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uten4 · 1 year

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ask game: wagner, chaos, & strix unib!! what ARE your favorite lines of theirs

MY THREE FAVES YAY!! But oh god... what ARE my favorite lines of theirs... this is going to be tough, but I'm up for the challenge. Thank you again for the asks beloved :3

Wagner

– Overall opinion of them: Screwed up kid who I love so much. Her dichotomy of being a vulnerable, sheltered girl who struggles with buying food or staying awake in class, and a completely ruthless killer... it's very interesting. She's so interesting. I'm hungry for her to have even more experiences and situations and develop from them. It was cool that they showed her opening up to new social situations and everyday independence, but I want the series to veer even deeper into her psyche. And ideally, to us, she would let go of her [internalized] racism :P

– Gender/sexuality headcanons: Lesbian :)

– Favorite moment in canon: Hmm... even though parts of it are kind of overplayed dialogue, the gist of which Wagner has a tendency to repeat, I think my favorite moment of hers might still be her monologues at the end of her arcade mode. The main reason is because you can see her shed a tear under her crumbling helmet, showing her humanity.

But looking back on it, it's super interesting in other ways... I want to look into the Japanese for this line later, but she seems to refer to all the people she has killed as friends, and hopes that their loneliness will be over now that she has released them, and will wield her blade in their honor...?! Definitely will need to think about that more.

Then, honestly, if it weren't for some of the confident voice-acting, I would say that all of Wagner's lines seem to show that she's losing mental stability here. I know it's necessary for writing purposes for a lot of the characters to talk to themselves, but in these scenes she addresses just SOOOO many people who aren't there. Especially Adelheid... oh my god. Now I'm remembering other parts of this game where Wagner directly addresses Adelheid, questioning her, appealing to her, when Adelheid presumably is in Germany and cannot hear her. And if she can hear her somehow then that's even worse maybe. Oh my god. I'm getting sad now just thinking about what a tremendous grip Adelheid must have on Wagner's psyche.

In these monologues Wagner insists that Licht Kreis needs her, Adelheid needs her. Her last line is "Show yourself to me. Re-birth of eternity, wielder of the ultimate manifestation. My existence as the sword is undeniable proof that you need me..." At first I wondered if she was addressing Kuon, since he's also on her hitlist, and he's associated so strongly with the word "eternity." But well... Adelheid also lives forever, is also a Re-birth. Wagner already insisted that Adelheid needs her. And now she is saying it again. She's so extremely desperate for recognition. UNDER NIGHTTTTTT. WHAT DID ADELHEID FREAKING DO TO WAGNER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAT DID LICHT KREIS DO TO HER!!!!!!!!!

– Favorite moment in a fanwork: I do not remember :'3

– Favorite line, in canon or otherwise: That one round-win line she has that's like "get up. Next I'll turn you to ash." Also every time she calls people dogs.

– Characters I love seeing them interact with: Orie!!!!!!!!!!! Their dynamic is so funky. It really brings out so many emotions in Wagner. And it says a lot about both of them. Love themmmm <333

– Sleeping headcanons: She sleeps on her stomach and snores.

– Favorite locations headcanon: This is so random but maybe pet stores. Maybe she likes petting the puppies. And if it's a rare pet store that has shrimp or snails I think she could like them.

Chaos

– Overall opinion of them: UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU. WHAT CAN I SAY. Like ok. I know he just seems like an average nerd character. And he's arrogant sure. And looks down on people all the time BUT he's so freaking funny and only gets funnier the more you think about him. The way he tries to seem logical but makes rash decisions ALL THE TIME just because he feels like it, and will also accept that just any supernatural thing is real. The way he's so cordial with insane and/or very dangerous people like MERKAVA and SETH. The way he casually implores Seth and Enkidu and anyone else to Please Not Fight Him. The way he tries so hard to not seem gay but is in fact so gay. He's constantly trying to get people to join Amnesia. He gave himself a dramatic villain name and decided he hated it like a month later. He's just so quietly and casually A CERTIFIED LITTLE WEIRDO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

His casual attitude in general is unironically so cool sometimes. Like I repeat he will go talk to the scariest people in this game like it's nothing to him. And often I do enjoy hearing him talk about his various intellectual interests and how much they mean to him ;~; It's a really good motivation also, you know? And I love his other major motivation... Gordeauuuuuuuu... it just really humanizes him to see him genuinely care so much about another person.

Also he is appearance-wise so so so so so so adorable *unhinges my jaw and bites him* And he pats his giant lizard dog on the head and speaks to him in the sweetest voice ever :)

I could say so many more things about Chaos lol I'm so happy that the writers for some reason decided to make sure he was showing up EVERYWHERE and waist-deep in the plot at all times and not just an accessory for Gordeau or Hilda he's so important and special <3 But he's also so irritating and annoying and unfair and evil and WHY DOES HE HOLD HIS GLASSES IN PLACE WHEN HE'S JUST WALKING AROUND????? UGHHHHHH

– Gender/sexuality headcanons: Cis bisexual man! ☀️💖💜💙☀️

– Favorite moment in canon: I CAN'T PICK AT ALL ACTUALLY I'M SORY. I'M WEAK. THERE ARE TOO MANY GOOD MOMENTS.

– Favorite moment in a fanwork: This art

– Favorite line, in canon or otherwise: Frick....... I'm obsessed with everything this man says that isn't just him insulting people. Sometimes the insults too. UMMM. Maybe it really is "But I digress, this lowly accoutrement to the beast is called Chaos," the beast being Azhi. I think that was the first line of his I saw that made me like "okay maybe I kinda love this character" LOL... not only did he actually humble himself, but he did it in the most pleasantly-phrased way possible. ARGHHHHHHHHHHH ;v;

– Characters I love seeing them interact with: HILDAAAAAA. And GORDEAUUUUU. And Enkidu and Seth <3

– Sleeping headcanons: Cuddle Gordeau often :') They also take turns waking each other up in the middle of the night with the dumbest randomest questions/comments/actions ever and getting annoyed at each other about it. Chaos started it.

– Favorite locations headcanon: HOME.

Strix

– Overall opinion of them: I'll copy-paste parts of something I told you one time bc I think it's a good summary of my feelings on her :)

STRIIIIIIIIIX…. She's so epic to me idk 💜 She's WAYYY deeper than she seems because average UNIB player will just see her and think of her as That Girl Who Follows Byakuya Around and maybe also conclude that she is his sister if they pay attention. BUT THEN YOU LOOK INTO THEIR STORY MODES AND REALIZE THERE'S A LOTTTT MORE TO HER SHE HAS HER OWN BACKSTORY AND MOTIVES COMPLETELY SEPARATE FROM BYAKUYA… tbh UNIB writing team kind of popped off on that one 😔 In fact as you once said, they popped off harder on her story-wise than they did on MANY OF THEIR ACTUAL PLAYABLE CHARACTERS LOL.

I love Strix's feelings, her motivation to save Zohar ;-; And I like her attitude. Elegant and stoic but quietly stubborn, determined, sarcastic, full of restrained anger.

– Gender/sexuality headcanons: LESBIANNN 💖💖

– Favorite moment in canon: When she recklessly stands up to Hilda during the fight between Bankikai and Amnesia.

– Favorite moment in a fanwork: This art!

– Favorite line, in canon or otherwise: "I don't really care about my power. I can lose it for all I care. The only reason why I'm in Bankikai is because of Zohar. If Zohar went to Amnesia, I would have went there too."

Also "...That was pathetic, even for you. I hope that soft brain of yours doesn't cost us both our lives." And so many other sassy things she says. She's a veritable fountain of contempt.

– Characters I love seeing them interact with: ZOHAR. And BYAKUYA (except when it's creepy).

– Sleeping headcanons: I got nothing :')

– Favorite locations headcanon: A grassy hill somewhere ^_^

#i didnt get to share any trans headcanons during this whole ask game! well shoutout to trans icons Hyde and Orie and Nanase right now :D #op #unib #asks #under night

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funnywiccanwritingcorner · 1 year

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Le Joyau le plus precieux

A Lucky Luke Modern!AU fanfiction

Chapter XIX - Showdown

-Are you comfortable?- Mason asked his two prisoners, tied with ropes on two chairs, back to back. They had taken them to a secret room located between what used to be the roof of the old base and the beginning of the tower foundation, a rather cold and bare place with concrete walls and a large air duct running along one wall.

-Now you're going to explain how you intend to eliminate us- Joe threw in. -Of course he will, it's a pretty common cliché- added Lucky. -You still have the will to be humorous. Either you're very brave, or very stupid.- -That line was obvious, too, wasn't it, Joe?- -True. And to answer you, Dorian, we're just sure we'll get away with it. Come on, Luke has eluded me for so long thanks to his shameless luck that I've learned not to underestimate it. You should, too.- -Your optimism and confidence are commendable, but I'm sure they'll abandon you once I tell you what I need... this for.- From a pocket under his jacket he took out a small black remote control with a button and a dull red bulb: -Can you guess what this is about, Detective?- -A remote control, it seems obvious to me.- -This will be tonight's grand finale. Do you know why the lift that runs up the tower does not stop before the top floor?- -Because it's empty all around, isn't it?- -That's right, Luke. Just beams and concrete above our heads. Apart from the bombs, of course.-

Dalton suddenly became serious: -What bombs?- -Once the auction is over, this place has to disappear. So I thought fireworks would be ideal.- -Build a place and then demolish it? You really have money to burn, Dorian!- exclaimed Luke. -And you will enjoy the show very closely, my dears. Because you will be here till the end.- He hid the remote control in his jacket again: -You still have about four and a half hours to live. You can entertain yourselves by counting the cracks on the wall.- He made to leave, but turned one last time to Lucky: -By the way, did you know that Ivor has a GPS microchip under his skin? And that therefore I knew he was stuck in Paris? Anyway, great idea to record false messages.- -You did just as well for a dog, then.- -He's my trusty right-hand man. I dread to imagine what you did to him to force him to talk. But I intend to get him out of trouble, and if a single one of your friends or relatives tries to stop me...- That tone of thinly veiled threat was enough to make Luke shake in his chair: -You wouldn't dare!- -I won't. My men will. Well, goodbye.-

Left alone, with the dull hum of the air duct in the background, Joe tried to communicate through his earpiece: -Nat? Pjotr? Can you hear me? Damn... There's no reception here at all... Maybe we're isolated or something.- -I swear, if he touches our families, he's going to pay dearly.- -That's not gonna happen, because we're gonna escape. Can you move your hands?- -No, my wrists are tied to the legs of the chair. How about you?- -The same. And they're tied pretty tightly too, damn it.- -Our only hope are Pjotr and Nat.- -Yeah. Just because the earpieces don't work now, doesn't mean they're not looking for us.- -... Joe.- -Yes?- -I have to agree with Mason on one thing. I got you into this, and now your life's in danger, too. I'm sorry.- -Stop it. You gave me a choice and I knew the risks; I voluntarily followed you here.- -But...- -Come on, I'm a cop, which is a dangerous job in itself! What do you want it to be, being tied up, getting stuck under tons of concrete, with the looming threat of being crushed to bits and in the company of a partner in a miniskirt and tights!- The latter made Lucky let out a laugh: -It's not the best, I'd say!- -Yes, but it would be worse to face this situation alone.- -Yeah. At least Mason didn't separate us.-

A momentary, strange silence fell, until Joe continued: -Did you mean it when you said you wanted to stay in Paris?- -Yes.- -So... you would stay with the company at the Moulin Rouge, as well as continuing to live with Cheyenne.- -Yes, but why-- -I don't want you to disappear, you know.- -Disappear?- -I mean... Apart from the fights and the chases, we also had fun. When we get back to Paris, well...- -Yes?- -You can keep bugging me, Luke.- -You mean you want us to keep... seeing each other?- -If you want to.- -Of course I do!- asserted the other, -So that's what you left hanging in the car earlier!- -Let me put it this way: when we manage to escape from here and kick Mason's ass, I wouldn't mind another dinner with getaway.- -Huh. We still have four hours and something to get out of this mess.- -We could use a razor blade or something very sharp... but this room is completely empty.-

A metallic thud suddenly resounded.

-Did you hear that, Joe?- -What?-

Another thud.

-Comes from the air duct.- -Those things often make noises like that...-

The grille that acted as an air vent on the duct crashed to the ground with a clang, along with a figure dressed in black who muttered something in Russian after the tumble.

-Pjotr!- exclaimed Lucky, -You don't know how glad I am to see you, my friend!- -Are you guys ok?- Taking a penknife from his belt he quickly freed them from the ropes: -Nat guided me to you; it wasn't easy since the signal is missing here.- -Yes, we are fine. But we don't have much time- answered Joe. Pjotr handed the black backpack on his shoulder to Luke: -Tell me everything while our friend changes. I think he's sick of high heels.-

Having briefly explained the situation to their friend, Lucky (back in male clothing with trousers, comfortable shoes and a blue pullover) concluded: -We must reach the top of the tower and stop the auction. Mason will not risk the lives of all his guests just to get rid of us.- -And once there? Did you see how many men he has at his disposal- objected Dalton, -There will be at least seven of them in there.- -If I had my gun, I could easily disarm them... But I made a serious mistake: it was in the handbag we lost in that jewellery room, and I doubt it remained there after our failed capture attempt.- -Talk about this?- With a slight sneer, Joe pulled the seven-shot mentioned by the other out from under his jacket. Luke was speechless: -How did you...?- -I hid it along with mine in case we needed it while we were in the lift with Mason. Luckily we weren't searched.- As he watched the former officer's surprised expression, the detective felt a certain satisfaction: it was obvious that the other hadn't expected this.

-Ah, Joe, you're great!!- Lucky hugged him, lifting him off the ground and making a short turn. -Come on, for so little...- he muttered, red in the face. -So little? You just increased our chances of success!- -Ok, OK, but put me down now...- -Guys, wait... We still have a problem- said Pjotr. -What is it?- the other two turned to him in unison. -Even if we manage to disarm the guards, there will be panic among the other guests. Mason could take advantage of the confusion to escape, and do svidaniya.- -He's right, Luke. We must first think of a way to lock him in that room.- -Uhm...- Putting Dalton down, Lucky pondered: -Nat had managed to get into their systems, right?- -Yes, and they haven't found out yet, as far as we know.- -Then let's get out of here and get back in touch with him as soon as possible. Pjotr, are you able to make the reverse route from the shaft to get us out?- -I think so.- -Let's go.- He grabbed the russian from under his arms and helped him up through the vent, and did the same to Joe, who then extended a hand for him to join them. Crawling into the vent, after several attempts the transmitters came back on: -Luke! Joe! Can you hear me? Pjotr!- -Nat!- -Joe! You're alive! I feared the worst! -Mason wanted to take us out quietly. I'll tell you all about it.-

On the top floor of the tower, Mason had the room rearranged to begin the auction. He looked out of a window, thoughtful: he hadn't lied about the items to be sold, he didn't much care who would win them, he just wanted to get rid of them. His father was a collector, but he had raised a businessman, who not only saw beauty but also knew how to evaluate its price. The reflection of one of his men appeared next to his on the surface of the glass: -We are ready sir.- -Good. Start bringing up the pieces, I'll join you in a moment.-

Meanwhile, after crawling through the air shaft for a while, Joe, Lucky and Pjotr managed to return to the outside of the tower, finding themselves behind it in the shelter of some wooden crates. -Nat, here we go. How is it going?- asked Dalton. -Give me a minute. These firewalls are tougher than expected.- -Please hurry up- added Luke, -The auction has already started.

Facing the guests seated in the comfortable padded chairs he had provided, Mason grabbed the microphone that one of his assistants was handing him and placed himself behind a pulpit from where he could beat with his mallet. As he delivered his opening speech, the three infiltrators reached the car park again and, passing between cars, found themselves near the entrance where two armed guards were watching the front door.

-We have to knock them out- whispered Joe. -I'll take care of them; you go to the control room- answered Pjotr. -Are you sure?- -I can do it.- He took some small metal balls from his backpack: -I recovered some equipment.- Lucky nodded: -We'll wait for you there, alright?- -Da. Go now, hurry.- He pressed a small button on the spheres and let them roll to the feet of the guards, who didn't see them until a thick whitish smoke began to come out of the two objects with a hissing noise and a powerful jet, enveloping the two armed men and causing them to cough loudly. The smoke allowed Joe and Luke to run to the other side of the car park, but one of the guards saw someone move and pointed his rifle in their direction. But Pjotr, thanks to the poor visibility, managed to reach him and knock him out by hitting him in the base of the neck with a karate chop, then giving the same treatment to the second guard who didn't understand what was going on and shouted in Russian looking for his colleague. They both found themselves unconscious on the ground; Pjotr quickly tied them up and dragged them to a hidden spot. Meanwhile, Dalton and Lucky had managed to approach the control room, where there was commotion, or so it seemed from the window overlooking the inner courtyard. -Nat, we got to where you told us, but there are at least six men and they seem pretty nervous- whispered Luke. -They're onto me; they're trying to throw me out of the system! Neutralise them, quickly!- With great speed, the two burst into the room, pointing their guns, and the former agent ordered the people present something in Russian. One of the group pulled his weapon out of the holster at his side, but was immediately disarmed by Lucky who repeated the order. Everyone put their hands above their heads.

The first piece, a 16th century painting, went under the hammer: -Sold at number ten for one million dollars!- announced Dorian, -We now move on to the second painting, an authentic Caravaggio that escaped a tragic fire in a German museum...-

Tying the six men up and locking them in a small room, Joe commented: -They are not very combative, are they?- Pjotr rushed up to them: -Guards set up!- -Good.- Luke deactivated the firewalls from the central computer: -What do you say, Nat?- -I'm in. I'm taking control of the main systems.- -We'll head up to the top of the tower.- The ex-agent stepped out and looked up, frowning: -And we're ending the game.-

-Sold at number thirty-four for ten million! -Mason concluded on the fourth beat, -The atmosphere is starting to heat up, gents, don't you think?- -You don't know how much, you scoundrel!- shouted a voice from the loudspeakers in the room. There was a general exclamation of surprise, and Dorian was petrified for a moment: -What the hell?-

-Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm. The control of this building is now in my and my friends' hands- continued the voice, as the lift opened to let Lucky and Pjotr into the room with guns drawn; the russian had borrowed a rifle from the guards: -FSB, you are under arrest Mason! For theft and illegal trade in works of art, kidnapping and attempted murder!- Dorian's guards grabbed their guns, but Lucky was quick to disarm them: -Stay back. And don't count on backup, the lift is blocked and the security system compromised. It's over, Dorian, you must surrender.- -You think you have the upper hand?- He slipped a hand under his jacket: -I'll blow up the tower if you two don't surrender instead.- -You won't. At least not as long as you stay up here too. Drop the remote and put your hands behind your head now!- -You don't have the authority, not anymore, to give me orders.- -But I do- said Pjotr again, -So obey.-

The criminal raised his hands, but did not let go of the remote control and instead placed it behind his own head, to prevent its eventual destruction: -Luke, this will not end well, and you know it. I only have to press this button to reduce everything to ashes. Even if by luck you were to survive, I don't think the same would happen to your friends.- -I've also considered that possibility.- Lucky lowered his weapon and held out his other hand, taking a step towards the criminal: -That's why I want to give you the chance to surrender nicely. Give me the remote control and let's get out of here without doing any more damage.- -Are you kidding me?- -Dorian, if you really understood your father's teachings you would not have asked me to kill a man just because he is a nuisance to your business.-

The other guests watched the scene without a word, not daring to make a movement. Pjotr remained motionless, ready at the slightest sign of danger.

-... My father would have accepted an honourable surrender, wouldn't he?- -I think so.- A sinister look appeared on his face: -But I am not my father.- He pressed the button on the remote control with his thumb and released it in a split second. Everyone held their breath, terrified, but nothing happened. Mason hissed: -Your time is down to ten minutes now. Choose, Luke: save your and these people's skins or stop me from escaping.- -Hey.- Joe, coming out of nowhere, tapped him on the side with his index finger: -You haven't considered that I'm there, too.- Quickly, he jumped on him and tackled him to the ground, fastening the cuffs on his wrists.

-Where did you come from?!?- Mason looked to his right: his bodyguards were piled up in a human mountain, dazed and moaning in pain. One had a clearly visible black eye. -You were too focused on Luke to notice me, weren't you? Air ducts are good shortcuts, and the one under the floor was very useful.-

-Pjotr, let's get these people out; you in the front row take the unconscious guards, and proceed calmly. Don't panic.- -Nat, the lift!- -Right away, Pjotr.- The hacker opened the sliding doors, and at a brisk pace, but without running, the first people entered the passenger compartment. One of them, however, turned around: -There is a crate of artwork there, what will happen to it if it all blows up?- -And the bunker??- added another, -There are other treasures down there!- -The bunker might withstand a nuclear attack...- mumbled Mason, -But everything will end up under the rubble anyway. And the crates are made of steel...- -Don't think about that now, you must get away!- insisted Lucky. The doors closed again.

-How much longer, Nat?- Joe asked. -You have eight minutes and fifty seconds to get out of there!-

Dorian took advantage of the detective's distraction to shake him off and attempt to run towards the lift, but Luke blocked him by tackling him to the wall with an arm at his throat: -Don't you dare.- -It's no use, you know? You won't leave this place alive...- -Eight minutes and thirty seconds!- -After they are all out it will be our turn. There's time.- -I don't think so...-

-Guys, there's a problem!- exclaimed Nat. -What problem?- -More guards are coming to the ground floor, I can see them from the cameras. They are letting people out of the tower; there are at least fifteen of them and they are well armed!- -Damn it...- Lucky muttered, -Don't give them time to get up there, ok?- -Roger.- -What's going on?- Dalton asked. -What, you didn't hear?- -I lost my earpiece because of this guy.- -We got company. We need a plan.- -How many?- -Fifteen men and as many guns.- -Let's use the lift doors for protection- Pjotr suggested, -We should be sheltered, no?- -You won't make it...- Mason hissed again. The sliding doors opened again, and the detective sent the second group of guests into the passenger compartment.

-We're up next... Nat!- -Seven and fifty minutes, Luke!- -If only the air shaft wasn't so narrow here, we could have used it as an alternative route and avoided a confrontation- commented Joe. -We have no choice.- Lucky removed his arm, dropping Dorian onto the floor: -You're lucky I'm not the type of person to use hostages as a shield.- -Too bad, there would have been fun to be had.- -Joe, Pjotr, take the crate with the paintings and seal it. It should hold, and in case we can retrieve it later.- The two nodded; Nat made himself heard again: -Seven minutes and twenty!- The lift returned.

-Everybody inside, come on!- Dragging their prisoner by weight, the group gathered in the cockpit, checking that their weapons were loaded and ready. -Guys, they're trying to cut me off again! Two men left and headed for the control room!- the hacker announced. -So there are thirteen left...- exhaled Pjotr. -Thirteen, huh?- The detective inserted the full cartridge into his own gun: -My lucky number.-

The armed men occupied every corner of the lobby. They had a good view of the lift doors; all that remained was for them to wait for the intruders, since all the guests had already been evacuated from the place. It was less than seven minutes before the explosion that their leader had largely anticipated.

The lift doors, which came rattling slightly, opened just a crack, and they pointed their rifles. They did not immediately realise that the barrel of an old pistol peeped through the crack; when they heard the sound of a shot, they jumped, but no one seemed to be hurt. However, shortly afterwards two men exclaimed expletives in Russian, and their rifles shattered in their hands. Someone started firing towards the lift, but another shot from inside the cabin disarmed another pair of soldiers in the same way as the previous ones.

-There are nine left!- exclaimed Joe peeking through the crack, loudly to drown out the deafening sound of bullets on metal. -Time's running out, cover me!- Luke replied, going to hit another rifle. Without letting it be repeated twice, Dalton took aim and sideswiped one of the men outside, who flinched, allowing the ex-agent to disarm him: -Minus eight!-

-You have five and a half minutes to leave!- Nat exclaimed into his earphones. Retreating to the shelter of the lift doors, Luke looked at Joe: -We have to risk a sortie.- -I've got your back.- -No. You stay behind with Pjotr and Mason.- -But...-

A second burst of shots rang out, and the russian looked up: -If I survive, I swear I will double my housekeeper's salary!- -You can't do this alone, Luke!- -I can, Joe, if I can borrow your gun. How many bullets you got left?- -Five, I think.- -Good. As soon as the doors open, you and Pjotr run for the exit with Dorian, I'll keep them busy.- -Forget it, I'm not leaving you behind!- -Five minutes!- insisted the hacker. -Joe, I'll catch up with you as soon as I can, but you have to go.- -Sure, those little plugs slip through people's fingers!- Mason said nastily, immediately shushed by the ex-agent: -Shut your mouth!-

-Guys, don't waste time arguing!- -Okay, Nat. On my signal, open the doors, all the way. Joe, if they try to stop you, don't hesitate to hit them hard.- -Sure...- -The gun, Joe.- The detective hesitantly handed him the weapon: -Are you ambidextrous?- -Yes. - -I never would have guessed... Hey, Luke.- -Hmm?- -Whatever happens, I want you to know... it's been a pleasure getting dragged into this mess with you.- -Mutual feeling.- -If we get out of this alive...- -We'll get out of this. And I promise I'll teach you how to dance, Joe.- -What??- -You heard me.- He smiled at him, reassuringly. -Oh, my goodness, get a room, you two...- Dorian muttered.

Lucky stood with his back against one wall of the cockpit, raising his guns: -Let's take a breath, gentlemen: we will remember this action for the rest of our days.- -If you can make it...- continued their prisoner, who was grabbed firmly by Pjotr so that he was on his feet and ready to run. -As soon as they stop firing... Nat, on my go you must open the doors as I told you. Are you there?- -Whenever you want.- The hail of bullets gradually ceased; let another two seconds pass Luke exhaled: -Go!-

When the doors opened, to the amazement of the men outside who had not yet finished reloading their rifles, Joe and Pjotr sprinted out, taking Mason with them, while Lucky, appealing to all his coolness and concentration, quickly aimed and fired at the soldiers' guns, which ended up with pieces of useless scrap metal in their hands. Dalton barely heard the pauses between shots, so quickly they had followed each other; an untrained ear could have been fooled and reduced the sound to a single shot.

At that point, some soldiers approached their opponent cautiously but also threateningly, while three others, who had remained behind, threw themselves in pursuit of the fugitives. Dorian noticed this, and purposely let himself fall forward to try and slow down the other two, but the detective grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him back up: -Oh no, you don't!- Pjotr pointed his rifle at their pursuers and shouted something in Russian, making them stop. They were only a few steps away from the entrance.

One by one, the men who had surrounded Lucky tried to beat him in hand-to-hand combat, but he managed to hold them off by dodging and striking back relying on some exceptional legwork. Nat announced that it was now four minutes until the explosion, so Pjotr, continuing to hold the three at gunpoint, turned to Dalton, stepping to the side: -Get Mason to the car, quick!- Dragging the prisoner by weight, Joe managed to carry him out; the russian walking backwards followed him, and so did their pursuers in an attempt to recover their leader. Luke meanwhile tried to make his way to the entrance, but as he knocked out one opponent immediately another stood before him.

Suddenly, a frightening roar went through the air; the detective had just reached the car with Dorian when that sound made him turn sharply and look upwards: the top of the tower had exploded, and in the flames chunks of concrete were coming down.

-No...We still had time...- -I must have miscalibrated the timers!- Mason said with a cackling laugh. Joe pushed him unceremoniously into the back seat, while Pjotr, seeing that the three soldiers had run away, got into the driver's seat and started the engine.

-Wait, where's Luke??- -I don't know!-

Another roar made them gasp.

-I'm not leaving without him!!- -We must get away or we will be swept away by the rubble!- -You go, I have to find him!- Dalton got out of the car and ran back. -Is he crazy?? He's gonna kill himself!!-

Joe ran with all the speed he was capable of, but the explosions followed relentlessly, filling the air with smoke and debris, cancelling out all sounds, until they reached the ground floor. The detective was knocked backwards by the shockwave like a straw; Pjotr was forced to move away so as not to be swept away in turn, but the blast still managed to jolt the car during the short run to the outside of the area.

Dalton, dazed, had ended up lying on the floor, face up. Gradually recovering, his vision blurred and a dreadfully high-pitched ringing in his ears, he tried to pull himself up to sit up, slowly. Automatically, he touched his head with his hand; when his surroundings came back into focus, he gasped for breath: the burning rubble was all that remained of the building, and high swirls of smoke made the air heavy. -Luke...- he murmured, rising slowly. He staggered for a moment, then tried again in a slightly louder voice: -Luke... Luke!- He began to wander through the piles of debris, calling with all the breath he had: -Luke!!! Where are you!? Answer me!!- Pjotr turned back with the car; he almost tripped over a stone: -Bozhe moy...- -Luke!!- Running from one side of the devastated place to the other, the detective rummaged everywhere in search of his missing friend. In Paris, Nat had been paralysed to helplessly witness the disaster, and stood waiting, terrified and with a lump in his throat.

Joe did not rest, he kept calling and digging through the debris with his hands, scraping his knuckles. Pjotr stood looking at him discouraged for a while before reaching out and trying to give him a hand in his desperate search. -You can't do this to me!- Dalton began to rant, -And not to your family either! Not now that it's over! Do you understand?!? Luke!- -Joe...- tried to say the russian, as the other moved on to a new pile: -You can't be dead! I refuse to believe it!- Pjotr caught up with him but did not dig in: -Joe.- -You are the luckiest man in the world, you can't be dead like this!- He grabbed what looked like a piece of ceiling with all his might, but there was nothing underneath. The other laid a hand on his shoulder: -I'm afraid that instead...- -No!- he growled, turning towards him: -He's here somewhere, I'm sure!- A moment of silence passed, and the detective's aggressive expression turned into a more pained one: -He can't be dead... You understand? He... He must return to Paris... With me... I promised...-

The russian lowered his gaze, gloomy, when a noise caught his attention: -But what...- He turned sharply to his right; debris was moving on its own above a pile of flat ceiling pieces. Dalton looked in the same direction, eyes wide, then ran at the sight of a hand emerging from the rubble waving for a grip, a hand followed by an arm wrapped in the tattered sleeve of a blue pullover.

#lucky luke #joyau #joe dalton #modern au #fanfiction

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satansphatass · 3 years

Text

Cold - Technoblade

Hello - this is my first post so if you see this follow me because I crave human validation 😎👍

I originally posted this on wattpad but nobody was interacting so I’m posting it here :)

Word count: 1800

Trigger Warnings: Blood/injuries

Pronouns: They/Them

Platonic/Angst/Whump

Summary: Y/n is injured and caught out in a snow storm - will anyone reach them in time?

***

The snow stung against y/n's skin, they were starting to become numb all over from a combination of blood loss and the cold. They had been trekking along since the end of the war in L'manburg; which wasn't ideal seeing as they had been pierced by a piece of debris from the explosion.

The shock of Wilbur and Techno's betrayal stung more than the physical pain itself - they needed to get away, have a fresh start. They didn't tell anyone they were leaving and they doubted anyone had even noticed. Y/n had no clue where they were going and had had the misfortune of ending up in the snow.

The cold was really starting to have an effect on their body, their skin had a waxy look to it and they were shaking like a leaf due to the lack of a jacket - again, another big mistake on their part. If they didn't find anywhere dry and warm soon they feared that they would either bleed out or freeze to death - neither of which were very nice options. Their crisp white shirt was soaked through with crimson, they weakly tried pressing their hands up against the wound only for them to come away slick with blood.

As they pushed themselves up from the ground a spark of pain shot through their body causing them to sink even deeper into the snow; on second thoughts, maybe a nap wouldn't be so bad - the snow was nice and comfy after all. They curled up and slowly lost consciousness.

***

Techno continued on his horse Carl, searching for his home that had secretly been in the works for months, it was hidden far away from L'manburg - he doubted that they wanted to see him after the little stunt that him and Wilbur had pulled. It was located by a village in a snowy land that he had just entered; he pulled his large cloak closer to him, it was thick and kept him warm even during the harshest winters.

He was starting to approach the forest near his home when he saw a small pink stain to his right, thinking it could be an animals print he approached. He jumped off of Carl and peered down at it - it looked to be a footprint, but nobody knew where he lived. That wasn't right.

He peered up to see more going up over a snow mound, he followed the trail to see them getting crisper and darker, they eventually joined together to make a continuous line of blood - these were clearly fresh, but the question was, who or what had caused them?

He made it to the top of the mound and looked down to see the trail lead to a large crimson stain against the fresh snow. He picked up speed and saw a mop of (hair length and colour) hair - he recognised that, it was y/n. What on earth where they doing out here?

He ran towards them in a state of panic - how long had they been here?! He fell to his knees beside them and flipped them onto their back. Their skin had a greyish-blue tint to it and frost had formed on their eyebrows and lashes. He unclasped his cloak and went to scoop them up when he was suddenly hit by the severity of the situation - they were bleeding out fast, like REALLY fast. He pushed his hands against the wound; even their blood was ice cold. He felt something nudging his shoulder and whipped around to see Carl by his side.

He weighed out his options and carefully wrapped them up in his cloak, the deep red a stark contrast to the fresh snow. He sat atop of Carl and rode into the forest with them in his arms. The silence was all of a sudden eerie and crushing compared to the peace he felt from it earlier. The trees sped past him in a blur and he finally made it to his quaint wooden cottage, he tumbled to the ground in a panic and dismounted y/n from his noble steed.

***

Y/n lay there in the snow: it seemed more solid than before, and warmer, and- where were they? This definitely wasn't how they remembered it, the cold was no longer wrapping its death grip fingers around them, they no longer felt stinging on their front - infact they felt pressure wrapping round their middle.

They forced their eyes open slowly, that really did not help with the pounding in their skull. They gazed around the room, they could faintly make out a shape in the corner - it looked to be a rapier, they weren't interested in getting on this persons bad side. They didn't know where they were and were starting to panic - who had done this?

They could make out the faint shape of bandages by their waist, unfortunately their shirt was still stained - whoever had done this couldn't have even cleaned their shirt or something smh. Pick a struggle.

They pulled the blanket closer to them, it was very comfortable; it was quite heavy and had a fur trim around the edge almost like Techno's--

Nononono- they couldn't be here. He had betrayed everyone. They had trusted him - to some extent anyways. They sat up abruptly - not smart. They let out a gasp of pain, the dark threatened to consume their vision. They placed a hand on the edge of the mattress to steady themself. After much trial and error they managed to sit upright.

They calmed themselves enough to take another look around the room. There were a few worn maps on the walls showing L'manburg and its surrounding areas - their heart ached at the sight of the familiar structures; party island, the podium, the various towers dotted all over the land - all gone, all blown up.

There was a small fire illuminating the dark room, and also the mass on the floor. Their blood ran cold - colder than it already was anyways - y/n had hoped for some time to leave before he got back. Luckily he was asleep on the floor and was a relatively deep sleeper. They slowly but surely pushed themselves up from the bed and wobbled towards the door, leaning on the walls for support. This was perfect, they would be able to make it away before he even woke up!

"What are you doing?"

Ah- turns out he wasn't a deep sleeper, that was a fatal flaw in the plan.

They slowly turned around to see a sleepy but amused Technoblade stood in the middle of the room staring at them.

"Uhh- I was going on a walk." 👀🤠

"Is that so?"

....

"Yup."

They started aggressively coughing, the speaking hurting their cold and sore throat.

"Get back in bed, you need to rest," >:(

"I'm fine, I don't need to rest - resting is for the weak."

"Everyone has to rest, even I rest."

"That's because your weak."

He stared them in the eyes, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

👁👄👁

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yeh."

"Get in bed."

"No."

"Yes."

It went on like this until he started to walk towards them - slightly pissed off. He picked them up and placed them onto the bed.

"I don't need to rest!"

As soon as they said that, coughs wracked their body.

"You sure about that?"

They quickly tried to sit up to run off while his guard was down - but he pushed them back down as soon as they attempted anything. He held their arms down so that they couldn't escape, they tried wriggling free but to no avail. They quickly gave up.

"As much as I want you to rest right now, it's freaking me out that I can hold you down this easily."

"What are you talking about- I'm" their sentence was interrupted by more coughing "-super -strong"

He gave them a skeptical look not buying a word of their bullshit.

"I'm gonna go get you some water for that cough, you stay right here - okay?"

They nodded.

He walked off and climbed down the ladder.

They crawled out of the bed, ignoring his very clear rules and made their way over to the map of L'manburg on the wall. They stroked the coarse paper littered with so many of their favourite places - the forest where they liked to make flower crowns for everyone, the cliff top where they could think about life and how it's so very meaningless. 😶

Y/n sunk to the floor; tears threatening to spill from their eyes. It was so unfair, a beautiful nation destroyed by power hungry people. They had no idea whether Wilbur was still alive, they never saw him after the explosion. They missed him, they missed the land before the government - where they would all dance to Wilbur's songs around the campfire speaking nothing of governments and laws.

"Y/n?"

Techno walked up behind them and hesitantly placed a hand on their back, not knowing what to do because, social situations are awkward dude - am i right?

"You good?"

They whipped around slamming their fist into his chest in a futile attempt to hurt him,

"It's all your fault!" They said through tears, "We trusted you!"

He took their fists in his hands, staying silent while they had their tantrum. They soon grew tired; slumping into his chest, staining his shirt with their tears. They stayed their for a while, his embrace warm but his attitude still cold.

***

I did not proof read so if there is a section that got deleted or some shit then just let me know 🧍‍♂️

Please send me requests people (no smut/nsfw) - make sure to include pronouns pls.

#mcyt x reader #technoblade x reader #x reader #mcytumblr #idk

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fenristheorem · 3 years

Text

New Era Lance Headcanons

I told myself I wouldn’t do this before episode 4 came out... but here I am.

I originally wanted to wait until ANE episode 4 was out to post any of my own headcanons for Lance, but I know they had a fire at one of their locations recently and that has delayed the release of the episode (my heart goes out to them), so I figured I should just go ahead and post some headcanons because I’ve been dying to do so.

~Headcanons under the cut because these are long~

General:

Twice a year, on their birthday and the anniversary of his death, Lance brings Floppy (because I theorize he adopted Floppy) to visit Valkyon’s grave. Really, this can happen at nearly any time of the year - but seeing as Lance is busy as Chief of Obsidian Guard, he can’t always make time to visit his brother’s grave. However, Lance always makes sure to find time to visit the grave with Floppy on these two special dates. He'll even specifically ask Huang Hua to try and make sure his schedule isn't too busy on these two days. He never says why, but it's not hard to guess.

Lance occasionally talks out loud... to his brother... distantly hoping that - despite the fact that he’s dead - Valk will somehow hear him and by some miracle respond to his brother. He doesn’t do this very often, only when he finds himself caught in a low moment where he feels truly isolated from everyone and the ache to have his brother by his side again echos through him like thunder through a mountain valley, but when he does it means he really needs the comfort. No one in the guard knows this about him; he makes sure that he never does this in public or where anyone could find him doing this. Valkyon’s death effected nearly everyone in the guard, but Lance was still his brother and doesn’t believe most people would understand the full extent of his regrets and, further more, his ways of coping with this great loss.

Lance never visited the re-formed crystal created by Leiftan and Erika. Not once - in all 7 years. He never felt he had the right to because this situation and all his pain was primarily caused by him and, therefore, he needs to bear the pain as part of taking responsibility for his actions. The crystal room became a symbol of hope and forging forward into a new era, and while Lance is grateful for being given a chance to redeem, he's aware that he has a long way to go before he has made up for everything he's done, if he ever could. He feels he needs to find his own hope from within and help guide the guard with it, not rely on the guard and the new crystal to provide him with hope for the future.

Romantic:

Lance is very used to being alone by now. Because of this, he keeps his romantic partner at a distance when they first start off. It’s not that he’s not interested - it’s just that he’s settling into the idea that someone actually wants to be closer to him after everything he’s done, especially the woman he threw off a cliff. He’s not entirely sure how to react to a woman finding romantic interest in him, hell he’s not even sure he deserves it. It's been years since he's allowed himself to consider romantic companionship, so he's widely used to being his own rock. However, once they’ve been together for a while, he’ll trust himself (and her) a bit more and actually allow himself to be a bit more comfortable and minorly impulsive around her. Slowly he’ll allow himself to throw a few jokes around, he’ll allow himself to share his opinion on things around her more, and he’ll find it a little easier to smile each day. Now he’s not one to hide his emotions, but he certainly keeps himself in check to avoid causing damage or pain as he's painfully aware that heavy emotions can influence people. However, this disappears when he begins to trust his partner more; he's less hesitant and more confident that she won't shun him for having strong emotions and opinions on certain things.

Once they’ve been together for a while and his romantic partner has effectively torn down the walls of isolation he built around himself, she’ll find he’s... a bit territorial. After all, he’s allowing himself to become attached to someone for the first time in years; why wouldn’t he be attentive and watchful with his newfound companion? He’s not openly aggressive towards others when jealous or feeling territorial (in the rare case that he is, as he’s learned later on in the relationship that he has nothing to be insecure about), he refuses to bring that sort of disruption to the guard, but he’s certainly not above throwing Guardienne over his shoulder (without his armor on, of course) when he’s reminded of a moment earlier in the day where another man seemed to be just a bit too interested in what she was saying. Pair that with a kind, naive smile from her and a few jokes, and perhaps an encounter with a Leiftan at some point, and you have the perfect combination for a semi-jealous ice dragon who suddenly craves attention from his lover. He’ll take her over his shoulder and saunter over to the nearby bed in who-ever’s room they’re in, lay her gently down and rest himself beside her, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her close to his chest as they settle in to stay like that for minutes to hours depending on how long they have together. She better not hope to leave anytime soon then. Unless they have somewhere to be, Lance is unlikely to let her go for any reasons; he wants her attention and he's going to get it.

Lance is an ice dragon. This is well known by now and he's proud of his heritage. However, with this also comes all the responsibility of being an ice dragon; specifically the instincts. This is also something his partner needs to learn to deal with if they hope to maintain a relationship with him, because he's certainly not about to rebuke himself for having natural instincts (unless it truly begins to become a problem or he accidentally hurts someone). These instincts can range from being very territorial and possessive at certain times and situations, to keeping a special watch on her to make sure she isn't hurt at times where she could be prone to it, or treating her like a living goddess merely because the mood strikes him and he wants to show appreciation for her presence. These are only a few examples. When do these instincts hit hardest? He's still trying to figure that out, seeing that he hasn't been with anyone for a while. However, they can effect him in different degrees. Some days he'll hold her for an extra five minutes longer before she leaves to hang out with Mathieu, Koori and Karenn, other days he'll request that Huang Hua allow him to escort her on a minor mission in the forests surrounding HQ because he wants to do everything he can to protect her and give them time alone together. If they're interrupted on their mission by someone else, Lance will be deathly quiet and still as his partner and the newcomer carry on their conversation, only speaking when spoken too, and he won't be mean, but internally he'll be quite irritated at the fact that their alone-time is being interrupted when he planned for them to be alone for a while. Ideally, his partner will pick up on his distance and wrap up the conversation, and once the newcomer leaves Lance won't hesitate to take his partner by the wrist (gently) and briskly drag her away from the direction of her conversational partner. When he feels they're far away enough, he'll abruptly turn around and press her against a tree, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her neck with a faint growl. The best thing his partner can do in this time is hold him. He doesn't need comfort or reassurance, he just needs time alone with her. However, that's one of the extremes of his instincts. Most of the time he acts on subtle instincts. He'll pull her into a secluded corner of the guard for a few minutes to talk privately and share a few kisses, or he'll be passing by and see something in the market that she said she needed, or perhaps he sees something he thinks she'll look good with or he knows she'll like, and then track her down after purchasing to gift his find to her. At the end of the day, he just wants her to know he appreciates her, and when the sudden urge to do something with or for her strikes he has a hard time letting it go. And while Lance is very independent and doesn't wish to oppress or suffocate his partner, his instincts can become a bit overbearing at certain times. All his partner needs to do is confide in him about this and he'll try and make them a bit more comfortable (after all, his instincts tell him to care for her before anything else) but she will need to try and tolerate this as much as possible, if it's even an issue to begin with. However, Lance is quite confident that she'll enjoy the intimate side of his instincts more often than the domestic instincts, no matter how she feels about the domestic side...

I’m considering making Lance headcanons a routine post on my page - maybe one or two posts every couple of days. I have a few more headcanons that I can post, and I’m sure I’ll have more after ep. 4 is out, but I’m always open to writing specific headcanons upon request.

Have a request? Ask them here!

But first, please read the rules list for asks!

#eldarya #Eldarya ANE #eldarya lance #Eldarya Lance ane #fenristheorem writing #eldarya lance headcanons

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lafourmii20 · 3 years

Note

That prompt list is so hard to choose from! Lots of good stuff on there!

Couldn’t go past #54 though for ironfroststrange! (Please and thank you 😊)

Thank you for the ask @knightryder24 🥰 I had a lot of fun writing for this prompt. It's probably not what you had in mind, but I hope you like it!

Sorry it took me so much time to answer. I hope that the fact it is 2k long (which is way more than my other answers to the intimacy prompts) will make up for it.

~~~

frostironstrange, tony stark, stephen strange, loki, morgan stark, fluff and awkwardness, chaste kissing, getting together

~~~

Date night was awkward. Well, what was he expecting, really? He invited Loki and Stephen to have dinner with him. The God of Mischief and the Sorcerer Supreme, together, in the same room with mere mortal Tony? Yeah, it was a sure recipe for trouble.

“More dessert?” he asked with not a small amount of unease.

“Oh, I would love to take your dessert, darling,” Loki purred suggestively, with glinting eyes and smirking lips, and there was no way he was talking about the chocolate cake offered to him.

Tony gulped.

“Thank you, Tony,” Stephen replied softly, taking a piece for himself and another for Loki, thankfully cutting through Loki’s aggressive flirting.

Tony lost himself for a second in Stephen’s mesmerizing blue-green eyes, took a little strength from the wizard’s calm demeanor, then shook his head. No, this was still a terrible idea. What was he thinking inviting them in his house?

Well, truth be told, it wasn’t his idea. Stephen suggested it, and Loki approved. So really, if anyone was to blame for the poor night they were all having, it wasn’t Tony.

But maybe it wasn’t such a bad evening. Sure, there were awkward silences, uneasy glances and shy blushes. But there were also good wine and great Asgardian ale. They talked about magic and science and technology, Asgardian customs that should be abandoned forever, and others that would do great to Earth societies. They discussed life, love, family and relationships.

They talked about their relationship.

Their weird relationship wasn’t exactly a new thing. They’d been dancing around each other for months now. Since Thanos, they had been getting closer and closer together. Tony just had to meet the Sorcerer who orchestrated everything and helped them to win. After screaming at him with all the strength of his lungs for not telling him what the plan was, Tony understood and tried to get to know the man better. They got along far better than he ever dared to imagine.

Tony met Loki in totally different circumstances. With a whole ass alien nation now settling on Earth, Tony got involved in the smooth integration of New Asgard. That was where he got to know Loki, and the mischievous God carved a place into his heart scarily quickly, if he were honest.

What he discovered with these two men was beautiful, just as broken as Tony was, but glorious (as Loki would love to say). It was a deep friendship that slowly evolved into something else, into something more.

Tony would never forget the day he held Stephen’s hand for the first time, carefully cradling his trembling fingers between his own. The trust in Stephen’s eyes took his breath away.

The strong hug he shared with Loki one afternoon, was also etched into his memory, a fond time and a show of vulnerability like no other. It was truly glorious.

Tony also knew Loki and Stephen exchanged a chaste kiss at the Sanctum, even though he didn’t know the details. He just found it infinitely endearing. But it brought some difficult questions to his mind.

“Why would I have to choose only one of you, when I adore you both?” Loki had asked incredulously one day, when Tony broached the subject of their weird three-way relationship. Then, the Asgardian seemed to remember. “Oh, I see. Your Midgardian’s customs limit your view on the matter. In Asgard, a relationship is only what the people involved want it to be. Be it between a man and a woman, or two men, or two women, or more than two people and all the combination you could ever imagine.”

“So what do you want?” Tony had asked.

Loki only answered with a broad devilish smile.

Stephen suggested the dinner date the next day, and Loki approved immediately. And there they were. In this awkward situation, navigating the troubled water of a brand new relationship. Tony was about to embark on a relationship with not only one, but two magical men, and his head was spinning. In anticipation. In fear. Elation. Love too.

Double the love, who would have thought, uh?

“How about we move this to a more comfortable location?” Loki asked, bringing Tony back to the present. “The couch, maybe?” He arched his eyebrows suggestively again, and Tony lost his words (again) turning bright red. The God of Mischief was really good at making Tony blush these days. Damn. Tony was losing all his smooth flirting when he was with them.

“Sure,” he said. Jeez, that was so lame. He definitely was losing his cool with them. “You go there,” he gestured toward the living room, “I’ll make coffee and tea for Stephen. Our good doctor can’t end an evening without his chamomile tea, the fiend. I’ll take care of it.”

Stephen rolled his eyes, but simply smiled at Tony’s antics, and he left the table with Loki, guiding him through the house with a gentle hand on the small of his back.

The gesture was overwhelmingly delicate and tender, and fondness surged through Tony’s heart.

Too much, it was too much.

Finally alone after all the awkwardness and tension, Tony breathed out, paused for one second, before getting in motion again. He couldn’t stay still and let his brain do his overthinking thing. Except, he couldn’t stop thinking as he made the drinks on autopilot, too focused on his own thoughts (and the two Sorcerers casually sitting on his couch) to care about what his hands were doing.

What the hell was he doing? After all the hardship in his life, he couldn’t settle for a simple retirement plan in his cabin by the lake, with Morgan, and Pepper? Well, Pepper wasn’t exactly here anymore. They couldn’t make it work together and that was sad, but it was life, right? Life sucked. But they had found a balance, between her new job in New York and his simple life by the lake, and their amazing daughter to raise. It wasn’t ideal, but it seemed to work for them.

And now, Tony wanted to complicate all this delicate balance with this new and weird relationship?

What was he thinking?

“Hey.” Stephen’s gentle voice interrupted Tony’s spiraling thoughts, and a shaking hand landed on his shoulder.

Tony turned to face the other man. The hand, still on his shoulder, calmed him a little, silenced his thoughts.

“Hi,” Tony whispered.

Stephen’s lips curled into a tender smile that warmed Tony’s heart. Red tinted his sharp cheekbones, from the wine and the Asgardian ale they shared earlier. His eyes glinted, maybe because he kissed Loki again on the couch while waiting for Tony. Oh, how he would love to join them and shut the voices in his head telling him this was a bad idea.

“Are you okay?” Stephen asked in his deep voice. “Is it too much, for you? We can leave if you want to. We would understand.”

“No!” Tony immediately blurted out. His hand came up to hold on to Stephen’s wrist. He was careful not to grip the fine bones too tight, and to avoid the delicate scarred fingers, but he couldn’t let go, couldn’t let Stephen (and Loki) leave him. He wanted them here, with him. Forever.

“Stay, please,” he finally said. “It’s just… It’s a lot. But I want you here.”

Tony’s heart fluttered at Stephen’s answering smile, the softest and loveliest curl of his lips. And his eyes shone so bright with affection. Maybe love?

Tony gripped Stephen’s wrist in his hand, drew him closer while getting on his tiptoes. There, he left a gentle kiss on Stephen’s cheek. A surprised yet pleased sound escaped Stephen’s lips and Tony couldn’t wait to hear all the beautiful noises he could get from this man. Loki would probably be impossible to shake, but maybe he might help Tony to fluster Stephen? That would be lovely. Tony couldn’t wait to have both men with him, in his bed, and suddenly he wasn’t so afraid of this whole situation anymore.

“Let’s go find Loki, before he burns my house to the ground,” he said.

“Absolutely,” Stephen laughed before putting his arm around Tony’s waist, and making his way to the living room.

Which was empty when they arrived.

“Lokes?”

Tony’s heart dropped. Did Loki leave? Did he already get tired of them and just left?

But then, Tony heard a high-pitched giggle and a low voice from the bedrooms. He frowned, then hurried upstairs, Stephen on his heels. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Loki. But he wasn’t sure how the God of Mischief would handle his daughter, and Tony wasn’t ready to take any risks with his sweet little Morgan.

But when he peeked through her bedroom door, Tony’s heart melted. Morgan was in her bed, carefully tucked under the covers. Loki sat on the floor beside her bed, a book on his lap, his soft voice lulling her to sleep with a story. Except, every few sentences, he stopped, made a comment about the improbability of the tale, or how his own adventures were far more interesting, and Morgan giggled with him. It seemed like she was getting less and less sleepy, completely defeating the purpose of the bedtime story in the first place.

Tony melted.

“What are you doing up, little miss? It’s past your bedtime, you should be sleeping.”

“Loki is reading me a story.”

He could see that. The great God of Mischief felt utterly out of place on the floor of the little room painted in all sorts of bubblegum-pink shades Morgan loved so much.

“The little munchkin wanted a bedtime story. I thought it would amuse her greatly to hear the story of how I defeated the great enemies of Asgard, but she wanted me to read this book instead.” He showed them the title and Tony repressed a giggle of his own—it was just too hilarious to imagine Loki reading a children’s book.

“This little red riding hood story is particularly gruesome. I love it,” Loki commented with a wide and devilish smile.

“It’s great,” Morgan commented from the bed. “But he’s not doing the voices.”

Loki pouted and this time, Tony truly laughed.

“Come on, darling,” Stephen said joining Loki on the floor. “You have to do the voices. I’ll be the wolf, you’ll be the grandma.”

Loki looked disgusted.

“Tony can be the grandma.”

“Sure, I’ll be the grandma. I have a mug that says ‘Best Grandma in the world’ in the kitchen’s cabinet, anyway.”

“Come here, Grandma,” Stephen gestured to him laughing.

Tony joined them on the floor. They were truly ridiculous, three grown men sitting on a pink carpet, with a children’s book between them. But Morgan was smiling with all her missing tooth and Tony was feeling all fuzzy inside. Like he was at the right place.

Finally.

Maybe the three of them together wasn’t such a bad idea.

Reading a fairytale with three opinionated men was a disaster. They were all reading atop of each other, commenting on the other voices — ‘The grandma isn’t that weak, Tony.’ ‘Yes she is, that’s why she gets eaten.’ ‘Spoiler alert!’ ‘Oh come on doc, you don’t have to make your voice so deep.’ ‘Show off.’ ‘Lokes, you’re cheating.’ ‘I’m not.’ ‘Using magic is cheating.’ ‘It sets the atmosphere.’ ‘Show off.’ ’Shut up, wizard.’

And yet, Morgan was smiling, Tony too, and when his daughter eventually fell asleep—by some miracle even his genius brain couldn’t explain—he was smiling even wider.

Maybe—definitely—this relationship wasn’t such a bad idea. So instead of ushering Loki and Stephen and their awkwardness from the beginning out the door, Tony led them to his bedroom. And what they did behind the closed door was only the beginning of their relationship.

~~~

Inspired by this intimacy prompt list (my ask box is still open for prompts (or anything else), just know that it might take me some time to answer prompts because I have other projects I need to focus on right now)

Prompts filled: 3. touching foreheads (ironstrangefrost) 7. kissing scars (ironstrange) 23. wearing someone’s clothing (ironstrange) 29. kissing while mad (ironstrange) 30. being protective (drpepperony) 47. cuddling under blankets (ironstrangefrost) 54. reading a book together (ironstrangefrost) 59. height difference (ironstrange)

Currently working on:

#ironstrangefrost #loki #tony stark #stephen strange #intimacy prompts #fluff

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kieraswriting · 3 years

Text

Coffin Chapter One

Masterpost

Patton was only slightly surprised when the package arrived, and it turned out to be a coffin covered in thick cloth.

Roman was very excited, even helping the delivery men to bring it inside and set it on the living room floor.

Logan seemed excited as well, though he expressed his in a different way. He was the first to find the packet on the cover of the coffin.

‘As you know, this is the final test.’ Logan read aloud. ‘Inside the coffin is a live vampire. Do not open the coffin until you’ve studied the instructions carefully. This test takes place over the course of one (1) year.’

“A year?!” Roman yelled. “We have to wait a whole year?! I thought we were almost done!”

Logan continued reading. ‘There are four possible outcomes to this test. The first is that you let the vampire escape and cannot recapture it or kill it. In that event, you will be put through the entire training course again.’

“Well, obviously that’s not happening. We know better than that.” Roman said.

‘The second is that, for whatever reason, you find it necessary to kill the vampire. In that event, you will need to retake the final test.’

Roman frowned, but didn’t comment.

‘The third outcome is that you keep the vampire safely subdued for the duration of the test. In that event, you will have passed the test, and will become hunters.’

“Wait, if we pass the test on three, what’s four?” Roman asked.

“I am still reading,” Logan said. ‘The final outcome is that you train the vampire such that it can be useful in hunting. In that event, you may keep the vampire in your team as you become hunters. If you wish to pursue this outcome, there are resources which detail previously effective methods of training.’

“I guess it would depend on whether or not this vampire actually wants to help though, wouldn’t it?” Patton said.

‘The vampire now in your possession has not eaten in the last 2-4 weeks, dependent on your location and shipping speed. Many vampires become more violent when hungry, so don’t release it until it has been fed.”

“How are we supposed to do that?” Roman muttered, looking at the coffin.

“It appears that the rest of the packet is situational instructions,” Logan said. “I can read it more quickly silently, and will give it to you when I’m done.” He sat down on the couch, flipping through the pages of the packet.

Patton joined Roman in staring at the coffin. He knocked softly on the lid. There was a very slight rustle from the inside, but no knock back.

“I think we can open it,” Patton said. “If it doesn’t knock back I don’t think it can move.”

“Or it could just be stubborn.” Roman countered.

“Either way, we should first get some blood,” Logan said.

“I can give some, I haven’t given in quite a while.” Patton offered.

“It is suggested to give no more than 6 oz at a time,” Logan said, paraphrasing from what he was reading. “This amount will reduce violent tendencies, while not allowing the vampire to reach its full strength, keeping it more docile.”

Patton nodded.

•^*^••

Pain and hunger. That was all his life was. All it had been for forever it seemed. It couldn’t really be forever, since he could still remember before, but it felt like it.

He had only recently been turned, just two years, and wasn’t even really accepted quite, but it still felt like his heart had been dragged out of his chest and crushed when he had seen the hunters kill his sire. He had tried to hide, but they pulled him out and clamped manacles over his wrists that burnt as if they were glowing red.

He’d been muzzled, and blindfolded, and put into a box with cuffs around his wrists and ankles, and left to rot. Only once had they opened the box. They’d taken off the muzzle, and given him a pitifully small amount of blood. Then they’d put the muzzle on again, ignoring all his pleas, and he’d been left in the box alone in the dark again.

Even if he’d been unrestrained, or had the strength to move, his wrists and ankles hurt too badly to try to respond to the knock on the coffin. His heart was beating wildly, despite not having much blood to move around, absolutely thrilled that the coffin might be opened. Even if it was just short again. He’d heard the instructions. All they would have to do was leave him here. It would be the easiest way to pass their test. But he hoped desperately that they wouldn’t.

He’d do anything to get out, and he’d do even more to stay out. He do their training thing. He’d even help them hunt other vampires.

Please. Please just open the coffin.

•^*^••

It didn’t take long to draw blood, but Patton still shuddered and wished it to be over. He didn’t like having to see it. He kept his head turned away until Roman told him it was done.

“I’ll give it the blood, and you can open the coffin and make sure it doesn’t try to attack, ok?”

Patton nodded.

He and Roman knelt by one side of the coffin, and he unlatched the lid and swung it open. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, maybe an older vampire, maybe one that looked meaner, definitely he had expected the only restraints to be made of rope. Not this. The vampire looked to be just sixteen, and flinched as soon as the lid was lifted. It was blindfolded, despite already being in a dark coffin, and muzzled, and…

“Are these silver?” Patton said in a horrified whisper.

Roman turned to look at him, his eyes just as wide. “Maybe it’s really dangerous.” His voice was also a hoarse whisper.

The vampire shook its head, and its hands started trembling, bringing Patton’s gaze back to the raw, open, weeping flesh under and around the manacles holding his limbs down.

“Don’t,” Roman said, putting an arm out to stop Patton from moving forward. “It could just be trying to manipulate us.”

“I cannot see from my position, but what Roman says is indeed likely.” Logan chimed in.

The vampire shook its head again, and Patton saw a tear slip out from under the blindfold and run down into its hair.

“It-- no, he’s hurting. I don’t care if it’s manipulation, I’m not leaving him in here.” Patton said firmly. “There are other things we can do to keep him contained.”

The vampire’s chest shook, and more tears ran out of the blindfold. The broken sounds coming from behind the muzzle pierced directly into Patton’s heart. He leaned forward and lifted the vampire’s head slightly, so he could undo the blindfold and the muzzle. He pulled the blindfold off gently, despite the fact that it was rather stuck to the vampire’s face. He caught a brief glimpse of brown eyes, before they were shut tight against the light of the room. Then he lifted the muzzle. He was more quick with this one, aware that the vampire could still lunge forward and try to bite at his hands.

“Thank you,” the vampire said, his voice hoarse and gravely. More tears slipped out from his closed eyes.

Roman found the key, and started undoing the manacles. Logan got up and stood behind them, also watching. Patton took the abandoned bag of blood, pointedly ignoring his stomach, which threatened to toss all of his lunch into the ground, and held it to the vampire’s mouth.

The vampire bit down on it, and the bag was drained in less than a minute. Roman had freed the vampire’s legs as well now, and the vampire was trying to open his eyes.

“Feeling any better?” Patton asked.

The vampire nodded, trying to look at him, but his eyes kept twitching shut.

“Now that it’s fed, we need to put the muzzle back on.” Logan insisted, handing it to Patton.

Patton set a hand on the vampire’s chest first, so he could stop him if he tried to sit up, and then laid the muzzle over his face. The vampire didn’t struggle a bit, and even lifted his head for Patton to tie the back of the muzzle back on. He was entirely unlike any vampire Patton had ever come across. And he had come across quite a few by now.

“You can sit up now if you want,” Patton offered.

The vampire slowly and painfully pulled himself upright. He hunched forward, tucking his hands by his stomach.

“What do we do now?” Roman asked.

“Seeing as the ideal outcome to this test requires the vampire to be complicit, I would suggest that we first determine whether or not it is willing to be trained.”

The vampire nodded. Patton suddenly felt bad that they were talking about him and not to him.

“You are willing to be trained?” Logan clarified.

The vampire nodded again.

“Are you aware of what all that entails?”

The vampire shook his head slowly.

“Then what if we tell you to do something you don’t want to?”

The vampire hesitated, and then tapped the muzzle.

“You’ll bite us?!” Roman asked.

The vampire shook his head violently, shrinking down into himself. He tapped the muzzle again, softly.

“Oh!” Patton got it. He ran downstairs, and picked up a different muzzle. This one was made of bars, instead of solid leather, and left more room for a jaw to move, while still protecting against biting. He ran back upstairs. “How about this? Then you can talk to us.”

The vampire nodded, and stuck his head out when Logan reached for the straps of the other muzzle. Logan was practiced at this, trading muzzles too quickly to allow for any kind of biting. But the vampire didn’t try to do anything, just sat there, tipping his head forward to where Logan could reach it easily.

“There. Now, will you explain yourself?” Logan said.

“I’ll do whatever you want,” the vampire said, his voice rough, but low and quiet. “Just please don’t lock me in again.”

He looked away, as if he couldn’t stand to hear their answer.

Patton couldn’t say no. He couldn’t. The poor thing was still teary, his face all red and blotchy, and was still trembling, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy.

“Don’t worry, kiddo, we’re not locking you in that thing again.”

The sheer gratitude shining out of his eyes was enough to make Patton tear up.

“Pat!”

“You can’t promise that,” Logan said.

The vampire wilted, his shaking increasing. Patton glared at Logan. At least, as much of a glare as his face was capable of.

Logan ran a hand over his face. “Fine, can we agree that we’ll let it stay out, but only if it’s perfectly compliant?”

Patton nodded, and so did Roman.

“Very well, that is the deal then. Now, I have several questions.”

“Why don’t you ask them, and I’ll make dinner. You can fill me in after.” Patton offered.

“That sounds wonderful! I feel like I haven’t eaten in days.” Roman said.

•^*^••

As the nice one left, Virgil shook just a bit more. He knew they were all hunters, even the nice one, but he had felt almost safe with him in the room.

“Do you have a name?” One of the hunters asked.

“Virgil.” He looked up, meeting eyes with the hunter. “Do you?”

“Of course I do, my name’s Roman.”

“And my name is Logan. The third is named Patton.”

Virgil nodded.

“How old are you, and when were you turned?” Logan asked, readying a pen to write in a notebook he had.

“I’m eighteen, I was turned two years ago.”

Logan nodded. “How do vampires age after being turned?”

Virgil was confused. Surely, if he were going to be a hunter, he knew the answer to this question already. Oh, it must be a test. “We age very slowly, to an extent, and then it stops.”

“So would you say that your mind is closer to eighteen or sixteen?”

“Eighteen.”

“Have you ever hurt a human?” Roman asked.

Virgil turned to look at him, and immediately regretted it. He couldn’t lie. Couldn’t chance it. But— he couldn’t say yes. If the look on Roman’s face was any indication, he’d get shoved into the coffin and buried alive. He wasn’t this mad earlier! What had Virgil done wrong?

“Answer me! Have you ever hurt a human?”

Virgil slowly nodded, dreading what might come next.

“Have you killed?” Logan asked.

Virgil shook his head quickly, utterly relieved to be able to answer truthfully. He looked between the two of them, trying to judge whether they believed him.

“I didn’t. I swear I didn’t.”

“Then why did you hurt them?” Roman asked.

“I di— I was hungry, and I didn’t know how to—how to take from them without hurting them. They wouldn’t stay still—“

“Don’t you dare blame this on them!” Roman yelled.

Virgil flinched back hard. “ ‘m sorry.”

Logan set a hand on Roman’s shoulder, and Roman looked away.

“I didn’t mean to hurt them,” Virgil said quietly.

Roman looked back at him, his face full of disbelief and rage. He stood up and walked away.

Virgil flinched when Logan spoke again. “I have more questions.”

Virgil nodded.

•^*^••

Logan had gotten more clear answers from Virgil than he had ever expected. Most of them he knew, of course, but this data set was colored by a personal experience, and as such, painted a different picture of vampire life than he had seen before.

Patton had called him for dinner, but first he had to figure out what to do with Virgil. There was a cell in the basement that was built to hold vampires, but he wasn’t certain, with how Virgil was shaking, that leading him down stairs would end well.

In the end, though, he wasn’t seeing another option. Other than shut him back in the coffin, which he had no reason to do.

Patton came into the living room looking for him. “Logan? Are you ready to eat?”

“I am, but I’m uncertain as to what we will do with Virgil.”

Patton gasped, turning to the vampire with a bright smile. “Your name is Virgil?”

Virgil went all wide eyed, which meant emotions again, and nodded.

“Well, I know you can’t eat, but would you like to come sit with us while we eat, Virgil?”

Logan stepped in before Virgil could respond. “I’m not certain that that would be a good idea. Roman is rather… incensed at the moment.”

Patton hmmd. “That’s true. Alright, I’ve got a place. Come on, kiddo.”

Virgil slowly stood up, shaking the whole way, though it didn’t seem to be from fear anymore. Patton grabbed a pillow from the couch and walked into the kitchen, slowly enough that Virgil could follow. He set the pillow in the corner. On one side of Virgil would be a wall, and on the other side was a large cabinet. Patton would be able to see him easily from his chair at the table, and Logan would be able to see him partially, but Roman wouldn’t see him unless he turned to look.

“You can sit here. Just a minute.” Patton left the room and came back with a small toy. “Here, you can have this if you get bored.”

Virgil accepted the toy with gleaming eyes, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo!” Patton said happily.

Logan knew then that Virgil had better join their group. Patton had all but adopted him in his heart, although thankfully he didn’t seem to forget that he was a vampire, and he’d be heartbroken if Virgil had to leave.

Patton called Roman down, who noticed Virgil, of course, but didn’t comment. Dinner passed peaceably, if a little awkwardly.

•^*^••

After Logan and Roman left, Patton stood up to take his dishes to the kitchen.

“Wanna help me clean up from dinner, Virgil?”

Virgil looked up from where he had been entranced by the little fidget cube. “Yes, I’ll help.”

Patton smiled at him, and the two cleaned up very quickly. Even if Virgil was shaky, he was still trying his best.

“Alright, I’ll take you down to your room now, ok?”

Virgil nodded. He held out the toy. “Can…?” His question petered out.

“If you like it, you can keep it.” Patton said, feeling like he could live on the light that shone out of Virgil’s eyes.

He helped Virgil down the rickety stairs to the basement. It was a large basement, with a big comfy seating area and lots of stuff spread out over the coffee table. It was a bit of a mess. On one end of the room, bars went across, splitting it off into two tiny little rooms. Patton opened the door to one of the little rooms and Virgil went right inside.

Inside the little rooms was a mattress on the ground, and blankets and a pillow, but not much else. The bars around the door handle and around the lock had silver plating on them, but the rest of the bars were made of steel, thick enough that a vampire shouldn’t be able to bend or break them.

Patton shut the door and locked it. “Do you want me to leave the light on? Or I can just leave this lamp on? Or it can be dark.”

“The lamp. Please.”

Patton turned the lamp on and then went back upstairs, clicking off the basement light. The basement door, as well, was fortified. So that even if a vampire managed to break out of the cell, they wouldn’t be able to get out of the basement.

#sanders sides #vampire au #vampires #blood #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #emile picani #remy sleep #my own work #coffin #violence #speciesism #vampire virgil #platonic moxiety

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antihero-writings · 3 years

Text

The Boy with the Unspeakable Name (Ch11)

Fandom: Harry Potter (and the Chamber or Secrets)

Fic Summary: Tom Riddle may have won his battle with Harry in the Chamber of Secrets, but there were a few unforeseen consequences; loss of Tom’s memory being the most obnoxious of them. Is it possible to stop Tom’s past from becoming his future? Or is the young Tom Riddle doomed to repeat his mistakes?

Notes: Alright everyone I'M BACK ...And I'm so so SO sorry that I took so long to update. Over the past few months I took my first real break from posting fanfiction overall in a long time.

Before I posted this chapter, I actually ended up heavily editing some of the previous chapters, which I'd like to inform those who read the originals about first. (Currently only the Ao3 version, and the reblog version of this fic with the picture on top are up-to-date.)

* I made Tom overall more polite. I was of the belief that his politeness was not an innate trait, and without memory, he would be a bit more unpleasant, and then we could see him grow with time. I do still believe it's not an innate personality trait, but a couple things made me realize he really should act differently in my fic. * I made Snape treat Tom better in the interrogation chapter. Both at the beginning and end. I liked the ending with the Levicorpus spell, and I do kinda miss it, especially because it informed Harry's reactions, but I think it was just too mean, especially because of something I'm going for later. * I added a conversation with the other boy in the hospital wing. (By the way, if you go back to read that and can think of more things they should talk about, don't hesitate to let me know!)

...I think those are all the big things! Feel free to offer feedback on the changes if you read them!

I'm so sorry to everyone who was hoping for faster updates. I truly do appreciate your comments and support deeply, and hope that you will continue to read and still enjoy it. I would still love to hear what you think!! <3 <3

Chapter 11: The House of Books

“The summer? With you? And Harry Potter?”

Tom had been examining the objects Snape had brought him—objects which had apparently once belonged to him—and blinked, raising his head to look at him.

“Believe me, I am not thrilled about it either.”

“No, it’s not that—well, it is—it’s just…” He paused, running his fingers along the clothes laid out on the bed before him, then squinted up at Snape. “I’m trying to discern why this is a good idea.”

Snape looked away, seemingly wondering that himself.

“I think, with time, you’ll find that our headmaster has a very unique sense of what is good for others. He believes uncomfortable situations often serve for people’s betterment.” He looked off to the side and muttered, “Whether or not they agree.”

“What sort of ‘betterment’ does this serve?”

“I suppose he would like the three of us to…”—He exhaled—“get along.”

Tom raised an eyebrow a second time, as if to say Us? Really?

“Futile though it may be,” Snape added.

Tom bit his lip, internally assessing the situation as he also returned to assessing the objects.

It wasn’t ideal—that didn’t need stating. Tom had a difficult time fathoming why Dumbledore—who seemed to bear him no ill-will—would want him to live with one person who had a rather insurmountable grudge against him, and another who didn’t seem to like him much better. He wanted them to ‘get along?’ `Surely that couldn’t be it. There had to be more to it.

Was Dumbledore really so naive as to think they’d grow closer instead of hate each other more? Not that he quite understood why they hated each other in the first place.

“Is there a reason I can’t stay here over the summer? I wouldn’t mind.”

Clearly Snape would have preferred that as well.

“You no doubt heard at the Feast that there has been some question as to whether Hogwarts is entirely safe. The Board of Governors likely wouldn’t approve of a student staying over the summer until they are able to deny these suspicions. Also, the headmaster wants you to learn magic over the summer, and due to few teachers possessing a proclivity to stay at Hogwarts during this time, we must make other arrangements.”

Tom’s breath bated at the reveal that he’d be learning magic, his mind beginning to buzz. He tried not to let his excitement leak into his voice:

“You’ll be teaching me magic?”

“Do keep up.”

“So…” He sat back. “What’s Harry going to do?”

“Mister Potter will be…taking up space as usual, I presume.”

Tom stifled a laugh; he hadn’t been expecting such a response from a professor.

“You don’t like Harry, do you?”

“I’m not…particularly fond of him.”

“Is it too forward of me to say it doesn’t appear you’re particularly fond of me either?”

“I pains me to say you’ll have adequate time to learn there aren’t a great many things I feel an extensive amount of fondness for.”

Tom could already see it now.

“Consider it a trial period, of sorts.” Snape swept around the room as he altered the direction of conversation. “If you are able to succeed over the summer, you may continue your schooling at Hogwarts when the next year begins. How much you learn, and how quickly, will determine the year in which you are placed. That is, if you’re placed in any year at all.” He looked down his hooked nose at him like that was both the most likely option, and the most preferable.

Tom could tell hidden behind his words was the idea that this ‘trial period’ was about more than just how adept he was at magic. He’d didn’t need telling that he’d have to be careful in more ways than magical.

“Do you have any other business to attend to before we leave?”

“Wait, we’re leaving now?”

“I don’t come to the hospital wing for pleasant chats if that’s what you’re asking.”

Tom bit his lip. In all honesty he would have liked to stay and explore the school more, but he could tell Snape wasn’t the kind of person one could negotiate such things with.

He turned back to the items that were supposed to be his.

“Is this really all I have?” He asked softly.

Sure all the essentials were there: clothes, books, toiletries and the like, but nothing more personal. No pictures for his nightstand, or even a keepsake to remind him of home, of family. Nothing that could tell him a little more about himself.

Snape paused a moment before he replied: “All of which I’m aware.”

Tom didn’t say anything. Merely put everything back in the trunk and followed Snape to the door.

“Don’t you have anything to bring home with you?” Tom asked.

“Don’t you think a skilled wizard such as myself would have methods of sending it to its proper location?”

They spent the walk across the grounds in silence, which could probably be considered steely, though Tom didn’t mind. The grounds around Hogwarts, and what little he saw of the castle, were altogether beautiful, and empty conversation would only have dulled his enjoyment. He turned around, walking backwards, a smile creeping upon his face upon at the sight of the castle in its full glory. He came to find this wasn’t a school, this was a palace, a haven.

A—

The word home rose to the surface of his chest.

It occurred to him this was the first time he’d smiled since he lost his memory. Really and truly smiled.

The feeling wasn’t half bad.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “You like it?”

Tom cleared his throat. “It’s nice I guess.” But he couldn’t stuff the smile down, couldn’t quite figure out what this feeling was.

He must be a student, surely. Otherwise, why would he feel such fondness for the place?

He didn’t think Snape would reply, and was surprised to hear, barely audible, “I always thought as much.”

They arrived at a wrought iron gate with winged boars on either side—(really living up to the name, Tom supposed. All they needed was a decent amount of warts on them). Once they had passed through it, Snape stopped abruptly and held out his arm. It seemed he was expecting Tom to take it.

Tom wasn’t quite sure why he ought to do this, (and was rather offput by the thought of touching this man). Still, he did as he was told and—

He felt like he was being pigeonholed through a pipe. When the journey ended he was in an entirely new location, and wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t feel sick.

"Apparating for the first time can often make one feel unwell,” Snape informed the doubled-over Tom in a way that didn’t signify he really cared.

As Tom regained his bearings, he thought for a moment, in the same way he quite liked the walk along the grounds, he probably would have rather enjoyed traveling across the countryside. It struck him, that, while this sort of travel certainly got the job done, if wizards had a type of travel more like flying; allowing one to see the view, but also get where they needed to go quickly, he would like to learn it.

The new location, however, was far drearier and less pleasing to the eyes. Rather than an enchanting (and probably enchanted) forest, bordering sunny grounds, and a castle whose majesty was unmatched (at least in his current memory), this was a grimy, cobbled street, like a dull pencil: grey, disappointing, and without its sharpness.

He was almost certain the place was non-magical in nature. He couldn’t believe anyone magical would allow their cities to collect this much grime and…boringness. Identical brick townhouses lined those streets, their chimneys spewing smoke into the air, causing a low cloud of what could be either smog or fog to hang over the place, making the air warmer and more humid than necessary. Snape’s house was the last in the row, (at least, he assumed it was Snape’s as it was the one they were heading towards), and across from it he could see a black river winding through the mist.

Snape flicked his wand, unlocking what was presumably his front door.

Often houses have a certain, indefinable smell to them, but when Tom stepped inside this one, he found it wasn’t so indefinable: parchment, and old shoes, and maybe a little bit of neglect.

He could have fooled himself into thinking he’d walked into a bookstore. The walls were lined with books, the sofa and armchair in the corner creating a false sense of coziness—(‘false’ because nothing about this man said ‘cozy’). It had the air of being one of those spaces that is cluttered, but to call it anything but ‘neat’ would be an insult. Like a library of a devout scholar: cluttered with knowledge, yet, despite the fact that the shelves are puking pages, it all seems somehow perfectly in place.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Snape said in a tone that told him he didn’t want him to be comfortable at all. “Take care not to touch anything that isn’t yours.”

Tom’s eyes lidded. “So…don’t touch anything at all?”

“You’re catching on.” Snape smirked.

Tom rolled his eyes, not entirely sure Snape was joking.

“I’ll show you to your room.”

The words ‘your room’ were clipped, like the thought that it would belong to him for even a summer was repulsive. Though Tom could tell that before they arrived.

He opened a small door in the wall, which Tom would have thought another room, or perhaps a closet, but turned out to be a set of stairs.

After journeying up them, a hallway whose wood was in dire need of staining, dusty portraits whose stern eyes followed him as he walked by, and a decorative table with an empty vase upon it, greeted him.

The advertised room was small, and a bit stuffy, and a few of the floorboards creaked, but something told him he’d slept in worse conditions before.

Though it was a small house, they were able to keep to themselves. Snape was busy resettling into his house, and disinclined to give him a tour, and Tom, not having much to get settled in the first place, spent the time exploring his new surroundings.

He wandered around the library that was the downstairs, and the dingy hallways that were the upstairs. He took care not to enter what he assumed to be Snape’s room, as well as a few other locked rooms. He didn’t want to get on his bad side…if he even had a good side.

He quickly found he didn’t mind being around books. He had affinity for them, especially when their contents had to do with magic.

“Are these all about magic?” He asked Snape when he passed by.

“Some of them. It may surprise you to find most of them aren’t.”

“May I read them?” He asked, remembering Snape’s warning not to touch anything, as well as the fact that this was a ‘trial period.’

“If you cannot find ways to entertain yourself.”

“I’m sure I can. But you seem like the kind of man who appreciates silence.” He put his hands behind his back and smiled too pleasantly.

Snape pursed his lip.

They spent their time regarding each other as wolves encroaching on each others territories: they weren’t happy to be sharing the same space, but they couldn’t do anything but growl low until one of them made a move.

Later, when Snape made dinner, the action drew his attention from his book. Tom watched with fascination as Snape waved his wand with ease, and the ingredients floated and melded together of their own accord, like Snape’s wand knew what to say to them.

“Will I be able to do that?”

“A whole world of magic and you want to be able to make dinner?”

“Well—” Annoyance flared in Tom. “Of course I’d prefer to know much more exciting, dangerous things…but yes”

“Children are not allowed to use magic outside of school until they come of age…but, yes.”

The word ‘children’ in that condescending tone didn’t make him feel less annoyed.

“How come I’m able to do it, then? You’re able to teach me during the summer.”

“Dumbledore has his ways.”

Tom could tell he wouldn’t get any more information than that.

While they ate, Tom chanced a few more questions, and was surprised to find that it tasted quite good, and he thought he remembered someone once telling him good food does wonders for the soul.

He was glad to find that, despite Snape’s obvious distaste for him, and seemingly all things his age, he was cordial enough, and he certainly didn’t mind keeping to himself.

Tom was just thinking about asking when he’d start learning magic that evening, when a stack of books almost as tall as him landed on the table.

Flicking his eyes across the titles, he saw that each and every one of them something to do with magic.

“I expect you to have these read before before Potter arrives. Only then will I start teaching you magic.”

Tom leaned to the side to look at Snape and tried not to smirk.

“You sure this is everything? It doesn’t seem like quite enough.”

#harry potter #tom riddle #Severus snape #Harry Potter fanfiction #the boy with the unspeakable name #hp #hp fanfiction #hp fic #hp fanfic

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spencers-renaissance · 4 years

Text

Pull Me Out of the Glowing Stream

Summary: Spencer develops bacterial meningitis and Hotch sort of forgets how to breathe

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Protective Hotch, Spencer Reid Whump, Major Illness, Angst, Fluff, Medical Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending

Pairing: Gen, Paternal Hotch

Word Count: 3.8k

Read on AO3

A grotty police department in rural Illinois was really not the time and place for Spencer’s body to decide to have a minor breakdown, but really, what was he expecting at this point? For things to go right for once?

It’s the kind of headache not even two paracetamol and a cup of coffee can shift and he sort of feels like his head might split in two. Not ideal when he had a complicated geographical profile to work up to help the team locate an enraged killer who was flitting between various small towns in the northwest corner of the state.

“Spencer?”

He’s shaken out of his depressing thoughts by Derek’s slightly concerned voice, causing him to pull his hands away from his head and force himself from squinting against the light. He’d felt fine this morning and he can’t really put his finger on what exactly is wrong besides the headache he just feels… off.

If he can help it though, Derek will most definitely not find out. His coworkers don’t need to think he’s anymore weak than they already do.

“Sorry,” Spencer says, feigning a weak smile. “Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Derek doesn’t look completely convinced, but he nods anyway. “JJ and I are headed to interview the most recent victim’s family but Rossi and Blake will be back from the ME’s office shortly. Hotch is just in the break room talking to some LEOs, alright?” he says, grabbing his leather jacket from the back of one of the chairs. “See you in a bit, Spencer.”

Spencer has to stop himself from physically falling on the floor and rolling into a protective ball as soon as Derek leaves the room. He’s so exhausted and in so much pain, the last thing he wants to do is gather around the table and have to propose valuable theories about the case to build the profile. He just feels like such an outsider sometimes, and it’s been even worse recently. He’s felt himself withdraw from the group, sheltering himself from the prying glances and teasing comments, but he just can’t help it; he doesn’t even know why, really.

Honestly, he’s desperate to crawl back to the hotel room and bury himself under the covers and never resurface again, but he can’t. The only time he really feels valuable is when he’s working, when he’s tangibly contributing to solving the case, and he can’t sacrifice that for a little head cold or whatever’s going on. Besides, nobody needs to hear him whinge about his stupid problems. Everyone has enough to deal with without him as an added burden.

Hotch is shooting him concerned looks and it’s only making him feel worse. He really doesn’t need to be berating himself for making his team members worry on top of already feeling at death’s door. The real problem, however, is that it’s only getting worse. He’s struggling to concentrate and feels hot under the collar, and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the swirling nausea in his tummy. But his health cannot be the priority right now and surely Hotch must realise that: there’s a killer on the loose and he knows that he can be an immensely useful resource, headache be damned.

Focus. He tries to look back towards the board -- he knows there’s something in one of the pictures that’s not quite right, not that he can remember which one or what it was -- but his neck protests as he tries to move it, stiffening up in response to the pain. Keeping his head down instead, staring at the case file he has open on the desk in front of him, he notices his pen quivering a little in his hand as it shakes. His glance upwards to check if anyone saw is immediately met by Hotch, whose muted concern has clearly morphed into full-blown distress, and he quickly looks away.

“Spencer?” Hotch says gently, trying not to attract the attention of the other team members who are quietly discussing the case at the other end of the table.

It’s the jerk of his head to look back up at him that does it. He feels his head loll and his stomach drop out from under him, nausea pouring into his insides as his eyes lose their focus. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, though it comes out far too slurred to be intelligible, and everything fades to black.

★

Hotch is pretty sure his heart stops beating for a moment as he watches Spencer slump forward in his chair, falling to the side a little as his muscles give in to what’s clearly been plaguing him all day. The others snap out of their conversation fast, Alex rushing to his side. “Spencer?” she asks, voice insistent and full of anxiety. “Spencer, wake up, come on.” She pauses to press two fingers to his pulse point as her other hand feels his forehead before looking Hotch in the eyes, urgency filling her voice. “His pulse is weak and he has a serious fever.”

“Call an ambulance and explain what’s going on,” Hotch says, feeling the colour leave his face as he takes in the situation. “Dave, I need you, Derek and JJ to carry on working the case, Blake and I will go to the hospital with Spencer.”

The paramedics arrive quickly, by which time everyone in the PD is nosily peering through the windows, eager to watch the macabre theatrics of a medical emergency. Hotch backs away from where he’d crouched to hold Spencer’s hand, as does Blake and Spencer is quickly hooked up to the portable monitor. Hotch didn’t miss the grave glance that was shared between the two of them; he’d given and received enough of them in the course of his career to know they meant not good.

“Blake, you drive behind,” he murmurs softly as he watches an oxygen mask be placed over Spencer’s nose and mouth. “I’m riding with.”

He hasn’t felt so sick to his stomach since he was driving to his own house to meet his wife’s dead body, and God, did he absolutely not miss the feeling. Spencer’s hand is freezing cold, and he’s still shaking slightly through the deep slumber that has overtaken his body, though luckily he’s stable enough that the paramedics don’t seem to be able to do a lot more for him until he is admitted to the ER.

Seeing Spencer lie so small and frail under all the wires as he’s jolted about slightly by the ambulance’s fast pace cuts deep into an area of his heart he usually keeps so closely guarded, reserved for moments with his son and the grief that lingers cold and heavy from Haley’s death. Spencer is family: he’s watching the man he considers a son teeter far too close to the edge of death, and all he can do is remind himself how to breathe.

“Hang in there, Spencer,” he whispers, gently pulling the cold hand he’s holding to his face and holding it there a moment. “You’re going to be okay.” He has to be.

The nearest hospital is thankfully close, and Hotch sends up a prayer of thanks that they were sent to a city and not on a rural, buttfuck nowhere case. The paramedics waste no time wheeling Spencer’s gurney into the ER, reeling off his stats in code Hotch couldn’t hope to understand to the awaiting doctors, admitted immediately for further tests to establish treatment while he’s steered by a patient nurse to a quiet waiting area.

Alex rushes in less than five minutes later, filling with relief when she clocked Hotch sitting in the corner. “Any news?” she asks, cautiously optimistic.

Hotch grimaces in response. “No, he was only just admitted,” he sighs, emotion creeping into his face in a way he usually staves off at work. A hurt Spencer Reid warrants that much, at least. “He was stable in the ambulance, though. They’re running tests now for a diagnosis.” He looks down at his clasped hands. “I should have noticed it sooner.”

Alex sits down next to him slowly and sighs. “There’s no use in blaming yourself,” she says gently. “Spencer wouldn’t want that. We all could’ve picked up on the signs sooner or been more persistent in asking what was wrong, you’re not in the wrong here. Hindsight, as they say, is 20/20.”

“I know,” Hotch says eventually. “I just feel so responsible for him. He’s still so young and has so much in front of him, if-- if something happened to him, I’d never forgive myself.”

“Yeah,” Alex whispers, pressing her lips together. “None of us would.”

“I just couldn’t live in a world where Spencer doesn’t exist.” His voice chokes off as the dam breaks and he cries quietly into his hands, pain blossoming in his chest as the thought of Spencer dying and the crushing agony of muffled sobs collide.

“Oh, Hotch,” Alex murmurs sympathetically as she watches her boss crumble in front of her. “No-one’s told us to prepare for Spencer dying, okay? You said yourself that he was stable in the ambulance and aside from a thready pulse and a fever we don’t know anything else about his physical state. Don’t torture yourself with a future that frankly looks unlikely as of now, it’s not worth it.”

Hotch nods, taking a deep if shaky breath in and wiping his eyes one last time, looking back at Alex. “I’m sorry for panicking.”

“Don’t apologise,” she dismisses him gently. “It’s a scary situation, and Spencer is like a son to you.”

“This must be even harder for you,” he says, looking up and meeting her eyes. “I should have stayed stronger for you as well as Spencer.”

“Please,” Alex scoffs. “We all have our ways of coping. Ethan died a long time ago and although the grief I feel for him is like glitter I can’t brush away, I’ve learned how to move forward with my life, carrying that gorgeous shimmer with me.”

They share a small smile over that, and Hotch pats her upper arm with his hand softly before patting his knees and standing up. “I’m going to step outside to call Dave,” he says, a new resolve and determination finding its way into his voice. “I expect that it might be a while, but find me immediately if anything happens, I’ll be just outside the entrance.”

“Aaron?” Dave asks, voice a little tinny and muffled down the phone, swept away slightly by the midwest wind. “How’s Spencer?”

“Not sure yet,” he replies, voice grim. “He was admitted immediately for tests but he was relatively okay the last time I saw him, I think. Alex is here now, and we’ll keep looking over the files while we wait, seeing if we can build on the profile. Ring me with any developments, alright?”

“Yeah, no problem,” Dave says. “Morgan and I have come to follow a lead we got on a possible associate, and I’ll give you a ring when we leave. Sit tight and give my love to the kid when you see him, Aaron.”

They don’t have to sit in vigil for long before a middle-aged doctor calls Spencer’s name in the waiting room. “Unfortunately, Spencer has bacterial meningitis,” she explains gently as soon as they approach her. “It’s been caught relatively early so his chances are good, but this is a serious disease that needs to be monitored closely so he’s been moved to the ICU. He had a seizure shortly after the lumbar puncture we performed which is a sign of an escalation, but we’ve adjusted his meds accordingly and I can assure you he’s getting the best treatment possible. The ICU is limited to one visitor at a time, but you can see him now; he’s awake though a little drowsy.”

Alex smiles at him and ushers him forward while she goes to sit back down without a word, leaving Hotch to follow the doctor. He wishes desperately to have Spencer walking next to him, rapidly reeling off statistics and fast facts about the disease, because he feels a little in the dark, here. All he remembers is that bacterial is the most serious manifestation of meningitis and it has a high fatality rate. The same heavy sickness from the ambulance sinks deeper into his stomach, weighing him down. Spencer could die.

He looks small on the hospital bed. It’s such a cliche but it’s true, his already small frame and the spacious bed combined with his pale face and outfit of wires make him look so tiny and all Hotch wants to do is climb into bed with him and wrap him in a protective hug and never let him go.

“Hotch?” Spencer murmurs as he approaches the bed, smiling gratefully at the doctor before she leaves them to it.

“Yeah, Spencer, it’s me,” he says gently, sitting down in the chair next to the bed and scooching it as close as possible. “How are you holding up?”

“Hurts,” he says, voice weak. “A lot. Bacteria sucks.”

“It does,” Hotch chuckles. “It definitely sucks. Big time. I’m sorry this is happening, Spencer. And I’m sorry we didn’t catch on to you sooner and get you here faster.”

“Please,” he laughs, wincing a bit as the movement settles an ache deeper into his muscles. “I wouldn’t have let you. I can be a little stubborn.”

Spencer’s voice is slurred slightly but the relief settling into Hotch’s bones at how lucid he is feels almost euphoric. “You’re definitely stubborn,” he says fondly, caressing Spencer’s hand with his thumb. “Our stubborn little mule.”

“Not little,” he pouts in response, eyes drooping slowly closed.

“No,” he reassures him. “You’re not little. You’re strong, and you’re going to fight this, Spencer.��

“Yeah,” Spencer mumbles. “Fight it. Hotch… stay with me?”

“I’ll stay as long as they’ll let me stay, Angel.”

“Angel,” Spencer whispers, a happy smile playing on his lips as he finally gives in to the sleep tugging at his body.

★

It takes Spencer another three and a half days before he’s awake for more than a few minutes at a time and satisfactorily lucid. Thankfully, the anticonvulsants had staved off another seizure and his temperature was slowly but surely dropping as his body fought off the infection, aided by the intravenous antibiotics being steadily dripped into his bloodstream. His oxygen mask had been swapped for a nasal cannula and he was no longer trembling.

Hotch spends the majority of visiting hours sitting beside his bed, texting or phoning the team while working as many angles as he could with only a laptop and the case files Alex is bringing him, but it seems so trivial everytime he looks up and Spencer is lying there looking small and peaceful as he sleeps, meningitis ravishing his body. He’d been worried for the first day at how much Spencer was sleeping, but a kind nurse explained that it was normal; his body was just fighting off a brutal infection and could do that best when he was asleep. Now it just makes him happy to see him dreaming away, knowing that his body is doing the best to help him get better.

He’d tried to avoid googling ‘bacterial meningitis’, but he gave up on the second day and scrolled through endless sites, torturing himself with statistics and facts and prognoses. It gave him a newfound respect and empathy for Spencer: he knows these about pretty much everything and has to live with them all the time. He knows his own survival chances very well, can probably recite specific cases and studies and has no escape at all.

Spencer manages to sit up on the third day and Hotch pulls out a portable chess board that Dave had gone out and bought specifically for this moment.

“You play?” Spencer asks sceptically, raising his eyebrows.

“I’ve dabbled,” Hotch replies lightly, a smile playing over his lips as he takes in Spencer’s doubtful but eager expression.

“I’ll probably win in under twenty moves,” Spencer challenges, matching Hotch’s smile.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” Hotch chuckles. “But I’ll put myself through it anyway.”

Spencer stays true to his word and wins in 17 moves, making Hotch throw his hands up and lean back in his chair, smiling at the other man before packing the board back away. Spencer looks miles healthier, the antibiotics clearly starting to do the trick, but he’s still seriously fatigued and shuffles down the bed to lean his head back and relax a bit more, sitting up for a few minutes tiring him out.

Hotch pauses for a moment before deciding to broach the subject. “Spencer,” he starts softly, meeting the man’s hazy gaze, “why didn’t you say anything to us sooner? You clearly had a crashing headache, muscle pain, nausea. You said you felt the fever come on. You could have said something sooner and I would have helped you. Your health should come before a case.”

Spencer closes his eyes in shame for a moment, a blush blooming over his cheeks as he looks back to Hotch. “I’m sorry, I just-- It was a grisly case and I thought that was the most important thing, I guess. I’m no use stuck in a sick bed. I just felt bad making everything about me when in the grand scheme of things, a headache is pretty menial. Felt… isolated, maybe.”

“Oh, Spence,” Hotch says sympathetically, reaching back over to grip Spencer’s hand in both of his. “This is really serious, okay? If we’d left it much later or you hadn’t passed out but continued to suffer in silence, you could have died.” He has to pause for a moment as he chokes on the word. “Missing one case and being better for hundreds more is better than working yourself to the bone on this one and then not being around for anymore, isn’t it? You are so valuable, Spencer. Not just your eidetic memory or IQ, you. Spencer Reid is special and loved and important, and I don’t want you to ever think that a case is more important than you, or that we’ll be annoyed by anything that you need to talk to us about. If you ever feel alone, you come and find me and I’ll do my best to banish that feeling, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Spencer murmurs again. “I guess I just find it hard to believe that people care about me for more than what I can offer them. I never had anyone value me the way you do, and I still struggle to wrap my head around it. I’m sorry for scaring you, but I promise I already feel better. I’m not going anywhere, I promise, Hotch.”

“You’d better not,” he replies, letting himself smile a bit. “I know it’s hard for you to trust us, Spencer, but we’re your family, okay? Any of us would drop anything for you, stubborn little mule.”

Spencer doesn’t correct him this time, opting instead for a wide smile. “Thank you, Aaron,” he whispers intimately. “For being here, I mean. It’s scary on my own and having you next to me makes me feel safe.”

“Good,” Hotch says, smiling at Spencer’s use of his first name. “You’re always safe with me. You should rest now, you’re tired. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

★

Once Spencer’s moved out of the ICU on day five, the team are finally allowed to come and visit him, bringing Penelope, presents and smiles and noise. And reprimands. Many reprimands.

“If you ever put a case above your own damn health again, it won’t be meningitis you have to worry about but Penelope’s wrath, alright Spence?” JJ scolds as she gives him a gentle hug, though her smile betrays her. Penelope is stood at the foot of his bed trying her best to look scary, but like JJ her eyes are far too soft and relief colours her body language. Plus it’s hard to look domineering in a bright orange floral dress and flowers in your hair.

“Sorry, Pen, JJ,” he says sheepishly, looking at each of them apologetically. “Bacterial meningitis will definitely teach you to listen to your body.”

“Well if that’s the only good thing that’s come out of this then so be it,” Penelope says with finality, before she melts away her faux stern look and smiles at him. “Now, we bring you gifts and cookies.”

He opens each of the presents with the wide, open smile he doesn’t let cross his face very often, feeling deeply loved and cherished by his found family. His hospital room is covered in flowers and chocolates and academic books as well as endless gift bags and wrapping paper by the time he’s finished, and although he’s still in a lot of pain and knows he might never fully recover, in this moment he’s the happiest he’s been in a long time.

The doctor tells Spencer and Hotch a week and a day after his admittance that he’s been lucky enough to escape relatively unscathed. “You need to look out for any of the long term effects of bacterial meningitis such as concentration issues, hearing loss, visual disturbances, chronic pain etcetera but our tests seem to suggest you’re in the lucky c50% of survivors who escape without a permanent disability and we’d most likely have caught it by now. You need to take it easy for two weeks, make sure you’re resting and drinking plenty of fluids, and if you feel any symptoms coming back or becoming more severe you need to get to a hospital as soon as possible,” she says, handing him the discharge paperwork.

“Spencer, I think you should come and stay with me for those two weeks, okay? I’ll be there to take care of you and keep you company while you finish recovering. How does that sound?” he asks as Spencer signs the sheet of paper and hands it back to the doctor who smiles at them before turning to leave.

“Are you sure you’re okay with that?” he asks. “I don’t want to impose on you and Jack.”

“Don’t be silly, I’m offering. Besides, Jack will love having his own personal encyclopedia in the house. He loves you.”

Spencer grins widely at that. “Then that sounds like a plan.”

He sleeps for the majority of the two hour flight home, leaning against Hotch’s shoulder buried under the blanket JJ always carries with her in case anyone gets cold while the older man fills in some paperwork for the case they’d wrapped up a few days prior. The gentle noise of his family chatting around the plane and the comforting smell and feel of his protector surrounding him lull him into a sense of safety and reassurance, resting in the knowledge that his family loves him unconditionally. No matter what happens next, even if a long term condition was going to hit him like a ton of bricks, they weren’t going to leave him, and he was valued. Not for his brain, but because he was Spencer Reid, loved and cherished member of the BAU.

#criminal minds fic #Criminal Minds #criminal minds writing #angst #hotchreid #Spencer Reid #Hurt Spencer Reid #Spencer Reid Whump #my writing

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ibijau · 3 years

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Deathbed Wedding pt3

Nie Huaisang meets with his friends, and gets to ask about certain rumours he's heard

Also on AO3

Even though he had probably left earlier than anyone else, Nie Huaisang was still late to reach the meeting point, and the last one to arrive. That, of course, was not exactly unusual. Wen Chao looked as annoyed as ever about it.

"You didn't bring anyone?" Wen Chao snapped at him in lieu of greeting. "What's even the point of inviting you if you don't also bring some competent people with you?"

"Some other business came up," Nie Huaisang lied. "The others had to stay behind to take care of it, but I asked to still come here. I didn't want to disrespect you."

"I wouldn't even have noticed your absence," Wen Chao retorted.

Nie Huaisang only smiled politely. They both knew that was a lie.

Wen Chao liked to organise grand Night Hunts for the young masters of other sects to join. With an older brother as talented as Wen Xu, it was an easy way for him to distinguish himself and make sure he didn’t fade into obscurity, which his personality wouldn’t have borne. Sadly, that same personality made it difficult for anyone to put up with him. To make it worse, there were a number of grudges on-going between the young masters of their generation, and while Wen Chao liked to boast he had the heirs of all the Great Sects coming to his Night Hunts, he lacked the diplomacy to make everyone really work together.

Meanwhile Nie Huaisang was desperately in need of joining every Night Hunt he could, and he had the skill of getting along with anyone, no matter how much he disliked them. Besides, living in an environment like Qinghe Nie had taught him early on how to deal with personal conflicts, and he was pretty good at stopping fights before they could start (or at making them worse if it suited him).

Unless Wen Chao wanted to deal with Wei Wuxian and Jin Zixuan's constant arguing, or with Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji's silent feud, or with everyone’s dislike of him, then he needed Nie Huaisang at his damn Night Hunts.

And since Nie Huaisang was there at last, they could finally head out toward the location of the actual Night Hunt. Although he had many questions for Lan Wangji, and a few for Jiang Cheng as well, Nie Huaisang decided to fly next to Jin Zixuan. The conversations he needed to have with his other friends would likely have been too intense, and he wasn’t sure he could have mustered enough focus to continue flying his sabre at the same time, not when he was already a little tired. Jin Zixuan, thankfully, always appreciated a little silent companionship, and did not mind that Nie Huaisang barely said ten words to him the entire time.

It took them a good half day of flying to get where Wen Chao swore the monster they’re going to hunt has made its den. He refused to give them any details about the creature in question of course, because Wen Chao thrived on surprising people with his Night Hunts, even if it sometimes got a little dangerous as a result… but that was part of why they all came back. Wen Chao was a prick, but he always organised such good Night Hunts.

This one wasn’t off to a great start though, with Wen Chao telling them they needed to start looking for a cave somewhere in the mountain they’d just reached. It was unlike him to not know more precisely where the creature they were after had made its den, but he hyped it so well that nobody really minded. Nie Huaisang personally would have loved to rest a little first, but since nobody else seemed tired, he simply couldn’t start complaining. It was a good way to work on his endurance, he decided.

As everyone divided in small groups to look for that cave, Nie Huaisang dumped Jin Zixuan who he’d been flying with, and went to join Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng.

“Can I search with you?” he asked innocently, trying to match their fast walking pace. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen any of you, so I thought we could catch up.”

“You saw us not two months ago,” Wei Wuxian retorted with a grin. “How are your ribs, by the way?”

Nie Huaisang pouted as he fell in step with them, and patted the right side of his body.

“They healed quite nicely, and da-ge never realised they were cracked instead of just bruised.”

Of course, Nie Mingjue had still scolded him a lot, even for what he’d thought to be only a minor injury. Which was very unfair, even Jiang Cheng had said it had been bad luck that day, and Jiang Cheng never said anything nice if he didn’t mean it.

Lan Wangji, who in some respects was a lot like Nie Mingjue, slowed down and frowned upon hearing of that injury.

“Nie gongzi was hurt?” he asked. The ‘again’ was left out, but so heavily implied that Nie Huaisang still heard it.

“Just a little, nothing to worry about,” Nie Huaisang replied with a bright smile. “I’m doing better and better on those Night Hunts, and everyone gets a little bruised here and there, especially at first. It’s all very normal.”

Lan Wangji’s frown deepened, and Nie Huaisang thought it better to quickly breach the subject that actually interested him before he had to deal with a lecture on safety. He hadn’t left his brother’s home just to be bothered by his friends as well.

“So, Wangji-xiong, how is your brother these days?”

Immediately, the atmosphere changed. Lan Wangji’s expression hardened, while Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian exchanged a nervous glance. Nie Huaisang noticed it, and forced himself to continue smiling as if he couldn’t see it.

“I do hope he’s well,” he said lightly. “And your uncle too. Your father as well, I suppose,” he added with a small laugh. “I haven’t had much news from Gusu lately, how sad. Won’t you tell me what’s happening in the Cloud Recesses?”

The other three boys tense further, avoiding his eyes. Nie Huaisang felt his cheeks start to hurt from the effort of keeping his smile on, but he refused to break. He refused to ask if the rumours were really true.

He didn’t need to ask when their faces said it all.

He didn’t want to ask, but he wanted to hear the answer anyway.

“Nie-xiong, don’t play that game,” Wei Wuxian snapped, poking him in the side, eliciting a slight grimace. His ribs were almost fully healed, but still a little sensitive. “You know it’s annoying when you pretend not to know things. You’ve heard already, haven’t you?”

“Only fools listen to gossip, Wei-xiong,” Nie Huaisang, fighting the impulse to take out a fan to comfort himself. “What am I supposed to know?”

Wei Wuxian, in a rare moment of good sense, bit his lip to stay silent. He looked at Jiang Cheng, even more uneasy than himself, then at Lan Wangji, who was visibly uncomfortable as well.

It was Lan Wangji who broke first. Gusu Lan’s rules demanded honesty, after all.

“Father has been going to Lotus Piers recently,” he announced. “There is discussion of an engagement between xiongzhang and Jiang guniang.”

Nie Huaisang stumbled against a tree root and would have fallen face first if Jiang Cheng hadn't caught him.

Even if rumours had reached him, to hear it said so plainly from Lan Wangji was more than he truly felt really to handle. It shouldn’t have surprised him though.

Back then, Qingheng-Jun had made it clear that he wasn’t willing to let his sons marry just anyone. Ideally he preferred for them to have a spouse who would bear them children (which almost had made Nie Huaisang laugh when he’d heard it: Lan Xichen might agree out of duty, but good luck getting Lan Wangji to obey). He was not entirely opposed to a sterile union though, as long as that spouse agreed to the presence of concubines to continue the line (Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen, who had already discussed the issue before even asking for that engagement, had already figured it would be required).

The real problem though, the issue that had been a deal-breaker for Qingheng-Jun when Nie Mingjue had approached him on behalf of his half-brother, was that he believed his sons should only marry someone of great cultivation skill, as he was convinced that an unbalanced match could only lead to trouble down the line.

Nie Mingjue had argued that it would be a good political alliance, that Nie Huaisang brought other skills to the table, that the two young people had been deeply in love for close to two years at that point, but none of it had mattered. Qingheng-Jun had rejected the engagement, because Nie Huaisang just wasn’t good enough.

For months now Nie Huaisang, furious and humiliated that the qualities he did have were overlooked, had worked hard to improve himself and show Qingheng-Jun that he was worthy of Lan Xichen. He was getting there, he knew he was getting there, if only he could get a little more time, a few more Night Hunts, another couple of chances to prove that he could be a real cultivator when he just bothered...

“It’s nothing certain yet,” Jiang Cheng remarked when Nie Huaisang remained silent for too long. “My mother is interested, but my father is saying he didn’t break off the engagement with Jin Zixuan just to push my sister in the arms of another boy who wouldn’t favour her.”

“Xiongzhang is unwilling,” Lan Wangji agreed. “There have been arguments. Xiongzhang raised his voice against father.”

Nie Huaisang managed a weak smile. Lan Xichen wasn’t the sort to stand up against his elders, least of all against a father who rarely meddled in his sons’ lives but expected total obedience when he did. This situation was less than ideal, but Nie Huaisang felt a twisted sort of joy upon hearing that in his own way, Lan Xichen too was fighting for their future.

Still, even if negotiations with the Jiangs didn’t work out in the end, it was clear now that Qingheng-Jun was looking to marry his son, and there would be plenty of candidates. Nie Huaisang really needed to step up and do something extraordinary, and he needed to do it soon.

“Let's keep looking for that cave,” he said, a new spring in his step. “I don't want Wen Chao to find it first, you know he's just going to be insufferable if he does!”

The other three agreed, and redoubled their efforts, though they also all kept an eye on Nie Huaisang who, for once, didn't notice it. He had bigger things to worry about.

That monster Wen Chao had promised them had better be something truly legendary, because Nie Huaisang had a father-in-law to convince.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #lan wangji #wei wuxian #mdzs #jau writes #deathbed wedding au #drama! at the night hunt

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visionsofus · 3 years

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Okay but the song “only us” from dear Evan Hansen and it’s Wanda and Vision either in the avengers compound or Edinburgh when Vision asks Wanda to stay with him. It is also a very nice song and makes me want to cry (really love your WandaVision mixtape fic ive read it so many times already)

oh gosh you’re destroying my heart with this one. thank you so much for requesting! the song fits them so well. I hope you like where I took this prompt though it might not be what you had in mind. I went canon divergence from CW but still at the compound for some extra comfort.

| read on AO3 here | mixtape playlist | send me an ask with your song/prompt request |

Wanda and Vision’s Mixtape Track #22: Only Us by Laura Dreyfuss, Ben Platt

Synopsis: The Sokovia Accords are renegotiated so that the team are never divided. Following the successful signing of the document a press event is held at the compound. Wanda and Vision take a moment to breath away from the crowds, both have been holding back from each other for months, worried about risking their friendship. A simple miscommunication leads to a brief moment of angst as they realise their months of pining over each other has been mutual.

(ft. months of yearning, sky dancing, Wanda scaring a journalist away from her man, being too worried about each other to realise you’re literally in love--- )

The new Avengers Compound was the ideal location for press events. It gave the team the opportunity to host things on their own terms, in their own space and with their own security team – primarily Friday holding down the Compound’s fortress of a security network, as she so often did. Not to mention the sleek marble floors and tasteful interior décor made for great photo opportunities. Vision understood the logic of hosting the press event following the successful renegotiating of the Sokovia Accords at their home, but it did not make it easier to bare.

He’d just managed to escape the crowded living room after being trapped for half an hour between various news microphones. Vision figured he’d be safe enough by the hors d’oeuvres table which seemed empty enough what with the majority of the team engaged in the living room. He took a moment to relish the silence, turning away and pretending for a moment that it was just a normal evening and that soon enough he could settle down to watch television with his friends and Wanda.

Wanda. Vision grew nervous, perhaps he should have stayed by her side. The press were notorious for asking her the harshest questions to get the scoop they wanted. He hoped that things would be different with the new version of the Accords and the momentary peace it granted between the state and his teammates, but these reporters were sharks and Wanda was far too good at grinning and bearing it. She’d smile at as many cameras and dodge the worst of question if it meant securing a good report of her teammates to the public.

Brows furrowed in concern, Vision turned to make his way back to the living room and check in on her but found himself face to face with a short, eager man. His recorder was held at the ready, but he seemed a little more hesitant than those Vision had past experience with.

“Mr Vision, I’m Jeremy from the New York Gazette, I don’t suppose you’d mind sparing some time for a few questions?” Behind Jeremy a photographer waited, holding her camera up expectantly. Though it was the last thing he wanted to do, Vision knew how important it was to make a good impression, so he forced a smile.

Back in the living room Wanda’s hands had grown twitchy from being clasped in front of her for so long. She worried that if she didn’t then she’d fold them, something that could make her appear guarded and judgemental. No matter how on edge she was about this whole situation, it was only one night, and she had promised to do her best to be as appealing as possible to the strangers crowding their living room.

So far, she had only been approached by two gutsy journalists who took turns asking her questions about her role in the negotiations and her view on the resulting document they had all signed into. Their questions had been remarkably tame, a more pleasant experience than she’d had in the past, that was for sure. But they’d quickly grown tired of her civil answers, and a small voice in Wanda’s brain told her they’d wanted her to cause a scene and give them something they could really write about. No matter, she’d undermine all their expectations.

In search of comfort, Wanda found herself looking around the room for Vision, she had lost sight of him early on when the journalists had been let in to mingle with her housemates. But Vision was nowhere to be found, and so she grew concerned. Suppose he had been cornered by a particularly nosy journalist? Wanda hated being asked questions about her role in Ultron’s uprising in Sokovia, or the sickening accident she had caused in Lagos, but what really had her grinding her teeth was when these sharks turned their hungry eyes on Vision. He was a prime target for an interesting scoop, and he was too often kind enough to entertain their advances, even, when their questions became inappropriate.

Vision had been her safety net these last few months, always there when she needed a quiet moment away from the world that was so insistent on unpacking every part of her and scrutinising whether she was allowed to wield her own powers. Months spent negotiating with official state representatives intent on disproving her right to exist often became overwhelming. It was in those moments that she sought Vision out.

Many a sleepless night had been spent together, watching sitcom reruns in the living room and falling asleep on the couch together. It began as a simple comfort. But after nearly two years of living with Vision, Wanda worried that she was in danger of being very much in love with him. It had been thrilling at first, then scary, and now the uncertainty between them was agony. They always stopped one step before the edge, so Wanda could never work out if her feelings were being reciprocated or if his affection was purely platonic.

Regardless of her complex feelings around him in that moment, she needed to be there for him as he always was for her. A break had appeared in the throng around her, and Wanda made a beeline for it, catching Steve’s gaze as she passed him. He gave her a nod and she smiled back to assure him that she was alright.

Next to the spacious living room was the dining room which had been cleared of dining table and chairs and was instead occupied by a long buffet table occupied with dozens of different canapés. Wanda thought most of it looked wildly unappealing, perhaps she and Vision could get late night takeout once this whole ordeal was over. Her cheeks warmed at the potential and she quickly schooled the giddy smile from her face.

As she had expected, Vision had been cornered by a journalist and to Wanda’s dismay, she recognised him immediately. Jeremy Coin – he’d written a fairly scathing piece on her involvement in Stark Industries, questioning if she, as a ‘weapon of mass-destruction’ could be trusted with the secrets behind the biggest technological conglomerate in the West. Of course, his carefully timed article had coincided with a big charity launch that she had aided in. Wanda had to step aside from the project at the last minute, lest her presence affect the donations. Aside from volunteering with the charity side of the corporation that Pepper had invited her into, Wanda could hardly be said to be in possession of any industry secrets.

It was fair to say that she was not particularly keen on the man.

“Jeremy,” Wanda said, coming to his side and placing a dangerous hand on the man’s arm, a little bit of his own medicine you might say. It did not go unnoticed, and Wanda took pleasure in the fear on his face as he stepped back. “So lovely to see you!”

“Miss Maximoff,” the short man said, trying for a smile as he pushed back his oily hair, “ever a pleasure.”

“Vis,” Wanda said, shifting her weight so she was nearer him. Vision’s eyes darted between the two, reading the sharp changes in body language. “You all ok here?”

His eyes softened at her reassuring smile and he nodded. “Of course, Mr Coin and I were just discussing some of the more pointed areas of the new Accords,” Vision gestured to Jeremy, “he had some very interesting questions on the relevance of human rights to the discussion of sentient AI.”

Wanda’s stomach dropped. Of course, the snake would have something to say regarding Vision’s humanity.

“Oh,” Wanda purred dangerously and turned on Jeremy, who was now visible sweating, “do elaborate.”

“It was nothing really,” Jeremy said raising a hand in defence. “Perhaps, inappropriate given the newness of this agreement.”

“Perhaps,” Vision said with a tight smile and Wanda took pride in the air of sarcasm he used. “We can finish this off with a photo, then?”

“Of course, of course.” Jeremy hurried to wave the photographer closer.

“Wanda, dear?”

Wanda started at the endearment, Vision had only used it when he was teasing her about this or that. Never before had he used it as genuinely as he did now, and certainly never in public. He extended his elbow to him and she took it instinctively.

The camera flashed once or twice, and Wanda did her best to smile without looking like too much of a lovestruck fool.

“Thank you for your time,” Jeremy said, hurrying to backpedal back to the main event still ongoing in the living room.

“You’re welcome,” Vision said tightly.

“I can’t wait to see your next piece,” Wanda said, unable to help herself.

Vision managed to wait until the man had made it around the corner, practically running away from her, before he started laughing.

“You mustn’t scare him like that,” Vision said quietly to her.

“It’s harmless,” Wanda said shrugging, “besides he was asking you rude questions.”

Vision’s laughter died and he grew more solemn.

“Come on,” Wanda said grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the stairs. “We’ve done our parts for the evening.”

Vision tried to be reluctant about shirking his duty as Wanda lead him up to the roof, but he craved the alone time they spent together more than he cared about his responsibilities.

Vision loved the rooftop of the compound and had spent many evenings escaping the commotion within to stare at the stars above. This far from the city the constellations were remarkably visible.

The rooftop was often used as a space to wind down after particularly challenging days and so it was equipped with a sufficient number of fairy lights as well as a picnic table and barbeque set up. When they reached the rooftop Wanda dropped his arm, much to Vision’s dismay, and ran over to the picnic table where Bucky had left a small radio a few evenings prior. She stopped a foot away and pointed at it dramatically and the speaker crackled to life, music bursting forth. She turned it down a bit and then made to throw herself down in the middle of the courtyard of grass on the rooftop. They often lay there, side by side, Wanda pointed out it was the best way to watch the stars without getting a sore neck, but Vision just liked being able to see the wonder on her face.

This time however, Vision reached out and caught her hand.

“A dance, first?” Vision asked holding out his other hand. “As a thank you for coming to my rescue?” Wanda’s cheeks reddened at the invitation, but Vision was too focused on internally reprimanding himself for taking the selfish opportunity to get closer to notice.

Wordlessly, she accepted his hand and pulled herself closer. Vision’s chest constricted slightly as she slipped one hand over his shoulder, the other coming to rest lightly in his left hand.

“I don’t think I have ever danced like this,” Wanda murmured, this close she had to look up to meet his eyes and Vision grinned down at her.

“There’s a first time for everything.” He pulled her a little closer and took note of the challenge in her gaze as she tightened her grip on his hand.

They started slow, moving in time with the ballad playing over the radio. Wanda got the hang of the steps easily and Vision thanked his lucky stars that he had once thought to investigate simple step dances, precisely for an occasion such as this. If anything, he was the one stumbling, forgetting to count his steps owing to Wanda’s intent gaze never leaving his eyes.

When Vision started to float, Wanda joined him. A red mist surrounded the tips of their feet as they spun into the air. Wanda’s laugh was music to his ears as they kept tight grips on each other, and she sent them spinning around and around. The world below and around them fell away and Vision could only see her, the light of her smile and the happiness shining in her eyes. Never was he as happy as he was with her. What he would do to spend the rest of his life with her…

On Wanda’s cue Vision spun her away and she twisted gracefully upon her magic before returning to his embrace. Her back came to a rest at his chest with his arms around her waist as they swayed and slowly drifted to the ground.

Feet now flat on the ground, the gravity of his body returned, along with the gravity of the situation. Wanda turned slowly in his embrace and Vision froze, unable to move as she turned her eyes on him. He couldn’t help but mimic her body language and they both leaned in. He watched her eyes widen as they flitted desperately about his face and Vision stopped.

He turned his head sharply to the side and took several deep breaths. Dropping his hands from Wanda’s waist he hurriedly took a few steps back, worried of what he might do without the distance to separate them. She was his friend, his closest friend and he would not risk making things estranged simply because of the futile feelings captivating his normally rational mind.

“We ought to be getting back downstairs, Tony said they wanted a group photo at the end.” His voice didn’t sound right following the tense silence that stretched between them.

Wanda’s eyes had grown shadowed, and she turned away from him.

“Why must you do that?” Wanda asked and Vision started at the rawness in her voice.

“Why must I do what?” He asked, forcing his vocal cords to act.

“You start things, you get close and then you pull away from me again and again,” she said, and Vision was horrified to see her turn and reveal that her eyes were brimming with tears. “You are so straightforward with everythingelse! If you don’t want me that way, you just have to say it.” A hand came shakily to her mouth and she wrapped her arms around herself, turning away from him.

Vision was dumbstruck and stood like an idiot for a few moments while he tried to process what she had just said. In his silence Wanda kept talking. “It’s fine, clear as day, let’s just forget I said anything.” He watched her surreptitiously wiping at her eyes and rolling her shoulders back. How many times had he seen her do the same thing on the days when it was difficult to face the world? Never before had he thought he might become the source of her hurt.

“Wanda,” Vision reached out to catch her fingers as she tried to walk away from him, “how could you ever think I wouldn’twant you?”

She spun on him and snatched her hand away. “What do you mean?”

“Of course, I want you,” Vision said, his voice hitching in exasperation. “I just worry about my feelings ruining our friendship, I understand you don’t feel the same—”

As he babbled, hoping to mask his abrupt confession, Wanda stalked closer until they were nearly nose to nose.

“Hello,” Vision breathed, going cross-eyed now that she was before him.

Wanda laughed, an exasperated smile on her face in stark contrast with the tears she had almost shed moments ago. “We’re both fools.”

“We are?” Vision asked hesitantly.

She bit her lip and leant closer, her forehead brushing his. Her hands found his and it was as though little sparks danced between them as she trailed her fingertips up his palms. Vision shivered though he did not feel the cold.

“We’re trying to confess the same things here,” Wanda whispered but Vision’s eyes had shut, and he was desperately trying to hold onto his composure as her fingers made their way up his forearm.

“I—we are?”

He felt Wanda nod.

“Please don’t leave me to infer things, I’m clearly not very good at it,” Vision whispered, and he pressed his forehead to hers longingly.

“Then let me say it,” she said, her voice a whisper upon his cheek, “I’ll say it as many times as you need me to.”

He was holding his breath.

“I’m falling in love with you.”

Vision melted.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited—” but he didn’t have the chance to finish his sentence before Wanda was kissing him and the world was falling away.

It was months of anticipation paying off in one glorious moment and Vision felt sure that he was flying again. His hands came up to cup Wanda’s cheeks as they moved in sync. He finally drew back with a laugh and grinned as Wanda teased another kiss from him.

“All this time I was holding myself back, thinking you could never be interested in me, I worried I wouldn’t ever be good enough for you.” The truth flowed out in a rush now that he’d admitted to the secret he’d kept hidden the past long months.

“Oh Vis,” Wanda murmured, turning forlorn and raising a hand to his cheek. She made to continue but huffed in frustration as she searched for the right words. In the end she instead pressed her forehead to his, the mind stone flickering at the familiarity of her touch. And then a rush of emotion hit Vision as she started to project her feelings to him. It was something else to hear her tell him she was falling for him, but to feel that emotion coursing from her to him. Vision let loose a shuddering breath. Her longing, her worries, her fears. In return, Vision did his best to call forth the longing he felt for her, the burning love that was growing in his heart day in day out and pushed it her way.

Wanda laughed happily at this and drew back, her eyes shining. Vision nodded in understanding and turned his chin into her hand, kissing her palm tenderly.

“Let’s forget the dumb doubts, just forget all those irrational worries and let’s just—” Wanda shook her head happily, “just be us.”

In that moment Vision would have done anything she asked but he settled for a tender kiss. Wanda sighed wistfully into him and he trailed his arms down her back to hug her to him.

Wanda couldn’t recall when she had last felt this happy, but it went beyond your average joy, she was ecstatic. Every worry from earlier in the evening, her months spent agonising over his true feelings for her all fell away. It was impossible to not be lost in him, not when she finally had him where she wanted him. She drew her arms up over his shoulders and hugged him tightly, delighting in how perfectly their bodies matched, his chin coming to rest atop her head. The rest of the world fell away and reassembled itself around her, now reoriented with Vision at its centre.

“It’s just you and me,” Vision whispered in her ear.

“There’s nothing else in the world that I need.”

They stayed content in their own little world, not longing for anything except the shared comfort of each other’s warm embrace.

#wandavision #scarletvision #scarlet vision fanfiction #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #vision #wanda x vision #visionsofusfics #its all about the yearning #sweet sweet longing #bit nervous about posting this one #but I hope everyone likes it

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papermariosuggestion · 4 years

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What are you hoping for from a new Paper Mario? What's your "golden ideal", I guess?

I could spend, like, years thinking of things I’d like to see in a Paper Mario game, but I’ll try to narrow it down. Here are some of the main things I’d really like to see:

☆ New partners (plural)

• Based on previously established Mario species, preferably “enemy” species, as “The circumstances of one’s birth are irrelevant; it is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are.”

• Unusual, but believable, and perhaps even poignant, backstories and fully realized character arcs. I want to care about these characters because I’m invested in this world, its inhabitants, and those inhabitants’ personal successes and failures, not just because their design is so kawaii and/or their dialogue is so funny, though those things are a plus.

• Distinct personalities and opportunities to show those personalities off (through design, body language, dialogue, etc).

☆ RPG mechanics

• Built on the solid foundation established in Paper Mario (N64)

• Turn-based combat

• A leveling system where you get to choose which stat to increase

• Badges (Including superficial badges like the L Emblem and Attack FX badges)

• Something new, like being able to use two partners to perform a Bros.-Attack-like move, or maybe even stats specifically pertaining to your partners.

☆ New locations

• It’s a delicate balance. Locations should both feel like they could realistically exist in Mario’s world and feel like something we’ve never seen before. TTYD has some great examples of this (Rogueport, Boggly Woods, Twilight Town, etc). Super Paper Mario has some creative locations as well, but because it takes place in another dimension, not in the typical world that Mario inhabits, none of them really feel particularly “Mario-esque” in nature. They’re all a bit off-brand, so to speak.

• On a technical level, graphics are improving all of the time, but that doesn’t automatically lead to more intriguing and/or more visually satisfying designs. At it’s core, Mario is a fantasy franchise, an escape from reality, and the Paper Mario series is one of the few series in the franchise that really builds out- or at least used to really build out- its world, and that world was interesting because it was new and mysterious, it practically begged to be explored. Paper Mario games should show me something I can’t see in reality; I know what paper and cardboard and lemons and steaks look like, show me underground cities and palaces, show me sprawling gardens with talking flowers, show me a floating tourist trap in the sky. The biggest limit is your imagination, so let it run wild, and show me that, show me that Alice in Wonderland-like controlled chaos.

☆ An interconnected world and motivated backtracking

• No stage-selection maps. Even if the game is fairly linear, I don’t need to have that shoved in my face. I don’t want to feel like I’m working my way down a to-do list, glued to a track, I want to journey through the world and explore somewhat freely.

• No fast travel by default (maybe you unlock fast travel after beating an optional challenge like the Pit of 100 Trials)

• No pipes that take you right from the hub world to the chapter area; I wanna walk…

…and I want it to be through a believable, expansive, intricate world that changes as I progress through the game, a world I could see hundreds of times and never get sick of because its details are constantly in flux, and because those details are the kind that make it feel realistic and lived-in. I don’t want to be teleported from A to B, or confined on a path from A to B to C, I want to explore, I want to discover, I want to experience this world and to form an attachment to it. This alone would make backtracking more worthwhile, but…

• …another way to make backtracking even more enjoyable would be to add events that make walking into a game in and of itself, like having to follow a creature up in the trees, or having to get through a cursed area in Mirror Mode, or having to dodge and weave through falling rocks because there’s a huge earthquake destroying- and altering the actual geometry of- the area. Walking doesn’t have to be a chore for you to complete in order to get on with the game, and it shouldn’t be, it should be part of the game, just as engaging as anything else you’re involved in.

☆ Non-linear elements

• The game should still be fairly linear overall, because Paper Mario games are chapter-based stories with beginnings, middles, and ends, but having some say in which chapter comes next, or which partner you meet, or even just which puzzle you solve next would give the player a stronger sense of agency. Story-driven games are at high-risk of making the player feel like they’re just along for the ride, and this would help to counteract that.

☆ Spin dashing

• Gotta go fast! Getting rid of spin dashing always felt like an odd choice to me. Characters like the Yoshi kid, Carrie, and Dashell kind of replaced it, in the sense that they allow you to move quickly, but being able to speed up without switching partners, as well as being able to spin attack and just to witness the utter chaos of Mario flinging himself across the screen again, would make backtracking and walking around in general less of a slog. It would also give you more agency in the overworld and serve as a nice callback to the original game.

☆ Free-moving NPCs & situational dialogue

• In past games, NPCs have been confined to certain paths and locations. They might move from chapter to chapter, but they would always stay in the same general area until you triggered an event that placed them somewhere new. I’d like to see characters wandering around, going in and out of buildings, visiting other locations, having private conversations with one another, getting into fights, buying and selling items at the shop, putting on different clothes, and doing just about anything else they would typically do in-universe. Obviously this would be huge challenge to program, but we’re talking about an ideal here, and anything in this general direction would be an improvement in my eyes. We already see a bit of this in the series, but I’d like to see even more.

• When NPCs say things like “Where are your manners, Mario? You shouldn’t climb on the table” and “Don’t be so careless. There are too many enjoyable things in the world to gamble with your life!” it makes it feel like they actually see what you’re doing and care about what you’re doing. Having NPCs respond to you differently because of where you’re standing, or what partner you have out, or what badges you’re wearing, and so on, makes them into more than just set decoration or a sign to read, it makes them people, or at least more person-like. Nintendo’s been pretty good about this in recent years, probably because technical improvements have made it easier than ever before, and I think it would be fitting for a series known for its world-building.

☆ Dynamic lighting design & a day/night system

• This is all about aesthetics because, as it turns out, visuals are pretty important in a video game. Paper Mario (N64) had some really interesting lighting design, notably in darker areas like the secret passage in Peach’s castle, and we haven’t really seen a lot of that since, despite having more advanced technology that would allow for advanced lighting.

• I’d like to see things like swinging chandeliers that cast beams of light, and cracks in the ceiling that light pours through, and mirrors/reflections that Mario uses to solve puzzles, and shadows that hint at secrets. Lighting is a huge part of shaping a world, and using it in a variety of different and meaningful ways just makes your world seem that much more complex and grounded.

• As for the day/night system, I am picturing a game that visually changes based on the actual time of day, kind of like Animal Crossing games do, but not a game that requires it to be a certain time of day for any gameplay purposes, not for the main quest, not for side-quests, and not even for easter eggs. All I want is for it to be bright when I play in the morning, orange when I play at sunset, and starry when I play at night. This also would add to the game’s replayability, as different chapters would look and feel different depending on what time of day it was when you played through them.

☆ Easter eggs that reference other games in the franchise

• I want it to be clear, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the Mario we see in Paper Mario games is the same Mario we see in other Mario games, not another person, and talking about the time he visited Isle Delfino or when Bowser fused with a sentient tennis racket would really drive that home.

• Make me really look for some, though. It’s cool to spot easter eggs in plain sight, but what’s really rewarding is having to dig for them. I don’t just wanna see Luigi standing in the background, I want to spot little inconsistencies and cracks in the walls and cryptograms spread throughout the world. Sure, the five-year-olds playing might not find them on their first playthrough, but when they’re fifteen and they remember that awesome Paper Mario game they played a decade ago, they won’t just be revisiting a world they’ve fully explored, they’ll be playing on a whole new level, figuratively speaking.

☆ amiibo Compatibility/functionality

• I’m not a big fan of DLC in general, as it’s often overpriced, but I do think amiibos are neat; using a real object to unlock something in a virtual world makes the virtual world feel just that much more alive to me, that much more like it’s a little world I can actually affect.

• The Paper Mario series never really got official merch, and while you do see a bit of your partners’ lives in the epilogue, it’s only a glimpse into their future, so getting little figurines of past partners that make them appear in the game, tell you about a recent adventure they had, and give you a unique badge based on their abilities/personalities/experiences, would be like a dream come true.

☆ Just be creative (I know it’s not that simple, but like, figure it out)

• Surprise me; throw in something inventive and revolutionary, like Wall Merging from A Link Between Worlds or The Aperture Science Handheld Portal Device from Portal. There’s a whole universe of possibilities out there; please dream a little bigger than items disguised as a gameplay element and a hammer that fills in glaringly obvious gaps in paint. Nintendo’s always pushing the video game industry forward with their creative consoles. Use that, take whatever whacky control method they come up with next and integrate it like Super Paper Mario did- but hopefully even better than Super Paper Mario did- with the Wii remote.

• I see fans writing stories, and drawing characters, and making sprites, and working with all kinds of mediums to make art that knocks everything from recent “Paper Mario” games out of the park. Obviously Intelligent Systems can’t just steal those ideas, but I’d love to see them get on that wavelength and match that passion.

• Make a game that you’d never want to put down because you just can’t get enough of it, and don’t even bother with that “You’ve been playing for a while. You wanna take a break, grab a snack, chill out for a sec?” message; if I die playing your game because it’s truly that good, I see that as an absolute win. That’s legendary game design, my friend; aim to make a Paper Mario game so good it’s worth dying for, and if you fall short of that, hopefully you’ll still land on something pretty awesome.

#paper mario #papermariosuggestion #ask

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missorgana · 4 years

Text

your lucky day

pairing: bruce banner/thor, background pepper potts/tony stark

fandom: marvel cinematic universe

rating: general

word count: 4619

warning: swearing

summary: Bruce gets lost in IKEA. Luckily, he finds someone to help him out. (Ikea AU)

(it’s been Months and i’m finally done with this fic!! this is a very belated birthday gift for @nevillelongsbottom i really hope you like this legend 💕 uwu also thank you to @dykeacademias for beta reading u are a lifesaver seriously. hope you all enjoy this mess!!)

read on ao3

Doctor Bruce Banner is lost in IKEA.

While he certainly didn’t expect to find himself in this position, he can appreciate the comedy in it.

But Bruce is lost. Seriously, utterly lost.

The reason for him to even be in IKEA in the first place is simply Tony and Pepper convincing him to accompany them.

Yes, it might seem strange for a soon-to-be married couple to invite just the one friend along to look at furniture for the apartment they scored.

He’s gotten used to their shenanigans by now. Doesn’t mean he still didn’t lift an eyebrow, though.

“We need your help, Bruce, please?” his best friend asked him, and Tony knows that pleading face doesn’t work on him, but still, he wants them to be happy, you know?

In fact, both of them had that matching face on, because they’re perfect for one another, and he’s got this sense of guilt, and nerve in him, because honestly, he’s clueless as to why they’re choosing him for assistance.

He’s always been a nervous person.

Bruce figures an extra pair of hands would be helpful. And it’s not like he’s weak, wouldn’t call himself bulky either, but he can carry his fair amount.

It seemed like his friends might want his input on things as well, judging by the catalogue on they’d put in front of him on the coffee table, with dog-eared pages all around.

“I’m not really good with design and all, fair warning.” he’d said with an awkward chuckle, but Pepper showcased no worry.

“Don’t stress about it, okay? We just need you to decide for us when we disagree on something. You’re a darling.”

“You don’t really disagree on stuff, though.”

Tony blinked at him, “Have you met us?”

Really, the car ride was pleasant, and he loves them to pieces, but Bruce soon got Tony’s point once they were moving through the store, and not more than ten minutes in was forced to judge the lamps his best friends couldn’t seem to decide on.

It’s a month til their wedding, and they’re already acting like an old married couple.

And honestly, the lamps in question looked more or less the same to him, but he didn’t say that, because Pepper had a compelling argument about the placement and size of them, and Tony had to go with the majority, after all.

Regardless, he didn’t have to listen to their bickering for long, which he couldn’t decide if he found heartwarming, amusing or tiring, because somewhere between the kitchen and the office sections, Bruce lost sight of the couple.

Well, that wasn’t ideal.

Truth be told, he was distracting himself with a phone call, and left them looking at paint samples.

And Bruce figured they moved along without him. So it can’t really be his fault, right?

Or maybe they’re lost somewhere else too, who knows.

Thing is, Bruce has been searching this floor for close to half an hour, and now that he’s finally decided to move upstairs, to try his luck, let’s just say he’d really like to meet whoever designed this floor plan.

In fact, after roaming for another ten minutes, he has to admit he’s not sure where the escalators are located anymore.

Maybe he’s walking in circles. How is this even possible?

Honestly, it’s starting to get ridiculous when Bruce finds himself at the plant section, with little idea of how he got there, and also, since when has IKEA got a plant section?

Tony’s told him more than once that he needs to ‘get into the loop’ and ‘not live under a rock’, which really just means his friend has been begging him to start a twitter account.

Especially when he says some pun that’s not even that funny, and Tony laughs almost so hard he can’t breathe.

He can’t say he doesn’t appreciate that support, and confidence boost, though.

Anyway, there must be, like, a map of this floor, or a help desk, right?

Bruce is more or less dumbfounded, stepping out of the way for an elderly couple who are eagerly making their way towards the floor plants, and decides looking out for an IKEA employee might be his best option right now.

Yes, he did actually send Pepper a text, he’d not that out of the loop, but he’s getting no response, and besides, it might help him more if he had an idea of how to not be stuck in all this gardening interior.

But of course, as his luck has it, and Bruce swears he usually looks out for where he’s going, he very nearly smashes a vase that seemingly appeared out of thin air.

He’s in no way a religious person, but Jesus Christ.

Some luck he does have, as if sent like a prayer, when he spots an incredibly tall figure clad in a yellow and blue striped shirt.

And since their back is turned, Bruce figures he’ll politely tap their shoulder and ask for some guidance in a way that doesn’t sound as stupid as it does in his own head.

Good plan.

Or it would be, if he hadn’t tapped said shoulder, and said person turned around, and Bruce stepped back a little and might’ve smashed something for real.

So this has to confirm that he is, indeed, a nervous person, he guesses, because the vision of the stranger is enough to intimidate the doctor.

Well, intimidate sounds like fear, and that’s definitely not it.

Let’s just say this IKEA employee is a head taller, maybe more, who knows, than Bruce, and aforementioned yellow and blue striped uniform is a polo shirt sitting impossibly tighter than he can imagine it’s supposed to.

They’re well trained, to say the least.

In fact, this stranger’s broad shoulders might be launching him into a mental breakdown, and nope, he can’t be freaking out in an IKEA store because someone working there is, seriously, unexplainably attractive.

They even got their blond hair put up in a bun, for real.

And now, Bruce doesn’t really know how to process this encounter, and how to pretend the internal freaking out didn’t just happen, but luckily, real luck this time, the stranger gives him an easy smile on a silver platter.

Thank his non-existent Gods for customer service.

“Careful there, buddy. What can I help you with?”

The voice is soft and gruff at the same time, Bruce doesn’t really know what it is about it, but it’s… that.

His eyes quickly search for nametag, finding it easily on the employee’s (just as broad) chest, which he doesn’t really have the mind to overthink right now, but seriously, this person might just live in a fitness center.

And said nametag showcases Thor, accompanied by My pronouns are he/him.

Of course this giant of a man is named Thor. Bruce can’t even be surprised, really.

His mind manages to circulate back to the fact that he asked you a question, dammit, and the scientist almost stutters out, “I apologise, I, uh, for my clumsiness.”

Thor simply shrugs, staying silent, and seemingly, letting Bruce collect himself and continue.

“And yes, I, eh, was going to ask for your help. My current situation might be slightly embarrassing, however.” he tells him, finally, Bruce nags himself internally, with a small smile he cannot imagine is anything other than awkward.

And the Greek God-esque man in front of him, Bruce should really stop these God-related equations, anyway, chuckles softly in a way he can’t quite believe comes from a man twice the size of himself.

“I doubt it’s anything I haven’t heard before.” Thor, he remembers, tells him, and takes a quick glance behind him, before continuing, “You know how many customers inquire me about watering fake plants?”

And yeah, Bruce has to smile, a little, because he can imagine, and he supposes that remark did relax him about this situation, to some extent.

Not that he still doesn’t think he’s blushing, or fidgeting with his fingers, but this man’s probably used to that right?

Bruce is careful in his thought, because Thor’s most likely been objectified before, and it’s never anything the doctor wants to do, it’s just that this man might as well have walked out of one of his daydreams.

The tall man’s got this easy smile on his face and Bruce thinks he might be going crazy.

What’s gone into him?

To get out of his head, he chuckles just slightly, appreciating Thor attempting, at least, to make him less embarrassed, and, “Well, I- judging by the floor plan, you might’ve gotten this before, I don’t know. I have to admit I’m sort of lost.”

The man in front of him easily chuckles as well, nodding eagerly, resembling some sort of excitement just for a moment, “Oh, tell me about it! Honestly, took me a month before I knew the way around in here.”

Suddenly, Thor doesn’t look like a figment of the doctor’s imagination, but rather, cute in a way Bruce has never thought of men with his physique before.

As established before, these types of encounters, the rare he’s had, makes him a nervous wreck, and not in any way likely to flirt, which, in this case, would be highly uncomfortable for who his attention is devoted to, so it’s definitely for the best his skills are not brushed up upon.

That is, judging by his recent history of romantic relationships, or lack thereof.

He did come out of a long term one and got his heart terribly broken, but that was more than four years ago, and Tony and Pepper had his back, of course, helped him pick up the pieces.

Anyway, let’s just say he hasn’t been eager with going back to the dating market, which he hates calling it but nevertheless, he’s standing in an IKEA, and he really should think about getting back to his friends and not ponder over his mended heart and nonexistent chances with a man who’s, obviously, only this smiling and calm because he’s told to.

Get a grip, Bruce, you have a phd, for science and the modern world’s sake.

He’s quick to realize he needs to pay attention, now, because surely, he can keep his nerves under control for this. Seriously, he must.

“Where did you come from?” the tall man asks him, and it’s only now Bruce notices the cart next to him.

Typical of him to interrupt a dreamy man, not just standing around, but in the middle of a task, really.

He doesn’t usually swear, but fan-fucking-tastic, as Tony would say.

This embarrassment is going to move to the back of his mind, sooner or later, and so he adjust his glasses on his nose, most typical nervous sign really, and ventures on in the conversation.

“First floor, you see, eh…” and Bruce has to chuckle at himself, again, trying to minimize the eye contact with the tall stranger as much as possibly, which, really, shouldn’t be hard considering their height difference, “I lost sight of my friends, and well, here I am.”

Thor nods solemnly, in a way, like he finds this a completely valid reason.

“Okay, this is standard procedure, really, trust me,” he tells him, because apparently Bruce’s demeanor really is obvious, and it’s almost he’s reassuring him, “What section you think they’d wander off to?”

Well, this question boggles the doctor, because he’s not sure at all.

He does know those two like the back of his mind, but also, they went from browsing lamps, to scented candles, to desk chairs, to wall decor that looked like it was taken straight out of a stock photo search on Google.

Dammit, just give the man an answer! In the end, Bruce’s guess is as good as any, he guesses, and maybe Thor’s got some professional IKEA input, too.

And so he clears his throat and replies, “Can I be honest? They’re kind of weirdos, so, not easy. That’s a good thing, though! They’re newly engaged and took me here to help them find new decor, so…”

“Ah! The neutral third part when disagreements occur, I assume?”

This man’s got a certain pitch in his voice, like someone straight out of film school, Bruce wants to say, like he spent many days on learning Shakespeare plays by heart.

He’s not very versed on theater, himself, he’s only become familiar with this kind of voice by Brunnhilde. Once she’d broke through, he noticed what it was about her tone, and really, it barely changed at all.

It’s like she was born for it, which sounds like an old Hollywood drama, but there you go.

Maybe something about the way she carried herself helped, he supposed, but he still can’t anymore of a finger on it than that.

It smoothes out the voice in certain way. He imagines they know a lot of poetry, those actors.

She told him she’d been to voice coaches and such, besides auditioning, and demonstrated for him time and time again when she needed help practising, and Carol wasn’t available.

Maybe he’s an aspiring actor as well, or something similar, but it’s not like Bruce can ponder on this right now. Sometimes he feels like his brain’s got a life of its own, at least working at double speed.

“Hit the nail on the head, as you say, heh.”

Thor nods once more, and he latches onto this aforementioned cart, which appears fully loaded, and well, Bruce can admire the strength in his forearms, right?

Totally normal. It’s cool, Doctor Banner, you’re being real slick about this.

“Say, I’m not in any way experienced with reading people- or well, tracking them down, I suppose.” the God-like man told him - really, these God comparisons gotta stop - with what he hopes is a lighthearted chuckle, damn, he’s trained well with that smile overpowering most of his features.

Thor continues, “The cafeteria’s pretty much a meeting spot in cases like this, I mean, if it’s of any help to go there?”

Bruce just can’t help smiling back, can he? In any case, it’s becoming more natural for him now, less strained, the man fading less from an otherworldly state and more to quietly admirable.

“That would be lovely. I fear I might disappear from the surface of the earth completely if I keep wandering around like this.”

Right, tell a joke, they’re both laughing, it’s fine. Stop staring Bruce, you’ve thought about how tall he is a million times by now, really?!

In less than a second, the cart’s turned around, and Thor removes a strand of blond hair from his hair, before he starts moving, dear God, is he a marathon runner or something?

“The elevator’s by here, somewhere, don’t worry, I got this.” he tells the doctor, as if he ever doubted his ability in any way, and Thor did quickly realize his pace, slowing down at the first corner, allowing the shorter man to catch up.

“No offense, but this place is a goddamn maze.” Bruce says, slightly surprised when they make it the elevator, like it’s a secret land he would’ve never found on his own. Luckily, Thor’s still not fazed.

Chuckling, still. You got this under control, Bruce. Somehow.

The cafeteria’s queue is abnormally long, the soda has definitely been sitting out for a while, the meatballs are steaming hot.

There’s too much noise for Bruce’s liking, but he doesn’t really have much choice of where to go right now.

But today still holds surprises, clearly.

The doctor expressed his gratitude to Thor for leading him this way, which really was hilariously easy now that he thinks about it, but you know, the elevator was actually hidden away, so.

It’s not like he can justify it for himself anymore, so he’ll just give up on it.

The thing is, Bruce in no way expected the handsome stranger to help him anymore so than guiding him here. Only when they stand in the foyer, looking out at the many sterile white tables for customers to have their lunch at, he tells him to stay where he is.

Well obviously, he might get lost again, and there’s no way he wants a second wave of embarrassment right now. But also, surely, Thor has to keep going with whatever business he’s doing?

It seems the man notices Bruce’s scrunched brow, since he dishes out further explanation a few seconds later, “I have to bring this down to storage. It only takes five minutes, trust me!”

Bruce can’t say he expected that. He doesn’t have time to answer, anyway, because Thor once again picks up a pace as if he’s running for his life, and is gone before he knows it.

Guess he’ll stay put. Guess he’ll try to not stand awkwardly around as mothers and children and students are milling around him. It’s easier said than done.

Luckily, because damn, that thing really is with him today, huh?

Well, a minor misadventure, which led him to luck. That could mean something, but Bruce can’t think of that much, because, luckily , just as the fidgeting returns for, like, the 20th time, his phone buzzes in his backpocket.

Of course, Pepper’s texting him now, thank god , because he might go out and trip over himself if that Greek God himself returns, which, conveniently, he does as that moment.

It’s almost like he’s smiling even more now, if that’s even possible.

And he watches Thor wipe sweat off of his forehead with one eye, replies back to Pepper with an urgency, and she’s calm, because she manages to do that in almost any situation, she’s gotten used to Tony, after all, and lets them know his location.

“Hey, buddy!” the tall man comes to a stop, puts both his hands on his hips and shoots a look toward the bustling queue, which, after all, is significantly shorter now, they all work quickly around here, huh.

“You hear from your friends?” he continues his sentence, maybe because Bruce doesn’t know what to answer and he’s freaking out, maybe because he’s simply curious. It’s a 50/50, really.

Again, he really should stop thinking of a million things at once, and nods instead, and now, for some reason, Thor’s got them drinks and a table, kindly offering to wait with Bruce till Tony and Pepper’s finished with their shopping.

Well, he doesn’t offer as much as tells him, makes his way to the queue even though the doctor was about to refuse, but the deed is done, anyway, and he appreciates it.

Bruce does wonder the tall man’s going to get in trouble, though. Surely, hanging out with a customer can’t be allowed?

“You know, uh, you don’t have to wait with me.” he can’t help chuckling awkwardly, because everything he does becomes awkward around Thor, who seems so easy going, it’s insane, “I don’t want you to get in trouble with your boss.”

The stranger, or, not really a stranger anymore, he supposes, is eating like he hadn’t breakfast, which does worry Bruce, but he shakes his head and gulps down some more soda before he speaks.

“Oh no, it’s fine. I was overdue for a lunch break, anyway.”

And he can’t help but just shrug.

A small smile isn’t totally awkward, right? This is fine. Just two dudes hanging out. Thor’s on his goddamn lunch break, he’s working , Bruce, what did you expect?

“Besides, don’t tell anyone I said this, but the conversations my coworkers usually engage in are, um,” he turns his head, and nope, only customers in sight for now, surely those behind the counter can’t hear what he wants to say, “rather dull.”

Okay, he has to laugh a little bit. Because Thor’s laughing, that is.

He’s kind of, sort of, insulting someone, but he’s being so incredibly nice about it. As nice as possible.

And now, he’s totally not watching him, come on, they’re having a conversation, this man seems to be fidgeting now.

In a different way than Bruce, surely, kind of like an excited labrador who’s owner just come home after a two week vacation.

It’s cute. Shut up, he can find him cute, not only teenagers say that, right?

Bruce is feeling like a teenager, seeing some jock in a varsity jacket walking down the hall, every student eager to just have him look at you, just once. Maybe he’s been there before. He barely knows this man, keep it together!

Him beating up himself is interrupted by Thor, again, “Do you mind if I am a tiny bit nosy?”

The doctor blinks. “I guess it depends on what topic we’re discussing.”

Thor gulps some more soda. Bruce truly has to wonder if IKEA feeds their employees at all.

“Right! Right. I just thought, since you know my name, you know, I might be allowed to ask your name.”

And another surprise. More shock, maybe. Definitely not what he expected him to ask, but what did he expect, really?

Bruce does smile, and it’s like, okay, this is casual, it’s like the customer service barrier is a bit broken down now, “Of course. It’s Bruce.”

Thor nods again, excitedly. Excited about everything.

And he’s not usually like this, but this man’s attitude is sort of rubbing off on him. Weird.

“What do you do, Bruce?” and Thor’s constantly removing strands of hair from that worn out bun, “Other than being a good friend, that is.”

Now why does he have to go and compliment him? It’s thrown out like it’s nothing, like it’s easy, and his self hatred won’t let him say it’s easy, but he takes it, because it seems like Thor means it. He hopes so, anyway.

He does laugh, to keep a little distance, “Uh, well, I’m a professor.”

Bruce doesn’t exactly like to advertise, and shout out to the world about his PhDs. No, he’s proud of his work, don’t get him wrong.

But he doesn’t feel particularly impressive compared to some of his role models, who progressed faster than himself, and anyway, he isn’t great with compliments. As is obvious from this conversation.

Needless to say, if this man gets anymore excited, he might just explode in front of him.

“Holy shit,” he blurts, he assumes, because oh, how the tables turned, when the embarrassment Bruce has been feeling is mirrored on Thor’s face, “oh, dear God, sorry for my language. But I love that. I’m afraid I’m just an actor.”

So, he guessed right, he notes. Doesn’t really know what do with that assumption.

“That’s not really a just, is it?”

He shrugs.

They’re both too humble for their own good, in the end, Bruce thinks. At least Thor is only slightly visibly upset when he brushes off the compliments, or at least, tries to signal to his new acquaintance that his work really isn’t that big of a deal.

He does tell him more details when Thor asks, of course, he’s always been relatively polite, hopefully, but Bruce has never been good at not comparing himself to others, as you might’ve guessed.

“That is a big deal, though!” the tall man says, sounding more sincere than anyone Bruce has ever met, “You are brilliant.”

He’s not blushing. Not at all, except he is, a little bit, anyway, “I mean, I- thank you. We’ve only still just me, though.”

“I can tell. And we shouldn’t underestimate ourselves. I’m still learning that, as you can tell.”

Of course, he’s right. Of course, this man encourages a relative stranger to be confident. Of course, it’s lovely.

And this conversation goes on forever, which probably isn’t realistic, he’s aware, but well, Bruce is getting comfortable.

It’s stupid, he shouldn’t, he knows.

But this man is so friendly. Endearing. And he has to think, honestly, how can anyone not immediately be drawn to him?

Thor does tell a lot of kind of ridiculous jokes. That’s endearing too, dammit.

Also, maybe, Bruce wants to spit out his soda when the half God, half man asks him for scientifically related pick up lines. He doesn’t, of course, he’s not an animal.

This can be restrained, sure, and it’s not like his new… friend means anything by it. Really, this is just a once in a lifetime acquaintance. Probably never going to see each other again.

But it’s a fun run.

Maybe he should just thank his lucky stars for this. Maybe Bruce should just get his head out of his ass and go on an actual date, instead of getting nervous about someone in a goddamn furniture store.

Thing is, this nice time ends far too quickly, not soon after the doctor’s almost, completely relaxed, as much excitement as this one man contains, it soothes his nerves. That’s ridiculous, isn’t it?

At least, it’s like Thor can tell how embarrassed he is, and cancels it out by telling embarrassment stories of his own.

Or spilling ketchup on his uniform button up, newly washed, even. Bruce would feel bad for finding it a little funny, if the man didn’t laugh at himself and smack himself in the head.

The self awareness is admirable. The doctor still doesn’t laugh, because he’s just, God, way too empathetic. He feels bad for him.

But yes, it does end, because Tony’s familiar exclaim of “Brucie!” wakes him up from whatever dumb haze this is.

No more time to get lost in this impossible relation. Sadly.

Of course, his friends’ cart is filled to the brim. They have a bag, too.

Pepper rushes for a hug, because she’s a sweetheart and worries too much, as usual, “Thank God! Oh Bruce, I feel terrible we lost you.”

And he pats her shoulder in reassurance, chuckles, casts a glimpse to Thor, who’s standing there like an overgrown puppy, assuming they’ll part ways soon, “I got by, thankfully.”

Indeed he did. After a small exchange not much time passes before Thor has to go back to work (really, how long of a break is he allowed?) Bruce wonders, because surely more than half an hour must’ve gone by.

And the doctor thanks him for the help for the millionth time, like the other times weren’t enough, but he appreciates it, and whatever this relation is, but he doesn’t mention that last part, of course.

The blond man is humble again. Of course.

And, of course, Tony teases him for about the whole car ride to Bruce’s flat about how he ‘was saved by a tall handsome stranger’, and he ‘should’ve made a move, surely’.

It’s not like he disagrees with the savior part.

Pepper shakes her head along with him.

Maybe, for once, Tony’s right about something, to his credit, because Bruce spent a lot of time convincing him, and himself, that the man was just being polite when offering to wait with him.

And the conversation, too, as genuine as it felt.

Needless to say, the slip of notepad paper with the Ikea logo on tip that the doctor finds in his jacket pocket a day late, written on in what might be the most pleasing handwriting he’s seen in a while, was surprising.

There's also a phone number.

This is breaking all the protocols, and I am terrified that you will be offended, I sincerely apologise if so, I in no way want to make you uncomfortable.

I did enjoy our conversation very much. I would also enjoy the opportunity to see you again, if you agree, perhaps with other surroundings than Swedish furniture.

Sincerely, Thor (from IKEA).

Maybe he types the number into his phone. Maybe he calls it right away.

Of course, Tony doesn’t need to know that right now.

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theatrelove3000 · 4 years

Text

No Place Like Home

Hello, Friends! My brain is fried so there is no introduction like there normally is. I honestly doubt anyone reads them anyway. Whatever. ONWARD!

Background: Noelle and Loki were “Bound” by a witch in Alfheim after a battle they fought in. This means that the witch split each of their souls in half and one half switched places. Noelle has half of Loki’s soul and vice versa. They can feel each other's emotions and hear each other's thoughts. Noelle is also Half Asgardian, half Midgardian. Her father is Tyr and her mother is of Midgard. Loki enchanted her wedding ring so that she can be immortal with him.

Summary: Noelle is kidnapped by Hydra while on a mission in Europe and help captive in an unknown base somewhere in the country. Loki needs to find her before the worst can happen.

Warnings: Kidnapping, swearing, suggestions of attempted rape, creepy Hydra guys being gross, slight angst with a fluffy end.

No Place Like Home

Noelle PoV:

Well.

I am not sure how to describe my situation in any other way than this: I'm fucked.

It was supposed to be a routine mission. We were supposed to be in and out, no big deal. That is no longer the case.

Nope. The current situation is much more dire than such things as "routine" and "easy in-and-out". The situation is now me, gagged, bound, and surrounded by the darkness of the van that the Hydra agents had thrown me into. So I repeat. I am fucked. But then again...

So are they.

If there is one thing I know, it's the power my husband holds within himself. A power that does nothing but grow, especially when I am in danger.

They have created a cuff to cut off my magic and tied my hands behind me so I couldn't use my knives or gun. It's not ideal but I've been through worse. The only thing I'm afraid of now is who will control these men from putting their hands on me. I can't defend myself with my hands tied and magic quelled.

I soon get my answer as the van comes to a stop. I'm hauled out by the two guys who sat in the back with me. They seem to be expecting me to kick and scream, thinking they will have to drag or even carry me into the concrete structure we are about to enter. They are wrong. I keep my emotions in check. I stay cool and collected and let them walk me to the elevator.

The bigger of the two men, who I have decided looks like a Chuck, jabs his finger into the button of the floor number we need to get to. -5. Noted.

When the elevator doors open again, I am faced with a small grey room with a metal chair in the middle, a small cot in the right hand corner of the far wall, and one small light that dangles from the ceiling.

Chuck and his buddy Frankie sit me in the chair and take the gag out of my mouth. The first thing I do is make eye contact with Frankie and give him a small smile. He is clearly unsettled by my calmness and looks extremely guarded as he unties my hands and cuffs me to the chair. I let them do their job and nod my head at Chuck, who looks equally unnerved by me. Yay!

They both walk backwards to the elevator and keep their eyes on me until the doors shut once again. I keep my smile on until they are gone. Now that they left and my eyes have adjusted to the dim room, I can scope it out.

There must be hidden cameras. I can get a general sense of where based on the discolouration of the concrete. They were recently installed. This is a new base. We may not have record of it yet.

Shit. Okay, plan B. If I let the wall between Loki and myself down, he could follow the pull and find me. But that could take days. I hope that by the Fates that the tracker we have installed into our suits is still working.

I'm still thinking through my game plan when the doors open again. I look up to see a very... boring? I think that's a good word, yes. A boring man walks through the door.

"Lady Noelle." I hear the accented voice say. I unintentionally tense up. He addressed me as "Lady Noelle." No one calls me that except the Asgardians and they haven't called me "Lady" anything since my marriage to their Prince. They say "Princess" now. This man isn't of Asgard.

"Oh, not to worry, my dear Lady. You are... well, I cannot say safe but you will not be harmed if you cooperate." He walks into the light, circling me. I relax my body, with some effort, and try to appear calm.

"Forgive me, sir, but you seem to know my name, yet I don't know yours."

He chuckles. "You think me a fool?" He asks, stopping his pacing in front of me. I can see it relatively well. He looks like the basic Hydra douche in the stupid uniform and such things, but there is something about his eyes. I can't understand it but it's more frightening than I let on.

"I am not going to just give you information on myself. I suppose you think I am going to just surrender my plan to you as well?" He steps forward, resting his hands on the cuffs holding mine to the chair, and leaning in a bit.

I force a calm smile and tilt my head slightly. "Of course not. That would be ridiculous. Though, you did just tell me you are a head officer in this joint, if not the mastermind. I'll know your name sooner or later. I'd prefer sooner if you don't mind." I cock an eyebrow at him. "Build a rapport and all that jazz?"

He chuckles again and stands straight. "It appears you would be right. My men will call my name eventually and then you will know. My name is Leon Becker. I am, in fact, the leader of this base and this mission. And you, my dear, are my guest." He smiles coldly.

"Do you normally strap your guests to chairs?"

"If they are Avengers, yes."

"Ah. So you are afraid I will hurt you. Okay, no big. I totally understand." I nod in faux agreement. "Makes sense to keep a woman with no weapons and stripped of her powers locked up."

"I am not stupid, woman." He growls at me. "Your reverse psychology will not work on me. You were trained in Asgard as a warrior and then in the Avengers compound by super soldiers and highly trained assassins. I know you can beat me. You have otherworldly strength that you received from your father: an Asgardian." He begins pacing around me again.

My smile falters for a moment. How does he know about Tyr? I regain my composure. "So you know of my parentage. Well done! You did your homework." I snip sarcastically.

He smirks at me as he passes. "Your mother died of Osteosarcoma. Bone cancer. That's sad. What's it been now, three years? You laid beside her and sang to her until her last breath. Such a devoted daughter." He shakes his head. "Well, maybe not so devoted. You saw her, what, four times in the three years you lived in Asgard at that point?" I feel my throat start to close up. Momma. I do my best to hold it together. "Aw, my apologies, Lady Noelle. Did my talking of your mother upset you? Oh dear." Leon tsks. As he walks to the elevator, he says over his shoulder. "I suppose we can start in the morning. Rest well, Lady Darkness."

The doors shut behind him. As they do, the cuffs holding me to my chair release me. I take a deep breath. I will not cry. I refuse to give him the satisfaction. Making my way over to the cot, I rub my wrists absentmindedly as I break down the wall between Loki and myself.

'NOELLE!' He shouts into my mind. I wince. 'Where are you? Are you hurt? I will kill them. Do you have a location?'

'Loki, honey. I'm very tired. One question at a time.'

I feel him take a deep breath. 'Are you injured in any way? Have they touched you?'

'No to both questions. I'm not hurt and most of them are frightened of me.'

He smiles at that but it quickly falls. 'What's your location?'

'I don't know. I was in the back of a van, it was dark.'

I feel his emotions shift from anger to distress. 'I can use our... What did you call it? The link that helps us find each other?'

'Built in GPS. And you can try but I think it will be too far. We were driving for a while.'

He scowls, 'I meant what I said. When I find you, I will slaughter them all. They put their hands on my wife. I will be sure to put every last one in their graves.'

'I love you for that but really, please focus on finding me and getting me home.'

'You cannot teleport. I can't get you here either. I've been trying for hours. Why is that?'

'Well, they are getting smarter. They have found a way to create a cuff that cuts off my magic. The only reason we can communicate is because we are bound. They must not know about that.'

There is silence for a moment. 'What do they know?' He asks in a small voice.

I sigh. 'Too much.'

He nods but doesn't press the matter. He knows I will tell him eventually.

~~~~~Le Time Skip cuz I'm lazy~~~~~

I have no idea what time it is or how long I've been here. I only sleep in intervals and I'm not even sure how long they are. They can't be very long. I'm exhausted.

'You sleep in one hour intervals about 4 times a day.' I sigh. He isn't sleeping. 'Can you blame me, Noelle? You are in captivity and I do not know where you are. I am working on finding you and I will not rest until I do so.'

'I love you for it but you can't keep doing this. You're going to burn yourself out.'

'You are not the first to mention that.' He grumbles. 'Thor is saying the same. Agent Romanoff as well.'

'They're right. Listen to them. I'm alright. She is pretty smart so you should listen.'

He laughs, 'She? Only she?'

I smile, 'Thor thinks with his heart. He is thinking of you because he loves you and wants to keep you safe. Natasha thinks with her brain. She needs you to keep your wits about you and she is right.'

'I-' he is interrupted by the elevator doors opening. Frankie and Chuck step through. One is holding a tray of food, like every day, and the other holds a case file. That's new. So are the looks on their faces.

Damn it.

'I love you.' I whisper in my mind. 'Please forgive me.' Before he can respond, I put up the wall in our minds. He can't hear or feel me now.

"Breakfast for you, Lady Darkness."

I smile and say, "Thank you, Chuck." I sit up and take the tray.

"Again, that is not my name."

"Yeah, well, that's what I'm gonna call you. You realize that my best friend is the greatest nickname maker of all time?"

Chuck scowls and Frankie crosses his arms.

"You should really hold your tongue. You cannot beat us both at once without your powers." Frankie tells me. He runs his fingertips over my knee. I immediately jerk away from him. He laughs. It's a sickening laugh. I've always been outspoken and strong about things like that but he is right. I couldn't stop them both.

"The loud-mouthed Princess is speechless. Probably for the better. I would be afraid if I was such a small girl as well."

I feel a burst of heat pass through me. Whether it was bravery or stupidity, I let it control me. "Wait a minute, Frankie. You're telling me you're not a girl? Wow. Could have had me fooled."

His face turns red. "You little bitch." He growls menacingly.

"You know, I was actually pretty proud of you for a minute. A female soldier protecting a... what did you call me? 'Loud-mouth princess'? Pretty cool. But know that I know you're a guy, meh."

"Shut your mouth." Snaps Chuck before turning to his little buddy, "She is trying to provoke you. We can take her easily. Don't do anything stupid."

"You too! You think you're big tough men? You follow a coward who hides behind his pride. You do his bidding like dogs." I stand up and start summoning my strength. "That's what you are. Not men. Not women. Dogs. You are disposable and worthless to him. You mean no more to him than a-" WHACK.

Frankie slaps me hard across the face. I stumble back and hit the chair. As I stand and start towards him, the doors open and Leon stands there with another few guards. They grab hold of me and strap me to the chair again as Frankie and Chuck board the elevator.

"That was unwise, Lady Noelle." Leon says calmly. I blink away the tears that pooled from the sting.

"Never said I was wise." I mutter. I take a deep breath and straighten my back, crossing my ankles. "It was a sudden moment of weakness you will not have the pleasure of witnessing again." I raise my chin, remembering what Loki showed me when we sat on the throne while Thor was away.

"Your bravery never ceases to amaze me, my dear. The beauty and power you possess to be strapped to a pathetic chair and still sit as though it is a throne is truly remarkable."

"I learned from a king."

This comment shakes him for a moment. He walks towards me and leans his face closer to mine. "Those fools do not deserve such a pleasure you could provide." He breathes me in. I suppress a shudder.

"And you think you do? Interesting."

"I deserve better than an alien's whore," he snarls before standing straight. "But I would settle for you."

I feel my lungs grow tight. "Not to worry, Lady Noelle. I will not touch you until your husband is dead."

I laugh, though there is no humour in it. "You will be waiting for a very long time, I'm afraid. Loki is immortal."

"Ah, but that is not true, is it? They can be killed." Leon cocks an eyebrow.

"Well if that is your master plan, I suggest you pray to whatever God you believe in, Mr. Becker. My husband is not easy to kill."

~~~~~Le Time Skip II~~~~~

The next day, Leon decides that it is a splendid idea to have dinner with me. He makes idle conversation, I make an occasional sarcastic remark. He proves that the food wasn't poisoned by eating off of my plate himself. Even then I don't eat much.

"So, Lady Noelle. You grew up in New York, yes?"

I simply smile knowingly. He already knows.

"And your husband attacked New York in 2012?"

Another smile.

"It makes me wonder whether you agreed with those actions. Very curious." He puts a bite of salmon in his mouth.

"Not that I need to explain it to you, Mr. Becker, but if you must know, I was not in on Loki's attack on New York. At the time, he and I were not in contact. And for the record, he was brainwashed and being controlled by an evil being." I take a bite of rice, watching his reaction. "We later destroyed the being that tortured him for two whole years. Loki tore him limb from limb." I say casually.

He seems shocked (yay) but does his best to compose himself. "Your husband's past is very dark. And his cruelty is shocking."

"Hmm." I hum absently, "Well, I'm sorry you feel that way. Though I should tell you to prepare yourself because what he did to Thanos is nothing compared to what he will do to you."

Leon's eyes grow wide. He takes a breath and pushes a button. He stands as Frankie and Chuck come in and move the table and the chair Leon was in away. As the three if them walk back towards the elevator, I decide to take a small parting shot.

"A normal man can do the impossible to save the woman he loves, Leon." I call to his retreating form. "My husband is no ordinary man." Before the elevator doors close, I say, "He is a God."

I feel Loki laughing in my mind.

'Good show, darling.' He says.

'Thank you, thank you. Have you found me yet?'

'Just a bit longer, love. I will find you. We will find you soon.' I nod as I lay on my cot.

'I love you.' I tell him.

'I love you more.' He replies.

'I love you most.' I say as I shut my eyes, willing my body to sleep.

~~~~~Le Time Skip III~~~~~

I am awoken by banging and screams coming from above me. And then I feel it.

Loki is here.

I sit up and try to speak to him in my mind. He doesn't respond quickly and I can feel his adrenaline coursing through him in the fight.

After a few minutes, I hear him calling me.

"LEVEL -5! LOKI!"

Its not long before he finds me and wraps me up tight. "I've got you." He says. "I've found her." He says, louder this time, and not to me. He is telling the team.

"You are practically frozen, my dove." He says, kissing my forehead. I nuzzle my way deeper into his chest. He takes off his thick, green cape and tugs it around my shoulders. He kisses my head again before taking my hand in his and leading the way back to the stupid elevator.

"Loki." I whisper once we are in.

"Noelle?" He responds. I hold out the wrist the anti-magic cuff is on. He takes the hint and takes it off. Immediately after, I feel a surge of power running through my body. The sensation is so strong that I almost crumble. Loki catches me and holds me up. We reach the top floor soon after that where a helicarrier is waiting for us.

Loki gets me settled in my seat before trying to leave again, presumably to kill every Hydra agent in sight. I take his hand quickly and tug him back to me. He looks at me questioningly and kisses my knuckles.

"Please, don't leave me. Let the others get to Leon."

He clearly doesn't like it but agrees to stay. "Do you have an earpiece? I want to talk to Tony."

He hesitates for a moment before standing up to go get me an earpiece. He hands it to me when he returns and I stick it in my ear quickly.

"Tony." I say.

"Good to have you back, Elle. You alright?" Tony says, cool as ever.

"I'm alright. Listen, the leader's name is Leon Becker. He has the most decorated uniform, well-kept brown hair, a lame ass mustache that looks exactly how you imagine it will, and dark dark brown eyes. Keep him alive. We should question him."

I hear Tony sigh. He agrees but he doesn't want to. Neither does Loki, as I gather from the growl. "Fine. I'll find him and put him in the cargo hold with Nat and Clint."

"Cool. I'm going to rest a bit. And Tony? Thank you. For saving me I mean. Thank you to everyone."

"We got you, Elle. Now go cuddle your man." I hear Nat's voice and smile. I take out the earpiece and put it aside.

"Cuddles?" Loki asks, opening his arms. I need no further invitation. I climb into his lap and bury my face in his neck. I breathe him in and, for the first time in days, let my body feel. I start to cry, not because I'm sad or hurt, but because I'm safe. And happy to be where I am.

My home is in the lap of the love of my life, his arms around me and mine around him, my face buried in his neck. And there's no place like home.

@thelokiimaginechronicles @just-the-hiddles @is-it-madness @frostbitten-written @poetic-fiasco @myoxisbroken @myraiswack @lehuka123 @head-over-heart

#loki fanfic #loki fic #loki x ofc #loki x noelle #kidnapped! OFC #avengers #avengers fic #tony #nat #clint #thor

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eryiss · 3 years

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Chapter One - The House

Summary: Freed and Laxus live incredibly different lives. Freed is a corporate lawyer in the capital city, and Laxus works as a handyman in a countryside hotel. Despite their differences, their lives collide when Freed inherits a house in Laxus’ village, and hires him to make the derelict building liveable. But the closer they get, the more they seem to offer each other. [Fraxus Multi-Chapter]

This was written as my admission for Fraxus Day 2020, hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus. It ended up becoming a multi-chapter, and I thought the first chapter should go up today, as a holloween gift. The next one will be published on thursday, and will continue on weekly.

You can read this under the cut, on Fanfiction, or on Archive of Our Own. You can find the chapter masterpost here.

Chapter One – The House

Freed hadn't expected his mother's death to be so tedious.

He should probably feel more emotional about it. He and his mother had no ill-will towards one another – there was no tragic secret nor history of arguing or abuse between them – but he found himself oddly unbothered by hearing of her death. Not a numbness of any kind either, he felt very much the same as if a colleague had told him their mother had passed. It was just an event that had happened, and something that affected his life, but not his emotions.

His apathy probably came from the fact he and his mother hadn't spoken for years. Again, not for any great reason, just because they didn't. He and his father had always been closer, and when he had died four years prior, Freed had grieved and got over it as best a person can. His mother was the worker of the family, and thus the emotional relationship hadn't been as strong. Neither had made an effort to connect in their adulthood, only really linked by his father. And so once he had passed, there wasn't really any reason to speak. Neither person was overly emotional, so they didn't seek comfort in one another's arms, and instead just drifted off.

And so, the death of his mother was tedious.

Death was followed by a lot of things. The need to plan a funeral, people being completely unaware of how to act around him, and an odd amount of pity coming from people who didn't know him at all. Freed was something of a pragmatist, and as such it became an experience he didn't want to repeat. At least with the death of his father, he'd had his sadness to distract him. But this was just, well… tedious.

Perhaps the worse thing to have happened occurred two days prior. As was customary after someone passes, there was a reading of the will. A pointless exercise for this instance, given Freed had literally inherited everything. Freed knew this already – he was his family's lawyer for god's sake, he drafted the damned thing – but he still had to attend the reading. So, for an hour in a busy work week, he was forced to travel down two floors in his building, and sit there while another lawyer – Natsu Dragneel, who had actually interned under Freed for a year – explained the law and what the will meant. To the man who had taught him it!

Further adding to the annoyance of the situation, almost everything he'd inherited had strings attached. There was a lot of debt, from both loans and gambling, apparently. Freed's credit score was going to take a hit, given how much there was. There were also her belongings, which he would have to look through at some point. She also apparently owned property, which was now his.

This would be good, had it not been for its location. Freed's life was centred in the city, this house was in the middle of the countryside, miles from what Freed considered civilisation. Why she had owned a house there was beyond Freed, she was more metropolitan than him; she lived in Era and Era alone. But unfortunately, now it was his.

So now, he was nearing the end of a three-and-a-half-hour train ride.

He was going to sell the place, of course. Why his mother hadn't done so confused Freed, given her debts. Property values were high in this area, many rich older people wanted to retire there, and a three-bedroom cottage was perfect for that. But he needed to see it, speak with estate agents, and sign away the rights. All in all, tedious.

When he got off the train, he was hit by how different it was to Era. It was open, the air smelt different and it looked like an illustration from a Victorian romance novel. All very idyllic, but Freed had no intention of staying long enough to appreciate it. Instead, he located the taxi service, and ordered a car to his new property.

Apparently Uber hadn't arrived there yet.

The car came soon enough, and after a few failed attempts to illicit more than a curt answer from Freed, it was a quiet ride. It took about forty minutes, and Freed watched as fields passed by, the atmosphere dampened by the scent of manure filling the air. People raved about the fresh air in the countryside, but Freed much preferred the smell of petrol and faint piss of Era to literal crap. Better the devil you know.

Thankfully, the smell of muck spreading was interrupted when his phone lit up. He glanced at the contact name – 'Estate Agent' – before lifting it to his ear and accepting the call. He needed an evaluation for the property, and apparently this man was the best in the area. Hopefully the fastest too.

"Mr Clive," He greeted, leaning back.

"Mr Justine," The estate agent replied in a more jovial tone. "Just to let you know, I'm at the property and waiting for you. There's been a few evaluations over the years and they're all pretty similar, so it shouldn't take long."

"Thank you," Freed nodded to himself, glancing past the front seat to see the GPS saying they should be at their destination in about five minutes. "I'll be there soon."

"Great," Gildarts' grin was audible in his tone. "Sorry that you had to come down here to deal all of this."

"It's not your fault," Freed said placatingly, though not honestly. "The sooner it's done, the better."

"Couldn't agree more," Gildarts grinned.

"Why had it been evaluated before?" Freed asked, brows furrowing slightly.

"Apparently your mother has tried to sell it a few times. Twice with independent online stores, and once with an estate agent. Clearly it didn't go well," The man laughed. "But we'll be more successful. We know what we're doing."

After some pointless pleasantries, the call was ended. Freed found himself frowning; a cottage in this area should have been sold without any difficulty. The fact this one hadn't, despite its perfect position and seemingly positive qualities, didn't bode well. He tried to be optimistic, but at this point, it was almost certain that even selling the house would further add to his annoyances.

It was ten minutes later – it took longer than expected because he got caught up in traffic caused by a heard of cows crossing from one field to the other, followed by an uncaring farmer who glared at the taxi as if it were an affront to his lifestyle – when he saw the house.

It was clear as to why his mother couldn't sell it.

The place was practically derelict. In its prime it would have been the ideal village cottage, with white walls and a slated roof. It would have had a garden filled with perfectly trimmed flowers, a large but well-groomed oak tree, and most likely a cliché dog running around. Unfortunately, the house's prime was clearly centuries ago because it embodied the world decapitated in a way Freed had never seen. The roof was falling apart, the garden filled with so many overgrown plants nothing else could be seen, and a window was hanging out of the wall. It was unliveable, and practically unlovable.

Perfect. His mother had left him debt, three wardrobes filled with wrinkled clothes, and a building nobody could use without a death wish. Now his hopes of selling the place was unrealistic.

As he approached the building, a man made his presence known by leaving a car with a smile on his face. He was older than Freed, in his late forties if Freed was being kind, and he gave a polite 'Hello' as he approached. It was clearly the estate agent, who was showing a lot more optimism than Freed felt at that moment.

"Mr Justine, nice to meet you in person," He greeted.

"Likewise," Freed nodded, though his tone didn't reflect the sentiment. Gildarts laughed.

"I can see from your face that you were expecting something a little… different," The man chuckled, and Freed found himself annoyed by the man's enthusiasm. "You probably thought it'd be a little more liveable, didn't ya?"

"Something like that," Freed agreed, looking at the building almost accusingly.

"Well if it's any kind of relief, the building's structure is actually very secure. I won't lie, there's probably hundreds of problems going on in there, but at least the roof isn't going to collapse on our heads," The agent laughed, and in any other situation it might be less grating. "I can explain the details as we look through it, I'm sure that you want to get this done quickly."

"If that's possible."

Gildarts nodded, then jogged back to his car. When he returned, he was holding two hardhats that one would see on a building site, and Freed looked at it warily. Gildarts smiled and patted him on the shoulder with an unneeded amount of strength.

"The roof itself won't fall, but there's always a chance that the ceiling tiles might, so we can't be too careful, can we?" He chuckled loudly, placing on his hat, and walking into the building. Freed, after a moment of hesitation, joined him.

~~~

"So, you're sayi-" A small scratch. "-basically unsellable."

Freed ground his teeth together slightly. He was pacing down a village high-street, holding his phone to his ear and trying his best to listen to Evergreen's stuttering voice. Apparently random country roads were perfectly fine with phone signals; but for the most built up area for miles, it was practically impossible to have a conversation without some kind of interference. It was something very quickly grating on his nerves.

"Essentially, yes," Freed sighed, sidestepping a couple walking towards him. "It's too run down for anyone to want to buy it. My estate agent said the best thing to do is to see if a property auction will take it and sell it cheap."

"Why don't you-" Another scratching sound. "-it down. Sell the land-" A quick, high pitched noise. "-farmer or property developer."

Freed's muscles tenses slightly at the suggestion. He had thought about that, but of course when he had told Gildarts that it was the logical course of action, the man had looked at him with something akin to pity in his eyes. He had then patted the man on the shoulder – again making Freed's body jerk slightly with the power behind the action – and added another layer of annoyance to this ridiculous situation.

"Apparently it's a listed building, and has some kind of historical preservation status," Freed sighed, slowing slightly when the buzzing on the phone went quiet. Hopefully, he had a stronger signal now. "Essentially meaning, the building has to stay."

"If it's so important, why did they let it get so run down?" Evergreen asked, voice clear now.

"They didn't, my mother has been receiving phone calls and letters from local council about it for years," Freed wiped at his eye with his free hand, deflating slightly. "Which I will now be getting, I suppose. Along with the letters and phone-calls from debt collectors, no doubt."

"How much would it sell for as it is?"

"Optimistically, 25 thousand. Since you can't make any modifications to the outer building, something in this state is hard to get customers for."

It wasn't anywhere near enough to cover his mother's debts, even when combined with the savings he was unwilling to give up. Though a successful corporate lawyer and having saved a substantial part of his earning for over ten years, Freed was by no means rich. His family came from money, but never gave any to him as they wished for him not to be spoiled. So far it hadn't mattered, but now with six figures of debt from nowhere, his comfortable life seemed unstable. This wasn't helped by the fact he only wanted to use his savings as a last resort; he'd saved this money for himself, not to give to online casinos because of his mother's apparent addiction.

"Couldn't you make it a bit more marketable," Evergreen suggested, and Freed found himself irrationally irritated by the chewing he heard. They were colleagues, and he knew that her lunch break wasn't for another hour. "Tidy it up slightly."

"It's not run down, it's unliveable," Freed grunted. "The windows are boarded up, the garden practically a jungle, bare floorboards, furniture that is practically rotting, and a bird had nested on the oven."

"Maybe plant some flowers and bake a cake when showing people around," Evergreen joked, and Freed almost laughed.

He couldn't resent his mother. He did love her, and perhaps if he had made some kind of effort in talking to her then maybe the debts wouldn't have happened because she could talk to him about her gambling. Of course that regret was pointless now, thinking about what he could have done wouldn't change anything. He just had to deal with the consequences.

"You'll figure something out," Evergreen spoke up again.

"I know," Freed nodded. "But I'm not quite sure exactly how, yet."

"Well, I've just checked, and there's a nice-looking hotel near you," Evergreen smiled, and Freed could hear the clicking of a computer mouse through his speakers. "All good reviews, apparently a brilliant kitchen and very nice staff."

"Good for them," Freed said with furrowed brows.

"I've booked you a room," Evergreen declared, clearly grinning. Freed went to speak but Ever went first. "You're staying there for a week. You can either spend it thinking what to do next with your house, or just have a nice break, which you're overdue. Climb one of the mountains or something. I'll have a suitcase sent down with everything you need."

"No," Freed said firmly.

"I don't believe I gave you a choice, dear," Evergreen smiled. "And I've already paid for it. If you stay, consider it a gift. And if you don't, you'll be in even more debt, and I'm much worse than any bailiff you can think of, and we share an office, so I will make your life miserable."

"You're both blackmailing and threatening me," Freed grunted. "I could technically sue you for workplace harassment."

"Yeah, but you're my lawyer so you'd have to argue with yourself," Evergreen laughed. "Which you could, you've got an ego big enough you probably crop up on those reddit pages about people who think they're really smart," Freed let out an indignant sound at that, and Ever just laughed. "Just take some time off, you know you have to have a week off eventually. Why not just do it now? Enjoy the countryside, smell the fresh air, read a book."

"I read constantly, the fresh air is laden with the scent of literal shit, and so far the countryside is a pointless expanse of green that makes me want to take on more cases against environmentalists."

"Oh stop feeling sorry for yourself," Evergreen laughed. "Find your hotel, get yourself a drink, and relax for a week."

After a second of consideration, and a deflated sigh, Freed spoke again. "What's the hotel called."

"Fairy Tail Inn," Evergreen read aloud. "Sounds a bit cliché, but the rooms look great and the reviews are all good. Should be at one end of the high street, at the top of the hill."

Freed looked back over his shoulder, he had walked past the hotel in his search for a reliable amount of signal. He hadn't paid it much attention, as it was at the start of the conversation and he'd been attempting to understand any of what Evergreen was saying, but it looked nice enough. The only real reason he had actually remembered the place was because he was fairly sure they had mistaken the two spellings of the word Tail. He started to walk back up the steep high-street, telling Evergreen that he knew where the place was.

"Okay, I'll leave you to it then," Evergreen smiled, and the buzzing on the phone returned slightly. "See you in a week. Oh, and text me a picture of the house when you're tetchy so I can make fun of you. Bye!"

She cut herself off before Freed could reply, and the lawyer rolled his eyes slightly.

When he reached the top of the hill, he walked through a quaint beer garden and into the Fairy Tail building. He was confronted with a small front desk, behind which a woman with a light bob smiled up at him. He walked towards her, scanning the name tag – Lisanna – before she gave a polite introduction to the hotel.

"Are you here to eat, or to stay sir?" She asked, voice enthusiastic and happy.

"To stay," Freed explained. "I believe my friend just made a reservation for me. Freed Justine."

"One moment," She smiled, leaning down, and typing on the computer.

As she worked, Freed glanced around the lobby area. From the outside, the building had been incredibly rustic looking, and Freed had feared slightly that it was going to be as old fashioned and outdated inside as well. But it was contemporary, clean, and relatively nice. It was clear that it was made to look farmhouse-ish while keeping all the needed amenities, making a distinction from the branded hotels while also keeping to a high quality.

They had a few certificates hung on the walls, mainly hotel awards from different companies. There was also something proclaiming 'MAGNOLIA: Village of the Year 2019' in proud prominence. Freed vaguely wondered if this was something all businesses got, or if Fairy Tail was some kind of hub for the town.

"There you are," Lisanna said suddenly, and Freed turned back to her. "Room 17. If you'd like to follow me, I'll take you there. I can carry your bags if you'd like."

"I don't have any bags with me, actually," Freed said, and Lisanna looked at the floor with a frown to confirm his words. "This is rather impromptu, I'm afraid. I'm having a suitcase sent down here, I expect it'll be here tomorrow."

"Oh, okay," Lisanna smiled, though Freed could clearly see she was somewhat confused. "What brings you to Magnolia, if you don't mind me asking? We don't get many people here in autumn, you're our only guest actually."

"It's not for pleasure," Freed explained. "I inherited some property, and selling it isn't as easy as I thought, so I'll be here for a little while."

"Is that the Albion House?" She asked as they turned a corner.

"Yes," Freed answered a little slowly.

"Oh, sorry, that probably sounds a bit creepy that I know it so fast," She laughed. "It's just that news sort of travelled about it getting a new owner. It's been run down for a while, and people thought that maybe the new person would try and renovate it. But if you want to sell it then that's your choice of course, I hope it goes better than it did with your mother-" She stopped talking, and clearly looked uncomfortable. "Oh, I'm sorry. For your loss, and for that."

"You don't need to do that," Freed waved her off. "I'm not going to start crying at the sound of her name."

She looked relieved at his reaction, and Freed tried not to show a small scowl on his face. The young woman hadn't done anything wrong, but the fact she knew both the house and the fact his mother had died meant that other people knew as well. He had hoped that, at least for one week, he wouldn't have to deal with people knowing about his bereavement. Apparently he wasn't even going to be given this.

"Is the house important for some reason?" Freed asked as they climbed the stairs. "It's got historical preservation, and you said people were interested when they found out I own it."

"Not exactly," Lisanna smiled. "I think all the buildings in the town have that status, they want to make it look like it did when it was made. Personally, I think they do it because the council makes a lot of money from film shoots coming here," She laughed a little. "And we're a fairly small community, so news gets around. They were the same when it got sold last time, actually. They thought it'd get renovated too."

"So my mother wasn't the reason it looks like it does, then?"

"I've never seen it in a better state," Lisanna shrugged, before pausing in thought. "I think there's a painting of what it used to look like in your room. That's a coincidence."

She laughed to herself before continuing to walk, Freed following her. They walked through a few more corridors and up another staircase before they stopped at the old looking door of one of the rooms. Lisanna pulled a key from her pocket and opened the door, revealing the room that was to be Freed's home for the rest of the week. Freed walked in after, and looked around.

It was a nice room, also designed to look like it belonged in a farm house while still being relatively luxurious. It was on the smaller side, clearly Evergreen hadn't wanted to spend too much if the single bed was telling, but nice enough. A private bathroom, TV, and area for making drinks. It was essentially everything one could want from a hotel room. Although the fact that the slanted roof above the bed was low did make Freed pause; he would have to make sure not to bang his head when he awoke.

His eyes fell to a painting on the wall. Sure enough, there was an illustration of the house he'd been inside, only in a much better state. It looked rather homely.

"It's nice, isn't it," Lisanna smiled. "I think that's why people want to see it renovated. Just because it's nice."

"Well, perhaps soon it will be," Freed mused. "I'll most likely have to sell it to a retail auction, they often attract people looking for cheap property to work on, or so my estate agent said. So perhaps that'll happen."

"You don't sound enthusiastic about the idea?"

"I was hoping for more than an auction house would be willing to pay, I must admit," Freed sighed, still looking at the painting. "It's a last resort, but I doubt I'll find a better offer over the next week."

"You could renovate it and sell it when you're done?" Lisanna suggested.

"My knowledge of property development extends to the legal side only," Freed chuckled to himself. "If I were to try and work on it, there's a good chance I'd set it alight. I expect that doesn't align with the preservations society's rules."

"I suppose not," Lisanna laughed. "I should get back to the desk and leave you alone. Breakfast is served from six until twelve, you get it included in the price of the room. And if your bags come I'll bring them up for you, or have my brother do it since he's working the desk tomorrow If there's anything else you need, just call reception," She smiled. "And we hope you enjoy your stay."

Freed watched her leave, before standing alone in the room and letting himself decompress for the first time since he arrived.

Peculiarly, he found his gaze land on the painting.

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