the Cat without hesitation. On the other, he did not like the sheer amount of anxiety he could see her experiencing. Marinette’s frantic eyes shot over to him, pupils mere pinpricks and hands mouth agape as she tried to form some sort of plan.

“Uh— “

“Ah! You must be the fair maiden that the Bats are comfortable with using magic around them,” John goddamned Constantine threw the door to the sitting room open wide, making it bounce off of the wall and lightly smack back against his shoulder. He ignored it as he grinned at the three younger people in the room, waltzing in casual as anything. He wagged a finger at her playfully. “I’ve been awfully curious about you, ya know? Brucie boy knows a shit ton of magic users, but he never likes seein’ any of us do our thing. And to not only allow you to teleport without any apparent discomfort but to actively protect your identity from me? Now that’s a damn accomplishment and I really gotta applaud you for it,” he mockingly clapped his hands a few times. “So what’s your secret, huh? I won’t tattle.”

“No thanks. Kaalki, a little help?” Marinette carefully pushed Alfred the Cat off of her lap before diving into the portal that Kaalki whipped up for her, the entire process happening so fast that Constantine couldn’t even get out a proper “hey!” before she was gone and the portal closed. He just nodded, hooking his thumbs in his pockets.

“Ya know what? Fair. That’s fair.”

“Goddamn it, Constantine!” Jason threw up his hands in frustration. “Why the fuck do you have to scare away one of the only sane people in this family?”

“Part of my charm, little red riding hood.”

— * — * — * — * — *

“You know, I’ve been pretty damn nice not teleporting right over to you whenever you disappear. So why don’t you just tell me why you’re avoiding me now that we happen to be in the same room by complete accident, huh?” John asked from where he sat in one of Bruce’s lounge chairs sipping on a beer. Marinette mimed choking him, clearly fed up. He had been trying to have a conversation with her for the past three months, ever since that one time he caught the tail end of her portal closing in the Batcave. Three. Long. Months. And he hadn’t given up, because something about this little Parisian teenager intrigued him. She was sixteen, that much he had gathered from the Bats. But to be sixteen and not only in possession of the Horse miraculous but also clearly the Ladybugs, since he had seen Tikki more than once as well, now that was interesting.

Anybody being in the possession of more than one Miraculous was already cause enough to be keeping an eye on them, which was why he had been keeping an eye on the Paris situation and had pieced together on his own that the presence of Tikki meant that this little parisian teenager was none other than Ladybug herself. Now, that? That was a whole new level of concerning, especially since he knew firsthand that the old Grand Guardian was gone and passed his title down to— yeah, Ladybug.

After that deduction, his interest in Marinette had swiftly switched from curiosity to fuck-I-need-to-know-what’s-going-on-here. Because no kid should have to deal with that kind of weight, and Constantine always looked out for kids when he could.

But right then, Marinette was glaring at him. She had been just coming over for a normal “family” dinner with the Waynes, which she attended from time to time. And apparently they had decided to have Constantine already over so that they could chaperone a meeting between them that would hopefully appease the stupid british magic user enough that he left them all alone again until the next time he needed help.

“Believe me when I say, you’d rather not know,” she replied sharply, glaring Dick. He was the one who had convinced her to come despite her recent close calls with Constantine in the past few days. He studiously avoided her gaze. “I just would rather not cross your path, and there’s no reason for us to interact. Why do you care, anyway?”

“You see, now that is an excellent question!” he chugged the last of his beer and gestured to her with the empty bottle. “Normally, I wouldn’t give a flying rat’s ass. But I’ve put two and two together, since I know who Tikki is,” he nodded to the red and black Kwami. “And maybe I just wanna keep an eye on the new Grand Guardian to make sure she’s doin’ alright. That’s an awful lot of magic and responsibility that you don’t deserve, but I’m not about to try to take it away. Keepin’ an eye on you is the next best thing.”

“Try again,” Marinette shot back, crossing her arms. “You were interested in me before you learned about me being Ladybug.”

“I’m nosy, what do you want me to say? I saw a portal in Batman’s man-cave, I get curious. Sue me.”

“Well. I have Bruce and everyone else already watching out for me, so you can leave me alone now. If I need your help, I’ll make sure to ask every other magic user first before contacting you.”

“Woah, now what’s all this venom for?”

“Uh, maybe we should go and actually eat dinner?” Dick tried to step in, hands up. Constantine had stood up from the chair he was in, which was usually a cue to change the subject as fast as possible. “Before Alfred has to come get us?”

“Maybe I’ll be less venomous if you let the subject drop and leave me alone!”

“Context would be nice, though.”

“Seriously guys, let’s go! Food!” Dick was once again ignored.

“Context is the last thing you need in this situation,” Marinette’s voice was suddenly soft, her arms dropping to her sides. “We’ve had this conversation so many times in so many now-deleted timelines. Just drop it this time.”

“If those timelines are now-deleted, then I obviously don’t remember what’s so bad about telling me why you’re acting like I’m some hated family member you’re avoiding!”

Silence.

Pure. Fucking. Silence. As they all watch with front row seats as Marinette flinches at the word ‘family’.

Pure silence as Constantine’s shoulders drop at the sight of her flinch, realization slapping itself on his face.

“No.”

“See? I fucking knew you would— that this would happen. This always happens, you always hate finding it out, but you’re so— so stubborn!” Marinette was blinking away tears, digging in her pockets and bringing out Kaalki’s glasses. “You’ll drop it now, at least. You always do.”

“Now what is that supposed to mean?” Constantine rubbed his forehead, still trying to sort through his amalgam of emotions. Marinette just shook her head, turning to Kaalki.

“Do you mind showing Monsieur Constantine the way out, Kaalki? I’ll grab you a load of sugar cubes afterward.”

“No, wait, hang on a second!”

A portal opened up under him, making John “Stubborn Idiot” Constantine drop ten feet down onto the hardwood, polished floor of his house. His bruised tailbone would take a while to heal, but his frazzled mind was by far the more concerning development. He staggered to his feet, reaching for the nearest bottle of tequila.

“Ugh, fuck my damn life.”

— * — * — * — * — *

“Marinette..?” Damian nudged the girl with his shoulder, frowning. It was after dinner that same day, and as much as he hated to admit it he had grown to actually like having her around. She was a good friend to have. And seeing her slumped back on one of their sofas, sketchbook covering her face and not a single rambling conversation to be had or heard? It was very concerning. She just made a groaning sound to answer him, prompting his frown to deepen. “Are you alright?”

“I just can’t believe that such a sweet, adorable thing like you is half made up of Constantine’s genes,” Jason mused bluntly from the opposite couch, where he tossed a rubber ball up and down out of boredom. “But now I see where you get all of your Disaster Bi-ness from.”

“Shut uuuuup,” She groaned, chucking her sketchbook at him. He caught it in midair, replacing his rubber ball with it and tossing it up and down in the air. “I’m just frustrated. This timeline is still perfectly stable, so I can’t erase it. And I can’t exactly ask ‘hey, can someone commit a horrid atrocity that makes this timeline split from the main one so that I can erase it and we can start over from four months ago?’ because that would be horribly irresponsible of me. But seriously, Jason. If you’re gonna ever commit, like, city-wise arson? I’d probably condone it right now if only so I have an excuse to use time travel to get out of this situation.”

“Not committing arson unless you give me a better reason for it, Pigtails.”

“Damn.”

“But are you okay?” Damian asked again, seeing as she had completely ignored him.

“I’m fine, Damian,” she finally sighed. “And I know how this is gonna go. He’s going to totally ignore me now, until we meet during some magical crisis and he only interacts with me when necessary. Then he pretends we never met, we have a private little one-sided whisper-argument about how he will never make a good father figure and I would be better off leaving him alone, blah blah blah. Avoidance is a coping mechanism I guess I inherited from him.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I’m trying to bite that in the bud then, eh?” Marinette startled out of her sitting position, seeing John stumble into the room…

Drunk off his ass. But apparently still at least mildly coherent.

“I agree with deleted-me’s, I’m not gonna be a dad. Not me,” he tripped, landing on his still-bruised ass and hissing in pain before continuing from the floor; “So if you’re looking for another Daddy dearest, that ain’t me.”

“See, I knew this is how you’d—”

“Let me finish,” he interrupted. “I don’t know how long the booze is gonna last and I need it’s courage here. ‘Kay? ‘Kay. Where was I? Right. But I know magic, ya know. The kind that doesn’t rely on little bobblehead gods to do. I got— like, a million books. Shit ton of books. At my place. Ya can read ‘em. My books. At my place. But I ain’t gonna parent, but I can lend ya books. Maybe give magic advice. Teach a little. Little bit. Didn’t think I’d have a child, but apparently I do and she’s the fuckin’ grand guardian and a damn hero, and I don’t know how the fuck I was able to help make someone like that. But whatever, it’s not like the world’s ever fuckin’ been easy on me,” He pulled out a sample-sized bottle of whiskey from one of the pockets on the inside of his trench coat and chugged it. After a brief wince and hiss at the burn, he kept rambling. “My door’s open, is what I’m tryin’ to say. No guarantee I’ll be in any state to talk to when you walk through it, but it’s open.”

Deciding to steadfastly ignore the tears streaming down her face, Marinette just swallowed thickly and nodded.

“I, uh. I think I can work with that.”

John barely made it to the nearby bin in time to vomit into it.

— * — * — * — * — *

I hate my imagination sometimes, guys. I started imagining a convo between Mari and Constantine at like 4am and it wouldn't leave me alone until I got it down. but by the time I wrote it, I kinda forgot like 60% of the original convo and just winged it. And this was born. I 100% blame @multifandomscribette because their Bio!dad John Constantine headcannons are amazing and even though this isn't in that universe, those headcannons are exactly what inspired this. So blame them, lol.

#dc x mlb #ml x dc #mlb x dc #maribat fanfic #maribat #maribat fic #miraculous ladybug x dc #bio!dad John Constantine

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astaroth1357 · 4 years

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Hi can I request the boys reactions to coming back and seeing that MC has snucked into their beds

The Brothers Find the MC Asleep in Their Bed

This is that other bed request. Back to my fluffy content! Huzzah!! I was a fidgeting mess on that last one… If it wasn't in second person I probably would have never gotten through it… 🤦‍♀️😅 Amazing how distancing the pronoun "you" can be when you're writing: "Oh no, this ain't happening to me, it's gonna happen to you. I dunno what to tell ya." 🤷‍♀️ I give my props for this to one to my favorite jazz singers, Nicki Parrot, and her rendition of I Won't Last a Day Without You.

Intro:

If you're missing someone and, presumably, you have a fairly intimate relationship then something you can do is stay in their bed. Sure, your loved one’s body may not be next to yours but the familiarity can help soothe that aching heart… So when the brothers were away from the House for a few days, it wasn't totally unreasonable for the MC to sneak a night or two in their favorite demon's bed.

If only they had known said demon would come home early…

Lucifer

It was a looong trip for him. Lucifer only goes up to the human world for business reasons and usually he has to bring Mammon to keep an eye on him, which he also swears ages him by a century each time he does…

When he retired to his room that night he wasn't really looking to talk or interact with anyone, not his brothers and not even the MC. He just wanted to go to sleep…

He wasn't expecting to find his human curled up under his sheets, though. And without him there no less.

Had it been another day, he might have just woken them up and sent them away or slept somewhere else but that night, after the trip he had, he felt so… loved all of sudden...

His brothers never miss him when he leaves. They give him the usual welcoming rigmarole when he gets back, "Good to see you, how was the trip?" that kind of thing, but he can tell they're all disappointed that he's back to discipline them again…

But here was the MC, apparently wanting him back so much that they'd risk breaking into his room just to feel close to him again… It's honestly good he was the only conscious soul in the room because if anyone else had seen the look on his face, he'd have to start erasing some memories again.

He changed clothes quietly before getting into the bed himself, careful not to jostle them too much. Only once he was settled in, did he give them a tender kiss to their forehead and finally got a good night's sleep...

Mammon

Look, he never asks to be dragged along with Lucifer on his business trips! It's a pain in the ass for everyone involved so he was more than happy to be home...

So happy in fact, that he didn't think to check his bed before he went sailing into it face first…

When he didn't feel the cushion of his mattress below him, but what felt like muscle and bone, he screamed. Which caused the MC to shoot up from under his covers and scream right back at him.

The two dummies screamed at each other for about five seconds straight before it clicked that neither even knew what they were screaming about… 🙄

"MC?!? The hell are ya doin'?! This is my bed, ya know??"

Oh was he tickled pink when they told him they came there just 'cause they missed him so much… Of course they'd miss the Great Mammon! Anybody who got to spend that much time in his presence would eventually! And he had been missing them so much he could hardly see straight anyway...

"Geez, is that all? Well fine! You can stay the night, but only for tonight! … I mean, unless ya want to stay longer or somethin' crazy like that….. You want to, doncha?"

And that's how the MC ended up spending the next week in the arms of their first man… and getting a pretty good bruise on their shoulder too from Mammon's thick skull slamming into it.

Leviathan

He was coming back from a three-day convention and boy was he tired… There's only so much excitement an introvert can withstand for that long without shutting down completely...

His first clue that something was a little off was his door. It was unlocked. Since he was positive he locked it before he left, he was already on edge... Mammon was in there stealing his stuff again, wasn’t he??

He had his demon form already out when he threw the door open, expecting to have to chase out a thief, but instead he found the MC's arm sticking out of his bathtub-bed.

Cue an incredibly flustered Levi. Did the MC really want to sleep with him? A yucky otaku?? Did they miss him that much?? For a brief moment, he hit cloud nine and beyond.

Levi was frozen in his doorway for a good five minutes, too afraid to walk in and possibly disturb them, before he finally tiptoed to have a look in the tub.

…. He may or may not have snapped a picture when he saw them snuggled against his Ruri-chan body pillow… So what if that's a little creepy??? You're creepy!!

There wasn't really a good way for him to squeeze in with them so he settled for pulling his computer chair over and taking their outstretched hand in his own...

He stayed like that all night until the MC woke up to find him passed out next to them, head rolled back in the chair but still holding their hand with laced fingers...

Satan

He hates going to the human world with Lucifer, even though he acknowledges that he's better behaved than the others for it. That doesn't change the fact that he'd much rather be back in his room with a good book...

He just wasn't expecting the MC to share his sentiments so… identically?

After his trip to Paris with Lucifer, Satan dragged his bags back into his room and expected to at least get another hour of reading in before his mind finally caught up with his body… But to his surprise, his bed was already occupied.

The MC was half-under his covers with their head wedged into the corner of the wall above his pillows, sound asleep… A stray book sat by their hand, one of his favorites too judging by the cover.

He felt the warmth of a chuckle escape his chest… How many times had he woken up in that exact same position? It was almost like they missed him so badly they tried to be him for a while... It was all too cute for words…

He put aside getting some sleep just long enough to take care of his MC, gently moving their body back under the covers and setting the book onto one of the endless stacks that surrounded his bed.

Only once he had them placed into a more comfortable position did he change his clothes and take the spot in the bed next to them…

The MC woke up very much not how they fell asleep… but trading out a good book in their hand for a warm bookworm against their body wasn't a bad deal now, was it?

Asmodeus

He was on one of those long self-care retreats and though, yes, it was a good time he really needed a good nap after such a long trip… He was even considering shortening his nightly routine for once.

When he came into his room, he was ready to just faceplant into his pillows until he spied MC's head poking out from under his covers…

He squealed, but not out of anger or fright. No, no. He felt nothing but Pure. Joy. His heart was soaring and he could have sang, he was just that happy!

His human missed him so much that they just needed to wrap themselves up under his covers?? Well, of course they would wouldn't they? There's no good substitute for Asmo and he knows it.

His literal shriek made the MC shoot out of his bed and try to apologize but he just tackled them back down, wrapping his arms around them in a vice grip of adoration. He was not letting them back down now. It was cuddle time!

In truth, their sudden appearance shocked Asmo awake for about another hour, which he spent snuggled up to his MC and babbling about his trip. He did eventually lose steam though, falling asleep soundly with his head snuggled into the crook of their neck.

The lovey mood was dampened slightly when he woke up and realized he hadn't done any of his routine the night before, but since the MC was still resting in his arms he decided that, just this once, he didn't need to rush it...

Beelzebub

Beel's team had just come back from a long tournament trip and, for the first time ever, he could say that he was more tired than he was hungry…

Belphie was really happy to have his twin back, but this time he was kind of ignoring his brother's excitement as his mind zoned in on his bed… He almost didn't notice the MC was even in there until he pulled back the covers to climb in himself.

His poor sleep-deprived mind had to take a minute to catch up… This was his bed wasn't it...? 😰

"Beel? Is that MC?" "... I think so?" "Why are they in your bed?" "I don't know… Maybe they just wanted to sleep here?" "... Uh-huh. Hey, Beel, I know you're tired. How about you just take my bed instead since it's free? I'll take yours tonight."

Since he was so exhausted, Beel almost considered the offer until he noticed the resentful pout on Belphie's face... Oh. Right. The MC probably wanted to sleep with him. That meant they must have missed him… That thought alone gave Beel a warm, fuzzy feeling like he'd just taken a giant gulp of hot cocoa and he just couldn't help his groggy smile.

"No… This is fine." "But-" "I don't mind, Belphie. Goodnight."

He didn't give his jealous twin any more room to argue before he climbed into bed next to the MC, nestling them close to his chest as if he was welcoming them home instead. And in his last moments of consciousness, Beel promised himself that they'd wake up just like this too…

Belphegor

Belphie tends to hate trips about as much as Levi, especially ones where Beel or the MC can't come along... Too much hassle and all his brothers make so much noise…

When he finally got back from the trip Lucifer dragged him into, he only had one thing on his mind. Sleep. His bed was calling to him, that's where he needed to be… and the MC too, apparently?

He was honestly a little caught off guard to find the MC in his bed... The attic bed? Sure. That was their cuddle space and it was practically sacred ground at that point. But the bed in the room he shared with Beel...? They didn't stay there very often…

Which meant they weren't in his bed just because they wanted to sleep. They wanted him… Had they been awake he might have had something smug to say, but without any audience to save face to he just felt somewhat honored…

There wasn't a day that went by where Belphie didn't regret the things he'd done to them, even during the quiet moments where they assured him that they'd forgiven him for it... Seeing them there in his actual bed proved something, they chose him. No one else.

He didn't think twice about crawling under there next to them, he even got into his usual position by their side on instinct. But this time, for a minute or two, he just watched their sleeping form peacefully and counted himself lucky to even be there…

When the MC woke up to Belphegor wrapped around them, an adoring smile nuzzled into their neck, and they just had to wonder if the mere act of sleeping alone was all they’d ever need to summon their demon home...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

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subwaysurf45 · 3 years

Text

Winter Makes Ice (Ep. 4)

Summary: you’re captured after a brawl at the Avengers building, Bucky and others must save you before Hydra makes a new Winter Soldier out of you, Bucky has given up that title.

Words: 4123

Episode: Four

Warning: violence, gore, description of violence, fighting

Masterlist! Winter Makes Ice Episode: Three

Time: 3:20am

Date: October 3rd 2024

Wakanda was always calm when Steve went, the people who lived there just seemed to understand the ways of life. There was never a catcall or fight in an alley, people greeted each other with kindness and a soft bow, Steve always copied but felt like he was too stiff when he did so. He found he walked with his back a little straighter and his chin a little higher, he felt unstoppable in the warm climate, filled with power and generosity.

Natasha on the other hand hated Wakanda, not because of the people but for the same reason as Steve; it was too peaceful. She’d always get the dirtiest looks when trying to explain her case, no one seemed to understand the concept of ‘too much comfort is uncomfortable’. She ran to Bucky once after a moment and asked him why he liked it so much, she thought he off all people would hate comfort, he’d always be one to sleep on the floor because the mattress would feel like it was swallowing him. He just shook his head and shrugged, he’d never tell anyone why; Nat found out he never even told you.

Natasha had been trained to trust no one other than yourself, but after escaping the Red Room she questioned the one in the mirror all too often. People would smile and while Steve smiled and waved Natasha thought of ulterior motives, why were they smiling to them and not the people slightly behind them? but then they’d smile to the people behind Natasha and she’d question if it was to cover themselves. The welcoming's to almost everywhere felt weird, she wanted to break in or have to fake her way to what she wanted, having doors opened for her felt like a slap in the face for all the things she’s done for those years before.

“God, gives me the creeps,” Natasha faked a shiver, Steve just rolled his eyes. They were walking in the palace now, T’Challa would be waiting for them in Shuri’s tech room.

Apparently Shuri had been wanting to try a new type of cuff, one made of- obviously -vibranium that tightens at a lie. There were little needles that poke into the culprit's nervous system, it picks up on someone’s sign that they are lying and tightens when the little pins are triggered. If someone's breath picked up or heart rate doubled, it would squeeze a little bit more until their hands were blue. Nat thought it was amazing when she heard it over the phone, her mind was picturing it the entire flight over.

Steve had been thinking about Bucky, Steve was well aware of Bucky’s deep connection to you. You’d been dating for over a year and it was love at first sight (then Bucky quietly loving you from the other side of the room), Bucky was never one to fall for someone, he’d never have the confidence in himself that he’d be here for too long. But it was the little things Bucky began to do that made Steve appreciate you even more. He’d watch from his spot on the kitchen counter, quietly sipping coffee and reading the paper, which wasn’t actually paper because it was on his phone, while glancing over every so often to see you and Bucky in your own little world, both giggling at something. There's this moment for Bucky when he’d just look at you, Steve had seen it happen so often, like Bucky was taking a step back and realizing he had someone who loved him unconditionally. The laugh would die down and Bucky would whisper something, it would alway be along the lines of ‘thank you’ but it could change. He’d sometimes do it with Steve as well, both you and Steve would say the same thing, ‘no need to thank me, but you’re welcome’ because that’s what Bucky liked best.

You were just an agent when you arrived, nothing more. Slowly you had gotten to know who everyone was by going out of your way to give out cookies to everyone who walked by you, it was a little thing Bucky seemed to really enjoy. After your talents were discovered from past jobs you were moved to a spy, you’d used to work for a private firm where they’d track down people who launder money, you’d have to get so much evidence it often led you to get jobs at mattress stores or random shops. With that and a lifeguard certification- that you got when you were a teen- under your belt you were perfect to be an agent, Fury introduced you to Bucky for combat training because Bucky needed to learn how to work with others; Steve actually told Fury to give Bucky the assignment.

You’d spar everyday and the both of you would get into it. There would be times where you wouldn’t talk to each other for the rest of the day because the other cheated. Everyone would laugh but you’d take it very seriously, Bucky would always say you weren’t strong enough to go out into the field, so you lifted weights. He’d say you weren’t fast enough, then he’d see you sprinting on the treadmill a day later.

Steve knew you were good for Bucky when you were about to start dating, it was at that part where you were going on dates but you weren’t dating. With all the things Bucky had criticized you on, you flipped it on him with one simple task: keep your fiddle-leaf fig plant alive. It would’ve taken Bucky one google search to find out that 61% of people can’t keep this house plant alive, it’s the hardest one to take care of. It was a metaphor of sorts, for you and for your relationship.

It wasn’t a surprise to find it dead when you got home, Steve came to you with his shoulders slumped. Apparently Bucky had been crying for three days straight because he killed your plant and he thought you’d dump him because of it. It was the weird feelings when Steve saw you start to laugh, this was his best friend who was crying of guilt and you were laughing, he’d wanted to punch you square in the jaw.

“What’s so funny?” he asked way too harshly.

“Oh nothing…” you wiped the tear that had fallen.

“Baby, I’m so sorry!” Bucky had left his room and came running to you, his face was red and his eyes were barely open from how puffy they were. He quickly pulled you in for a hug, “I messed up your plant, I’m sorry.”

Steve was getting redder and redder the more you laughed, “what’s so fucking funny, huh?” Steve boomed, he was getting protective.

You had dropped the act then, both of them were very emotional at the moment and laughing wouldn’t be the best choice of action. “Don’t worry, Bucky,” you soothed him, “you weren’t supposed to keep alive.”

“What?” he pulled away and sniffled, “but you asked me to-”

“To try,” you paused with emphasis, “and keep one of the hardest plants to keep alive, alive.” you smiled, “I was proud that I had kept it alive for as long as I did, but I needed to see what you would do with something like this.”

“Why?” Steve asked for Bucky, still very protective.

“Did you buy a new one and hope I didn’t notice?” You asked, Bucky shook his head no. “did you get mad at me because I gave you a stupid chore?” He also said no to that. “Did you make Wanda keep it alive with her powers?” all these options ran through Bucky’s head and he didn’t even think of them, “you put so much effort into this, and even if you did fail you still cared a lot, that’s all I ever want. I want this relationship to work and if you run at the first sign of adversity then this won’t work, but you buckle down and keep pushing, and if it doesn’t work? Then I know you actually cared, and you tried. That’s all.”

“You’re a keeper.,” Steve said before walking away and giving them space to catch up.

Nat waved a hand in front of Steve’s face, and it turns out he’d been staring at T’Challa for a while while he was talking. They had walked the entire way and Steve just stared at the ground with a blank expression, he needed to look out for you in order to keep Bucky sane.

“S-sorry, I zoned out.” Steve straightened his posture a bit, hands on hips and shoulders rolled back.

“No worries, captain Rogers.” T’Challa spoke calm as ever, “I have the criminals in the room, they have the new tech that’s already set up, my sister wanted to set it up.” T’Challa opened one arm and guided them to the secret room where two men sat with their hands cuffed and on their laps. “Neither of them have any record of being born, probably a fake identity.” The king linked arms with Shuri and walked out of the small room.

Seeing how grand and futuristic Shuri’s lab was made it shocking to be in a normal interrogation cell, two rusty chairs that were occupied and no table. Steve looked to see the single light that hung from the ceiling, it wasn’t a soft yellow like the one’s at the Avenger building but purple, vibranium always casted a purple/blue hue.

“Where are you from?” Steve asked.

“Iceland.” the one on Steve’s left answered.

“Is Hydra now stationed in Iceland?” Nat cut in and asked.

“One station, there’s many.” The same man on the left kept talking, the other one had his head all the way down with his forehead touching his knees.

Steve leaned up against the wall, “you attacked Princes Shuri, why?”

“Because she is the one that made us start from the very beginning, she's the one that erased the trigger words from your friend and our weapon.” He snarled, “She needed to pay for what she did, we should have known Wakanda was the hardest place to attack, we’d need a Winter Soldier for that.” A smirk grew from the right side of his mouth.

“What are you smiling about?” Nat pressed, she walked closer.

“Oh, nothing- ow!” the handcuffs tightened, his breathing rate doubled as he tried to ride out the initial shock.

“Tell us!” Steve smashed the wall, causing a dent to grow from it.

“Fine…” the man adjusted, “once we found out we’d never get our Winter Soldier back we quickly moved on, no one can break Wakanda’s tech, it’s impossible.” The man sighed and looked off, “so we chose to start again, make a new way, create a new trial. It’s safe to say we did.” he took a deep breath and leaded back against his chair, his fingertips were beginning to turn purple, it was difficult to see with the purple hue of the room. “When we attacked your building we didn’t want Barnes, we wanted someone, anyone. This girl was the closest to us, and it seemed to be the closest to Barnes, am I right?” he quizzed, seemed to be genuinely wondering. “She’d wake up and forget where she is, normally she’d pat the ground beside her and call out for a man named Bucky, that’s Barnes. It was the perfect choice, completely on a whim.” He looked at Nat, “she got her confidence from you, the entire time we were slowly poisoning her she completely believed she was here for ransom, it was funny to see her face when he told her what we did to her, how we now control her. The look on her face when we asked who wiped Barnes’ trigger words… She spit them out but her face was full of fear, her voice and thoughts weren’t her own.”

“Why would you tell us all of this?” Steve asked.

“I know I will die,” the cuffs didn’t tighten, “and my friend is already dead, I’d like to go with a bullet and not torture.” He looked up to them. “I think my father has passed, he worked for Hydra and I’d like to see him, to ask for forgiveness.”

Natasha pushed back the other man who hadn’t spoken a word to find his hands blackened and completely dead, the tightness had cut off all circulation. Right near the edge of the cuff and on the man’s skin was starting to split, there was no blood to leak out of the cut because there wasn’t blood in the veins, it was slowly falling and peeling away.

“You tortured my friend- two of them actually!” Steve screamed, “I hope to god you die slowly.” Steve lifted his gun to the man’s face, he closed his eyes. But Steve moved the aim to the thigh, you had told him that a shot to the femoral artery was fatel after ten seconds of bleeding, you had also told him that the femur- which was what the femoral artery is attached to -is the most painful break for bones.

So Steve shot at the middle of the thigh, he and Nat watched without emotion as the man quickly bled out, the blood squirted in the air and rolled down his pants. Blood coming from an artery is bright red and tends to squirt, but from a vein makes the blood more slow and dark. When the final squirt of blood managed to hit the man’s face, Steve knew he hit right on target; and that you were right for all those things.

Time: 5:59am

Date: October 3rd 2024

Bucky and Wanda walked through the forest, most of the leaves had fallen off the trees due to the season so they could see further into the thick woods. Not a lot of talking was happening between the two of them, Bucky was way too focused on keeping his cool while Wanda used her powers to see if there was any form of life around.

The wind blew softly and the leaves that held on for dear life were now getting pushed aside off the flimsy twigs, they would fall and join the other countless leaves that met the same fate. Wanda loved the fall, she’d jump into a pile of leaves any chance she got. Right now she was purposely stepping on the ones that looked the most dry which would give a good crunch. Her nose was a little red due to the cold but everywhere else she was yellow and happy, it seemed she gave off heat.

Bucky hated the fall, the sound of stepping on leaves sounded like someone was right behind him. If there was a Hydra agent out in these woods they would have heard them from a mile away with all of Wanda’s jumping and giggling. Bucky loved Wanda in a motherly kind of way, but sometimes she was just too...happy…

When everything seemed lost, Bucky and Wanda’s phones began to vibrate, Bucky was quick to pick up. Both Bucky and Wanda made their way to a tree stump to take a moment to listen. Wanda sat on the ground floor and picked at the tons of leaves that covered the ground, she’d pick and rip them apart one by one.

“It’s Steve,” Bucky whispered before picking up, “Steve?”

“Buck, you have to listen to me,” his voice was shaken and distraught, “I’ve sent the coordinates, she’s there but I don’t know how much of her is left.”

“What does that mean?” Bucky asked as he looked over to see Wanda looking at the coordinates on her phone.

“I don’t know how much has happened to her, they’ve brainwashed her.” Steve took a deep breath, Bucky could hear Nat in the background, “we have to act fast, we’re on our way, do not wait for us.” he commanded and Bucky nodded but he knew Steve couldn't see, there was a type of mind reading between the two of them that really came in handy for times like these.

“Roger that.” Bucky hung up and began to move again, Wanda had read the location and it turned out they weren’t that far away, at the final stretch they saw the building through the empty trees.

The forest had been cleared around the building, the grass seems healthy but it was starting to brown with the changing weather. The building itself was very small for it to be the most dangerous Hydra facility, it was only one story. There were no windows and the outer wall was all one grey colour, no symbols or tanks ready to fire; there wasn’t even a guard around the building. It seemed too vacant for it to be true, the wind seemed to stop as they got closer into the open field, it was completely still and almost dead.

Bucky or Wanda actually had a plan, everything had been so fast there wasn’t anything drawn out or spoken about at some meeting, this was all instinct. Though there were no windows and security cameras they both knew something had to be watching the outside, they were low to the ground in the open field but the grass was way too short to cover them. Bucky had his gun ready while Wanda’s hands were in a position to create a shield for the both of them, at the sound of a vibration Wanda checked her phone.

“Steve and Nat have landed, they are five minuets out,” she whispered.

“Copy.” was all Bucky could think to say.

Both of their backs smashed against the wall, with their final moments of bliss before fighting a couple deep breaths were taken and eyes remained shut. Bucky’s finger fiddled on the trigger of the gun, Imagining what it would look like to blow the man who hurt you to oblivion. Bucky moved further and farther away from his Winter Soldier thoughts, the mass murder and robotic revenge. But when it came to someone hurting you, he’d even put the mask back on.

On the count of three the door was bursted open, and right away agents on the inside began to fire. Wanda and Bucky took them down their own way.

One agent was still alive, Bucky ran up and gripped his throat. “Where is she!” he screamed.

“You’ll never know-”

A gun was placed to his head.

“-Alright! Alright!” The man shrieked, “third door on the left, please don’t kill me!” the man cried.

“I won’t kill you,” Bucky lowered his gun but the grip on his neck tightened, “I’ll torture you slowly before.'' His left hand gripped so tight around the agent’s neck he could hear the bone shattering, clear fluid from the agent’s spine leaked from his eye and ear before blood followed. Bucky watched emotionlessly as the agent’s face turned blue and almost popped like a balloon. “Wanda, get them all outside.”

“Yes, sergeant!” Wanda yelled, she was fighting off everyone else.

Bucky blew by everyone as they ran to see the commotion, so ran right by Bucky without thinking he was the threat. Wanda was now outside and in a matter of seconds the eeriness of the outside matched the inside, the air was still and stuffy, it smelt like the beginning of decomposing. Bucky had his gun ready but it seemed no one was in here, his only threat was you.

Bucky took note of the stone grey floors, and stone grey walls, and stone grey ceilings. HYDRA didn’t put much money into design like the Avenger’s did, all the funds they collected went straight into the tech they made and Bucky was sure that’s why they were still around, they had so much money saved that they could pay people to turn their cheek and walk the other way.

As Bucky scanned for something to give away where all the scientists were, his eye met another door in the very corner of the room, it was exactly the same colour of the stone grey walls but the brass door knob caught his eye. All you could hear was the boot of Bucky’s combat boots on the floor, his breath was even scaring him. His hand reached out for the door and when he opened it he found what he was worrying about.

A cell. More specifically: an empty cell.

There were chains hanging from the ceiling, one large cuff, one for what seemed to be used for a neck and then four cuffs for wrists and ankles. Bucky completely forgot where he was, he didn’t remember there was an entire lab behind him, all his mind was throwing at his memories of a cell just like this.

Bucky didn’t remember much about cells in the early days fighting against HYDRA in a cell, in the 40’s. He did, however, remember what it was like to come out of ice when he was needed. The concept of life didn’t exist when he was frozen, it felt like a long blink, it didn’t seem like he’d been asleep for years.

He’d wake up and for a second he was still normal. He’d think it’s cold because it was winter and his house back in the 40’s didn’t have any type of heating system except for a small fireplace, his boots and pants were still on because he got hammered the night before- also explaining the headache -and just fell into bed. All his convincing would go away when his brain would fog again, and he’d look down and catch the shine of his left arm, all at once he’d fall back into place. The dissociating happens after dreams but it came from waking up and not really knowing who he was, as he’d walk to whatever commander was in charge that year he’d ask himself what he was, all the memories and answers in his brain would seem to pull further away, like a word in the tip of his tongue.

He was ripped from his thoughts manually, he thought of you. He thought he was hypnotizing himself when he looked in there at first, too triggered by what he saw to think straight, but he took another moment to look, he saw the chains swinging back and forth ever so slightly.

His stomach dropped, he knew you were still in the room. “Sweetheart?” he called like he always did, “it’s Bucky, we’re gonna get you out of here, come out, baby.” he tried to sound as soothing as possible, he looked under every lab table and every chair.

He flipped through pages on his desk, reading the details of what they did to you. “What is I.C.E.?” Bucky asked himself.

“Injected Complying Enhancement.”

Bucky turned as fast as he could to see you behind him. You were completely naked, body covered in dirt and grime, your hair was hacked and it seemed to have been pulled. Bucky just looked at your body, words were carved into your skin, every single one of them were infected, puss bubbles around the angry red scars. As his eyes trailed up he saw blue on your finger tips, then he reached your face to see a sunken cheekbone and massive cut on your forehead, but nothing compared to a generous piece of your nose hanging on by a thread, the tip was black.

“Baby, do you know me?” Bucky asked through heavy tears, this wasn’t what he was expecting.

You scanned over him, “Sergeant, James Buchanan Barnes, 32557038.”

Right at that moment, he knew you were gone.

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