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ready-to-obeyme · 3 years

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starlight (Lucifer/MC)

For @dazatsu for the Obey Me Secret Santa for 2020. I hope this fic of mine makes you smile at least once! :) I loved thinking up of the prompt for your secret santa, so I hope I did your aesthetics and preferences justice! I tried including both of your faves and ended up focusing on one.

Feel free to message me on discord or on my personal @epiphyllous.

Happy Holidays! :)

Summary: It’s been a few days or so since you’ve returned to the human world to attend your university classes. Missing you, Lucifer decides to give you a visit, (with Belphie tagging along) hopefully without being seen, just to check up on you.

Or so he planned. He never could have anticipated how much he actually misses you.

notes: gn!reader, College Student MC, sfw, (sorta) established relationship, pining

Be patient, Lucifer tells himself. One semester: four months, or even better, fifteen weeks. Lucifer would never admit it to anyone else, but he counts the days until you come back to the House of Lamentations, occupy the room that is now too quiet for comfort, and sit at your seat at the dining table and laugh with all of them again.

The first week after you leave to attend university classes, he keeps his brothers in line, making sure they keep on going to RAD classes instead of spending the entire day moping over your absence. Not that he didn’t miss you, because, of course, he did. At the best of times you were like a buoy in a stormy night, and at others, you were a comforting presence at his side who taught him how to laugh again.

But you had promised to come back, and he had promised that they would be waiting for you when you did. Lucifer prides himself on control, so in control he would be.

Or so he would have been if he had not already planned to ‘check-up’ on you in the human world at the end of this week.

(He tries not to think about the fact he has caved in only one week after you’ve been gone, but demons are weak to temptation-- so he forgives himself, just this once, because it is to see you.)

To anyone else, especially his brothers, he’s visiting the human realm to take care of human exchange student documents. Only Diavolo, and Barbatos by association, knows why he’s actually settling the last piece of his paperwork prior to his trip. Diavolo had only given him a wide smile, but he is embarrassed to be so evidently transparent to his old friend. (It would have been even more embarrassing had Barbatos had been there to receive the news, so Lucifer is thankful for that at least.)

With everything in order, his brothers threatened to do well in class while he was gone and too distracted to notice the real reason he’s so eagerly planning a trip away, Lucifer heads out the door.

Belphie is waiting for him in the doorway.

“You aren’t planning to go by yourself, are you?” Belphie says with a leisurely smile, and Lucifer can only sigh.

“Oh, sorry-- er, Pro-Professor…”

Lucifer watches as another student meekly ducks past him, skittering away with their head ducked low until they merge with their group. He can hear snippets of what they’re saying, and he isn’t sure what to think when all the comments have been on his attire. It didn’t dawn on him when he first walked onto campus grounds with Belphie in tow, but with the glances he’s been given and the attention he’s been garnering despite his attempts to stay hidden, he realizes how strange his outfit must be when compared to the rest of the population.

He sighs and crosses his leg on the wooden bench they’ve perched themselves on, turning towards his youngest brother when he hears him laugh. Belphie gives him a sleepy smile that does not hide any of the amusement behind it. “Those people think you’re a cosplayer,” he says to Lucifer, pointing to a group of students who were looking at the two of them. “From an anime about vampires or butlers.”

Lucifer looks down at his fur-collared coat on his shoulders and gives it a slight tug. “Ah, I suppose the coat is a little bit ill-suited for the weather, isn’t it?” He huffs when Belphie gives him a deadpan. “I jest, Belphie,” he says, crossing his arms (regally, in a way that only convinces everyone who watched him that he was playing in-character). “I understand clearly now that my ‘casual’ attire is not the norm for this university campus.”

“Or any other campus,” Belphie mutters. “People have been saying your vest makes you look like you part-time at Olive Garden… wherever that is. You should have just dressed like me today.” And Lucifer cannot argue with that sentiment, considering how well Belphie fits in with the university atmosphere and environment with his long jacket worn over his tee. If he ignores the comments on his own attire, Lucifer can hear the whispers of awe and even admiration at the cow-printed pillow that Belphie has brought along with him today to ‘comfortably sleep in class while he waits for you,’ or so he has explained to Lucifer.

“I’m not sure how I would pull off the university-look you so excel at,” Lucifer says exasperatedly. “I doubt it would…” Just as quickly as he cut his sentence off, Lucifer jumps to his feet, quickly dragging Belphie by the pillow (much to his complaints) to hide behind a particularly bushy shrub.

“Ugh, let go of my pillow, you’re going to stretch it out--”

“Shh, be quiet,” Lucifer snaps, glaring at his brother who only stubbornly looks back. “I’d rather not be caught sneaking around on campus when we’re not supposed to.”

“Wait, what? Aren’t we here to see them?” Belphie retorts, “Isn’t this the whole point? Wait, unless…”

Lucifer can feel the tell-tale heat on his ears as warnings of an oncoming blush and wills it away with a scowl, daring Belphie to finish his thought. As expected from his free-spirited and equally willful brother, Belphie does anyway.

“You didn’t tell MC you were coming, did you?” Belphie says, and as much as Lucifer is happy to have such a cunning brother, he wished Belphie were otherwise at the moment. “That’s why we’ve been hiding around trying to find them rather than just having them ditch class--”

“I would not make them ditch class--”

“--and spend time with us.” Belphie pauses. “Why didn’t you just tell them we were coming?”

In the corner of his eyes, Lucifer sees you walk down the crackling pavement-- backpack on your shoulders, skin a healthy glow (thank Diavolo), and eyes as bright as ever-- and Lucifer’s thoughts trail to a stop. His gaze follows you as you walk past them without notice, and he thinks to himself that a human like you truly does belong to a place with the sun, because you are as radiant as starlight.

Lucifer looks back towards Belphie who had fallen silent, only to fight back another bout of embarrassment as Belphie stares back at him with a knowing, mischievous gleam.

“Let’s grab a seat in their class,” Belphie says, standing up easily and walking the same direction Lucifer watched you disappear into. Just when Lucifer thinks the gleam is only from the sun, Belphie continues, his voice dripping with saccharine, “Just so you can watch them a little more closely.”

Lucifer sighs, less inclined to argue when they have little time to catch up with you. (Though even if he did have time, there was not much to say when nothing Belphie said was wrong.)

Looking back at the conversation now, Lucifer wishes he did argue, just a little, because maybe then he would feel better upon watching in horror as Belphie sleeps beside him in class only five minutes into lecture.

After following you, they had picked inconspicuous seats in the back row of the lecture hall (with these tiny, little tables-- Lucifer doesn’t understand how anyone could write on these), hoping to remain unseen by you who sat a few rows up in the middle. Based off the scattered, quiet laughter that surrounds them, Lucifer thinks that their choice in seats was a moot point now.

“Belphie. Belphie,” Lucifer hisses, nudging his brother’s leg in hopes of stirring him awake. “Lecture just began. How are you asleep already?”

“S’fine,” Belphie mumbles, waving a flippant hand. “We don’t even take this class.”

From behind them, Lucifer hears someone quietly whisper ‘legend’, and it takes everything in him to not bury his face into his hands and make themselves even more noticeable. He sighs, but regardless, he looks forward, spotting the back of your head almost immediately in a sea of students. Ever so often, he would see your head dip down to look at your laptop and up again to read the slides that were presented. The movement is repetitive, most likely reminiscent to how you would also be in a Devildom RAD class, but for some reason, watching you focus and intently study in your university classes makes it very evident how often he finds himself proud of you.

And he almost feels guilty for following you on campus. After all, he did make a promise to be there when you came back after waiting patiently for you, and it was not as if you left happily. If anything, you had hoped to stay-- but your future awaits, and so you promised to work hard to get back to them as soon as possible. Perhaps he should keep to the promise you had made to each other-- oh.

Lucifer watches as you lean down to rummage through your backpack, and he almost feels his heart stop when he sees your D.D.D in your hand. Your fingers scroll through something: Past texts? Your gallery, perhaps? Regardless of what the reason is, Lucifer feels something warm spread within his chest as he thinks that maybe you had missed them (hopefully even him?) just as much as they missed you.

What he does not expect is to have his phone vibrate with a text from you.

>> Are you busy right now?

Lucifer is thankful that Belphie is asleep because he does not see the way Lucifer fumbles to get his D.D.D out and text with his heart at his throat.

<< Not at the moment.

He pauses.

<< Is something the matter?

The response is quick.

>> No, nothing is wrong!

>> I’m just in class right now and ngl it’s kind of boring.

Lucifer buries his chuckle into his fist.

<< And here I thought you had an emergency.

>> :crying emoji: This IS an emergency. I’m DYING

>> of BOREDOM

>> Save me, Lucifer!!

<< I will not be an accomplice to distracting you during class.

He’s already enabling you by responding, so it’s not exactly the truth, he admits. But he does like the way you tilt your head as you are wont to do when you find something amusing.

>> Darn, okay I tried

>> I just

Lucifer watches as the text bubbles stay on screen, and he waits for your upcoming message when the people around them stand up, putting their laptops into their backpacks at the end of the lecture.

>> I miss you guys

He looks up to see you standing up, D.D.D. in hand, head down and fingers still over the screen. After a moment, you type something else and lock the phone, putting it into your backpack before heading down the aisle to leave the class.

Your last few messages pop up.

>> Class just ended so I’ll have to go study at the library but

>> I just wanted to say I really miss you

>> Hope you’re doing well

>> Love you.

“What are you waiting for?”

Lucifer turns toward Belphie, whose violet eyes are still bleary from sleep but whose words are as clear and succinct as ever. He yawns before continuing, “Go after them. Let me know when their classes are done so we can actually do something together.”

At this, Lucifer feels his gaze soften. “Yes, I’ll let you know,” he says, standing up and walking down the path to the door. “And, ah, Belphie…” He waits until his youngest brother looks up from his pillow before telling him with a small, wry smile, “Be sure not to get locked inside the classroom when all the lectures finish.”

After a few mishaps, Lucifer manages to ask for the directions to the library most commonly used by the student body. The first few times he tried, his language was too formal for anyone to truly believe he was asking for direction. “Who are you cosplaying? Can I take a picture with you?” was thrown at him numerous times. “Am I being pranked right now? Are you a youtuber?” was also asked at him twice-- which was not often, but it was strange that it happened that many times.

Eventually, someone had, after watching him cross his arms indignantly, given him the instructions to the library. It was only when he was walking up the steps to the building that he thought that everything would have gone much faster if he had only demanded directions and hypnotized a random student into telling him. But he imagined that if you ever found out, you would not be pleased, and that-- if anything-- was the one reason why he resisted the urge to.

Lucifer walks into the air-conditioned building and searches for you. It does not take him long until he sees you, sitting at one of the desks in the library, laying your head on your arms, fast asleep.

It is around three in the afternoon, the sunshine filters through the ceiling windows and scatters across your desk, showering you in a flurry of light, and Lucifer thinks he was a fool to ever think he could bear to not see you for a moment longer.

The seat beside you is open, so he sits there, watching the moving sunlight dance across the hand you placed near your face. Your chest rises and falls evenly, and for a moment, you clench your hands but do not wake, seeming to dream of holding onto something instead. It takes all the self-control Lucifer could muster to not take your hand in his. Instead, he drapes his jacket over your shoulders, careful not to let it fall off, and watches as students filter in and out of the library in the hustle of academic life.

Lucifer isn’t sure how long he waited, surrounded by tall shelves of books and aisles of encyclopedias, but you start to stir, waking up and wincing at the sun in your eyes in a way that has him smiling in amusement. You first grab onto the jacket that had started to fall off your shoulders, and upon realizing that it did not belong to you, you look up to see Lucifer, smiling fondly.

“Lucifer?”

Lucifer can feel the side of his eyes crinkle at the sound of your voice still raspy from sleep. He sweeps away the lint on your shoulder as you sleepily gather up his jacket into your lap. “Whatever happened to ‘studying in the library’ as you told me?” He says teasingly, smile widening when you fluster and laugh nervously.

“I-- you know… I was taking a break and,” you start to say, pausing only to look at him accusingly, much to his amusement. “Wait, forget about that! How are you here? Why are you here?”

“I’m the vice-president of the student council-- I’m able to be wherever I please,” he tells you, and you huff at how smug he sounds. “As for why I’m here, it’s to check up on one of our human exchange students, of course… is what I would say.” Lucifer leans forward and gently caresses your cheek with his thumb, unable to push the affection that bubbles forth as he sees your hand press over his. “But I also just wanted to see you.”

Lucifer hears a cough from behind him and feels heat rushing into his cheeks at the (quite frankly) polite reminder that he was in a public space. He retracts his gloved hand and clears his throat, hoping that the moment is enough to clear away the pink that has undoubtedly found its way onto his face. He expects you to tease him, as you often do whenever you have the chance. When it does not come, he glances back to you, only to feel his heart squeeze at the way you look at him: your eyes softened, lips upturned gently, and gaze adoring in a way that made it seem like you believed he had hung the stars.

(If there were any more ‘coughing’ to remind Lucifer that they were, in fact, still in the library instead of their own world, neither of you take notice.)

“I missed you too,” you say, summing up his feelings in the simplest way that only you could do. You take his hand into yours and gently sway it back and forth. “Thank you for coming to visit me.”

It had been a good idea, after all, he thinks, to indulge himself for once and come see you if it meant he could hold your hand like this again. “Belphie was hoping you would give us a tour of your university,” Lucifer says softly, sweeping his thumb over your hand. “If you were done with classes.”

He feels you squeeze his hand in response to his affection, and his heart soars even as he listens to you speak. “Belphie is here?” You ask, surprised. When he nods in confirmation, you laugh. “Did he catch you when you were leaving or something? Threaten to tell your brothers if you didn’t take him along?”

Lucifer doesn’t answer you, preferring to huff instead, though he can’t deny that he is pleased that you can know his brothers’ behavior well enough to hit it right on the money. “He opted to sleep in the last lecture hall you were in rather than go on the wild goose chase I had to find this library. Is nobody at your university unable to fathom that someone would wear something slightly more formal to class?”

“Yup,” you reply easily, grinning at him. “But it’s okay, I like your outfit. It’s very you.” You pause. “Also, we can always go shopping later, though, so people can stop staring at you. And also to buy some souvenirs for your brothers!” Your eyes brighten as you think, and his heart melts at the fact that his brothers are in your thoughts. (For as much as he wants to have your attention, he finds that the love you can give to his brothers is as equally enjoyable to witness.)

You hum thoughtfully, “I think Beel might appreciate some food from this new restaurant that opened up last week. Maybe Levi would like something from the cute Japanese store down the road? Oh, and face masks for Asmo!”

“I’m sure they’ll be happy with anything you purchase for them,” Lucifer says, making you look up at him with a smile. And he wants to reach out to cup your face again.

Ring ring!

The both of you glance at your phone when it plays a tune, and as quickly as the alarm goes off, your hand is there to turn it off. Lucifer looks at you questioningly before you sigh. “I have class in about ten minutes,” you say apologetically.

“Is that so?” Lucifer says, standing up from his seat. “Then I shall accompany you.” He extends a hand in askance for his jacket, only to give a huff of laughter when you only stare at him incredulously. “Is it that much of a surprise that I would like to escort you to your classes? Unless, of course, you would prefer me not to--”

“No!” You duck your head down, looking around quickly, much to Lucifer’s amusement, before lowering your volume. ‘No, I mean,” you fluster, “I’d like that. Thank you.”

Oh, how Lucifer wants to press a kiss to your forehead, but to save you (and himself, though he thinks he no longer has anything to lose) the embarrassment, he settles for easy laughter as he wraps his jacket around himself. You follow after him, pushing in your chair and lugging up your backpack, your laptop securely inside.

“Shall we go then?” he asks, holding out an elbow for you to hook your arms with his. When you slide yourself close to him and walk down the steps outside the library, he realizes that this is the many things he has missed since you've been gone. Your hand is a comfortable presence on his arm and your footsteps are aligned with his as you walk in tandem to your next class. He briefly thinks about his brothers, most particularly how Mammon would bluster about their proximity, or how one of the romance novels Satan would have described this very situation he was in: walking alongside someone dear to him on a campus that does not seem as big when you are together.

Your hand squeezes his arm gently before you guide him through hallways and pathways. When a crowd of students bustles past them at the end of lecture, he feels you inch closer to him.

“It’s a lecture hall, not a discussion class,” you start to tell him, much to his confusion. You laugh. “They won’t notice you’re not part of the class, so you can sit next to me.” You lower your hand and take his hand in yours.

Lucifer squeezes your hand comfortingly as the last of the previous class files out. “Try not to be too distracted by my presence,” he comments and cannot help the upturn of his lips when you shoot him a withering look he does not have to see to know it has no heat behind it.

Among other glances and subtle affection that you provide him the rest of the day convinces him fully that there has never been a better decision than to visit you. When the two of you finally meet up with Belphie, who had been asleep on a nearby bench, the night is spent out following you as you guide them around campus and at the nearest hub of entertainment.

In the end, you do collect enough gifts for all his brothers, even sneaking a small present into his hands with a sly smile on your face.

And when he returns to the Devildom after a long, long farewell where no one wanted to leave, he provides his brothers with their souvenirs (after they stopped complaining to him about going off to the human world with only Belphie). He tugs off the coat that now lingers with your scent and places the gift you had purchased him onto his desk-- a little trinket that he can now look at and remind himself of you, with eyes of starlight and laughter as warm as the sun.

He thinks of the last message that you sent him and sends you a response.

<< I love you too.

<< Until next time.

#happy holidays!! i hope you like the fic!#ObeyMeSecretSanta2020 #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mc #lucifer/mc #fasdfksafdhaskjfd surprise i am alive

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aelaer · 5 years

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Whumptober 30: Recovery

I did say at the beginning of this series that Endgame was sorta… not really paid attention to. So yeah, same mantra.

Direct sequel (and conclusion!) to all of these:

Part 1: Shackled Part 2: Bound Part 3: Winded Part 4: Muffled Scream Part 5: Beaten

If you’ve been able to read the rest of the series without any of the warnings being an issue, then yeah, this’ll be fine. Just minor canon-typical violence.

30. Recovery

The world exploded into a series of reds, whites, purples, and blacks that blinded his sight and made him shut his eyes at the dizzying cacophony. It was accompanied by the sound of pulsing energy, explosive fire, and cracked stone, and beyond all that there were shouts of surprise and chaos.

When Stephen dared open his eyes again, the abominable horror reaching out from the inky darkness, ready to tear into him and consume him, was gone. He squeezed his eyes shut once more, then opened them yet again; yes, it was really gone. The portal was broken, the ritual interrupted by gold and red streaks, loud sounds, and figures he couldn't quite make out in his current state.

A small part of his mind wondered if this was an illusion by the eldritch abomination that had entered his mind. It was very possible; with such timing, it did seem a little too good to be true. That would be a very good nightmare, and he knew such beings were certainly capable. Was this one? It probably could do something like that, but it seemed more of the world-exploding type of demon rather than something so personable. It had, however, singled him out by name across the multiverse...

Stephen slowly shook his head out of his rambling thoughts. He needed to pay attention in case this wasn't an illusion or fever dream or anything of the sort. There were definitely people fighting, that much was obvious. Definitely Kamar-Taj sorcerers, and quite a few of them at that. That red stuff… that was Wanda Maximoff. She used Chaos Magic, didn't she? He wondered if she would be willing to let him study her abilities a bit more, after all this… but wait, Maximoff. Avengers? Would the Avengers really bother with him? This wasn't even Earth.

Mmm, world-ending, though. He did say that to Wong, didn't he? Wong didn't like the name, either (and now it was a name Stephen refused to directly think about in his head, not after seeing the demonic creature); now he understood Wong's horror. Was the powerful demon still in his head? All this truly could just be an illusion perpetrated by the entity to give him a false hope before ending his miserable life—

"Doctor Strange," a soft voice said behind him, and it caused him to startle (and jerk his wrists, which really hurt, dear fuck, how hard had he tugged at the ropes?). "It's Natasha Romanoff. Clint and I are getting you out of here."

He wasn't quite sure what he should say, at least when he could speak again. 'Thank you' seemed rather inadequate. Would asking them to prove they were real be too rude?

Before he could think of a good answer, the ropes at both wrists were cut and oh God it was agony, absolute agony, and he didn't even try to catch himself. Thankfully two sets of hands caught him before he completely did a faceplant on the stone altar (and in his own blood— that was a surprising amount of blood). They maneuvered him to the back of the altar, away from the explosions and colors and shouting. Clint was taking off the awful, awful gag as Natasha said into an earpiece, "Need a portal."

Wait, no, there was still fighting going on. "Need to help," Stephen murmured the moment he could speak.

"You need to sit tight until we get you into the medbay," Clint retorted.

He opened his mouth to argue, but suddenly Wong was there, just a few feet away. He blinked at him, but Wong was already forming a portal in between himself and the small group. Before Stephen could say anything, his friend pushed it towards them.

Oh. This must by the so-called medbay. It smelled very much like a medbay. They were still sitting on the floor, though now Natasha and Clint were trying to pull him to his feet and truth be told, Stephen really didn't feel like walking.

Everything hurt. He let the two of them support him as he took a deep breath. When he looked up, he was being ushered into a room by nurses and doctors he didn't recognize. They started asking questions, talking, and fuck it, no matter if this was an illusion or reality, he wasn't going to just stand by as they talked about his state over him.

"Hypovolemic, but not in shock," he interrupted one of the nurses as he was helped to lay on his uninjured stomach upon the bed. "Well… maybe mild shock at most. Definitely not— didn't lose over thirty percent. Didn't hit arteries." It was just the back; there were many more deadlier places to bleed from. He'd seen more lost blood in the ER time and again. He was fine.

Well, mostly fine.

So long as this wasn't an illusion, that is. He looked at his surroundings as they started the initial work on him. The tech was more advanced than he was used to at the Metro-General, but not so alien that it was completely incomprehensible. Natasha and Clint were in the corner of the large room, saying… something he couldn't hear. That made sense with the distance and the noise around him. So that was good, okay. At some point the staff got him hooked up to an IV, oximeter, and a sensor he wasn't familiar with for his other vitals. Something from Wakanda, perhaps… that was also a good sign. Good signs.

Stephen slowly began to relax, a sensation which only increased when some sort of painkiller hit his system. It wasn't a heavy opioid, but it turned the flaming pain into something that felt more like a sting than anything and he could work with that. They applied topical painkillers as they cleaned out and sutured his cuts shut, as well.

"Y'know I could just heal it with magic," he mumbled when Clint and Natasha came to his bedside.

"All your good sorcerer healing buddies are fighting," Clint said cheerfully. "I've never seen such a dangerous looking LARP group in my life."

"Hah," he mumbled. "Good precaution, though; there's a lot of them… the occultists."

"Yeah, we saw," Natasha pointed out. "The good news is that we had enough people between your guys and us to keep them all occupied while we found you and snuck you out. You were very easy to find, though."

Stephen made a face, and it wasn't at the work they were doing on his back (and now his wrists, which was proving to definitely sting). "You interrupted… at a good time." He swallowed. "The nick of time. It was… close."

Clint crossed his arms. "Wong was saying something about a world-eating entity. I'd call bullshit, but, well… maybe I'd have called bullshit ten years ago, is what I'm saying."

Natasha shot him a brief look of amusement. "What he's trying to ask is if it was that bad."

"It was that bad," he answered immediately. "I've… I've only encountered such immense power once."

"Thanos?" she asked.

"No, not Thanos."

Clint made a face. "Yeah, your job sucks, Doc."

"It's usually not this bad," he mumbled. "I get to do magic, after all."

"We all have bad days," Natasha reassured him. "We're going to let the doctors finish patching you up, Doctor Strange. I expect others are going to come see how you're doing as soon as they're finished up with those occultists."

Stephen mumbled an affirmative and closed his eyes as the two left him to the doctors and nurses.

—————

About two hours later, an impressive crowd came into his room.

"Hey Doc, look, I brought flowers," Tony said in greeting, lifting up the genuinely ugliest bouquet of flowers Stephen had ever seen in his life.

"You brought me a bunch of thistles," he said slowly.

"Well, yeah. You know, for a speedy recovery, good health, protection, and the other things these flowers are supposed to mean." He shrugged and placed them on the counter beside the bed.

Stephen wasn't anywhere near an expert on flower meanings, but he was pretty sure that was not what thistles meant at all. "Who told you that?"

Tony nodded his head towards Wong, and Wong, bastard that he was, kept his face completely and utterly stoic. But the bastard had not only helped rescue him, but had also brought the cloak; the cloak had already swept past the group and circled Stephen before settling across the hospital bed.

In the background, Rhodey was checking something on his phone and shooting Wong a knowing look while Wanda and Vision remained wisely out of the whole flower conversation.

Stephen cleared his throat. "Right, well, thanks. Is everyone okay?"

"For the most part," Tony answered. "A couple nasty cuts, but nothing life-threatening. Worst part was probably whatever Sam was cursed with while pushing one of your guys out of the way."

"Minoru appreciates the gesture, but he shouldn't have done it," Wong said.

Rhodey made a face. "Did you see the size of that blue flamey thing coming at her? Sam can handle it."

"Sam's going to be in Kamar-Taj for the next week recovering from the side effects," Wong retorted.

"Sam could use a vacation," Vision said, speaking for the first time.

This conversation was getting a bit ridiculous. "Okay, I'm glad that for the most part no one was badly hurt," Stephen said. "I appreciate the news, but uh, I don't think I needed five of you to tell me that."

Wanda smiled. "We're here to see how you are doing, Doctor Strange. We were worried about you."

Oh. He paused as he processed that. He was ninety-five percent certain that it wasn't an illusion before, but now he was definitely certain because he didn't think either his mind would have come up with that, and the eldritch entity would definitely have not come up with the thistles.

That was a real relief. Though these people, some only acquaintances, wanting to see him at all he found a bit mind-boggling.

Tony boggled him further when he said, "And it's only five because even we have to listen to the doctors here when they say only five of us can visit at once."

Stephen slightly shook his head. "And, what, you five pushed yourselves to the front of the queue?"

"Hah," Tony retorted. "Vision could just phase through. But nah, they," he gestured to the other four, "were the real MVPs of that fight. Wong contacted us and got things going, of course. Rhodey got S.H.I.E.L.D. off Wong's back in the way he does best, Wanda's magic did something with the portal that I'm not even going to try to make sense of, and Vision figured out he could block people from being hit with those weird blue flamey things with his Mind Stone Version 2.0."

It wasn't anything resembling one of the Infinity Stones, of course, but that didn't stop Tony's ridiculous naming conventions. Stephen shot an amused look at Vision's expression, then asked the engineer, "And you?"

"Well, I brought you flowers, of course."

He snorted, then looked from him to Wong and Wanda. "Even if Tony doesn't want to know about Wanda's magic, I do. What happened?"

Wanda gestured to Wong to explain, and he answered, "From what I could tell, the portal was made from the elements of some sort of Chaos Magic, though those exact mechanisms I've not seen in our reality. It would have taken us some time to dismantle it, but as her magic branches from Chaos Magic as well, she was able to break it apart in something less than ten seconds."

Stephen saw the math; without that quick dismantling, he would have been gone before anyone had a chance to get to him. It was quite possible that the entity may have even been able to sustain the portal's opening once it was finished with him. "You saved my life," he told her.

She shook her head. "Oh, no, it was a group effort. There were many occultists there."

"No, what I mean is, the—" He swallowed at the memory, then pressed forward, "the thing was reaching for me when everything exploded in color and noise."

"The explosions were probably Tony and me," Rhodey admitted. "Sam too, come to think of it."

"They were very good distractions," Vision said.

"Regardless," Stephen continued, "It was reaching for me. The portal was far from it, but it had an endless— an endless uh, arm of some sort. If you had not disrupted the portal, it would have taken me maybe ten, fifteen seconds later."

A brief silence fell over the group. Wanda looked a bit stunned.

"So, uh, good timing on our part, then," Tony commented.

Stephen swallowed. "Yeah. Very good." He looked down at his hands and bandaged wrists, then at the cloak lying quietly and patiently. He didn't have his sling ring, of course, but now that Wong was here…

As he started to get out of bed, Rhodey said, "Hey, where are you going?"

He stared at the colonel. "Back with Wong? I don't have my sling ring so I needed to wait for him."

"The doctors want to keep you overnight," Tony pointed out.

Stephen rolled his eyes. "What, to monitor? I'm fine; see, blood pressure's back to normal, oxygen levels normal, heart rate normal. It was not nearly enough blood loss to worry about."

Wong gave him an even look. "You need rest and time to recover, Stephen."

"Yeah, and I can recover in my own bed or even the Kamar-Taj infirmary just as well as I can here."

"The moment you get back to either, you're going to immediately see how Mr Wilson's faring. We both know that the moment you see him, you'll throw yourself in study to see if you can help him recover faster."

"I—"

"Don't even try to argue that you wouldn't."

And now everyone else in the room was smirking in various degrees; even the android looked vaguely amused. Stephen frowned at all of them.

"Fine, I'll stay overnight for monitoring. But at sunrise, you— or anyone else from Kamar-Taj— need to come and pick me up."

"In the morning," was Wong's infuriating answer.

"Sunrise."

"Maybe after breakfast," Wong mused aloud.

Stephen glowered at him.

"Doctors really do make the worst patients," Tony quipped.

"I'm ready for the next group of well-wishers, now," was Stephen's answer. Tony laughed and made his way to the door. As the others followed him out, Stephen called, "Miss Maximoff?" She lingered at the door, and after the others left, he said, "Thank you. Truly."

She offered a small smile. "I am more than happy to help you, Doctor Strange. I know you would do the same for me."

"Stephen, please," he said. "I was actually hoping, if you would allow it, to study your magic further. I can offer you my own expertise, or any knowledge from the library at the New York Sanctum and most of Kamar-Taj, in return."

Her smile widened. "I think that could be of help to us both."

He inclined his head. "That is my thought as well. Chaos Magic is not heavily practiced in Kamar-Taj and it could be a valuable learning experience for us."

"And I know I could learn much from your order. I was amazed at the magics I saw performed yesterday by so many different people. I would love to."

"Great," he said, smiling.

Wanda nodded, then paused. "But only after you are fully recovered!"

Stephen groaned as she left the room with a chuckle.

#whumptober2019 #no.30 #recovery #doctor strange #stephen strange #tony stark #wong #james rhodes #vision #wanda maximoff #avengers fanfiction #doctor strange fanfic #clint barton #natasha romanoff

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loki-zen · 4 years

Text

Personal; probably avoid if you don’t want to read about transphobia today; me being honest about what I feel is in my brain without filtering too much for how internet strangers might interpret it; sorry Sophia

I realised something.

There was a certain ‘thing’ (literally don’t know how else to describe this) that I have always had that I had attributed to like subconscious societally-ingrained transphobia/transmisogyny, but which I think I have just realised is something else.

Which is that, like, internally, I feel like I don’t really ‘count’ trans female representation (in pop culture, or whatever, but I also had a twinge of it when someone said something about a controversy over a womens’ representative in an organisation being a trans woman) as female representation. Or rather - representation of me. I feel the same way towards it as I would, idk, BAME representation; I support it and consider it a good thing, but it doesn’t feel like a personal ‘yay’ in the same way.

And, I feel a vague indefinable sorta all-else-being-equal anti-attraction-in-a-friendship-sense to binary trans people I have met or who I know? Like it’s not a strong thing at all and totally doesn’t get in the way of forming friendships with individuals, it’s just a similar sense to like... if I meet someone and they’re wearing a football top, I’m prepared to be proved wrong, but I have a small prior for ‘I am not going to personally feel a deep connection with this person; they are probably not going to be the person in this group I become closest to.’

And with everything that I’ve read about having all of these prejudices we have to unlearn, it made perfect sense that this was that.

Whereas in actual fact, I think it was this:

Re: representation - I perceive myself as a member of a category I’ll call ‘Category X’ (chromosome joke unintentional) defined by these traits:

stuck with the kind of body that, without extensive remodelling, people are going to perceive as female, and then people are going to decide all kinds of nonsense about you based on that and it’s really tiresome, and they expect you to do things to it to pretty it up; like society put you in a box marked ‘woman’ and decided prettiness was the rent you had to pay to be there, etc etc, sexualised or denigrated but always viewed in sexual terms just for possessing the unchosen physical features that you have...

stuck with the kind of body that (in theory) can get pregnant, and subject to all of the ways societies still underserve and pathologise that kind of body, and possessor of the physical traits common(er) in that kind of body.

I do not consider myself a member of a category defined by any one or combination of these traits:

has a gender identity, and that identity is female

is, in some sort of cosmic or internal sense, or any sense that doesn’t just mean ‘member of category x who has not made the choice to transition or publicly identify as something else’, a ‘woman’, whatever that is

feels a connection to a mystical womanforce, possesses ‘feminine intuition’, is From Venus, or is anything other than in one of two overlapping Bell Curves

feels a natural connection to or identification with traits and values deemed ‘feminine’, or has a natural talent in abilities deemed ‘feminine’, to the extent that, when confounding variables are accounted for, ‘femininity’ or ‘masculinity’ has any predictive value in guessing whether this person will possess a given trait, value or talent. (I consider upbringing, physical traits and to some degree brain chemistry to be ‘confounding variables’ for this purpose; if AMAB!Loki would have given up on sewing due to teasing, hands that are too big, or even some sorta genetic or hormonal tendency toward being less manually dexterous*, that counts. Don’t @ me. Or do, I don’t care.)

So I guess, when it comes to representation, it is literally true that a trans woman can be representation of a group that needs more representation, but not a group I feel personally a part of. I see ‘hell yeah, about time’, but I don’t get that same thing of ‘hey look somebody actually like me gets to do the thing’, and that kinda makes sense when I break it down like this.

When it comes to individuals, I assume that what my brain is doing is going:

Apparently cis person - we have no information on whether this person has a gender or cares about it

Person who I know, for whatever reason, is transgender - this person definitely has a gender that they care about so much that they will intentionally brave the horror of ‘people paying attention to your gender’ in order to express it, and I understand that exactly as much as I understand being into football

I think the still-unspoken assumption on the personal level, however, is that preferences/beliefs/internal landscapes that I find incomprehensible are necessarily a reason to feel that it is unlikely that I will become close to/form a good connection with someone.

It might simply be that it feels like more work.

-----------Side note: I wrote this as an aside and it got too long and ruined the rhythm of the thing but my brain vomited it forth so I had to include it----------

This class of people (category x) do and have experienced some phenomenal societal shit-canning around the world and throughout history, and this still needs addressing. We’re massively underrepresented in many industries including entertainment, on both sides of performing/creating, because of structural problems that date back to our being legally barred in many cases, and this should be corrected.

This is true irrespective of the (additional) struggles of trans people. Whether they are in this category, or not in it. Or once were, but did the extensive remodelling, and kinda still have to deal with the second bit but feel freer from the first now. Or who have found that nowadays they have the first trait and that’s not fun to deal with on top of everything else, or who wish they had either or both of those traits despite the problems that come with them. Or who wish they had them solely because people keep telling them they can’t be who they know they are if they don’t. Or who have additional complicated feelings related to the whole mess. Etc. Other categories of people have problems as well. People in this category can be privileged on other axes. Nothing about the paragraph before this one aims to deny any of this.

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edited cuz I’m a dingus and accidental wrote my real name

#gender! at the discourse #introspection #personal #not gonna say don't reblog cause I would be interested to talk about this #but I am apprehensive about reblogs #shall I say

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igothxmewcrk-blog · 7 years

Text

Matt pitches H*omecoming Sequel Post 1

so today and most of this week I’ve had Crackle on my P*S4 just to watch a sorta nostalgic cartoon based around my muse’s adventures in high school (not the one prefaced with U/ltima*ate). that series is titled Spectacular, much like a run of his comics between the 70′s and 80′s.

and there are some issues, things better left unsaid or never explored in it that just ended up happening, but it took itself as seriously as it had to. just, no more serious than the movie franchise that had just ended a year prior to the show’s premiere.

in this show, every episode is only a half hour long, and it ran for two seasons (it had a buildup for things to come in a possible third season and onward, but then D*sn/ey bought M/arv*el and S/ony still owned most of everything S/pider-M*an, other medium adaptations included, and i guess somehow the writers and studio just decided to can the series on some major cliffhangers). Roughly about 26-30 episodes. again, every episode gave its little precursors to the next one, or one to follow later on, usually in an ending scene, or midway thru every few episodes. this gave the show depth that superhero dramas like Smallville and its CW successors of today express in their stories, but to hell with that, S/pectac*ular S*pid/ey did it best!

this show grounded Peter in realism, showed you his high school. Midtown was a magnet high school, and was addressed on letterman wear as M^3 (Midtown Manhattan Magnet, or for a science pun, M to the third power, or cubed, tee-hee). that’s right, MCU was not the first to show you Peter’s class of supporting civilian characters at his school, this animated series was.

some things to note:

L/iz Al*len was Latina

G/wen S*tacy was, for better or worse, represented as P/eter’s equal, a nerdy girl in glasses, but by S2′s finale (spoilers from this point on) she ditched the eyewear, and I think either grew out her hair in an impressively short time, or otherwise it had been in ponytails or partially in a bun Idk the show just ran with it to give the unexpected ending some images to relate it even more so to comics

M/ary J*ane existed but only ever was P*ete/r’s fall fling date, and a close friend, nothing more

Fe/licia H*ardy was simply B/la*ck C/at in this, but she’s connected to P/ete as her father was B*en’s killer, and when that’s revealed, she’s never seen again

Ed/di*e B/ro*ck was around for most of the show both as a college student who assists P/ete, G*wen, and the C*onn/ors family in an ESU biochem/engineering lab; he gives off a sorta play cousin vibe, like he and P/ete go back a long way, and it’s nice to not see him as the jerk who eats Pe/ter’s dust in the Bugle

with that being said, he does bond with V*en/om in a unique way different than he has from past adaptations, or the original comic origin. in fact, he was obsessed with knowing how it ticks the moment he’s given Dr. C/onn*ors’ approval to help observe and give reports on the alien life form’s behavior(s). when S/pidey returns the symbiote to containment, and thinks chilling it to a frozen state will stop it from tacking onto anyone else, Ed/war*d heats it back up to its normal temp, unlocks containment, and WHAM! time to exact revenge on the enemies he just found out are one and the same.

anyways, B/rock and P/arker parents were lab partners, but what they did exactly wasn’t given much explanation. they just hint at this so as to make people aware that M*ay and B/en are not to be confused as P/ete’s parents (y’know, in case anyone would be S*pidey inept)

H/arry Os*born was Goblin first, but N*orm reveals it was part of his plan, so you get a gripping O/bo*rn family soap opera in a tv-y7 rated program. hellz to da yesss!

while L*iz in MCU has a father who’s a villain, that isn’t canon anywhere else; however, her brother becomes Molten Man, a self-destructive decoy to keep S/pid*ey off of G/oblin’s trail as he tries to create a criminal empire in Manhattan

everything else isn’t too noteworthy, id say watch or buy it if you’re interested

also, this show was simply, during its short run, kept within the world of S/pider-M*an, so there were no S/H/I/E/L/D, F*4, or other M/arv*el crossovers.

now, why do I say this mumbo jumbo about a show when i title this my personal pitch for a H*omecoming sequel? bc the existence of Br*ock and the Os*borns is still a very crucial thing to be hopefully adapted by MCU somewhere down the line along with the real MJ and maybe even JJ J*ameson and an Un*cle B/en flashback scene.

my pitch is as follows:

perhaps introduce Br/ock in a similar manner as the aforementioned show, but def adapt a believable Os/born family for H*ome/coming 2.

I at first liked the inclusion of H*arry in the TASM franchise, but I quickly got pissed that he was made the villain so soon.

so simply make him the rich kid he is in the above mentioned series, but like, give him the common role Fl/ash Th*ompson has had in the past. jock with a heart of gold, and maybe stretching himself a bit thin in multiple extracurricular programs to give him this lovable sense of ‘i can do anything.’ also, to further his rich boy stats, give him a car that puts Fl/ash’s dad’s wrecked sports car to shame. and maybe not let H*arry carry the goblin mantle, but have him disagree with F/lash on S/pider-M*an???? idk...

write in Ed/ward Br*ock as childhood friend of Pe/ter, but have him be riddled with mental instability, a ruined childhood, abandonment issues, and a similar passion for science like his friend, or at least give him some harmless hobby or subject he excels in prior to his likely ascension into villainy.

with Pet/er likely going to space for In*finity W/ar, establish that he’ll unknowingly bring home the symbiotic substance on his person.

perhaps make this a subtle suspenseful thriller with both Symb*iote S/pidey and V*enom, give it PG-13 teen horror vibes and a fall 2019 release????

explore the existence of the c-list rogues, non-powered thug villains, perhaps give them motivations to steal from OS/CORP, which can be represented as a new rival to S/tark Ind*ustries. this could provide buildup for Nor*man to want to become Goblin in a possible third installment.

most importantly tho, give us Mary Goddamn Jane Watson

#✍ spoodermun (ooc)#🌠(wishlist)#idk i just had a lot to say #sorry if this is ranty or too long

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