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blueraineshadows · 9 months

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Weasley Wednesday 🦁

This week's Discord theme: Drunk 🥴

Garreth Weasley x F!MC 🔥🔞 NSFW

After a long week of work, MC felt the need for some fun, but most of her mates seemed to be busy, and she had been broken up from her last boyfriend for a few weeks now.

The only friend who was free this evening was Garreth Weasley, and she felt a blush colour her cheeks at the thought of making plans for just him and her. Would that be like a date?

Deciding to be brave and go for it, she agreed to meet with him, and was now sitting across a table from him in the local pub near her house. She was twirling her drink on the table top, her gaze drawn to his lovely green eyes, his charming smile. As the drinks were going down, her awareness of him was creeping up, and soon the friendly banter was slipping into more flirtatious territory.

She had even reached out to touch his hand a few times as they had laughed about something. He had so many amusing tales to tell.

"How does someone manage to leave the house in an odd pair of shoes, exactly?" MC giggled.

Garreth shrugged and gave her a lop sided grin. "When you're me, it's easy," he said.

He picked up his beer and went to take a drink and then frowned, gazing into the bottom of his glass. "Well, damn, it's all gone," he said with a sigh. "Fancy another?"

MC chewed her lower lip. "Hmm, well, I'm running out of beer money, and it's not fair to make you pay for more," she said. "I've got some wine at home. Fancy coming back to share a bottle? We can continue our discussion on how spectacularly good we are at failing things."

He stared at her a moment before smiling. "I would love to," he said. He swung out an arm, a silly grin on his face. "Lead the way, m'lady."

MC giggled as she stood, pushing her chair out, and then staggering a little as she took a step. Garreth had stood too and grabbed her arm. "Woah, easy there," he chuckled. "Just how many have you had?"

She smiled and leaned in to him as he held her arm. "Not nearly enough," she said. "Come on, the wine awaits us!"

They stumbled and giggled all the way back to her house. She dropped her keys twice, which was no where near as funny as they made it out to be. But MC was enjoying herself, finding herself thinking that she should spend more time with Garreth. He was lovely.

In her kitchen, she found two glasses and poured out some wine. She handed Garreth a glass. "There you go, handsome," she said. "Get that down you."

He blushed a little as he took the glass, and she studied his face a little more closely, the alcohol in her bloodstream making her forget that she was shy. It wasn't a lie, what she had said. He was very handsome, and she frowned a little.

"Garreth, why the fuck are you still single? You're beautiful!"

He flushed crimson and rubbed his jaw. "Oh, well, you know, its just the way things work out sometimes," he said. "The last girl I was seeing just wasn't right for me."

MC nodded and sighed. "I know the feeling," she said. She took a long sip of wine. "My last boyfriend was an arsehole. I think I am better off without him. And the sex was terrible, another thing I seem to fail at."

"I'm sure you are not a failure," he insisted.

She eyed Garreth. This was usually the sort of conversation she would have with her girlfriends, not with another man. But, he had been so sweet and funny. She felt like she could trust him, and maybe a man's point of view would help.

"I think there might be something wrong with me," she confided. Her cheeks coloured a little and she took a large gulp of wine.

Concern marred his brow. "Why? What's up?"

She leant in to whisper, even though they were completely alone, but this was sensitive. This was utterly private. "I've never...you know...climaxed," MC admitted. "I think I am broken."

Garreth gulped and stared at her, eyes wide. "You...erm...wow. You haven't?" He pushed his hand through his hair, his eyes daring to roam over her body. He blushed again. "Really? Never? Do you mean at all? Or just with a guy?"

She giggled, covering her face with one hand. "Oh, Merlin, I can't believe we're having this conversation. Maybe I have drunk too much," she gasped. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat. "I er...can do it to myself, but no, a man has never made me do it."

"Wow, I'd say you've been picking the wrong men, MC," he said. "That's a poor show, leaving you unsatisfied."

He met her gaze, and they both quickly looked away from each other, laughing awkwardly. "Oh, fuck, this is so embarrassing!" She squeaked. She waved her hand about. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have..."

"No, no, it's alright," he said, awkwardly. He drank some of his wine, his eyes on her over the top of his glass. She cursed the alcohol for making her lips loose, he must be thinking she was all sorts of crazy.

"Would you like to?"

She stared at him. "What?"

He bit his lower lip. "Would you like a man to make you come?"

She opened her mouth, and paused, her breath freezing. Was it the alcohol or the question that was making her body tingle so hotly?

"I...well, yes," she said. She hesitated, her eyes going from her glass of wine to him and back again, heart thudding. "Do you mean..."

He nodded. "I could...if you want..." He blushed. "It's okay to say no. I just thought I would offer, you know, be a good mate and all that."

She looked at him, and he gave her an impish smile. She pressed her lips together, her smile fighting its way forward. A giggle burst from her lips, and then he was chuckling, too.

"Sorry," he said. He rubbed his jaw with his hand again. "Ignore me, it must be the beer talking, of course you wouldn't want me to do that."

Would she? Her body thrummed at the thought. Her eyes took him in again, his handsome face, his long fingers, his kissable lips. They were both adults, both unattached. She put her glass down.

"Okay," she said. She was a little breathless. "I'm game, if you are."

They stared at each other a moment and he nodded, blowing air out through his lips. "Okay, erm...how would you like to...you know..."

"Oh!" MC felt herself grow hot. She put a hand to her chest where her heart was pounding. "Let's erm...well, shall we...shall we kiss first?"

"Absolutely!" He moved closer towards her, and she stared at his mouth, her breaths coming a little faster. Wow, this was actually happening! He bent his head and pressed his lips against hers, soft and warm, lingering a little before lifting his mouth away.

MC licked her lips, her eyes shyly meeting his. Wow, his eyes were so pretty up close. "Mmm, that was nice."

He smiled and kissed her again, firmer this time, his hands brushing against her waist. The soft, wet sounds of their kissing filled her kitchen, and she found herself pressed up against the cupboards.

His hair was silky soft as it threaded through her fingers, and then he parted her lips with his tongue, sliding it gently into her mouth. He was gentle but determined, kissing her deeply, and she moaned softly. Desire was pooling in her belly and she arched against him, realising that kissing Garreth Weasley was actually rather lovely.

He moved his mouth along her jaw, his lips soft and teasing as he trailed kisses to her neck. MC tilted her head back to allow him more access, his kisses sending tingles of fire across her flesh. She gasped at the gentle scrape of teeth, her grip tightening in his hair. His breath was hot against her ear and she shivered. "That feels so good," she whispered.

"And that is exactly what we want, isn't it?" He whispered. The tickle of it against her ear made her thighs clench, heat gathering rather quickly, and she mumbled in agreement.

"I'm going to touch you," he murmured. His tongue flicked her earlobe, and he kissed back down her neck. His hand gently tugged her blouse free of her waistband, and gentle fingertips slid across her stomach.

MC was no virgin, but his touch felt like nothing else she had ever experienced before. He was considerate, teasing, gentle. He eased a hand over her hip, trailing fingers up her thigh over her trousers and then gently swiped his hand between her thighs.

The spreading tingles swept outwards from her core, and she bit her lower lip in anticipation as he popped the button on her trousers. She gripped him, her mouth seeking his for a desperate kiss. His hand slid inside her trousers, and she gasped into his mouth, parting her thighs a little as the tips of his fingers slid through her folds.

His touch was gentle, teasing, sliding slowly against her, the tip of a finger dipping and swirling to spread out the slick of her arousal. She quivered under the touch, small sounds leaving her mouth.

"Good?" He asked.

"Mmmhmm," she affirmed, nodding. She glanced down, watching his hand, breathing fast. "Don't stop."

A finger probed deeper, pumping in and out, and her hips flexed. As he swirled the finger upwards to circle over her clit, MC groaned, delicious flicks of pleasure throbbing outwards. Garreth had his mouth on her ear again, his teeth dragging gently around the shell. "I'm thinking you like it," he whispered. He rubbed a little faster. "You're so wet, so soft."

MC moaned, her fingers gripping hold of him. "More," she pleaded. "Garreth..."

He withdrew his hand and she whimpered, but he was pushing her trousers down her legs, she helped him tug them free and they were abandoned on her kitchen floor. She gave a surprised cry as he lifted her up onto the kitchen side, claiming her mouth in another deep kiss as parted her thighs, moving to stand between her legs.

This was new! She had never done anything like this in a kitchen before, and she surrendered herself to him, one hand around the back of his neck, the other planted on the worktop behind her.

Garreth's fingers slid over her heat again, and her legs instinctively widened a bit more. He hit the spot immediately, and she moaned even louder as he used more fingers to pleasure her, sliding two inside and using his thumb to stimulate.

Her mouth was open, her eyes met his and her cheeks flushed as the pressure began to build. His gaze was intense as he stared at her. It was erotic, it was intimate, and she felt shyness begin to creep in. She dipped her gaze, tensing up a little.

"Look at me," he said. She shyly lifted her eyes to his as his fingers made erotic sounds between her legs. The muscles in her thighs were beginning to tremble. He kissed her slowly, his tongue sliding playfully along her lips, his teeth making a teasing tug. "Relax," he whispered. "Trust me."

His fingers slowed a little, swirling and rubbing, teasing her slowly towards an edge. "Do you trust me?"

As she stared into those gorgeous green eyes, his fingers sending fire through her core, she nodded. "Yes," she breathed. "I trust you."

His hands gripped her hips, dragging them to the edge of the counter, and she stared, wide eyed as he bent to bury his face between her legs. The devastating swirl of his tongue swept upwards before circling smoothly over her clit, and her eyes rolled back, a low moan escaping her.

Both of her hands scrambled for purchase as he licked, she knocked over containers, her glass of wine toppled over, rolling off the edge of the counter to smash on the floor, but they both ignored it.

She shuddered as her abdomen gave a teasing clench, her legs were shaking, one of them slung over his shoulder as he fucked her with his mouth. He groaned against her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, the intensity of every tongue stroke increasing. Incoherent sounds spilled from her mouth as the heat gathered and twisted.

"Garreth," she moaned. "Oh...fuck... "

"Come for me," he murmured. His breath fanning out against her heat. "Come on, MC. You're so close, I can tell."

He slid two fingers inside, curling them slightly, his tongue and lips continuing to tease. The pressure increased tenfold, her back arched and her hips ground against him. A shocked cry left her mouth as her body clenched, a deep pulse reverberating through her core.

Garreth didn't stop, but he slowed, coaxing her through each tremble and clench, until she sagged, panting. She was dazed, happy. This was so much better than doing it for herself.

"Fuck," she whispered. "You did it..."

Garreth straightened, wiping his mouth, unable to keep the grin from spreading across his face. "See? You are definitely not broken. You are, in fact, perfect."

"You were amazing," she sighed, her smile wide and dazed. "Thank you!"

"Happy to be of service, m'lady," he said. He even gave her a little bow.

She giggled, her breathing still catching up, her body flushed with pleasure. She sat up and reached for him, grabbing his shirt to pull him close. "I owe you one," she said. She kissed him, tasting herself on his lips. She held him there, and looked up into those eyes that were fast becoming her favourite thing. "Shall we move this into the bedroom?"

His eyebrows lifted with interest. "Are you suggesting it's my turn? Or are you wanting me to rock your world again?"

She smiled. "How about both?"

"I'm game, if you are," he smiled.

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #garreth weasley #garreth weasley smut #mc x garreth weasley #weasley wednesday #blueraineshadows #garreth weasley's groupies

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legion1227 · 1 year

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Paramore: This Is Why Review

Paramore's come a long way since the days of Misery Business.

While many other pop-punk bands have come and gone since the nineties, Paramore is among the titans that remain standing. As someone whose childhood occurred in the 2000s, some of my favorite songs consisted of pop-punk bops from bands I adored. It's 2023, and the rock icons that shook the younger generation's core are making a comeback, and I am here for it! My Chemical Romance is on tour, Fall Out Boy is dropping a new album in March, and Paramore recently dropped their latest album since 2017.

Their 2017 album, After Laughter, didn't impress sixteen-year-old me all that much, but as time went on, my feelings changed. I consider After Laughter an amazing project that spoke earnestly to a growing teen and continues to do so as I am now. Somber lyrics juxtaposed with the infectious upbeat melodies of multiple tracks cemented songs like Fake Happy, Caught In The Middle, and Idle Worship as not only some of my favorite Paramore tracks but some of my favorite songs. Period.

Unfortunately and unfairly, I held standards for their next project, This Is Why way too high. Don't get me wrong, it's still a high-quality album that I enjoy, but not as much as After Laughter. Though, like with After Laughter, my feelings on the album might change over the years.

This Is Why's first two tracks are the singles released before the project dropped, The News and This Is Why. The first song, sharing the same name as the album, feels like one of their most political songs in quite some time, setting the tone for the majority of the project. "If you have an opinion, Maybe you should shove it." It's as strong a start as you would want from our beloved lead singer Hayley Williams. The following song, The News, starts right by mentioning war. Between The News and This Is Why I find The News a slightly superior song. Both tracks are politically charged and lyrically intriguing, but I find The News edges out the win with a better, more charged foot-tapping chorus.

After the first two songs, it's a bit of a mixed bag. There are no bad songs, but some tracks are not as good as others. The singles are fine, but The News and This Is Why are near the bottom of my list if we ranked the songs from least to most favorite. The next two songs I prefer more than the singles. Running Out of Time comes in at track three, less focused on politics. The track fixates on Hayley's poor time management skills and is full of multiple spectacularly relatable or, dare I say fun, lyrics. ("Intentions only get you so far, what if I'm just a selfish prick?" One of my favorite lines, I must admit.) Afterward, C'est Comme Ca plays, and it's even MORE fun. Hayley takes a spoken song approach with her singing during the verses, an uncommon style for her, with an earworm hook.

The remaining six tracks are odd commodities. Hayley's voice is soothing at some points and just okay at others. The lyrics are either profound and thought-provoking or fail to hit the heart accurately. And instrumentally, it's either the most fascinating reflection of inner turmoil or just….there. There are only three tracks I could recommend after C'est Comme Ca, and that's You First, Crave, and Thick Skull. The album as a whole deserves a listen, but some songs surpass others in terms of quality. There are low points, but high points as well. But the highs don't come close to After Laughter, in my opinion. But I'm so happy to have more Paramore in my life, after so long. I'll at least be revisiting the songs I rock with immensely quite a bit.

This album is almost great but still very good. 3.5/5.

#paramore #album review #music review #music #review #song

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

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Mute

Prompt: I absolutely adore your writing! Could I ask for a request too, please? I was thinking of a back-and-forth between Janus and Logan, just lies after truths after lies, until one snaps and accidentally causes the other to lose the ability to speak? Since they can both technically change the reality around them. Either the recipient becomes forcibly mute or the very angsty "sowed up mouth" method. Whoever caused the other to lose their speech freaks out and tries their best to fix their mess while apologising. Either a platonic or romantic ending -whichever you decide- but with at least a happy ending please? - willowaudreykeyes

Thanks for the prompts, babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: sympathetic janus, logan gets his mouth sewn shut but it's okay we fix it

Pairings: can be platonic or romantic I don't care, but we hit logince, rociet, lociet

Word Count: 2922

He doesn’t even remember how it started.

Or, an argument between Logan and Janus spirals dangerously out of hand, and powers in the Mindscape are sometimes more curses than blessings.

It hadn’t been something Thomas knew about, it hadn’t been a group discussion—he doesn’t think the others know where they are. Virgil is probably in his room, Roman is working in the Imagination, Patton is baking with Remus.

He doesn’t remember how it started.

He does know how they got here.

“I fail to see what use this is,” Logan had grumbled, standing up from the library table, “I will be better off figuring this out myself.”

“Oh, yes, of course, because that’s always gone so well for you in the past.”

Logan’s eyes had flashed with anger he still denies he has. “I fail to see what gives you the opinion that you have any right to complain.”

“Because I’m certainly the one saying that I’ve done all my best work alone.”

Janus had smirked cruelly as Logan shoved his glasses back up his nose and pointed a finger at him. “Your track record, may I remind you, has certainly shown that.”

Janus had thrown his head back and cackled, filled with mirth that sat like rot in the pit of his stomach. “And yet I managed to do so much more in the few times I appeared than you.”

“Oh, like that’s the same thing.”

He had held his hand to his mouth in a mock gasp. “Why, Logan, surely you can’t be insinuating that you think the others are incompetent. How hurtful, what on earth would they say?”

“I did not say that.”

“But you meant it, didn’t you?” Janus had morphed his expression into a mock pout. “They’re all so slow, so irrational, all they do is get in the way, they’re so irritating.”

“You’re attempting to convince me that I said something I did not,” Logan had said firmly, “it will not work. The meaning of my remark, as you are aware, was that you, as your role in the videos, have an easier time disrupting the flow of conversation that I do as a member of the main cast.”

Logan had ignored—or perhaps not noticed—the subtle tightening of Janus’s fist. He had simply sniffed and looked down his nose.

“And even then, it’s a surprise you haven’t been more capable.”

Janus had bared his teeth. “Yes, because obviously, you could’ve done better.”

“Oh, please.” Logan had tucked his notebook into the crook of his arm. “Can you name one of your haphazard schemes that actually worked?”

Janus had gritted his teeth as Logan opened the notebook and began to read down the list.

“Your attempt to get Thomas to lie to Joan failed when Roman started to believe that lying was wrong as well, leading to Thomas discovering your true identity.”

“By all means,” Janus had growled, “keep going.”

“Most notably, your attempt to get Thomas to go to the callback backfired quite spectacularly—something that wouldn’t have happened in quite the same fashion had you actually let me participate—“

“Keep talking, Logan,” he’d said again, inching closer to the nerd, “that’s a wonderful idea.”

“—and of course, led to what is the most disruptive event in recent memory,” Logan had continued, undaunted, “the wedding.”

Janus hadn’t even bothered with words this time, reaching for the notebook with a growl. Logan had tucked it away before he could reach it.

“Tell me,” he had said, “was it worth it? Knowing how much it cost us?”

“Surely,” Janus had growled back, “then you know it’s not because you didn’t do your job well enough.”

Logan had stiffened. “What are you talking about?”

“Well surely you haven’t realized that the reason I was able to make it into that video in the first place,” Janus had said smoothly, sliding back into the ‘villain’ persona Logan has so graciously cast him in, “was that you were so painfully easy to replace.”

“Falsehood,” Logan had said lowly.

Janus had raised his hand again. “Oh, so you did notice. Splendid. Then you know that when it comes to pushing blame around the Mindscape—“

He had leaned closer.

“—you’re where we should be looking too.”

“I am—“

“Easy to overlook,” Janus had sung, prowling around Logan in a circle, “easy to silence. And surely there’s no correlation between when you attempt to override the others and when Thomas gets hurt. You want to talk about my failures? Then let’s not forget getting the others trapped in Patton’s room, shall we?”

Logan’s fists had tightened. “That’s not—“

“After all,” Janus had continued, speaking over him to illustrate his point, “if I’m to blame for knocking all the dominos down, you certainly didn’t give me a hand setting them up.”

“As if that in any way equivocates to what you did,” Logan had spat, the emotionless facade finally giving way as he whirled of Janus, “I did not use, manipulate, and lie to get the others to do what I want.”

“Oh, of course you didn’t.”

“And if I did, my lies would be nowhere near as comically obvious.”

“Ah, yes, of course you’re never comical.” Janus had tapped Logan’s flushed cheek. “The possibilities of you being a joke have always been…infinitesimal.”

Logan had bared his teeth as Janus chuckled. “At least my concept of a joke never hurt anyone.”

Logan’s mouth had tugged up cruelly too.

“Setting Remus loose on Thomas when you knew he was already upset, pushing the others to follow on whatever path you decided was best. And let’s not even start on what you did to Roman.”

Janus had flinched.

“Have you ever apologized?” Logan had shaken his head. “For everything that you’ve done to hurt him?”

“Have you?”

The room had dropped several degrees.

Janus had dropped the villain persona, staring directly at Logan.

“You want to talk about hurting the others, hurting Roman,” he had said lowly, “what do you think it is that you do?”

Logan had opened his mouth to speak but Janus had raised a finger.

“No. Do you know how much you’ve hurt him? Over how many years you’ve made him ashamed of who he is?” He had shaken his head. “I know I’ve hurt him. But you don’t seem to recognize it.”

He had looked Logan up and down, mouth curled in disgust.

“Maybe I’m not good enough at my job for your liking, but I sure was good at yours.” He had raised an eyebrow. “Maybe they wanted you silenced permanently. They did press the ‘skip’ button, after all.”

He had looked for the shadow of the bruise on Logan’s neck.

“And it was so easy to replace you. To silence you properly.”

He had turned away, not bothering to look at Logan’s face.

“Maybe I should do them a favor and keep you quiet.”

There had been a strangled gasp behind him.

“Oh, what,” Janus had drawled, turning around, “did you finally realize you don’t have a smart comeback for…”

The room had frozen.

…so that’s how they got here.

Janus, standing a few paces from Logan, turning back to face him, the sharp quip dying on the edge of his lips as his mouth drops open in horror, staring back.

Logan, his eyes wide, shining with unshed tears, glasses blurred and obscured by the bright light shining from the golden stitches that sew his mouth shut.

Logan raises trembling hands to his mouth, feeling the stitches, tears rolling down his face. His fingers disappear into the bright golden light as he fumbles with his mouth, until he realizes that he can’t.

The strangled scream lingers in Janus’s head long after Logan shrinks into a crouch on the floor.

No.

No, no, no, no—no, not Logan. Not Logan.

“Oh, god—“ Logan’s hands keep pressing fruitlessly against his mouth— “no, oh, god, Logan—“

He runs back, ready to crouch and pry Logan’s hands away before he hurts himself, chest splitting open from the ache of hurting the poor thing like this.

He doesn’t think it could hurt more.

Like so many other times today, he’s wrong.

The instant Logan catches a glimpse of him moving toward him, he shoves himself away, scrambling backward until his back hits the wall. Eyes wide, breathing as heavily as he can through the stitches, utterly terrified.

As he has every right to be.

“No, no, Logan,” he murmurs frantically, “no, it’s okay, I’m not trying to hurt you—“

Does it matter that you’re not trying? You certainly were earlier.

“—I promise, Logan, please, I’m—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

Through the pants, the sobs, the shakiness of his chest, Logan huffs, disbelieving.

“I didn’t, Logan, I promise.” Janus drops to his knees in front of the crying man. “I—we went too far. I’m sorry, I didn’t know this would happen, I didn’t mean to, please—“

The poor thing presses himself further against the wall. Janus swallows, feeling guilt press hot and heavy against the underside of his tongue. He reaches out, trying desperately to show him that he’s sorry, he didn’t mean to, he doesn’t actually believe anything he just said, he’s nothing but a liar, a horrible liar, please—

“I didn’t mean it, Logan, I promise, you’re—you’re not replaceable, I don’t want you silenced, the others don’t hate you, they don’t want you gone, I’m sorry—“

Slowly, too slowly, and not slowly enough, Logan’s breathing begins to settle. His eyes lose that awful whiteness and he slumps a little against the wall. His cheeks are damp, his glasses knocked askew, but he stares at Janus and slowly, slowly, nods.

“L-Logan?”

Another nod, a little less hesitant.

Janus’s shoulders slump. “Oh, Logan, why does it always end up with you being the better person?”

A tiny quirk of the eyebrow, nowhere near Logan’s typical sass levels, but it’s enough. It’s enough. Enough to make a weak smile come to Janus’s face.

“Can I come over, please? Can I come help?”

Logan nods, still wary as Janus shuffles across the floor. Before he makes it all the way there, he tugs off his gloves and stuffs them in his pocket.

“There,” he says quietly, wiggling his fingers to get used to it, “don’t want the fibers getting caught on anything.”

Logan’s wide-eyed stare tells him he knows why Janus really took the gloves off. Something Janus confirms a moment later.

“And I want you to know that I mean it.” He reaches forward. “Can I touch?”

Logan still flinches when Janus runs his thumb carefully over the cruel stitches sewing Logan’s mouth shut. He winces as he takes in how taut the thread is, how many stitches there are.

“Oh, Logan, I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, “does it hurt very badly?”

Another miserable nod.

Then it clicks.

Logan.

The one who submits least to the Imagination. The one who tethers himself tightly to the fact that they are metaphysical, they are subjective, they need not subject themselves to real-world consequences of whatever nonsense the other Sides pull.

Logan still has the stitches.

It threatens to break Janus’s heart all over again.

“Oh, sweetie,” he murmurs, cupping Logan’s face and slipping his glasses to the top of his head, “I’ve hurt you more than this, haven’t I?”

For indeed, if Logan is too upset to remember how to pull himself out of turns of phrase, then the poor thing is distraught.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” he murmurs, gently wiping away Logan’s tears, “it’s okay, sweetie, I’m not going to hurt you, it’s over, I’m not angry, I’m going to take care of you.”

And oh, the way Logan pushes shyly into his hands feels warm.

“Does this help, sweetie, is this alright?” At Logan’s nod, he moves, tucking Logan’s legs across his lap with his other hands. “Come here, yes—that’s it, shh, I’ve got you, you just focus on me.”

Logan’s eyes fall closed and a muffled whimper comes from his throat.

“I’ve got you, sweetie, I’m right here,” Janus murmurs, still cupping the poor thing’s head as it leans into him, “shh, shh, let’s get you a little calmer before we have a look, okay?”

Logan gives a huff of ‘what do you think I’m trying to do?’

“I know you know that, sweetie,” he chuckles, lifting Logan’s head to gently knock their foreheads together, “you’re clever. Our resident brain cell.”

He wraps one hand around the back of his neck.

“It’s just like what you taught us, remember? Object impermanence. This won’t last forever. I’m right here. You were so brave, you are so brave, so wonderful, so sweet…just give yourself time, sweetie, it’s okay.”

Logan relaxes a little in his hold as he keeps talking quietly. The poor thing gets over his hesitation and buries his face shamelessly in the crook of Janus’s neck.

“Shh, shh, that’s it, sweetie, easy now—“ Janus cradles him as he sets his glasses out of the way— “I’ve got you. I’m right here, sweetie, I’ve got you. It’s almost over, now, you can do it, shh.”

Another muffled noise from Logan.

“You’re not easily replaceable,” Janus says firmly, “you’re not unwanted. You’re not a joke, the others know how much you care about them, how much you help them, how important they are to you, how important you are to them.”

He tilts his head to press a kiss to Logan’s temple.

“How important you are to me.”

The golden light dims, sputters, and vanishes.

“…sweetie?”

Logan pulls back, carefully rubbing his fingers over his stitch-free mouth. He opens and closes a few times.

“Ouch.”

“Are you alright, sweet? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

“I know,” Logan says quietly, “I’m sorry too. That…escalated very quickly. I did not mean the things I said either.”

He squints.

“Oh, here—“ Janus passes him his glasses.

“Thank you. But that’s not why I—what were we arguing about, to begin with?”

Janus huffs a laugh. “I had been meaning to ask you that question.”

“Well, whatever it is, it must not have been very important.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“I’m sorry too,” Logan repeats after that pause, “you are not just a villain, you are not incompetent, and you…you are not to blame for everything that has gone wrong.”

Janus chucks him lightly under the chin. “Neither are you.”

“I know that, intellectually, and yet…somehow, it remains difficult for me to grasp.”

“Because even though you’re Logic, sweetie,” Janus says, “you’re Thomas’s Logic.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Because Thomas is, frankly, something of a dumbass.”

It startles a laugh out of him at any rate.

“I mean, that also makes you a dumbass.”

“Oh, I’m perfectly aware.”

Logan’s smile is wonderful. “What is it that Roman is quite fond of saying?”

“That he’s pure of heart, dumb of ass?”

“That’s is.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“It is.” Logan frowns. “Even if he’s far more intelligent than he gets credit for.”

Janus nudges him. “I hope you know that you can be big of brain and dumb of ass at the same time.”

“Ah. I see.”

There’s another moment of silence as they reflect on what’s been said. Then Logan nervously adjusts his tie.

“Speaking of Roman…”

“I was about to say.” Janus gives his knee a pat. “Shall we see if we can find him?”

“I believe his business in the Imagination should be done.” They help each other to stand, Logan keeping a grip on Janus’s sleeve. “Should we check his room first?”

“I think so.”

Roman, of course, swings open the door with a cheerful greeting, the role of the pompous prince firmly in place until he takes in their tear-stained faces and he melts, dropping the act almost immediately.

“Oh, my darlings,” he coos, cupping each of their faces in a hand, “what’s the matter? Why do you look so upset?”

“May we come in, please?” Indeed, poor Logan looks as if he’s about to melt into Roman’s arms. Janus can’t talk, though, he’s about to do the same.

“Of course, come on, let’s get you sat down—“

Roman bustles about the room, fetching them a glass of water, sitting on his bed with them, almost bursting into tears himself when he hears what’s happened and promptly telling them they’re going to spend the rest of the day right here, in comfy clothes, watching ridiculously obscure documentaries until Patton and Remus call them down for dinner. They keep a hand on each other at all times, laughing at Janus’s snarky responses to awful narrators, Logan’s quick corrections when the information is out of date, and Roman’s impersonations of the strange wildlife. Roman’s room is pleasantly noisy and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

He doesn’t remember how it started, but he will always remember how it ended.

Curled around each other, in the warmth and safety of the people who care about him.

General Taglist: @frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious @firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul @im-an-anxious-wreck @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch @enby-ralsei @unicornssunflowersandstuff @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @aularei @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws @cecil-but-gayer @i-am-overly-complicated @annytheseal @alias290 @tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask @crows-ace @emilythezeldafan @frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires @cyanide-violence @oonagh2 @xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx @rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734 @triflingassailantofmyemotions

if you want to be added/taken off the taglist, let me know!

#dragonbabbles #fic #sanders sides #roman sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit

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sk1fanfiction · 3 years

Text

the many faces of tom riddle, part 4

-attachment, orphanages, and yet more child psych: time to add yet another voice to the void-

FULL DISCLAIMER THAT THIS IS JUST MY OPINION OF A CHARACTER WHO DOESN’T HAVE THE STRONGEST CANON CHARACTERIZATION, AND THUS ALL THIS IS BASED ON MY CONCEPTUALIZATION.

I'm going to be super biased, because my favorite portrayal of Tom Riddle is actually Hero Fiennes-Tiffin as eleven-year-old Tom Riddle, in HBP and I get to chat about child psych in this one, sooo here we go.

First of all, I’m just so impressed that a kid could bring that much depth to such a complex character.

This is the portrayal, I feel, that brings us closest to Tom’s character. Yes, Coulson’s brought us pretty close, but by fifth year, the mask was on.

We don't really get to see Tom looking afraid very often, but it's fear that rules his life, so it's really poignant in our first (chronologically) introduction, he looks absolutely terrified.

The void being the fandom's loud opinions on a certain headmaster. I wouldn't call myself pro-Dumbledore, but I'm certainly not anti-Dumbledore, either. (Agnostic-Dumbledore??)

Since I'm not of the anti-Dumbledore persuasion, I decided to poke around in the tags and see what the arguments were, so I don't make comments out of ignorance.

Most of the tag seems to be more directed towards his treatment of Harry and Sirius, but a few people mentioned that Dumbledore should have treated Tom with ‘exceptional kindness’ and tried to ‘rehabilitate’ him.

As I said in Parts 2 and 3, I am 100% in favor of helping a traumatized kid learn to cope, and I don’t think Tom Riddle was solidly on the Path to Evil (TM) at birth, or even at eleven. Not even at fifteen.

Could unconditional love and kindness have helped Tom Riddle enough for the rise of Lord Voldemort to never happen? Possibly, but...

Yes, I'm about to drag up that Carl Jung quote, again.

“I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.”

The problem with this is that if you’re going to blame Dumbledore for this, you also have to blame every other adult in Tom’s life: his headmaster, Dippet, his Head of House, Slughorn, his ‘caretakers’ at the orphanage, Mrs. Cole and Martha, and possibly more. In fact, if we're going to blame any adult, let's blame Merope for r*ping and abusing Tom Riddle Senior, and having a kid she wasn't intending to take care of.

Furthermore, you cannot possibly hold anyone but Tom accountable for the murders he committed. (I should not have to sit here and explain why cold-blooded murder is wrong.) And if you like Tom Riddle's character, insinuating that his actions are completely at the whim of others is just a bit condescending towards him. He's not an automaton or a marionette, he's a very intelligent human being with a functioning brain, and at sixteen is fully capable of moral reasoning and critical analysis.

I've heard the theories about Dumbledore setting the Potters up to die, and I'm not going to discuss their validity right now; but he didn't put a wand in Tom's hand and force him to kill anyone. Tom did it all of his own accord.

And while yes, I have enormous sympathy for what happened to Tom as a child, at some point, he decided to murder Myrtle Warren, and that is where I lose my sympathy. Experiencing trauma does not give you the right to inflict harm on others. Yes, Tom was failed, but then, he spectacularly failed himself.

We also have no idea how Dumbledore treated Tom as a student.

In the movies, it’s Dumbledore who tells Tom he has to go back to the orphanage, but in the books, it’s Dippet. We know that Slughorn spent a lot of time around Tom at Slug Club and such, yet I don’t really see people clamoring for his head.

I regard the sentiment that Dumbledore turned Tom Riddle into Lord Voldemort with a lot of skepticism.

But let's hear from the character himself -- his impression of eleven-year-old Tom Riddle.

“Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time?” said Dumbledore. “No, I had no idea that he was to grow up to be what he is. However, I was certainly intrigued by him. I returned to Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him, something I should have done in any case, given that he was alone and friendless, but which, already, I felt I ought to do for others’ sake as much as his."

Now, assuming that Dumbledore's telling the truth, I'm not seeing something glaringly wrong with this. No, he hasn't pigeonholed Tom as evil, yes, I'd be intrigued, too, and it's a very good idea to keep an eye on Tom, for his own sake.

“At Hogwarts,” Dumbledore went on, “we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have — inadvertently, I am sure — been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school."

Again, it seems like he's at least somewhat sympathetic towards Tom, and is willing to at least give him a chance.

More evidence (again, assuming Dumbledore is a reliable narrator):

Harry: “Didn’t you tell them [the other professors], sir, what he’d been like when you met him at the orphanage?” Dumbledore: “No, I did not. Though he had shown no hint of remorse, it was possible that he felt sorry for how he had behaved before and was resolved to turn over a fresh leaf. I chose to give him that chance.”

Now, I think Dumbledore is pretty awful with kids, but I don't think that's malicious. Yeah, it's a flaw, but perfect people don't exist, and perfect characters are dead boring. I am not saying that he definitely handled Tom's case well, I'm just saying that there's little evidence that Dumbledore, however shaken and scandalized, wrote him off as 'evil snake boy.'

It's also worth taking into account that it's 1938, and the attitudes towards mental health back then.

Why is Tom looking at Dumbledore like that, anyway? Why is he so scared? What has he possibly been threatened with or heard whispers of?

"'Professor'?" repeated Riddle. He looked wary. "Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?"

"I don't believe you," said Riddle. "She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"

"You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor,' yes, of course -- well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!

Tom keeps insisting he's not mad until Dumbledore finally manages to calm him down.

I'm really upset this wasn't in the movie, because it's important context. Instead we got these throwaway cutscenes of some knick-knacks relating to the Cave he's got lying around, but I just would have preferred to see him freaking out like he does in the book.

There was extreme stigma and prejudice towards mental illness.

'Lunatic asylums,' as they were called in Tom's time, were terrible places. In the 1930s and 40s, he could look forward to being 'treated' with induced convulsions, via metrazol, insulin, electroshock, and malaria injections. And if he stuck around long enough, he could even look forward to a lobotomy!

So, if you think Dumbledore was judgmental towards Tom, imagine how flat-out prejudiced whatever doctors or 'experts' Mrs. Cole might have gotten in to 'look at him' must have been!

Moving on to the next few shots, he is sitting down and hunched over as if expecting punishment or at least some kind of bad news, Dumbledore is mostly out of the frame. He’s trapped visually, by Dumbledore on one side, and a wall on the other, because he’s still very much afraid. uncomfortable, as he tells Dumbledore a secret that he fears could get him committed to an asylum (which were fucking horrible places, as I said).

It brings to the scene that miserable sense of isolation and loneliness to that has defined Tom’s entire life up to that point (and, partially due to his own bad choices, continues to define it).

And, when Dumbledore accepts it, his posture changes. he becomes more confident and more at ease, as he describes the... utilities of his magical abilities.

"All sorts," breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

Riddle lifted his head. His face was transfigured: There was a wild happiness upon it, yet for some reason it did not make him better looking; on the contrary, his finely carved features seemed somehow rougher, his expression almost bestial.

I do think Harry, our narrator, is being a tad bit judgmental here. Magic is probably the only thing that brings Tom happiness in his grey, lonely world, and when I was Tom's age and being bullied, if I had magic powers, you'd better believe that I'd (a) be bloody ecstatic about it (b) use them. And, like Tom, I can't honestly say that I can't imagine getting a bit carried-away with it. Unfortunately, we can't all be as inherently good and kindhearted as Harry.

Reading HBP again, as a 'mature' person, it almost seems like the reader is being prompted to see Tom as evil just because he's got 'weird' facial expressions.

So... uh...

Nope, let's judge Tom on his actions, not looks of 'wild happiness.'

To his great surprise, however, Dumbledore drew his wand from an inside pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner, and gave the wand a casual flick. The wardrobe burst into flames. Riddle jumped to his feet; Harry could hardly blame him for howling in shock and rage; all his worldly possessions must be in there. But even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged.

Okay, one thing I dislike is Tom's lack of emotional affect when Dumbledore burned the wardrobe, in the books, he jumped up and started screaming, instead of looking passively (in shock, perhaps?) at the fire. Incidentally, I can't really tell if he's impressed or in shock, to be honest. I think they really tried to make Tom 'creepier' in the movie.

This is one of the incidents where Dumbledore's inability to deal with children crops up.

I think he was trying to teach Tom that magic can be dangerous, and he wouldn't like it to be used against him, but burning the wardrobe that contains everything he owns was a terrible move on Dumbledore's part. Tom already has very limited trust in other people, and now, he's not going to trust Dumbledore at all -- now, he's put Tom on the defensive/offensive for the rest of their interaction, and perhaps for the rest of their teacher-student relationship.

Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand. "Where can I get one of them?"

"Where do you buy spellbooks?" interrupted Riddle, who had taken the heavy money bag without thanking Dumbledore, and was now examining a fat gold Galleon.

But I'm not surprised Tom is 'greedy.' He's grown up in an environment where if he wants something, whether that's affection, food, money, toys, he's got to take it. There's no one looking after his needs specifically. I'm not surprised that he's a thief and a hoarder, and I don't think that counts as a moral failing necessarily, and more of a maladaptive way of seeking comfort. It would be bizarre if he came out of Wool's Orphanage a complete saint.

Additionally, I think given that the Gaunt family has a history of 'mental instability,' Tom is a sensitive child, and the trauma of growing up institutionalized and possibly being treated badly due to his magical abilities or personality disorder deeply affected him.

And there are points where it seems that Dumbledore is quick to judge Tom.

"He was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control."

"Yes, indeed; a rare ability, and one supposedly connected with the Dark Arts, although as we know, there are Parselmouths among the great and the good too. In fact, his ability to speak to serpents did not make me nearly as uneasy as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy, and domination."

"I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless?..."

And while this is all empirically true, these are (a) a product of Tom's harsh environment, and (b) do not necessarily make him evil. But the point remains that child psych didn't exist as a field of its own, and psychology as a proper science was in its infancy, so I'd be shocked if Dumbledore was insightful about Tom's situation.

But I've gone a ton of paragraphs without citing anything, so I've got to rectify that.

Let's talk about Harry Harlow's monkey experiments in the 1950-70s.

If you're not a fan of animal research, since I know some people are uncomfortable with it, feel free to scroll past.

Here's the TL;DR: Children need to be hugged and shown affection too, not just fed and clothed, please don't leave babies to 'cry out' and ignore their needs because it's backwards and fucking inhumane. HUG AND COMFORT AND CODDLE CHILDREN AND SPOIL THEM WITH AFFECTION!

I will put more red writing when the section is over.

This is still an interesting experiment to have in mind while we explore the whole 'no one taught Tom Riddle how to love' thing and whether or not it's actually a good argument.

Andddd let's go all the way back to the initial 1958 experiment, featured in Harlow's paper, the Nature of Love. (If you're familiar with Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, him and Harlow actually collaborated for a time).

To give you an idea of our starting point, until Harlow's experiment, which happened twenty years after Dumbledore meets Tom for the first time, no one in science had really been interested in studying love and affection.

"Psychologists, at least psychologists who write textbooks, not only show no interest in the origin and development of love or affection, but they seem to be unaware of its very existence."

I'm going to link some videos of Harry Harlow showing the actual experiment, which animal rights activists would probably consider 'horrifying.' It's nothing gory or anything, but if you are particularly soft-hearted (and I do not mean that as an insult), be warned. It's mostly just baby monkeys being very upset and Harlow discussing it in a callous manner. Yes, today it would be considered unethical, but it's still incredibly important work and if you think you can handle it, I would recommend watching at least the first one to get an idea of how dramatic this effect is.

Dependency when frightened

The full experiment

The TL;DW:

This experiment was conducted with rhesus macaques; they're still used in psychology/neuroscience research when you want very human-like subjects, because they are very intelligent (unnervingly so, actually). I'd say that adult ones remind me of a three-year old child.

Harlow separated newborn monkeys from their mothers, and cared for their physical needs. They had ample nutrition, bedding, warmth, et cetera. However, the researchers noticed that the monkeys:

(a) were absolutely miserable. And not just that, but although all their physical needs were taken care of, they weren't surviving well past the first few days of life. (This has also been documented in human babies, and it's called failure to thrive and I'll talk about it a bit later).

(b) showed a strong attachment to the gauze pads used to cover the floor, and decided to investigate.

So, they decided to provide a surrogate 'mother.' Two, actually. Mother #1 was basically a heated fuzzy doll that was nice for the monkeys to cuddle with. Mother #2 was the same, but not fuzzy and made of wire. Both provided milk. The result? The monkeys spent all their time cuddling and feeding from the fuzzy 'mother.' Perhaps not surprising.

What Harlow decided next, is that one of the hallmarks being attached to your caregiver is seeking hugs and reassurance from them when frightened. So, when the monkeys were presented with something scary, they'd go straight to the cloth mother and ignore the wire one. Not only that, but when placed in an unfamiliar environment, if the cloth mother was present, the monkeys would be much calmer.

In a follow-up experiment, Harlow decided to see if there was some sort of sensitive period by introducing both 'mothers' to monkeys who had been raised in isolation for 250 days. Guess what?

The initial reaction of the monkeys to the alterations was one of extreme disturbance. All the infants screamed violently and made repeated attempts to escape the cage whenever the door was opened. They kept a maximum distance from the mother surrogates and exhibited a considerable amount of rocking and crouching behavior, indicative of emotionality.

Yikes. So, at first Harlow thought that they'd passed some kind of sensitive period for socialization. But after a day or two they calmed down and started chilling out with the cloth mother like the other monkeys did. But here's a weird thing:

That the control monkeys develop affection or love for the cloth mother when she is introduced into the cage at 250 days of age cannot be questioned. There is every reason to believe, however, that this interval of delay depresses the intensity of the affectional response below that of the infant monkeys that were surrogate-mothered from birth onward

All these things... attachment, affection, love, seeking comfort ... are mostly learned behaviours.

Over.

Orphanages, institutionalized childcare, and why affection is a need, not an extra.

His face is lit the exact same was as Coulson’s was in COS (half-light, half-dark), and I said I was going to talk about this in Part 3. I think perhaps it's intended to make Fiennes-Tiffin look more evil or menacing, but I'm going to quite deliberately misinterpret it.

Now, for some context, Dumbledore has just (kind of) burned his wardrobe, ratted out his stealing habit, and (in the books only, they really took a pair of scissors to this scene) told him he needs to go apologize and return everything and Dumbledore will know if he doesn't, and, well, Tom's not exactly a happy bugger about it.

But interestingly, in the books, this is when we start to see Tom's 'persona,' aka his mask, start to come into play. Whereas before, he was screaming, howling, and generally freaking out, here, he starts to hide his emotions -- in essence, obscure his true self under a shadow. So this scene is really the reverse of Coulson's in COS.

And perhaps I'm reading wayyy too much into this, but I can't help but notice that Coulson's hair is parted opposite to Fiennes-Tiffin's, and the opposite sides of their faces are shadowed, too.

Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look. "Yes, I suppose so, sir," he said finally, in an expressionless voice.

Riddle did not look remotely abashed; he was still staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last he said in a colorless voice, "Yes, sir."

Here's an article from The Atlantic on Romanian orphanages in the 1980s, when the dictator, Ceausescu, basically forced people to have as many children as possible and funnel them into institutionalized 'childcare', and it's absolutely heartbreaking.

There's not a whole lot of information out there on British orphanages in the 30s' and 40s', but given that people back then thought you just had to keep children on a strict schedule and feed them, it wouldn't have a whole lot better.

The only thing I've found is this, and it's not super promising.

The most important study informing the criteria for contemporary nosologies, was a study by Barbara Tizard and her colleagues of young children being raised in residential nurseries in London (Tizard, 1977). These nurseries had lower child to caregiver ratios than many previous studies of institutionalized children. Also, the children were raised in mixed aged groups and had adequate books and toys available. Nevertheless, caregivers were explicitly discouraged from forming attachments to the children in their care.

Here's a fairly recent paper that I think gives a good summary: Link

Here, they describe the responses to the Strange Situation test (which tests a child's attachment to their caregiver).

We found that 100% of the community sample received a score of “5,” indicating fully formed attachments, whereas only 3% of the infants living in institutions demonstrated fully formed attachments. The remaining 97% showed absent, incomplete, or odd and abnormal attachment behaviors.

Bowlby and Ainsworth, who did the initial study, thought that children would always attach to their caregivers, regardless of neglect or abuse. But some infants don't attach (discussed along with RAD in Part 2).

Here's a really good review paper on attachment disorders in currently or formerly institutionalized children : Link

Core features of RAD in young children include the absence of focused attachment behaviors directed towards a preferred caregiver, failure to seek and respond to comforting when distressed, reduced social and emotional reciprocity, and disturbances of emotion regulation, including reduced positive affect and unexplained fearfulness or irritability.

Which all sounds a lot like Tom in this scene. The paper also discusses neurological effects, like atypical EEG power distribution (aka brain waves), which can correlate with 'indiscriminate' behavior and poor inhibitory control; which makes sense for a kid who, oh, I don't know, hung another kid's rabbit because they were angry.

Furthermore...

...those children with more prolonged institutional rearing showed reduced amygdala discrimination and more indiscriminate behavior.

This again, makes a ton of sense for Tom's psychological profile, because the amygdala (which is part of the limbic system, which regulates emotions) plays a major role in fear, anger, anxiety, and aggression, especially with respect to learning, motivation and memory.

So, I agree completely that Tom needed a lot of help, especially given the fact that he spent eleven years in an orphanage (longer than the Bucharest study I was referring to), and Dumbledore wasn't exactly understanding of his situation, and probably didn't realise what a dramatic effect the orphanage had on Tom, and given the way he talks to Tom, probably treated him as if he were a kid who grew up in a healthy environment.

In case you are still unconvinced that hugging is that important, there's a famous 1944 study conducted on 40 newborn human infants to see what would happen if their physical needs (fed, bathed, diapers changed) were provided for with no affection. The study had to be stopped because half the babies died after four months. Affection leads to the production of hormones and boosts the immune system, which increases survival, and that is why we hug children and babies should not be in orphanages. They are supposed to be hugged, all the time. I can't find the citation right now, I'll add it later if I find it.

But I think it's vastly unrealistic to say that Dumbledore, who grew up during the Victorian Era, would have any grasp of this and I don't think he was actively malicious towards Tom.

Was Tom Riddle failed by institutional childcare? Absolutely.

Were the adults in his life oblivious to his situation? Probably.

Do the shitty things that happened to Tom excuse the murders he committed, and are they anyone's fault but his own? No. At the end of the day, Tom made all the wrong choices.

And, for what it's worth, I think (film) Dumbledore (although he expresses the same sentiment in more words in the books) wishes he could go back in time and have helped Tom.

"Draco. Years ago, I knew a boy, who made all the wrong choices. Please, let me help you."

#tom riddle #the many faces of #tom marvolo riddle #character analysis #character study #albus dumbledore

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procrastinatingsapphictrash · 3 years

Text

Cooking class

Word count: 2109

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Natasha x gn!reader

Warnings: Very minor injury (let me know if I need to add more)

Request: Hey! I saw your post for a request and this idea popped into my head. Y/n is a fantastic cook, they can do everything right and make great food all the time, while Natasha usually sets towels on fire when they try. Y/n suggests that Natasha enrolls in a cooking class, and does it with them so Natasha doesn't feel so bad. Y/n ends up rewarding Natasha with little kisses and 'good job!'s for the things they do well in class, and eating bits and pieces of the foods they mess up to prove that it's still edible and they're learning

Summary: Natasha is a horrible cook so reader takes Natasha to a cooking class.

A/n: So this was an anon request so I hope whoever requested this likes it! Also this is the second fic in two days which may not seem like a big deal but I actually feel productive for once. Anyways I hope everyone enjoys and I hope to finish some of my other requests soon in case anyone is wondering, and I’m always open for new requests.

Natasha let out a frustrated sound so you looked over, trying not to laugh at your girlfriend but failing spectacularly.

“It’s not funny.” She whines looking over at you with an annoyed expression.

“Sorry love,” you respond, “keep going I promise not to interrupt again.” She narrows her eyes at you but turns back to her task. She’s preparing some pizza dough that she is going to use later on in the class and honestly you never thought someone could mess up on pizza dough that much. There is dough literally everywhere, the sink, counters, floor and even her face. The most funny thing however is how she is completely covered in flour from when she opened the bag wrong and it flew into her face. Surprisingly she agreed easily when you had suggested the idea, because she wanted to help out in the kitchens sometimes but she was banned from everything but the toaster for a reason the avengers called the pie incident but refused to speak further on when asked.

You glance back over at her to see how it’s going and although everything still is a mess it seems like she has managed to combine all the ingredients properly into a ball and is now kneading it. You step towards her and give her a hug from behind, not caring that flour was now getting all over you as well.

“Good job Tasha,” you whisper in her ear. You pull back and when you look at her face you see a slight hint of a blush. She rarely blushes but you always find it so cute when she does so you decide to make it your personal mission to get her to blush as much as possible today. She is just setting aside the dough to rise when the instructor speaks again.

“I see that most of you have already finished, or are just finishing up with your dough and setting it aside. From what I can tell it looks like everybody is doing well so far, however before we can continue everybody should make sure their workstation is clear.” As he says the last part he seems to look mostly at your workstation as well as the one diagonally in front of you, which are by far the two most messy.

Natasha starts clearing up the station while you brush as much flour as you can off of your clothes and wash your hands. As she continues to clear you grab a wet cloth and gently wipe down her face and arms to get rid of all the dough and flour. It takes awhile for the both of you and your workstation to be clear and once it is you realize everybody else is finished and waiting for you.

“Ok now that everybody is done,” this time he obviously glances your way, “we are going to prepare some of the toppings for later. This part shouldn’t be hard so just follow along with the recipe and ask for help if you need it.” Natasha picks up the recipe and you read over her shoulder.

“How about I help you with the topping but you do most of it?” You ask her. “We’ll both help cut up the peaches and make the balsamic sauce. This class is meant to be teaching you and not me after all.”

“Sounds good,” she replies while taking a peach and placing it on the cutting board. She starts to chop but she keeps slicing way too thick at the top and way too thin at the bottom. You giggle slightly and she narrows her eyes at you scowling and puts down the knife.

“I’m not laughing at you Nat, I promise.” You explain. “Well I am but can you blame me? You are a crazy good assassin that probably can kill me easily with that knife in many different ways yet you can’t cut a peach properly.”

“I still don’t see how that is funny.” She huffs but with a hint of a smile.

“I’m sorry, here let me help you.” You grab her hands and guide them into making steady cuts. When the first peach is fully cut up you step back again.

“Why don’t you try to do the next one on your own?” You suggest. She nods and starts to cut seeming a little unsure of herself. While it’s not perfect it’s much better than the first time so when she finishes you let out a small cheer and kiss her on the cheek. She gives a hesitant smile which you’ve learned means she feels good about herself but doesn’t know how to express it properly. You cut the rest of the peaches in silence, her slices gradually getting better.

“You’ve already improved so much!” You praise her, your heart melting when you see her smile and blush. “Why don’t you try the next part on your own?”

“Ok,” she answers, “I think I can do this part.” She starts mixing a few of the ingredients for the balsamic glaze and you, thinking she had it under control, start to glance around because you want to see how the others in the class are doing.

“Eeekk!” You hear Natasha squeal so you quickly look back over at her. The glaze is splashed all over the front of her and splattered all over the counter.

“What happened?” You ask, this time managing to only laugh inwardly as to not offend her.

“I thought if I mixed it as fast as I could the ingredients would combine faster,” she states, “but then this happened.”

You fight hard to keep your straight face, “Tasha, love, that’s not how cooking works.”

“Well I know that now.” She responds in an annoyed tone.

“I know and it’s okay, you can just redo it while I clean this up, does that sound good?” She nods and starts finding the ingredients she needs again while you take some paper towel and clear up the counter. Unfortunately you can’t do anything about the mess on Natasha’s shirt but luckily she purposefully wore a shirt she didn’t mind getting messy.

“Everybody should be just about done by now,” the instructor says, gathering the attention of the class, “Right now I want you to put flour on your counters and start to split your dough up to make the flat breads. Then you can put some topping on and pop them in the oven, make sure not to burn them.” The rest of the class immediately gets to work but before you or Natasha can start the instructor comes up to you.

“I’m sorry to bother you but I’ve noticed that you’ve been having some trouble, so don’t be afraid to ask for any help,” he says, “it is my job.” Natasha is obviously not pleased by what he said and scowls at him, opening her mouth to speak.

“Thank you, we will.” You say quickly before Natasha says something rude. He nods and turns away to go back to the front.

“I wasn’t doing that badly.” Natasha states.

“Don’t worry about it, let’s move onto the next step, why don’t you preheat the oven?” You respond to her, avoiding her statement because she really was doing ‘that badly’. She grabs the flour and opens it, this time making sure that she doesn’t get it all over, and then starts to put it on the counter. Meanwhile you get the dough and split it up into two pieces, one pizza for each of you.

“I’m going to be bad at this part.” She says with a small frown.

“No, no, no, don’t say that Tasha,” you rush to encourage her, “this part is the best part because it’s so fun, and it’s impossible to mess up!”

“If you say she.” She says doubtfully and you laugh. Both of you get to work, at first just playing with the dough in your hands to get a feel for it and after that using a rolling pin to flatten the dough. When you’re finished you take a step back to admire your work.

“Huh, it doesn’t look that bad.” Natasha decides.

“It looks amazing, I knew you could do it Tasha!” You exclaim while hugging her side and pressing a few quick, light kisses to the side of her neck.

“I mean it’s not a huge deal.” She blushes.

“Still, it’s pretty good,” you tell her, “but now we need to focus on putting our topping on.”

She giggles. “You say that like it’s something that requires a lot of thought.”

You gasp dramatically. “Ms. Romanoff, the presentation is the most important part of the dish, it requires a lot of attention to detail.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know how I forgot!” She plays along. “Why would the actual cooking part matter when you can focus on making them look good?”

“Exactly.” You tell her before both of you get to work, putting all the topping on the flatbread.

As much as you joked about it you tried to make yours look as good as possible and when you were done although it didn’t look perfect you were satisfied with how it looked. At least until you glanced over to see how Natasha did.

“How did you manage to make yours look like it should be in a cookbook?” You ask her, truly amazed by how pleasing it looks and not even knowing how she can make something as average as topping look like art. She just blushes and shrugs, pleased with herself but not wanting to admit it out loud.

“Anyways we should probably get them in the oven now because it looks like others are starting to.” You tell her.

“Of course, I’ll put them in!” She replies quickly, transferring the flatbreads onto two trays and shoving them in the oven. You lean over after she shuts the door and set the timer but when you look back at her and smile, you see she is standing by the sink with the water running over her hand.

“Tasha are you ok?” You ask, immediately rushing over to her.

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just a small burn.” You examine her hand and it doesn’t look as small as most burns people get from cooking but then again Natasha gets injured all the time so this probably isn’t a big deal to her.

“Ok, but just make sure to take care of it.”

“I will don’t worry, I swear I’m the only one on the team who actually knows how to take care of themself sometimes. Remember the time Tony forgot to eat and collapsed?” You laugh at what she said. Although in the moment it was scary, in hindsight it was a funny story to tell.

The two of you keep bringing up old avengers moments and exchanging mission stories until you hear the timer beep. Everybody seems to have put their flatbreads in at the same time because there must be at least ten timers going off and it’s so loud you can’t even think. Luckily Natasha doesn’t seem to have the same problem because she grabs oven mitts this time so she doesn’t burn herself again and pulls the flatbreads out of the oven.

Her face falls when she sees them. The one on the top shelf, although somewhat crispy looking, seems fine but the one on the bottom shelf is practically black on the bottom.

“How did this happen?” She asks. You take a moment to think because the only way it could have happened was if Natasha had preheated the oven to the wrong temperature but you don’t want to discourage her.

“Well maybe you accidentally set the wrong temperature,” you tell her gently, deciding to be truthful, “it doesn’t matter though, because it still looks great!” She attempts a smile but looks thoroughly unconvinced. In order to try to make her feel better you grab the knife from earlier and cut a tiny piece off the edge. Your first instinct is to make a face when you put it in your mouth because it really does taste bad but you smile through that.

“See Tasha? It’s fine.”

“Y/n, it’s ok I know it’s bad and while I’m disappointed I’m not upset,” she says, “thank you for trying to cheer me up anyways.”

“Ok, fine I have to admit it was pretty burnt. But the other one looks good and besides I’m sure whatever we make next week will turn out better.” Her eyes widen and her mouth opens and you laugh at her.

“Next week? Y/n, we’re doing this again next week???”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #black widow #y/n #x reader #marvel fanfiction #fanfiction #reader insert

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vaguely-concerned · 3 years

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X-men Evolution; the great 2021 rewatch liveblog

exactly what it says on the tin, about halfway through the show I had TOO MANY FEELINGS and had to start writing some of them out haha (gets quite gambit & rogue/gambit heavy in the latter half, Because of Who I Am as a Person)

- this is my childhood’s x-men, my formative experience with them, and I’m happy to report that still seems like a good thing. the little eleven year old within me gets to geek out and have a good time with the characters and the surprisingly good animation and writing, adult me gets to CACKLE at regular intervals at the fashion/technology/absolute bonkers hot garbage comic book nonsense they use to justify a storyline every now and then, it’s been a good time

- I was like ‘ah well it is super dated it probably won’t be quite the same now’ and then rogue’s HAIR did the THING in the opening and ‘it’s all coming back to me now’ started playing in the background... the little baby queer in me swooning across time and space

- such a good beast, both his design and the writing, my heart aches for him all the time. he’s just so passionate! about being a teacher! helping young humans learn the stuff they’ll need in life! the most wonderful nerd man, just let good things happen for him

- I’m going to go ahead and assume that rogue’s ‘crush’ on scott is more of a deeply complex psychological process about desiring normalcy and intimacy and trying to figure out if she’s queer and dealing with her emerging sexuality and latching on to the first and best safely unavailable and nonthreatening older boy to project these issues onto rather than actually being a real thing, because I respect her so much as a person and I cannot bring myself to imagine she’s honestly attracted to a man who has POSTERS OF CARS on his bedroom wall. (I’ll give jean a break just because she seems to have a longer deeper history with him that might counteract some of that libido-kill, and also she’s a jock so lol)

like I am very sorry but can u imagine being a teenage girl with any interest in a boy with model cars in his bedroom when gambit’s swanning around being a much, much, much worse choice on almost every possible level but in a teen girl kryptonite kind of way? inconceivable

(I drag scott quite a few times in this and it’s not because I don’t love him, it’s just his tragedy to be the most draggable man in the world)

to be fair by the time gambit shows up that whole Situation has mostly played itself out I suppose but still

- toad’s design is so ineffably brilliant, I can’t quite tell you why but that ugly cute charm has really stuck with me, he’s one of the characters I remembered the best to this day just visually

- poor evan... he truly never had a chance, did he, they just saddled him with the most 90s teen bullshit they could come up with like he’s some kind of ‘what adult writers think teens like’ frankenstein’s monster ;______; it’s not your fault honey

- poor poor POOR storm, she gets one focus episode and they were like ‘we’re going to make an episode so racist -- ‘

I’m still STUNNED at how bad it was, but undeniably I laughed hysterically to the point that my neighbours were probably worried when that dude was earnestly like ‘He [stunningly breathlessly racist caricature of a ‘witch doctor’ guy] has stolen her powers, and he’s going to use them to take over Africa!!!’ fhajsdlfhsakjldfh oh really? tell me more, like how the fUCK this could be on television within my life time fasdlfhsdkjfhsad f just... fahjksdfh

- it’s a testament to gambit’s appeal as a character that his charm can survive what they’ve done with his hair and beard choices in this one fajskfhs regrettable but true I still fuckn LOVE him and in my highly biased yet Correct opinion he should have been around much more. get you a man who manages to stay hot through sheer Vibes even with a bowl cut

- aw scott/jean is kind of sweet in this show even if it’s taking them forEVER to get there, I like it

- it’s very nice of rogue to not mention magneto’s romantic daydreams and nostalgic memories about charles xavier after touching his face that one time... or maybe her brain did her a service and repressed it, there’s some stuff you shouldn’t have to know about your father figure

- the danger room is the very definition of ‘why do we even have that lever’ and I wonder what the fuck prof x does to have enough money to replace everything that gets busted all the time

- I’d say that a lot of the writing holds up surprisingly well! (but some of it is also incredibly inexcusably racist in ways that beggar belief, so... not full marks here) the characters have distinct voices and their arcs are set up and delivered on solidly for the most part, and there’s a lot of love showing through in small moments that are just there to have a funny/interesting thing to say about the characters and how their powers work separately and in combination. listen, sometimes I get so thirsty for like. basic goddamn competency in storytelling, let me have this

- ugggggh why is there captain america in my x-men have I not suffered enough... very very funny when prof x goes ‘sounds like you knew rogers personally’ and logan is like ‘I did ;)’ *all the students ganging up on steve rogers* “did you fuck our teacher, captain america?!”

- fskadfhas WHY are you showing me hot young-ified magneto’s ass fksjahfskj charles is not even here to see it, what a tragic waste erik

- ...I was sort of kidding before but uh I think logan genuinely did fuck captain america (or at least wishes very much that he did lol)

- wanda can have a little watching the world burn. as a treat for the way every single adult in her life has fucking failed her (’aren’t they treating you well here’ professor x she’s in a straightjacket)

- poor rogue tho can you imagine finding out after your biggest crush on a girl yet that she’s your fucking MOM in disguise... I would break out in cold sweat every time I thought about a boob forever after

- well seems like they really just had all that homoerotic rivalry stuff between quicksilver and spyke in their first ep only to never do anything with that again ever?? I mean even without the gay undertone that seems like a dynamic you spent most of an episode setting up writers what the hell haha

- dslhfkasjlh GAMBIT THERE HE IS MY BOY IS ON THE SCENE THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!! I don’t even care about his awful hair situation or the fact that his eyes are wrong here (coloured contact lenses, maybe, for a watsonian explanation? though he’d probably have to get them made special, considering he needs the sclera and the iris covered up in different ways, I’ve seen some comic panels indicating he has been known to?)

(cute little detail: when he shuffles the cards the first time we see him he ends with removing the top card to show the ace of hearts beneath <3 foreshadowing baBEY he’s a... good-ish boy deep down. hey he tries okay shit gets complicated sometimes lol)

- cracking UP at gambit perched cheerily on the edge of a crate dispensing cards in the middle of the battle... he’s like ‘eh it’s a livin’ sfsajkhf remy stop working for supervillains just because you had nothing to do on a thursday afternoon and they said they’d pay you

- I’m guessing magneto must have imposed a strict order of silence on these guys or something because I cannot imagine any other reason for him to shut up, especially once he notices rogue is a QTE (or, far more likely, they hadn’t settled on any voice actors for the new characters until next season haha. it is kind of odd that they’re all keeping up near monastic silence, though, even sabertooth lol)

- WHAT an epic first meeting for us rogue/gambit fans here... first his shadow like there’s fireworks going off behind him lighting him up and then he gives her the fuckn king of hearts and she’s so enchanted by his dumb handsome face she doesn’t even notice it’s about to blow up in her hands and it all happens in heavily meaningful silence afjsdfjashjk no wonder this ship ingrained itself in my hindbrain

yeah look smug while you can remy she’s gonna have you on your knees one day and you’ll be happy about it lol

- god storm is so COOL, everything just fading out of focus when she really gets going... give her more screen time, show!!

- mystique is every person... this person... that person... that bird... that cat... that wolf... I’m not even sure she’s not also me... are you sure she’s not you?

- holy fuck I respect the hell out of the decision to just... blow up the entire status quo in a season ender, I only vaguely remembered that (actually in general I appreciate how good the continuity is -- buildings and places that get damaged in battles need to be repaired or rebuilt, it makes the consequences feel more real even when no one gets seriously hurt. where they get the money to restore scott’s car and logan’s motorbikes every time they go cablooie is still an open question tho lol is it credit card fraud, professor? is it telepathically acquired blackmail???)

- I first watched this when I was nine or so, so it’s a real experience to go from my starry eyed intrigued ‘oh my god... they’re teenagers’ to my horrified adult perspective of ‘oh my god... they’re TEENAGERS D:’

that goes double for the brotherhood boys honestly, I’m here with tears in my eyes like ‘I’m sorry the system has failed you so badly you’re all just a bunch of dumb kids whose caretakers clearly fucked up spectacularly’

like lance is always waiting for mystique to come back because she’s the closest thing he has to a safe parental figure, may we speak about how crushingly depressing that is

- rogue is so ready to throw hands at literally any moment and for that I love and treasure her immensely (I think getting to see her be so surly and unreasonable and sometimes difficult and jealous, like any teenager, meant a lot to me as a kid who was not really allowed to be any of these things, this version of the character has stayed with me so deeply. she holds on so fiercely to her right to feel what she feels and be what she is even when it’s ‘ugly’ or unreasonable, which I think plays in really interestingly with how her powers involve getting invaded by other people’s thoughts and memories to the point of overwhelming her own sense of self and the fact that she clearly has a lot of self-loathing and self-consciousness and confusion about her identity as well. I love her so much)

- oooof this is the ‘the gang experience a microaggression’ episode huh (well more like macroagressions really)

hits a bit different with adult eyes and perspective huh

- hearing jean sound almost like a child when she says ‘that’s so unfair!’ somehow has me like ;______; -- she has to be so adult and responsible all the time, and having her be reduced to the kid she still is and should get to be in front of this awful awful man she could squash like a bug with the flick of a thought... ugh I’m Big Sad (it is funny that jean seemingly plays Every Sport tho djfhaskj)

- MY BOY IS BACK!!! this time with the duster coat and his eyes the right colour, im so happy (too bad about the subdued colour scheme tho; I adore his dumb bright pink getup with my whole heart)

it’s kind of adorable that he takes the time to take the bullies aside and go ‘I know these guys can’t wreck you without getting expelled, but I think you’ll find no law set down by god or man would stop me from doing so whenever I wanted to. so piss off and leave them alone’ lol he’s looking out for them, in his own way

- in this episode: remy lebeau wrangles some kids while looking bored yet mildly amused the whole time. what the fuck does magneto have on you for you to agree to this level of babysitting duty buddy

- fun detail I noticed b/c when I get a fave I hyperfixate: he gave rogue the king of hearts before, but he ‘introduces’ himself to the brotherhood here (lol) with the jack of hearts, probably to symbolize he’s here as someone who works for magneto in this setting and not as his own man? it’s a demotion he’s given himself there, anyway, might be he’s not very pleased about his current position huh

- I like it when rogue and kitty team up, they’re not very effective together but their squabbling is so cute and non-aggressive

- pietro is what draco malfoy would be if I ever found malfoy interesting to watch for even one moment, every time quicksilver talks I’m like ‘what wonderfully insufferable thing is going to come out of your mouth this time you little shit :’)’

- a) why are scott and logan shirtless for this scene? I am not complaining on the logan side of things at least but why and b) I laughed so hard I almost fell off my couch when scott asked logan if he’d ever been in love and he was like ‘once. she was the most beautiful bike I ever saw’ falsdfhaskjfhsakjlfhasklhjfd THE BEST VERSION OF WOLVERINE EVER, ACCEPT NO SUBSTITUTES

- mystique’s sheer dedication to being a petty bitch is kind of inspirational tbh, almost makes me want to go on a completely bonkers and extra crusade of personal revenge myself

- oooh they’re doing some genuinely cool things with vision/lack of vision in this one (it’s the scott left on his own in the desert without glasses one btw) even visually, dang! I’m so sad this show didn’t get more seasons than it did, honestly, it deserved it

- hell yeah jean wreck her, go get your man with the suspiciously specific clothing damage normally done to female characters

awww :’) okay yeah they’re super sweet, I love the tiny loving animation details like how he leans his head against her and her stroking his hair away from his eyes

- nooo don’t bully evan leave my t0tally r4dical sk8er boy alone :(

- I love the running joke of people fleeing in blind panic only to reveal that what they’re running from is kitty’s cheerful well meaning little face fskfaskh

- scott and jean are already peak married after officially being together for one episode and it’s adorable, and they just stone cold threw logan under the bus, rip wolverine we hardly knew ya

fjasdlfasldfhslajdkfhsadkjlfhsdkjalfhsdakfh h jean establishing herself as the alphabitch of this relationship by throwing her man to the wolves right after dsjfhaskjfhaskjhfsakjdhfaskjhfaskdhfskjahfskdajhf get smarter or get volunteered scott

- ...eyepatch lady is so hot ngl

oh evan went to the place hank used to go to calm down ;________; (honestly he’s kind of won a place in my heart just by being a pretty normal teenage boy haha)

- jesus fucking CHRIST can you imagine being storm having to look her sister in the eye as she tells her ‘I lost your only child, he’s *vague gesture* somewhere in the sewers we think’ this poor woman

- amanda the self admitted monster fucker you are so VALID (I love her and her family’s design so much tho!)

- it’s so cool that even in his human ‘disguise’ kurt’s fingers follow the shape of his actual hand beneath it rather than moving like a five fingered hand, it’s such a lovingly consistent little detail

- magneto and mystique in a breathless race to see who can be the shittiest parent... tune in next week for yet another parental nadir (also some low-poly gambit appearances in this one, for those at home keeping score (me), he’s in the background looking like someone drew him with their eyes closed fakjldfhasd look how they massacred my boy)

- someone please teach the brotherhood boys about consent huh

- jean ‘soccer mom before her time’ grey and her SUV dfhakjlhds :’)

- im sobbing rogue baby girl i’m so sorryyyyyy, this voice actress is so good, my parental instincts suddenly kicked into overdrive hearing the crack in her voice :( (bb me was right tho rogue centric episodes ARE the best episodes. that tension between ‘do I identify witn this character or am I crushing on her?? both???’ now has the fun new addition of ‘oh god oh no you are a baby I want to shield you with my body from everything trying to hurt you’)

- mystique is like ‘so you see despite you telling me you never wanted to see me again I completely disrespected that and posed as a friend your age, manipulated you by offering you the mirage of direly needed emotional intimacy and belonging and added some sprinkles of homoerotic tension to it just to massively worsen your already existing grievous psychosexual trauma and identity issues... out of love’

god go jump in a black hole you fucking monster

- there’s some very interesting and quite subtle subtext about the people she’s morphing into and what that says about her mental state/how it shows off some of her emotional baggage with the rest of the team. it’s like she’s switching between people/powers that fit the purpose as if she’s going through cycles of fight/flight (and then bursts of freeze where she’s herself, which is... so sad)

- this whole episode is hurting my heart but rogue at full power is undeniably epic

- ‘professor x get your goddamn act together and get this poor girl some fucking tHERAPY’ challenge

- SAFE PAPA LOGAN ;_____;

- EYYYYYY opening straight on My Lad, I cannot stop winning!!!!!

fasdfhsad disintegrating the window with a smiley face... remy I do love you more than my heart can bear honestly, hello may we speak about the fact that his urge to be a little shit is so deep and strong it survives mind control (that little breathed out ‘hiah!’ as he vaults the fence too dsakfjsd)

hahaha and he does up the coat fhsalfdsaj

- magneto dismissing other telepaths like ‘puh-lease, your Meaningful Looks have got nothing on my ex-husband’s’

- :’) rogue and kurt sibling timeees

- say what you want but this pyro guy’s got job satisfaction in being a creepy arsonist with a weird recurring horse theme (well at least twice but still weird)

- I love how beast is the kindest man to ever walk the earth but also straight up savage, this man drags people so hard their ancestors wince in their graves

- gambit taking the time to complete the guard’s game of solitaire -- this episode is giving me everything I want. u little disgrace mr lebeau

and THEN he takes the spider out in the most hilariously bonkers way my heart is so FULL

(I love that when magneto moves by he looks startled and has to quickly move his head out of the way to avoid getting kicked in the temple too that’s a fun detail)

I’m so INTO how this sequence shows off that his greatest strength isn’t even his powers (which are pretty straightforward, really, he makes go boom, longer time and bigger thing bigger boom) but that he’s clever and creative and always extremely ready to be the most harebrained-bananapants-extra-in-a-deceptively-laidback-sort-of-way person in the room (I actually have some genuinely Deep Thoughts about how his whole character does a really interesting thing with having the straightforwardly destructive nature of his powers yield to what his nature as a person is, and how using the playing cards play (heh) into it, maybe I’ll write it out some day. just the fact that he could use anything, but he deliberately chose something that adds style and playfulness and corny charm to it and that also limits the damage of the explosions compared to if he habitually used something with more mass... I find it fascinating how much he’s made a story around himself with it and how deeply it shows he does have a good heart, at the end of the day, in almost a metatextual way. he doesn’t want to destroy things or people, he’s at worst (and best lol) a thief.)

- I honestly have literally no memory of white nick fury (which seems so weird now isn’t it funny) in this series from when I was a kid, he clearly did not make an impression on me lol

- mr wolverine ‘assigned canadian at birth’ x-men

- oh man I dig the androgynity of x-23′s outfit (even tho they had to compensate with the long hair, which... kind of doesn’t make sense in-universe but does on a design level because it’s a crucial thing that she’s a female clone of logan so yeah okay fine whatever have your arbitrary gender markers if you must haha)

ooooooh that’s actually really clever, they make her gender gradually more obvious as she unravels through the episode and her outfit changes -- first the mask coming off, and then her jacket opening to show her silhouette more clearly, that’s cool!

- my god what really sets this show apart is how much it invests in little character and relationship moments, it’s just so fucking GOOD! it gives laura looking in on those moments such depth and weight because it’s new to her but established to us as an audience, this is how you make found family devastating people (storm growing bonsai trees is so charming too haha)

- ooof this is honestly quite harrowing

SHE’S SO SMALL COMPARED TO HIM I’M CRYING (at least that part of his genes translated over faslkfsjdh short king, I say this with all the love and support of a fellow short monarch)

- tabitha seems to just be running around doing precisely whatever the fuck she wants and you know what I support her even if she is an asshole her father left her a bunch of trauma and no fucks left to give

- still thrilled about professor x explaining the spider key fuckup to magneto after the fact like ‘magnus you dumb bitch this is why we split up’

- awww kitty has anime and movie posters on her wall and sleeps with a stuffed toy :’)

- remy rogue

🤝

doing completely unnecessary parkour around the brotherhood living room seemingly just for the hell of it... I’m not saying soulmates but fucking soulmates

- fhsadkjlfhsakjldfhsadjkfhsdajkfh just as gambit’s soul-level need to be a little shit survived his bout of mind control, rogue’s deep and urgent desire to kiss gambit full on the mouth survived hers I can’t breathe

she looks so pleased with herself too GOOD FOR YOU GIRL at least get something out of this other than more trauma

also not only the fact that he’s smart enough to figure out what’s going on (though he’s only partially right about who’s behind it. I do so enjoy gambit/mystique deep and sincere antipathy as a constant across all universes tho lmao pure wlw/mlm hostility) but also that he keeps fending her off like he’s not trying to hurt her even though she’s in nigh on unstoppable and invulnerable terminator mode... awww

- gambit having absolutely no patience for wolverine and sabertooth’s bullshit macho-off and consistently being this little biker trio’s one brain cell is adding years to my life with every passing moment

his voice is a little different in these scenes too, a bit softer and less like he’s trying to impress someone, it’s nice

- hank: well I barely recognize any of these (completely made up) ‘ancient egyptian hieroglyphs’ but from what I can make out -- *proceeds to infodump a perfect coherent narrative* fjdhfak

listen this whole thing is such nonsense on so many levels, I’m just turning my brain off so I won’t have to think about it okay, the compulsion to put ancient aliens in egypt haunts us as a culture

- I am CACKLING about gambit in the snow after having to listen to these two chucklefucks ooze testosterone at each other for hours

he started out taking it in good cheer and is now reduced to ‘dieu would both of you just jump off this fUCKING mountain please’

- ah. a little oops-a-daisy there, we seem to have unleashed the apocalypse. please stand by (they really don’t pull their punches with the season cliffhangers in this show haha)

- opening the season on gambit’s merrily grinning face is the easiest way to gain my favour. yes good this season may commence

baby u r my

ANGELLLLLLLL

(he’s so cute here tho haha I think it shows the design isn’t unsalvagable, just get him better hair and stubble more like logan has and you’ve basically got it)

love his exasperated eyeroll when the dude gets spooked (by his eyes? or just the general weirdness?) too

he’s just trying to keep this crazy family of evil mutants together and unmurdered by one another until they’ve managed to avert the end of the world, bless him

- oh NO rogue’s LIP wobbles my hhhhhheart ;____; such a good animation detail to put in

- like... I know kurt is just a sad scared teenager with a lot of shit going on and all the adults are too busy averting the end of the world to help him... but buddy maybe don’t ask your sister to wake her abuser (who forced her to kickstart the end of the world!!!!!) when she feels utterly unsafe even with her statue version around huh

- ...wanda is good and I want only good things for her. and for her dad to be disemboweled for what he did to her both the first time around and when he forced her to forget I mean what

- magneto throwing an epic satelite-slinging tantrum b/c ‘no I am the biggest sexiest strongest mutant of the pack :(’... erik fucking get over yourself

- yes boys absolutely go along with a plan suggested by a dude who looks at you like this

nothing bad can come of this surely asdfkhsa

- lance’s quarter of a braincell always trying to go ‘hey wait, maybe... not do this???’ and it never helps lol

- in this episode: Logan Has A Bad Day

...some very specific bondage positions he’s held in here, I am sure this episode awakened something in someone once upon a time lol

- logan shielding x-23 with his body... im fine it’s okay I’m not crying don’t look at me

- afsdhlsdfjasdlk those sure are some ‘scottish’ accents flsadkjhkdsjahfsd

- scott relieved to finally be able to cede the position of ‘charles xavier’s least favourite son’ to someone else fjsaklfhsajd (poor scott it’s not your fault honey)

supremely cowardly to suggest there is an ex-wife involved rather than charles slutting his way around the british isles back in the day but okay

- kurt with a cold is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. it’s okay kid it’ll get better soon

- ...is there an implication here that professor x is naturally blond. because I am losing my entire little mind about it (i mean he at least has to carry the gene, as does this lady?)

ETA: upon doing some research into this I can indeed confirm that charles xavier does seem to be naturally blond, and after this knowledge I will never be the same

- “listen, dracula” fskdafghasd oh scott you sweet baby angel I love you

- I know jean’s abilities are a bit ‘as strong or as weak as the plot needs right now’ at this point (so you can have the setup for what’s going to happen with them eventually and she’s basically invincible ;____;), and normally I’m cool with it but god I want her to just squash lucas like a little bug

- ewwwww please don’t ever say ‘daddy’ like that again

- ...what the fuck is even going on this episode’s a mess

like okay the split personality thing could be something but the way it’s done... what just happened lol

- MY BOY EVAN IS BACK! with a real glowup too (...though kind of weird how he suddenly looks like a grown man)

- augh scott’s eyes are so pretty oh my god ;__________________________;

- that episode in the first season where evan makes the ‘this is my new family!!’ video is so sad now (also, again, his poor poor parents)

- time for: life affirming road trip with gambit (involuntary) faskljdfhaskjd

stunt therapist remy lebeau

- I mean the way he goes about it is batshit insane and it’s very much secondary to what he’s actually up to but this is the first time rogue’s sounded genuinely hopeful and confident and like herself in like a season <3

- he is disconcertingly pleased about her nearly throwing him off the train, and may I just say I agree it’s so nice to see rogue with her old fire back

- the first time I watched this it was of course dubbed into norwegian, so I had no idea either of these characters were southern lol (though to be fair I probably wouldn’t have had much context for what it meant exactly either, I was like ten at the time and not too interested in america) I seem to dimly remember the norwegian voice actor did a little more of a ‘french’-tinged accent for gambit all over tho haha

- you know what respect where it’s due, pyro dude knows to live his life for the lols and one has to admire his sociopathic dedication to it

interesting that he, too, seems to have fucking hated magneto -- I wonder if the implication here is that he kept all the acolytes in line with blackmail or by keeping something/one hostage? (except sabertooth maybe he’d just have to say ‘you get to fuck shit up and fight wolverine’ and that’d be enough)

- fsdakfhsd he’s so focused on her he doesn’t notice that guy about to hit him fkafhsa

- fuck everything else except whatever the hell these two’ve got going on

- it’s weirdly cathartic to have rogue have a conversation with someone who was not happily adopted as well, I don’t think kurt like. gets it because his parents loved him unconditionally and still do

birds of a feather motherfucker

- fun detail: when the x-men team are on the shore and logan is sniffing around scott is stepping in something and trying to wipe it off his boots in the background

- when he wakes up after passing out from the touch he’s smiling even though she’s standing over him looking like the rage of god outlined by the moon fsajfsa well the last time he passed out like that it was from a kiss, maybe he still has some hopes and dreams in that direction lol (also he recovers from the tumble down the hill first and is checking on her before accidentally brushing her cheek with his hand, which I thought was sweet)

and it was in that moment he knew he fucked up *passes out*

- ‘I can explain’ can u remy. can u

- did it ever even occur to you to just. ask her. to help you. I mean I know it didn’t but like rogue’s always one second away from throwing hands with some bully and is stupidly ride or die, if you’d given her the puppydog eyes she would have crumbled immediately (fair enough I guess this entire episode is telling us he’s not from a background where he has much experience with people just helping him without a price haha)

- his eyes glowing when he’s angry or upset or using a lot of his power is undeniably cool as all hell. I’m just saying it would be Big Sexy if they sort of flickered with light in moments of genuine vulnerability okay

- his coat... his coat is what makes the Silhouette tm and I could not be happier about it

- another parent of the year contestant enters the running lol “hey remy have you ever considered that you’re more of a walking bomb factory than a person? that’s certainly how I think of you hahaha c’mon kid let’s go”

- the running joke of jean luc getting dollar signs in his eyes seeing the other mutant powers and gambit being like ‘nO!!!!’ and pulling him along is amazing haha

- from the way he looks when he touches rogue accidentally and the way he talks to his dad I’m sort of getting the feeling this gambit might actually be a bit younger than he looks?

here too -- idk why but it’s making the ‘wait is he baby???’ alarms go off in my head haha. very early twenties at most.

- and we’ve officially seen him with all the face cards in the heart suit folks! (yes this is the sort of thing my brain notices no I don’t know either)

- poor logan running his ass off this whole episode in a panic and then she’s like ‘nah he’s fine (in several meanings of the word ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ) please put him down’ hfaskfsda

- rogue without makeup!!! her eyes look so naked like this haha <3

- oooh here’s a really interesting thing that tickles my brain a bit in this specific part of the scene where gambit frees his dad -- the part where he’s leaning against the door frame waiting for jean luc, who’s about to suggest using the opportunity to ruin the rival gang from the inside rather than slipping away while they still can

from his expression here he knows what’s about to happen, what jean luc is about to say, and it’s clearly a ‘man who thought he’d lost all hope loses last additional bit of hope he didn’t even know he still had’ sort of situation. he KNOWS what jean luc is like, and it still hurts that he really, honestly can’t give him even this, can’t appreciate that remy’s already done all this shit for him when he extremely didn’t have to, without immediately (no really, it took him less than ten seconds to go there? jesus) demanding more.

remy tells him “I’m just here for you” and jean luc does not understand it. remy seems to be sincere in this motivation -- rogue certainly thinks so, having experienced it second hand and found enough at least emotional merit in it to decide he was worth saving even after all his bullshit (lol a bit of a running theme maybe. I think it’s very telling that after she absorbed mystique she was like ‘what the FUCK you’re a fucking monster’, and after she absorbed gambit she went ‘you did the wrong thing for the right reasons’ after she got over the first wave of outrage)

there’s also what he says as he stands there: “You don’t need me for that”, with the distinct implication that jean luc would only keep him around because he has a use for him and for no other reason -- and then jean luc shamelessly doubles down on that by specifying that it’s not even him he’s got a use for as such, just his powers. that’s some kicking puppies level of deliberately missing the point, it’s almost impressive in how cheerfully mean it is haha

this idea of using people is really important in this episode because remy’s doing basically exactly the same thing to rogue to begin with; it doesn’t really matter to his plan that it’s her that’s with him through this, just what her powers are. (I think it’s p r e t t y solidly implied that he does actually like her a lot outside of that too and maybe there is some comfort in having her around for this, but mostly he’s behind a smokescreen of lies through the whole thing sooo I doubt he’s even aware of it, honestly)

but then it does matter that it’s her when she comes back for him, even after what he did. and unlike jean luc he understands what that means, that she did that for him, and that she didn’t have to. and instead of asking her for more, in return he gives her the thing it’s been established is what he considers the most valuable thing he has; his ‘last card’, the thing he’s credited with keeping him alive many a time, basically. it’s gone from using to mutuality, a tentative place of friendship, and at the end of the day he is a different man than his adoptive father, with a capacity for selflessness and love he lacks. which is of course some of the same stuff going on with rogue and mystique too, except rogue acted from a more fragile and unstable place and did something she regrets, or at least has a LOT of doubts about now, and she found some catharsis in helping someone make a different choice in a similar situation. man there’s some Stuff going on under the surface here haha

(by the way it’s a weirdly... meaningless yet intensely meaningful thing, the gifting of a symbol? of an idea? but he’s putting something very crucial of himself into her hands, is the subtext, and he expects her to understand, which she also does seem to do. at the beginning of the episode he’s proving that he’s seen something true about her -- “You’re such an unhappy girl”, knowing where she comes from, the way she’s mourning her lost confidence and autonomy with her abilities -- and here she’s proving she’s seen something true about him. :’) I wish this show had gone on long enough for this dynamic to progress, it’s really interesting and touching)

- gambit dragging himself up onto dry land seeing someone approaching (to help?!): :D

gambit seeing that it’s logan and the look on his face: D:

- rogue using her powers so confidently and fearlessly in this episode tho!!!!

- *me crying* and then her FAMBILY comes to take her home and he says he’s looking out for her too and kurt still loves her even though they’re having a conflict thing between them and she’s finally able to use her powers without so much fear again and --

- ...did I just watch some baby lesbian love at first sight shit right now???

- okay last two episodes let’s go

- HELL YEAH STORM (I love that she’s like ‘don’t give me a dumb order like that and I won’t have to disobey it’ too sdfjsaj) her voice has such command I’m usually very much not the ‘step on me’ type butttt

- y’know I feel like apocalypse’s main fault across all versions I’ve seen of him is that he’s like an immortal superpowered god king and he’s not even sexy. like at least make him hot if he’s going to be insufferable in every other way

- also callout post for apocalypse: one time he made gambit into the Horseman of Death... and didn’t even make him sexy!!! you were handed remy lebeau, supreme bi disaster slut of the x men universe, and you couldn’t even make his brainwashed superpowered evil side hot?? a beautiful stubbled twunk with glowing red eyes and extremely charming :> face practically delivers himself into your hands and you do that to him???? I mean I’m sure apocalypse did some other bad stuff too but that was the worst one

(comics are so dumb y’all)

- having to watch jean cry is emotional terrorism!! ;___; she has such older sister/mom energy, whenever she gets sad and helpless it hurts

- oh, OH so PROFESSOR X you’ll make into a hunk and ~*strategically*~ rip his clothes to show off a nipple and a flawless pec in a way that makes me extremely uncomfortable because he’s like The Dad??? apocalypse you are rotten to the core this is unforgivable

- so wait wanda never actually gets her real memories back. what the FuCk I hope that was a dropped storyline because they ended the show tragically prematurely rather than like. the plan

- why is spyke calling storm ‘storm’ show that’s his auntie o!! >:(

- as a society we need to acknowledge that apocalypse looks like a fucking clown

- ooooh yeah I have been thinking that this show’s greatest visual weakness so far has been not having a visual way to show telepathy/battles of the minds, but this is a pretty cool way to do it! better late than never

- I’m so happy rogue gets to end this herself, since she was forced into starting it against her will, it’s just nice and neat storytelling

- YEAH FUCKING TELL HER KURT AND ROGUE I AM SO PROUD OF YOU and she has the temerity to look pissed off oh my god

the only valid thing mystique has done in her entire life is be in love with destiny. literally everything else she gets up to is a travesty. like I know objectively she’s hot but my loathing for her stops me from even appreciating it. I do enjoy loathing her tho so please don’t change her haha

(a bit odd to have kurt’s attitude to her swing so much but I’m just going to assume he and rogue had a good long conversation after ‘cajun spice’ and that he understands what’s going on better now)

- this last part is such a cruel tease faskdfhsdaj ‘here are all the cool-ass things we had planned. sucks you never get to see it huh’ im devastated

- magneto without his helmet and playing charmingly with children like charles is going ‘well at least I saved my marriage finally’ fsadkhfjsd (honestly tho I would be super interested in seeing how they’d redeem this magneto because he’s been a real bitch the whole time lol)

there’s an interesting thing here where magneto looks down at wanda as the last thing he does on screen before this epilogue part (yeah I hope it fucking haunts you forever what you did to her erik you absolute piece of hot garbage) and the last thing charles does is look at jean b/c he knows what’s going to happen to her and it breaks his heart... Dramatic Parallells

- just the hint of jean as the phoenix has me in full D:D:D: mode tho maybe I wouldn’t have survived it

- gambit in the last groupshot with his arm around rogue ;^) I mean I’m sure they’re headed for some turns and roundabouts along the way but what’s that thing she says as her wedding vow, that she’ll always find her way back? anyway that got me in my heart

- man I really wish this show had been given more seasons, we were barely even getting warmed up here :’(

#x men evolution #x men #gambit #rogue x gambit #aaah this is like therapy for me... just dumping all my emotions into a tumblr post and then let them go into the ether #I am now wondering if I'm desperate enough to go all the way back to the x-men animated series (which I've never seen before!)#like am I willing to go there for more Contente. time will tell I suppose #happy tag #...this is very long #MAN why can't I channel this dumbass energy into fiction writing I'd get so much DONE

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ratisnotcrying · 3 years

Text

you’re useless

Summary: “Well, maybe if you weren’t so goddamn useless then we wouldn’t be stuck here.”

Juno hadn’t meant to say it. He didn’t even really believe it. Maybe he would have, when he was still a PI, before he had first met Peter, but he had changed so much since then. He still had bad days, but he handled them better now. He knew when he was in the wrong.

Prompt: "You're useless." from palettes-and-prompts

Pairings: background Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel, background Buddy Aurinko/Vespa Ilkay

Warnings: implied child abuse, descriptions of violence, hidden injury, hurt/comfort

Word count: 2.6K

A/N: this is crossposted on ao3 - ik that repeticism isnt a word but im making it one for this fic

~~~

“Well, maybe if you weren’t so goddamn useless then we wouldn’t be stuck here.”

~~~

Rowan isn’t quite sure how they found themself on board the Carte Blanche and on the outskirts of the Aurinko crime family.

They had the typical, cliché backstory of a lone-wolf operating within the underbelly of society - a surface-perfect home life destroyed by something seemingly mundane blah blah blah, trust issues, a long line of enemies, enough friends to count on one hand, and nothing much else to show for over two decades of living.

One good thing about working alone is the need to get creative, and this is what had put them on Buddy’s radar in the first place. A few years ago, Rowan had been hired to acquire a tank of rare fish - this is about where they stopped asking questions, they didn't care as long as they got paid - and, after some very elaborate lies, an even more elaborate disguise and a rigged game of cards, they had managed to win a tank of the ugliest fish they had ever seen.

The part that caught Buddy’s attention, though, was the escape. Rowan had been found out before they had a chance to get out of the building, and had only managed to escape because they had memorised the security’s routes. It took a bit of guesswork, but they had been able to work out where the security would be coming from, found an unguarded window, clambered down a drain pipe, fish tank sloshing precariously in their bag, and landed near perfectly in a pile of rubbish bags outside the window - if you discount the broken bottle that had gouged their leg.

Buddy had picked Rowan up a few weeks after Juno and Rita, but it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, no matter how much anyone may have wanted it to be.

The problem wasn’t that Rowan couldn’t do their job - if that were the case they wouldn’t be here. No, the problem was that being thrown into close quarters with a bunch of strangers was… a lot. Especially for someone who had been alone for so long.

Rowan liked Jet well enough, he was straightforward and honest but intense; Buddy’s ‘take no shit but do no harm’ attitude aligned perfectly with her unwavering morals, and this was a welcome relief from the lies and deceit Rowan had lived with for so long. Rita and Peter were surprisingly welcoming, and Rowan formed a reluctant almost-friendship with Vespa. Juno, though. He and Rowan were too alike: fiercely independent, stubborn as a mule, and they both fell back into old habits as easily as anything.

Maybe this clash of bad habits, the deceptive comfort in being who you were, even for a moment, is how this job went so spectacularly wrong.

~~~

It was supposed to be a simple in-and-out job. Rita had taken out the security cameras, Jet was waiting in the car, and Juno was sneaking down the darkened hallways with Rowan.

“I still don’t understand why we need this goddamn painting. It looks like a baby threw up crayons and then just threw up on a canvas.”

“I’ve just eaten, Juno, shush if you don’t want me to throw up too.”

“Rowan, darling, please do not do that - this painting is priceless and highly sought after, which is why, Juno, we need to swap this for the information August Reid is refusing to give us. I did mention this in our family meeting before you left.”

Vespa’s aggravated voice piped up in the background of Buddy’s comms, “He was too busy swooning all over Ransom to pay attention.”

~~~

They had gotten the painting easily, so it was just a matter of getting out again. Rowan had been tasked with studying the guards’ shift patterns and routes, and had had no problem getting them in. Apparently, their luck couldn't hold.

They crept forwards, leading Juno left, right, left again, ducking this way and that to avoid the, quite frankly excessive, number of guards patrolling the halls. And that’s when it happened.

Rowan ducked right around a corner into another corridor, one that was supposed to be empty for another six minutes at least and there, at the other end, was a guard. A guard who was looking right at them.

“Crap.”

“What? Rowan we need to kee- crap.”

Both of their comms beeped, Buddy asking them questions with thinly veiled panic in her voice, but neither of them answered, stood frozen, eyes locked with the guard. Then all hell broke loose.

Everyone took out their guns and bullets started flying, the guard was shouting and footsteps could be heard thundering closer from all directions.

A tidal wave of de ja vu crashed over Rowan, “Fuck, this way,” they shouted, turning to run, voice tinged with something Juno didn’t have time to decipher, but Juno grabbed their sleeve and dragged them in the opposite direction.

“Hell no. You are done giving directions, I am not letting you get me killed here.”

They ran back the way they had come, and Juno skidded to a stop in front of a storage cupboard.

“Get in, quickly. There’s a vent at the top we need to get through. Do you think you can manage that?”

Rowan wasn't sure - there was a searing pain in their side that sent shocks of nausea through them with each breath and black dots into their vision with each movement. But this was their fault - they had failed at the one job they had - the one thing they were supposed to be able to do, they got themself shot and had put Juno in danger. They did not need to hold the job up any longer - they just had to get out of here and they could deal with the shot later.

It was a tight squeeze, both of them were crammed awkwardly into the vents, waiting for Rita to work out where they were so she could guide them out.

“Christ, it’s cramped in here - my side is killing me.” Rowan muttered to themself.

“Well, maybe if you weren’t so goddamn useless then we wouldn’t be stuck here.”

Everything seemed to shift and sharpen, Rowan suddenly violently aware of everything around them whilst simultaneously being blurred by memories they had tried so hard to bury: Juno was trying to listen and see if they had been found, there was shouting from down the hall, the smell of musty metal was almost overwhelming and Rowan jerked as if physically struck by Juno’s words, completely at a loss for what to say. Luckily, Rita, who had been on the comms, was not quite as speechless.

“Mistah Steel! That is a horrible thing to say, how could you-”

“Goddamnit Rita, I don't have time for this - how they hell do we get out of here?”

~~~

Jet was still outside with the car, and took off at break-neck speed as soon as the doors were shut. Juno sat in the front seat, the painting on his lap, talking to Buddy about something, and Rowan was slouched in the back, trying to cover up the fact that their organs were about to fall out. Well, that was an exaggeration. Probably. Just to be safe they grabbed a jacket they had left in the car weeks ago and slipped it on, wrapping it tightly around themself to try and hide the blood and hopefully-not-organs.

Juno had gotten a bit banged up in the vents, so when they arrived back at the Carte Blanche he went straight to the medical bay to meet Buddy with the painting and then to get checked.

“Rowan, it is recommended that you also get checked out. You look very ill,” Jet said as Rowan turned away from the medical bay and towards their room.

“No worries, Jet, I just want to get changed first - these clothes are filthy.”

~~~

“It was a mistake, darling, the best of us make them.”

“Yeah, well, it ws a stupid mistake - all they had to do was make sure they knew where the guards would be and then make sure we weren’t there!”

Vespa growled at Juno, who was gesticulating wildly whilst she was trying to wrap a bandage around his arm.

“Juno, I don’t care if Rowan walked straight up to that guard and told him why you were there - we are a family, and you will not speak to any member of this family like that.”

“That’s another thing - I get why everyone is here except Rowan - you said it was some daring escape that brought them here, but after today’s performance… what exactly do they bring to the table?”

“I’m going to leave that for you to work out, Juno.” Buddy said tersely.

He deflated a little, head tipping back to stare at the ceiling. Goddamnit.

“Are we about done here, Vespa, I’ve got places to be.”

~~~

Rowan would quite like a stiff drink right about now. Partially to actually drink, but mainly because they had run out of steriliser and this wound was definitely going to get infected and it would be this whole thing and they would get ill and-

“Get it together, Rowan.” They hissed, pulling out a sterile needle and taking a deep breath as they began to stitch themself up. This was not the first time, and likely wouldn’t be the last, that Rowan has had to do this - working alone and working recklessly meant most jobs ended with soft pink staining bandages and staining baths, throat and skin burning from cheap whiskey. Tonight didn’t have to be different.

The shot had skimmed their side so, luckily, no organs were falling out, but it was still going to be a bitch to heal, likely would be ripped open a few times and leave a nasty scar. This, unfortunately, was also not uncommon.

The painful repeticism of the needle going in and out lulled Rowan into a violent comfort they tried to avoid, the panicked calm soothing them until they couldn't quite hold back the memories they had been reminded of earlier.

Raised voices, gritted teeth and finger shaped bruises. Running, up stairs, through doors, arou-

There was a knock at their door. They flinched, snapping back to reality.

“Rowan, it’s Juno. Can I- can we talk?”

They almost said yes, just called Juno in like nothing was wrong. Then their brain kicked it’s way through the fog and realised they were sitting in bloody trousers, half stitched up wound and thread fully exposed to anyone who might walk in.

“Rowan?”

They picked up the shirt closest to them - part of a matching pyjama set - and tried to tuck the needle away so they could carry on when Juno was gone, and threw the door open.

“Sorry, I was just getting changed. Just sit anywhere.” They mumbled, haphazardly shoving piles of washing off of a chair.

“Thanks. Listen, about earlier, I know that you didn’t mean for that to happen. It’s been a rough week, not that that’s an excuse for what I said- are you alright?”

Rowan had half-sat, half-fallen back onto their seat on the bed and was focusing very hard on not fainting, so much so that they couldn’t really understand what Juno was saying. Maybe this wound was worse than they had thought. They nodded and hoped for the best.

“Right… Anyways, what I actually came to say is that I'm sorry I called you useless. You made a mistake, no one died, well I don’t think anyone died. Whatever, it couldn’t have been avoided. I know that I can be abrasive,” he said with a look that meant he had been told this many, many times before, “but that doesn’t mean that- Rowan, you really look like crap.”

“Wow, thanks, Juno, you say the sweetest things,” they took a deep breath and tried not to panic at the fact that they couldn’t really feel most of their torso anymore, “I know you didn’t mean it, we’re fine. Stop looking at me like that, I’m fine, I just need a nap.” The last words were pointed, hinting sharply at Juno to leave.

“Yeah, because slurred speech and sweating and shaking all scream ‘I’m fine’,” he paused for a moment and Rowan could almost see the cogs whirring, piecing together the information - bullets flying, the unidentified something in Rowan’s voice, the jacket they hadn’t been wearing before, the sterile wrappers on the bed… Then the last piece clicked into place, “Rowan, is that blood?”

They looked down at their top - their white pyjama top - as their vision began to fade out, their head too heavy to hold up and mouth too numb to speak, “No-”

~~~

When they came to, they were in the medical wing wearing a loose sleep shirt - distinctly not soaked in blood - and shorts. They tried to get up and go but a not-so-gentle hand pushed them back to lying down.

“Goddamnit, stop moving. You’ve already ripped your stitches once and you weren’t even awake,” Vespa growled, fussing with the bandages wrapped tight around Rowan’s middle.

“Sorry, I’ve always been lively in bed.”

“That’s cute, darling. What’s not cute is the stunt you pulled last night - if Juno hadn’t come to see you when he did... “ An uncomfortable look passed over Buddy’s face, “Let’s not dwell on that. I will want to talk about this later, but, for now, somebody else wants to see you.”

“Great,” Rowan tried to get up again, “Where are they?”

“Nice try, tough guy, but you’re staying right here until mean old Vespa lets you out.”

“Bite me, Steel.”

“No, thanks, I think I'll leave that to-” He cut himself off at Buddy's warning glance and didn't speak again until Buddy and Vespa had both left the room.

Rowan glanced at the bandage wrapped around Juno’s bicep, “Is it bad?”

“No, just a flesh wound, unlike that one you’re sporting - what was the plan? Stitch it up and hope you didn't drop dead in the middle of the next job?”

“Something like that.”

“Goddamnit. Okay, I don't know how much of what I said yesterday you heard but I'm sorry for what I said. I know we don't really… get along, but you remind me of,” he sighed, “You remind me of someone I used to know.”

“Juno, I really don't need a pep talk.”

“Well, here's the thing - you absolutely do because this,” he gestured to the bandages and the bed, “can’t happen again. You can't see that we care about you - you wouldn't be here if Buddy didn't think you were worth something and Rita is the best judge of character I know; she thinks you’re great. You have a goddamn family here, Rowan, stop trying to push us out.”

Rowan sighed, and Juno graciously didn't mention the tears in their eyes. “I don't know how to-” Rowan shook their head.

“We aren't going anywhere, Rowan, I know that's not what you want to hear but I don't care. For right now you need to stay here and stop ripping out your stitches. Take care of yourself for once. Then we can work on whatever complexes you’re holding onto so tight.” Juno said, squeezing Rowan’s shoulder as he stood.

Rowan didn’t say anything till he was half-way out the door, “Hey, Juno? Thanks.”

“Sure thing.”

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erinhime83 · 3 years

Photo

Since APPARENTLY I did the designs all wrong (I won’t lie - doing my own design of Evangelia was sort of a thinly veiled attempted to get @callistochan87 to redesign her herself. >.>), I figured I’d make it my life mission this week to go through and, like, fix them. Partially because in my fuming about finding out that two of the people were talking about this behind my back, I kept giving myself ideas. >.<

I am pleasantly pleased with the design that @callistochan87 did for Evania/Evangelia, although I’m worried how much is actually influenced by my design and how much she actually decided to do on her own. *shrug* I just like the simplicity of it and how it does make her look like a goddess. I kept forgetting to add in the pieces in front of her ears, lol.

Antigonus I did fiddle with a little bit. Mostly, @callistochan87 mentioned that she thought it was funny having this super old guy traveling with a bunch of teenagers, and she wondered why I didn’t just...make someone new. Well, mostly because I didn’t want to, and mostly because when she did create someone new when I decided the Guides were supposed to be younger, it felt...wrong.

SO, I decided to age him down a little. Which I suppose sort of defeats the purpose of @callistochan87 creating another character when I wanted to do the same, but ignore that. He basically has the same backstory - he was the youngest Guide of the previous generation. He’s the heir of the empire, being the Emperor’s nephew, and now that his Guide duties are over, he’s preparing to take over the Empire. EXCEPT, the idiot new Guide managed to get himself killed, so Antigonus is temporarily taking over the duties as they try to find someone else to take over. BUT THEN GUESS WHAT? He’s about 35, so while he’s old, he’s not stupidly older than than, and is sort of more of a chaperone than anything else.

His outfit come from an old one @callistochan87 designed, and I figure it’s just, like, a traveling outfit? idk

Freyja...omg, Freyja. She caused most of my strife. Like, I honestly didn’t change THAT MUCH of her design, just sort of little piddly stuff to make it look more visually appealing, but APPARENTLY, that was still bad. I stewed and hemmed and hawed on this for quite a while, annoyed before it hit me - this is a a redesign. Shizuka sort of went back to her roots. Why couldn’t Freyja as well?

(And yes, I realize I was in the wrong, but like I said, I hadn’t changed her that much from her last design, and, well, these were done years ago so I sort of...forgot that she didn’t originally look like that. >.<)

And I figured, ya know, since I had minorly changed Freyja and she didn’t like that, I had better change Desiree, too, because I drastically changed her. I don’t care what @swankifiedcos says about this one, I am IN LOVE with her outfit. <3 Her hair, though, was inspired by a recent picture of @swankifiedcos of her hair between dye jobs where it was pink at the tips and she looked SO PRETTY. Sure, Desiree is brunette, not blond, but I like that look on her so much I wanted to recreate it somewhat, and she looks so nice!

Frejya, well, I did sort of tweek her design slightly to what @callistochan87 did, mostly giving her cold shoulder sleeves as a sort of call back to her old sleeves. I won’t lie - I did attempt to do them again and failed spectacularly. Sorry. But apparently she approves of this sleeve, so that’s...one less problem for me to deal with. XD Just so you know, I gave her hearts rather than flowers merely because I can’t draw flowers. Consider it a style thing. Like, in reality, she has flowers, but i just draw them as hearts. I am SHOCKED that I was able to make the feathers as nice as I did, though! This look makes SO MUCH more sense than the way we used to draw it. Me likely.

(Also, you might be thinking that she’s still wearing the pants. I originally indended that, with the thought that she comes from a cold kindgom, but then decided they’re actually shorts that she ended up added to her outfit for modesty sake, much like Sethos did with his shirt. :P)

I really wanted to redo Nannin’s outfit as well, but I’m sorry - I’m lazy, and her original outfit is both too detailed and too simple. So I just made her top layer a darker pink, and I like it better. Also made her a blond again with the idea that the people of Melohdia like like normal ass humans, and the Chosen have colored hair, and the Guides have unnatural colored eyes, which is how people can tell they’re Guides.

Geoffrey (I’m thinking of renaming him Geauffery, because that’s how I prenounce it in my head) over there gets a new design as well because I didn’t care for his other one. >.< Also, decided, as much as I like the name Dimitri Kaminiski, I;m going to go ahead and make him Owen again. Mostly because he’s sort of shifted more into being Owen. I was sort of going with this old look while making it look a little more medieval, and I like it. I also decided he’s not a soothsayer, but rather a magician.mage.

Which is sort of similar to Evangelia’s power, but not quite. She uses the power of miracles, whereas he uses actual magic. Its sort of like how Shizuka and Freyja’s power is similar, but Frejya’s is a little weaker. (Shizuka has mastery over all weapons, whereas Freyja just has mastery over bludgeoning people with a huge ass axe. But she has the benefit of also having magic, whereas Shizuka can just use some fire magic.)

The next design is where it get all long and involved. Basically as I was stewing about having my feelings hurt and how I was going to hide everything in my annoyance, I THINK I was briefly reminded of the last time I screwed up and within that instance a brilliant idea came to me, mostly because I needed more villains.

I remember I really like Astrid’s design, but looking back, I’m sort of confused as to why? It doesn’t look at all better than Freyja’s. >.< Anyway, the thought is simple - when the Chosen are originally yanked into Melohdia, Nuncio replaces one of them with one of his own that would be easily manipulated. Why Freyja, you ask? Plot reasons, since it does help explain the whole Nannin thing a lot better. The thing is, though, that Ariadne and Atalo sort of find out and drag Freyja in as well, except she ends up in Baldernan rather than Azibo with the rest of the Chosen.

So the Chosen are in Azibo thinking Astrid is one of them, except they don’t really vibe with her that well. They just figure it’s because they can’t like everyone, and ignore it. Astrid herself doesn’t really suspect anything. But then they travel to Baldurnan and find Freyja there, who they do vibe with very well, and they find out that Astrid is a fake.

Which would be all fine and well. Even Freyja’s willing to give the girl a chance because, hey, it’s not her fault she was falsely brought into this world with no purpose. Except Astrid is a spoiled bitch and takes it as an affront that they would even want to include Freyja at all. So she just sort of runs off and Nuncio catches up to her, and convinces her that she’s the real one, and and she goes around antagonizing the group from time to time. They think she’s in league with Atalo at first until they find out of the truth.

NEW IDEA. I actually had this very vague idea while musing around, but @callistochan87 had another idea that was similar enough that I can change things to make it work WAY better. So, the new idea is mostly that Nuncio pulls Astrid into Melohdia way before the others. The people are rather confused, certainly, but it’s not 100% unheard of one Chosen being brought over. So she’s treated like something of a god and spoiled further, and Nuncio pretty much convinces her that she’s the soul savior of Melohdia. He assigns Thor to be her Guide, although he’s just some Random Dude (because I decided that matching genders to the Chosen is sort of weird, so Nannin is a full Guide now).

BUT Ariadne and Atalo end up pulling the REAL Chosen a month or so later, which REALLY pull the people for a loop, and they realize that Astrid is a fake once they realize that Thor isn’t a real Guide and that Nannin claims Freyja. The group attempts to assimilate Astrid in with them, because they realize it’s not HER fault all this happened, but since she’s a fake Chosen AND a narcissistic bitch, they end up not viving all that well, and she ends up running away in anger and embarrassment.

Nuncio sort of blames the whole thing on Atalo somehow, since the people forgot that Ariadne is the only one who can pull true Chosen into the world, mostly to save face.

Astrid and Thor do end up joining with Atalo for a little bit, because he’s trying to be sympathetic to her as well, but their goals aren’t really the same. She does prove to be a major threat to the group because she DOES have the power of a Chosen, although they’re sort of weak.

Her real name is Katelyn Davis, and she’s pretty much the opposite of the other Chosen. She’s a complete social butterfly, the sort to think the world revolves around her. She’s not happy unless she’s around people, whereas the other Chosen are pretty much introverted and would prefer to keep to themselves.

Her Guide’s name is Thor (I keep calling him that in my head, I think because of Frejya being named after a god), and he is, in fact, a true Guide. It’s just that he’s not a very good one, nor is he a good person. He’s a bandit and delights in the misfortunes of others. The other Guides avoided him at all costs, and wasn’t sure why he was chosen to be a Guide. He goes off with Astrid after they kick him out of the group when Freyja chooses Nannin over him. (The two of them became close in the month Frejya was stuck there on her own, so of course she’d want to have her stay with her.)

The last picture was just me giving them their original hair colors just for the hell of it, and now I’m torn. >.< Because I like these as well. I mean, I like the idea of the colored hair being how you can tell they’re the Chosen, BUT I also, you know, like the original colors BECAUSE they are the original colors. >.<

#original charcters #designs #mi #evangelia #antigonus #frejya #nannin #geoffery #alden #astrid #thor

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corpseskitten · 3 years

Text

opposites attract | corpse husband

Corpse knew his friends were curious about his mysterious partner who was faceless just like he was. But when they collide, his friends realise there really is more to them than meets the eye.

Corpse and his partner are complete opposites.

notes: I hate that my muse is like this and fully went down the road of ‘oh, what if!!!’ and here we are. feel free to drop any requests whilst I go and weep over the fact my hyper fixation is probably going to drive me mad with various plot bunnies and ideas. warnings: none pairing: corpse x gender neutral!reader word count: 2.5k

if you see any mistakes, no ya didn’t

“Are you sure?” Corpse had asked them quietly, knowing that this was a big step for them at least.

“It’s about time that they saw who I am, and it’d probably help them understand why you click so well with Sykkuno.” Their voice was soft and light, a stark contrast to his low tones and almost growling rumbles.

“Part of me feels anxious for you, knowing what people might say.” He admitted softly and they let their hand rest on his face, a fond smile appearing as he tilted his head into their touch, eyes slipping closed for just a moment.

“Considering we’ve been together for well over a year, I’m certainly more secure in my relationship with you, not to mention, if they do try and say anything, I’m going to be the one gasping your name at the end of the day.” Despite how difficult he knew it was for them to speak so brash, their own shy nature warring with the idea of those words, he appreciated that they reminded him who they were with.

He turned his head to kiss their palm, slowly trailing kisses down their arm and letting his lips linger on their throat. He was slow with each kiss, finally reaching to just their ear and let out a slow breath, feeling them shiver.

“You’ll remember nothing but my name, baby.” His voice was musky and low and he heard them let out a very shaky breath as he slowly resumed his kisses before finding their lips, their body practically melting into his.

“You do that on purpose.” They grumbled once he pulled away, a soft laugh escaping him as he listed his own hand, trailing the back of his fingers down their cheek.

“I can see you’re anxious about this. And I know that this is the quickest way to get you to relax.” He hummed and despite the pout on their lips, they didn’t argue nor deny it because they knew he was telling the truth.

“I hate that you’re right.” They finally groused out and he laughed before pressing another kiss to their lips before gently pushing them to their gaming setup.

He’d jumped at the opportunity to move in with them, a smaller town with less people, not to mention better internet, which had made them laugh the first time he streamed when he was at theirs.

People had been aware that he was in a relationship, he’d been honest about that when Sykkuno had caught him off guard when he tried his hand at Minecraft with the other streamer and it had been a question that he didn’t mind answering, unlike previous times towards the start of their relationship.

When he’d moved in, the second bedroom had been transformed into a permanent shared office between the two of them. There was enough room that they could have their own set ups and he’d remain off camera so that Corpse could come and go as he pleased. This time, however, he chose to move his chair so he was just off screen, sending them the invite to the discord just as they clicked stream once they had everything set up.

They had their own sets of headphones connected, but a shared mic between the two of them on this set up and they gave Corpse a nervous look as they joined the discord voice chat.

“Hello?” Rae’s voice was first.

“Hey guys.” Corpse gave them a reprieve, noticing that their leg was shaking. His hand reached out to rest on their knee and they gave him a grateful look.

“Wait, Corpse? Hold on, this isn’t your usual discord...” Sykkuno trailed off and he squeezed their knee, watching as they took in a deep breath.

“That would be because it’s not his. Hi, I’m the one that Corpse often refers to as his partner, or otherwise known as Mouse.” That had been the compromise for the two of them. They were wary enough letting their face get known, but they refused to even give anyone their own name, and he understood that. Mouse had become a joke at first, due to their timid nature when they’d first met him, but the term of endearment had stuck.

“Wait, you’re Mouse?!” Rae gasped through the headphones and they let off a soft chuckle.

“I’d be very surprised if I wasn’t, since he’s been calling me that from day one.”

“They’re also streaming so you can see their face if you want.” Corpse supplied helpfully and Rae’s reaction was the first one.

“Oh my god, you’re his literal opposite.” You watched as your viewer count shot up, especially once Corpse had tweeted the link from his account.

“I mean, they do say opposites attract and all that.” Their laugh was flustered and nervous, and he started rubbing his thumb in soothing circular motions on their thigh.

“Oh-well Corpse, you managed to catch a very fine fish-wait-that’s not what I meant.” Sykkuno’s immediate stumble had them laughing and they felt more relaxed as the rest of the group laughed.

“You’re fine Sykkuno. But I definitely found a good one.” They grinned at him and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek for that.

“Hey Mouse, how did you two meet, because, and please don’t take this the wrong way, but you’d be the last person we’d expect Corpsey boy here to date.” Sean interrupted and they grinned almost devilishly, a groan erupting from Corpse’s lips which caused the others to start laughing.

“Oh my loving partner quite literally had me falling over him and the first thing he could say after I said thank you—because he’d managed a spectacular catch—was ‘your eyes are pretty’ and then immediately apologised and rushed off. I was left quite stunned by him and his voice, and the fates were kind enough to let us run into each other again a couple of hours later.” They explained and he sighed.

“Corpse I know you said you weren’t good around people, but c’mon, how did you manage to recover from literally running away?” There was an amused lilt to his tone and Corpse sighed.

“To be fair, they’d practically fallen into me, so I was caught off guard. But later on, a friend had convinced me to come out, seeing as the place wouldn’t be crowded. And so I thought, fuck it, why not? And they were just there by themselves, and I did kind of feel bad. I did kinda fuck up again because apparently I frighten people and ruin outfits.” They rolled their eyes, cutting in.

“What he’s failing to say is that he just ‘hey!’ and put his hand on my shoulder and I jumped a mile, knocking my drink over. He really did, sort of, intimidate me at first, and he was quick to point that out, hence my nickname, But we clicked and haven’t really looked back.” Sean was the first to laugh.

“Only Corpse could fuck up spectacularly twice, and still end up with a date.” The group laughed at that and they glanced over to him, noting the flush on his cheeks. Leaning over, they kissed his cheek again, causing him to cover his face, making them laugh.

“I’m just trying to figure out why Mouse reminds me of someone...” Sykkuno murmured as the game loaded up and everyone went mute.

“How long before they realise it’s because I’m far too much like Sykkuno?” They grinned at him as the word ‘Crewmate’ lit up their screen.

Corpse smirked.

“By the first meeting at least. I’m betting that it’ll be Sean who picks up on it first.”

“My bet’s on Rae.”

“Winner gets to pick this evening's dinner?” The slight smirk on his lips told them that he had more ideas than just dinner, but it was certainly not appropriate to discuss on the stream.

“You’re on. I’ve been craving Ricotta for the last week now.” Corpse laughed as they finally moved from the dropship.

For the first round, they did tag along with Sykkuno and Rae, doing the tasks with Corpse commenting on who was around for the stream. A few times they cut in to thank for the subs and Corpse did a couple too, making the chat pick up a little bit more.

Just as they ran up to Navigation, the report button popped up and so they hit it, causing people to unmute.

“So, uh Sykkuno’s body was just outside of Navigation.”

“And the last person we saw with him was Lily.” Corpse added, earning a splutter of indignation from the accused.

“Listen up bud, just because you aren’t here to actually avenge Sykkuno’s death does not mean you get to butt in.” The others laughed at that.

“But he’s right, you were the last one to be seen with him, Lily.” They added, and Toast started the interrogation on Lily which had her try to throw it back on Mouse, since they’d found the body.

“I mean, I could be an imposter. But I wouldn’t have gone for Sykkuno. I would not be alive talking if I had.” Corpse laughed at that, especially when Lily spluttered in anger as she got voted off.

The game went on for three more rounds before They voted off Felix in a stand-off with Sean which won them the game.

And then the lobby refreshed and everyone started talking once more.

“Oh Mouse! I figured out why Sykkuno thought you were familiar!” Rae crowed and they gave Corpse the smug look as his head fell into his hands. “You’re basically Sykkuno but not Sykkuno. So I guess Sykkuno’s double, but in personality and not looks?” This time they switched the mic on, laughing as Corpse groaned out loud.

“Jack I was counting on you to figure it out before Rae!” He complained, earning laughter from the group.

“What did you just win, Mouse?”

“I get to pick dinner tonight and someone’s gonna pay for it. I’ve been craving Ricotta all week and this makes my victory so much sweeter because I don’t have to pay for it.” They sang down the microphone before Corpse pushed their chair away from him, only to pull them back seconds later.

“I mean, I’d guessed it out loud on my stream, but then my chat started yelling about the bet, so I was waitin’ to see if Rae had figured it out.” Sean admitted.

“Traitor.” Corpse accused, making Sean protest loudly.

“Hey! You two were the ones who decided to be cute and make a bet on it.”

“So-uh, I guess there’s two of me now? Is that what Rae’s trying to say?” Sykkuno finally cut in and they grinned at Corpse.

“Never Sykkuno. You’re both unique, but you can’t deny that the second they started saying about how they could be the imposter, it’s like you’d taken over for a second.” Corpse was trying his hardest to not laugh, but then Sykkuno giggled.

“That is true. Well it’s nice to finally meet ya Mouse. Maybe we’ll get to be impostors together and bamboozle them into voting off the wrong people.” This set Corpse off again and they grinned widely.

“Sounds like a solid plan Sykkuno.” Corpse was still laughing, but it warmed his heart that one of his best friends got on with the person he loved.

The stream continued in that vein, with Corpse watching the chat more than the game, especially when a few more ruder commenters seemed to happily voice their dislike of them. So doing what he did best, he stole the mic from the desk, pulling it closer and they paused, eyeing him carefully.

“If you would kindly stop talking shit about someone that I love, that’d be fucking fantastic. Don’t be dicks.” And he replaced the mic before refocusing on the game, acting like he hadn’t done anything.

“Really?” They questioned as they finally moved in the game.

“What?” The attempted innocence set them off and it took a good five minutes to calm down, to which they got murdered by Rae.

“Making me lose! How dare you!” They got out before they started laughing again. This time Corpse joined in, tugging the chair closer to him so they were just out of frame.

“No one gets to bad mouth you.” He finally got out and they shared a few kisses before they returned their attention to the game to find that they’d lost.

After exchanging goodbyes and then stopping the stream, the groan that left his lips as they made an order for their food, made them chuckle as he finally coaxed them from their gaming chair, only to get to the living room and sit back down, his hands pulling them so that they straddled his lap.

“Don’t think I forgot your words from earlier, baby.” His hands were slow to slide up under their shirt and the almost breathy chuckle that left his lips as they looked away, sent shivers down their spine.

“You’re really choosing to do this now?” they finally got out, their eyes unable to look him in the face.

They didn’t anticipate his deliberate movements then, the way one hand moved around to the side before pulling it from under the material, his fingers and thumb grasping their chin firmly, tilting their head to look at him.

Their breath caught in their throat, the almost smug look on his face doing nothing to stop the flush of need sweeping their body as he pulled them closer, his lips capturing theirs, the touch much more softer than the grasp he had on their chin.

“You started it, baby. Tell me, what were you going to do? What do you want me to do?” And it took them a full second to comprehend, fighting with their words as he held them in place, unable to move or look away.

“I’m going to be the one gasping your name at the end of the day. I-I want you to make me forget-” their voice faltered for a second before they pulled in a slow breath, their eyes meeting his with a determination he rarely saw, “forget everything but your name.”

They shifted in his lap, a low groan escaping from him as their fingers moved to his hair and his hand finally let go of their chin, slipping back under their shirt.

“Gonna make a mess?” The question seemed to have them pause, a softer moan escaping as his fingers drifted across their body, the sensation of his fingertips and almost breathless voice making them pause their train of thought, part of them desperately wanting to answer, but a stronger part pushing to carry on.

The decision was taken from them as the doorbell went off and they groaned, face falling into his neck and he laughed, arms wrapping around them before moving them off his lap, a noise of protest escaping them.

“The build up is just part of the fun, love. And anyway, you’re my dessert.”

if you want to be added to a taglist, let me know!

#corpse husband imagine #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse x gn!reader #gender netural reader #t writes

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animemangasoul · 3 years

Text

You Are Wanted Obi-Wan Kenobi

Summery: Summery: Qui-Gon lives and Mace gets a new Padawan.

[In which Qui-Gon repudiates Obi-Wan and Mace isn't about to let the kid leave the order without a fight.]

Chapter: 8/10?

His mission debrief was held in private with only himself standing in the middle and Master Yoda sitting across from him. Feemor was grateful for that. It was a small thing, a tiny gesture of consideration but it meant a lot to him and Feemor was sure his Great Grandmaster was aware of it, after all, Yoda had always been kind to him and that hadn't changed even after Qui-Gon Jinn disowned him.

So standing there; ignoring his throbbing knee for all it was worth, he carefully and with enough detail to suffice, summed up his mission.

The disastrous mission that nearly cost him everything. Might still be costing him everything. With the haunting voice at the back of his mind, echoing a constant reminder off his stripped humanity, of his lost dignity of……

When he closed his eyes at night, he could still hear it. The roars, the thirst for blood, the calling of death. He could still feel the grim of filth under his nails, the rot of expiration on his skin and he could taste it, the pain.

He'd fought in the Pits for over a year and a half and it clung to him like the stink of penance yet to be absolved.

After all, how could he call himself a Jedi if he'd killed to survive?

And yet….. here he was, back in old Jedi robes, skin clean, shaved head although marred with scars, actually alive with dust of blonde locks peaking out and hiding his damaged scalp.

He was tainted, Feemor knew that all too well. Maybe if he'd been a Shadow he would have been able to set aside the disgust, the horror, the guilt, but…. He wasn't. He was just an ordinary Jedi Master who'd gotten himself into more than he could handle and then felt too honour bond not to do the logical thing. The smart thing. He'd let his emotions rule him and now…now he was giving his report as if…. As if what he'd done, what he'd sacrificed had all been part of the mission.

"Hard on yourself you are," Master Yoda spoke up, breaking him out of his spiraling thoughts. "Believe this you might not, but the right thing you did. Saved those Padawans and force sensitive kids you did with the choice you made."

Feemor swallowed thickly, eyes blinking furiously to hold back the stinging of tears. The pride in Master Yoda's voice was obvious as the sun was bright and any other day, any other time in his life Feemor would have soaked it in like a starving wild animal thrown a piece of meat . But after everything….. After his failed mission….. After all that he'd been through. The praise felt like hot coal against his skin and he found himself recoiling away from it. Eyes drilling into his boots, bottom lip catching between his teeth.

How had everything gone so wrong?

The mission had been simple. Track down missing lightsabers currently being sold in the black-market by a notorious black-market dealer, known to have belonged to the Coruscant Temple's missing Padawans. Report back and let the Shadows handle the rest. Simple enough. Or it should have been. It's after all the reason why he took it in the first place.

Coming back from a grueling long mission on the outer-rim, Feemor had taken it as a chance to finally get that break he'd been putting off for so long. He would go, track down the dealer, report back and let a Shadow take over.

Simple enough.

Simple….enough.

But it wasn't. Because loathe as he was to admit it, Feemor was nothing if not Qui-Gon Jinn's former Padawan and if there was anything that their lineage was infamous for was their ability to get into more trouble than was imaginable. The simplicity of the mission should have clued him in from the very beginning. But it hadn't and that was his first mistake.

And now here he was, unable to breathe a single minute without remembering the hands touching his skin, without recalling the foul breaths of those masked men, sizing him up like nothing more than the slave he'd become. Unable to go a day without remembering the fear, the terror of even taking something as innocent as a nap for you never knew……

["Left, you could have," Master Yoda had said when he'd come off the ship yesterday. "Choose to stay you did."]

And he had. He had chosen it. No one had forced his hand. No one had been there to force him. The slice of a knife, the burns of hot metal rods, the combats of death, he'd endured it all for a chance to track down the kids. Kids he'd found out weren't actually dead but being……

He'd chosen to stay in the darkness. Freedom had been in touch. Fresh air, warm clothes, home, it had all been so very close. He'd managed to escape the clutches of Mir'randa, managed to collect his lightsaber, info chip in hand, just a step away from his passage out of the accursed planet. He could have taken it, but he hadn't because at the end of it all. Despite everything he'd been through, everything he would continue to endure, he was a Jedi. So when he'd sensed the new shipment.

The force sensitive shipments.

The choice became obvious. So painfully obvious.

They'd been kids after all. Some unknown, unfamiliar but most of them….. They'd been theirs. Jedi Padawans. Their missing Jedi Padawans, and now those kids, terrified, hurt, having been through force knows what were about to be pulled into the very nightmare Feemor wanted to escape, and what had he done?

He'd watched as his window of escape closed. Watched as his last hope off the planet disappeared with a single droid; carrying a single chip meant for the Jedi temple and he'd made his way back inside. Back into the darkness. Back to the clutches of Mir'randa, back to being less than human. Less than a Jedi. Knowing this might very well be the last time he'd be able to sense the force dancing and flittering around him because this time around he knew his force-suppressant collar would likely be impossible to remove.

And for what?

For…..

What……

Gritting his teeth, Feemor dug his fingernails into his palm, the jolt of pain bringing him back to reality. Back from there.

"Sit down, you should." Feemor choked down a strangled noise of despair and shook his head, left knee straining under him.

"No thank you, Master." For he would be damned if he let himself show weakness. Not when he'd failed so spectacularly. Not when he'd only manage to save seven of them. Just seven. Four Padawans and three force sensitive kids.

Only seven when there had been sixteen.

He'd only managed to save seven……seven kids out of sixteen.

His stomach turned. An image of the Pit flashing through his mind for a single agonizing moment before he brutally shoved it to the back of his mind with the rest of his darkest deeds.

Seven.

"Will that be all, Master Yoda?" He managed to keep his voice stable even as his knee screamed, his heart thudded like the dreams of war and his scars ached with every breath. "Because I need to find my former Master and have a long overdue conversation with him."

A flicker of amusement danced across his Great Grandmaster's eyes before it was drowned out by concern yet again. If the concern was for him, for Qui-Gon, for Obi-Wan? Feemor didn't quite know. But he appreciated non-the-less. "A talking to he needs," the old troll rumbled, gimer-stick hitting the ground twice. "But first to the Halls you need to go. Grateful I am for the people of Dugmulo for taking care of you and the young children, but a secondary check up by our own, ease my heart it would."

Feemor smiled, it made his cheeks ache, strain. "Of course Master," he said, clasping his hands under his robes and giving a shallow bow; his knee protested but he refused to let it bother him. "I'll do that right away."

After all, he had all the time in the world now, didn't he?

He'd busted the ring, he'd shut down Mir'randa's Games, he'd…..yes, yes he'd failed to save them all but he'd saved some and those he hadn't been able to, he….. those Padawans, their bodies, he'd recovered them for the proper Jedi burial they deserved and for the others, Master Yoda had secured a journey back to their own families as their last resting place. Had it broken something fundamentally vital within him to do so? Perhaps. Had it cost him sleepless nights fraught with horrors brought on his creaking shoulders, horrors he'd been subjected to and caused himself to keep them all alive for just one more day. Yes, of course, yes. But…..

It was all over now, wasn't it?

He'd come back. He was home. Where he belonged. It had taken weeks.

After the Pit, after the Jedi came to the rescue, weeks of bacta tanks and treatments and several weeks more to ensure the safety and security of those kids who still----

He swallowed thickly, refusing to allow himself to collapse in front of his Grandmaster, no matter how much that might help liberate the choking guilt clawing at his throat because how could any of these kids trust him still after everything they'd seen him do? After the scars and burns and tears and blood. After seeing the filthy arena filled with the bodies of their fallen under the same sky as the cheers of their spectators?

How did anything he'd done to get the word out, to stop the trafficking, how did any of that lessen his desperate actions to keep them alive for another day, another week, another month, year…..how did it make up for it?

But he had all the time in the world now.

All the time.

And he'd come back for a reason. For Obi-Wan Kenobi. Because with all his newly acquired scars, still, no matter how, somehow being repudiated by Qui-Gon ran the deepest.

So what could he do but try and help his Padawan brother the only way he knew how? Running off to go fix what his former Master had somehow managed to break in his absence. As if Xanatos hadn't been enough of a nightmare to deal with as it was.

Maybe after he took care of that he could answer back Kuflo's insisting messages and Androlet's updates on how things were going Dugmulo. Maybe, maybe.

The Halls would just have to wait a little while longer. Because if he could do one right thing today, maybe it would be his first act to wipe away the blood marring his soul.

He took a step back from Master Yoda and turned to the door, wincing at the strain that simple action put on his knee; saying a soft goodbye.

"May the force be with you Great Grandpadawan."

Feemor's lips twitched, it didn't reach quite reach his eyes. "May the force be with you as well, Master." And with that, he left.

One foot in front of the other. Eyes focused on nothing but the path ahead. Ignoring the murmurs around him, the gossip, the looks of concern at his bandaged appearance and his limp. He ignored it all. Only allowing himself the briefest glimmer of satisfaction at the positive mutters on one Obi-Wan Kenobi that he caught every now and then. Apparently being the new Padawan of the Master of the Order was something to behold.

It did hurt a bit, Feemor silently had to admit to himself, not having had the chance to take on the kid himself.

After all, that was the primary reason why he'd wanted to rush back to begin with, despite initially deciding to supervise the imprisonment of the Gamers, but it hurt less knowing that the kid hadn't been thrown to the side for too long. That he hadn't been alone, confused, broken hearted for months as he wondered what he'd done wrong to be discarded like his time with Qui-Gon meant nothing that he was worthle…..clenching his fists tight enough to leave dents, Feemor gritted his teeth.

This wasn't about him. Going down this path would only lead to his suffering. Only reopen old wounds he was not quite ready to acknowledged. So he needed to focus on the here and now. This wasn't about him.

It was about Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon and little Skywalker and what he, Feemor could do to make things better. That was it. Nothing more. After all, hadn't he already lost his chance to get to know his Padawan brother with his own indecisions? He could have gotten to know him any time he'd wanted, but he had….he'd been so angry, so hurt, and he'd refused to have anything to do with the must innocent party in all of it. And that wasn't, shouldn't be an excuse.

So Master Windu was fine. Great even. The perfect Master probably. The one who stepped up when no one else would.

And…. He…..Feemor….he was not well. Not anymore. So taking on a Padawan brother who probably didn't even know who he was, that was just a recipe for disaster. So this was good. 'Yes,' he told himself firmly, taking one step after the other as he traced his steps from the council chambers to the Room of Thousand Fountains. 'This is good. Master Windu is a perfect choice so all I can do for Obi-Wan now,' when his knee nearly buckled under him, he again regretted not putting on the brace. 'Is to find Master Jinn and set things straight. For the betterment of everyone.'

'One problem with that plan though,' he grimaced, slamming a hand against the nearest wall for stability. Taking a moment to be grateful he was in an empty hallway and no one was there to witness his momentary weakness.

Frowning down at his right leg, he bared his teeth in frustration. Looked like his knee would refuse to carry him all the way to his destination after all.

"Kriff it," he hissed, teeth biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. "Kriff it all."

The agony coursing through his leg was almost unbearable. It had stiffened significantly on his walk over to the Council debriefing and Feemor should have known then that he wasn't going to make it but……

Weakness Is Death

That had been a mantra, his mantra that he'd lived by for what felt like forever. Instilled it in the kids. Bad'kuu, Kuflo, Gaa'ah, Androlet…. Everyone. He'd said it so many times it was all he knew how to say to them anymore. Weakness is death. To show a vulnerability was to allow yourself to be broken. To be scrapped from the inside out. The fingers. The touching, the prodding, the dragging…….

Weakness Is Death.

So Feemor refused to show it. To wear the brace, not in front of Yoda. Not in front of those who'd already seen his failures. Not when he needed to be strong and honorable to show…. To show he hadn't fallen.

He hadn't even been allowed to come back until several Jedi Masters had confirmed he hadn't turned. He was good. He was still a good Jedi, tainted yes, but not fallen. Not yet. And what a relief that revelation had been. To know that despite everything he'd done, he could still call himself a Jedi. But he wasn't delusional enough not to know he was still under keen observation. Falter once, fall one time and it was all over.

So, no knee brace.

He'd managed to make due in the Pit. Fighting with a bad knee was disadvantage enough without him broadcasting that fact to the entire arena. Spectators and fighters alike. He'd always had a weak right knee ever since that disastrous first mission he took as a Master, but it hadn't been too hard to deal with at first, even if he'd had to take up Jar'kai to make up for his lack of mobility when it acted up.

Jar'Kai had been a way for him to compensate for his damaged knee at first, nearly two years in the Pit however, and it had solidified itself as the only form he could trust to keep him safe. To keep him alive.

Protect yourself for no one else will protect you under the skies of Miiir.

Sinking to the floor, eyes blinking back the sudden wetness burning at the edges, Feemor allowed himself a moment to just loathe it all. The regret, the pain, the failure, the shame. And then he breathed in and let it go.

It wouldn't do to dwell on the unchangeable.

Shoulders sagging he let his head drop back with a gentle thud against the wall behind him and he let his eyes fall shut. It all felt rather heavy. Being back here, being back home.

Maybe a moment to rest his eyes would be enough. Just a moment. Until the pain dulled. Then he'd go see Master Jinn, talk to him about missing his recent appointments with the mind healers and maybe…..maybe finally get the chance to talk things out. Yeah, maybe.

But a moment turned into two. And two turned into three and before Feemor could help it, he was clutching at his knee with both hands. The agony unparalleled.

It burned like thousand knives being sliced through his skin simultaneously. Feemor grimaced, head throbbing with the nausea bubbling in the pit of his stomach, screaming at him in aguish. 'Make it stop,' he thought, squeezing harder, fingers digging into the joints, face ashen and bottom lip bleeding. 'Kriff, make it stop.'

And then, it did. Not by much, not even half way but enough to bring a sense of clarity to him. And it was only when his mind wasn't being clouded by the bolt of sheer agony dancing through his body; paralyzing him in place, that he noticed the cold hand resting across his forehead and one atop of his joined hands. Soothing sense of warmth intermingling with his force signature and somewhat dulling the pain coursing through his veins. And Feemor breathed, raising his eyes to come face to face with one Obi-Wan Kenobi.

----------

"Stop," he ordered when he finally found his voice behind the sudden lump in his throat, gently pushing those hands away even as he instantly missed the soothing force healing that came with them. But Obi-Wan looked like death warmed over himself and Feemor would be force damned if he let his first action back home be to hospitalize his Padawan brother. "Thank you, but I'm okay."

The young man kneeling in front of him didn't look convinced, brows furrowing slightly and lips pursed, but he did back away, choosing to sit down next to him; grunting as he adjusted himself against the wall, cane coming to rest by his side. Feemor raised a brow in question, making his Padawan brother laugh lightly.

"Anakin had his first lightsaber practice today," he said in answer, tapping his cane lightly. "I still have a hard time getting around so---" His smile is hallow and Feemor felt it echo in his soul.

"Yeah," he muttered back, looking down at his knee, toes curling with each pulsating burst of electric pain shooting down his leg. He shouldn't have walked on it for so long. "I get it."

"I suppose you do."

Feemor snorted. "When you say Anakin?"

"Skywalker, yes." Obi-Wan's voice was much more lighter this time. "He was….really excited about it and asked me to come so I did. I was on my way back when I----" here he trailed off, but Feemor knew exactly what he was trying not to say, and it made him flush with embarrassment.

"When you found me lying on the floor trying to tear my leg off with my bare hands?"

"Well," Obi-Wan muttered. "I wouldn't exactly say, lying." Feemor stared and Obi-Wan snorted. "Okay, you looked pretty helpless."

"Hey, you don't look so great yourself."

The answering grin was a lot brighter and more real than Feemor had expected and it tugged at his heart. Because somehow despite the dark circles under the kid's eyes, despite the paleness and the fragility to his frame, somehow, when he smiled, really smiled, Feemor could almost drown in the regret of all the wonderful years he'd missed with this kid. The years he could have known him if he had been less of a coward.

Checking up on him religiously didn't make up for not being there for him. For not protecting him against what was likely Qui-Gon's darkest years. To not be a buffer, a confidant, to be a brother. In that sense, Feemor supposed he was a lot like his former Master. Who was just as guilty in tracking his movement as he was in tracking Obi-Wan's without ever taking the first step in meeting the other party half way.

Obi-Wan Kenobi.

His not so Padawan brother. Or all the more his Padawan brother for being tossed aside like himself.

Running a bandaged hand over his head; still feeling that momentary flicker of surprise at brushing against tufts of growing out blonde hair, the broken Jedi Master breathed in deeply and let it all out.

"Feemor," he said, pointing at himself. "My name is Feemor Einar."

Obi-Wan's eyes glittered. "I know."

"Oh?"

The Padawan nodded, fingers tapping away at his wooden cane. "You're the talk of the Temple."

"Is that so?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan's voice was neutral as anything and Feemor silently allowed himself to be impressed. He'd never been very good at keeping his emotions in check. "Sounds to me like you stopped a force sensitive trafficking ring and ended a barbaric gladiator tournaments in one single mission."

Feemor couldn't quite suppress the flinch at those words, and it made him burn with shame. "Not soon enough I'm afraid."

"I didn't mean---" Obi-Wan started, clearly noticing his sudden change in demeanor. The harshness in his force signature, the darkness and Feemor internally cursed himself for losing his grasp over his emotions, for his Padawan brother should never sound so uncertain and worried around him. "I didn't mean to bring it up I only heard----"

"It's okay," Feemor cut him off, careful to keep his voice gentle this time despite how his soul screamed and his heart longed for him to hide away for all eternity. "I didn't mean……" He sighed. "It's just been….tough."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Yeah."

Digging his nail into the crack between the tiles, Feemor focused on the pressure on his barely growing in nails and opened his mouth, keeping his voice playfully light. "I hear you're pretty famous around these parts yourself."

A beat and then another, silence filling up slowly between them and it's all Feemor could do to try and find a way to backtrack and try again? Figure out another way? Help? When his Padawan brother, pressed himself even tighter against the wall and clutched at his cane. "You could say that," he whispered, tone strained and part way broken. "You could say that."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

A single shake of the head.

Feemor hummed softly in understanding. "Then Obi-Wan Kenobi, it's a pleasure to officially meet you."

A huff. "Likewise Master Einar."

"You know who I really am, don't you?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Not for long. Just after," The kid pulled at his braid. "Thanks for the bead by the way."

Dragging his focus away from his knee, Feemor nodded. "Of course."

A welcoming silence fell between them this time and Feemor was content with it. To sit there with his Padawan brother, after everything, just sit there with him. Not moving, not doing anything. And enjoy his company even if he didn't quite know how to connect with him yet. Even if they still had so much to talk about. And it's not like he didn't have a good reason. After all, the simple thought of trying to stand on his busted leg made his stomach do nauseating flips. But he couldn't stay here forever, not when he needed to see Qui-Gon and sort this all out, not when he still had that medical check up and the kids back at----

So when Obi-Wan bumped his cane against his shoulder and said "You look like you need this more than me," it's all Feemor can do not to drag the haunted looking kid into a desperate hug meant to suffocate with affection. Instead he grinned, taking the offered cane but still remaining seated.

"About Qui-Gon---"

"What about him?"

"I'm sorry that he did that to you."

Obi-Wan paused. And then, "I'm sorry he that to you too."

Feemor nodded back. "Thank you." And he meant it. Of course he meant it for there were very few who could truly understand what he'd been through and sympathize, even if he would never wish this on the kid given a choice, he was still so very grateful for the shared understanding no matter how much it grated on his dignity to admit so. "And I know it doesn't mean much, but I promise you Obi-Wan it wasn't your fault. Master Jinn, he's just…." He should really be getting up, but----. "He lashes out when he's cornered and that reflects badly on him and not you." He really really needed to get up and or he might never get up at all today and yet----. "You are wanted Obi-Wan Kenobi, I promise you that."

He should get up, but when the kid took a sharp intake of breath, then tentatively rested his head on his shoulder after a brief second of hesitation; auburn hair brushing under his chin, Feemor couldn't quite make himself do what he had to do because there was something that was so much more important right here, right now. "I'm going to punch him in the face." He didn't know why those words came out, but he meant them. And---

Obi-Wan laughed, it sounded a little bit broken and a little bit wet but it put a smile on Feemor's face and this one didn't quite ache as much. "Good luck with that."

"Thanks," he said, shifting closer so the kid could rest on his shoulder more comfortably. "I'll make it a good one."

Obi-Wan bumped their shoulders together and Feemor bumped him back, eyes feeling suspiciously damp.

Repudiated Padawans of Qui-Gon Jinn ought to stick together after all.

The End

Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

#Obi-Wan kenobi #obi wan fanfic #feemor #master yoda #star wars #sw #sw fanfic #star wars fanfic #qui gon a+ parenting #ch 8 #you are wanted obi-wan kenobi #fanfic #fic

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thearvariblues · 4 years

Text

Valdo Marx Plays Matchmaker

AKA Geralt has to deal with the fact that Valdo Marx isn’t quite as he had imagined him. To begin with, he’s not, in fact, a he.

“She’s a woman,” Geralt announced, his yellow eyes wide with disbelief.

Jaskier snorted, staring into his beer.

“Thank you for the information, I had no idea.”

“No, I mean… A woman.”

“Yes, Geralt, you’ve already said that.”

“You never told me she was a woman!”

“Shut up. I must have.”

“Never,” Geralt said firmly, shaking his head.

“I must have referred to her by a pronoun at some point, you just never listen to me.”

“I do listen to you, Jaskier, and you never did.”

Jaskier took a large gulp of beer and shrugged.

“Well, now you know. So what?”

“So what? I always thought it was some old, wrinkled… ballsack from Oxenfurt! A pompous prick, you always said, an insufferable cockalorum–”

“Yes, and?”

“And now I find out that he’s… she’s… That Valdo fucking Marx is a…”

“Woman, yes, Geralt, we’ve been through this!” Jaskier moaned, desperately trying to ignore the ridiculously boring music and the high, melodic voice that filled the air.

“It’s a shock, that’s all I’m saying,” Geralt grunted.

“Yeah, well, whatever. Finish your fucking beer, I want to get out of here.”

“Writing a new song?” Geralt smirked. “Because that rhymed.”

“Fuck off,” Jaskier groaned.

Geralt took a drink, contemplating.

“You know, I don’t even know why you hate her so much. She’s quite good, actually. Reminds me of you.”

“She is nothing like me!” Jaskier hissed.

“Well, if you listen carefully–”

“Don’t you ever dare comparing me to Valdo Marx!” Jaskier growled. “I have enough of it every fucking time I go home to Lettenhove. Oh, Julian, have you heard Valdo’s new composition? It’s so good, don’t you think? Julian, couldn’t you be more like Valdo instead of following a Witcher around, it’s so unbecoming of a young man like you. Oh, Julian, have you heard that your sister–”

“Wait, your what?” Geralt blinked.

“Sister, Geralt, try to keep up.”

“Trust me, I am. Desperately,” Geralt said. “But you don’t make sense, Jaskier. You talk about Valdo one second, and then you start about your… Hold on. Are you telling me that Valdo Marx, the troubadour of Cidaris, is…”

“Is, in fact, my sister Madeleine, yes.”

“Your sister Madeleine,” Geralt repeated. “Fuck.”

“I’d rather if you didn’t,” Jaskier sneered.

“Are we talking older or younger here?” Geralt asked, eyeing the troubadour on a tiny makeshift stage. She was wearing a plain, dark blue dress made of some kind of a glossy fabric. Her skirt was so long it brushed the boards of the stage with her every movement, but it didn’t look like she cared, she just played her lute and sang and had no idea how entrancing she was. And she did remind Geralt of Jaskier.

The bard muttered something unintelligibly.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“For fuck’s…” Jaskier sighed. “Twin. My twin sister.”

“Oh.”

“Older by three fucking minutes, and she’ll never let me forget it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Jaskier snorted. “Always better than me, our Madeleine. Born first, learned to walk first, learned to read first… The only thing I started to do first was playing the lute and singing, and what does she do the second I decide to travel and become a bard? She follows in my footsteps, trying to outdo me once again. And she fucking succeeds!”

“That’s not true, Jaskier,” Geralt smiled, placing a hand on Jaskier’s forearm. “She might be the more… artistic one of you two, but she will never be a better a´performer. And I can’t hear people singing her songs like they do yours, can you?”

“Well… If you put it like that… Oh, fuck.”

“What’s wrong?”

The song had ended a few seconds ago, Geralt realized. And Jaskier was now staring, utterly terrified, towards the stage.

“She’s noticed us,” the bard mumbled. “She’s coming here.”

“Oh,” Geralt said. “Fuck.”

Jaskier huffed, watching as Geralt pulled a clean shirt over his head.

“What?” Geralt grunted.

“Nothing,” Jaskier muttered, looking away.

He was sitting on a bed in their shared room in the tavern and trying his very best not to brood. And he knew very well that he was failing spectacularly.

“I had to say yes, Jaskier,” Geralt sighed. “It would have been impolite not to.”

“And you’re all about politeness,” Jaskier mumbled. “Like every time you show up covered in blood and guts and brain occasionally–”

“That was one time.”

“Well it’s not very polite to barge into the room, tell my lovely date to go fuck herself and immediately start taking off your filthy clothes, is it?! The moment she saw your impossible, muscular, god-like torso, I stood no chance!”

“Is there any point to this babbling, Jaskier?” Geralt sighed.

“Well, yes. That you should have said no to my fucking sister when she asked you to have dinner with her!”

Geralt smirked.

“Are you jealous, bard? Did you want to have dinner with her yourself?”

“No, I wanted to have dinner with–” Jaskier started before promptly cutting himself off. “It’s just so… Madeleine, you know?!”

“What is?” Geralt frowned.

“She always has to steal what’s mine!” Jaskier groaned, letting his body fall onto the hard palliase. “My success in music, my parents’ affection, and now my Witcher.”

“She won’t steal me, Jaskier,” the Witcher in question said. “I would first have to allow myself to be stolen.”

“Yeah, wait until you’ve talked to her for five minutes. I bet you’ll like her way more than you like me.”

“Nonsense. There’s no one I like more than I like you.”

Jaskier blinked in confusion, raising his head to look at Geralt, who was, for some reason, blushing.

“What did you just say?” the bard asked.

“Fuck,” Geralt muttered, fleeing the room.

Valdo Marx was nothing like Jaskier had ever described her, that was the first thing Geralt realized.

She wasn’t pompous. She definitely wasn’t insufferable. And she wasn’t a, well, cockalorum.

She was quite nice, actually, and she really did remind Geralt of her brother. She was intelligent, she was funny… And well, she was pretty, he had to give her that.

Not nearly as pretty as Jaskier, though, his traitorous brain put in, and Geralt nearly choked on his beer.

“Are you alright?” the woman smiled. “I’m not boring you, I hope.”

Geralt shook his head.

“No. Please, go on.”

Oh, and she spent the entire evening talking not about herself, like Geralt had expected, but about her brother, about his songs, about his successful students from Oxenfurt… About their childhood. And Geralt, who had never heard a single word about Jaskier’s life before Posada, was beyond fascinated.

“Well, as I was saying, Jaskier’s always so competitive,” she chuckled. “Everything’s a race for him. I don’t know how many times I told him, dear heart, we don’t have to be enemies, but he just doesn’t listen.”

Geralt nodded solemnly.

“I know. He even accused you of trying to steal me from him.”

“Dear, I would never,” she said. “I know how madly in love he is with you, I couldn’t–”

“He’s what?!” Geralt gaped.

Valdo’s eyes went wide and she covered her mouth in shock.

“Oh, my. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud, it just slipped,” she gasped. “Please, don’t tell Jaskier that I revealed his secret so carelessly!”

But Geralt was already rising to his feet, finishing his beer on the way up.

“Excuse me, madam,” he croaked, slamming the tankard on the table. “I need to go and speak with your brother. Right fucking now.”

Valdo Marx was busy wolfing down the boiled eggs and sausages she was having for breakfast when, suddenly, a shadow fell on her table. Before she even managed to lift her eyes up, her brother unceremoniously plopped himself down on the bench opposite of her.

“You traitorous bitch,” he growled.

“And good morning to you too, Julian,” she grinned at him. “Sausage?”

“I hate you,” Jaskier muttered, grabbing one from her plate. “You did it on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Of course not. What do you think of me, little brother?!”

“Only the worst.”

She chuckled.

“It was mother’s idea, if you absolutely need to know,” she muttered with her mouth full of scrambled eggs. “She told me to do anything to make you pull your head out of your arse and finally confess to that Wolf of yours.”

“Lies. Mother would never say arse.”

“Right. She said backside. My bad.”

“Hmpf,” Jaskier hummed. “May I remark that making me confess and telling him about my feelings, making it seem like an accident is not the same thing?”

“You may not.” She shook her head, sighing. “Besides, it’s not my fault you’re both denser than cousin Amelia, is it? Look, I tried. I wrote that romantic ballad about him, claiming it was a new song by the famous Jaskier–”

“Oh, of course. I should have known that complete atrocity was your doing! That sloppy excuse for a ballad that could have ruined my reputation!”

“Jaskier, one of your most popular songs is about a girl wanting to jerk you off.”

“Your point being?”

She laughed, letting him steal another sausage.

“Nothing, my dear. How was your night, anyway?”

“I think you know damn well,” Jaskier said, smiling. “Actually, I think the whole town knows.”

“To be honest, I think our mother in Lettenhove knows that your Witcher loves and desires you back. He wasn’t exactly trying to keep his voice down.”

“Believe it or not, but he was,” Jaskier grinned. “He just wasn’t very successful.”

She nodded, finishing her breakfast and getting to her feet.

“Well, my work here is done, dear brother. Will you pay for my meal? I think I deserve it for what I’ve done for you.”

“Always so humble,” he said. “I still hate you, Madeleine, you know?”

“I love you too, Julian,” she winked. “Oh, and by the way, mother sends her love and demands that you bring the Witcher the next time you come to visit. She said there is a monster in Lettenhove that desperately needs to be slain.”

“Well, if it’s urgent, I could try convincing Geralt to…” Jaskier started before pausing. “Right. She meant grandmother, didn’t she?”

“I’m afraid so,” Valdo chuckled, grabbing her cloak. “Well, I’ll be on my way. See you around, Jaskier.”

“See you,” the bard replied, trying to hide a smile. “Valdo Marx.”

#geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #my fics

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sergeantsporks · 3 years

Note

I absolutely agree with your post on why you don’t hate Kikimora, and the only thing I could think of when watching Hunter’s appearances in Eclipse Lake was Azula, so: may I request some writing of either a Swap AU between Hunter and Kikimora or Hunter going off into the deep end like Azula did? (Just pick whichever is you like the idea of more)

Anon, you. You may stay. Keep talking.

Hunter couldn't look at Kikimora anymore without feeling sick to his stomach. She'd tried to have him killed, had sent a monster after him. And he felt, deep in his guts, that she somehow knew about the palisman tucked away in his room.

It didn't make any sense-- no one had seen it, and he'd been so careful about keeping it hidden, but he still shuddered every time Kikimora threw him an irritated glance.

And then she got sent to the Knee instead of him.

Had she told Belos? Was this just punishment for failing to bring back the palisman (Kikimora's fault, not mine, not because I let the human go, it wouldn't have happened if it weren't for Kikimora.)

He could get the Titan's blood first. Absolutely. He just needed to get to it before Kikimora.

The plan went wrong from the beginning-- he couldn't get into the mines, and then the Owl House criminals captured him. But when he saw the fool's blood, a plan started formulating in his mind. When the Blight untied him, he ran, leaving her to rescue her companions. Whatever. He had bigger fish to fry than the owl lady and her rat.

He didn't go far. He held a hand out for the bird, and it turned into a staff. "Here we go!"

He slammed the staff into a pillar of fools blood when Kikimora came in, zipping away with magic before he could fall into the chasm it opened up. He hit more and more of the bubbles.

And he watched Kikimora fall. He made sure she saw him when he did. The palisman fluttered down into the chasm to check and came back giving him an odd look, like it wasn't entirely certain what it had gotten itself into.

There wasn't any blood at Eclipse Lake. Okay. Fine. Emperor Belos... didn't need to know he'd been there. All he needed to know was that Kikimora had failed spectacularly and died in the process.

No one was going to replace him.

And it didn't seem like anyone would! Not for a while, anyway. And then another coven scout started coming back a little too successful, carrying out a few too many crucial missions and gaining just a little bit too much of Emperor Belos' trust.

It's fine, he told himself, They're supposed to do their job! It's what the coven is for! You should be happy that everything is running smoothly!

The Coven scout met an unfortunate accident, a freak Slitherbeast attack.

You're acting an awful lot like Kikimora, there.

No. It was fine. He wasn't like Kikimora-- she'd been paranoid for no reason, had sabotaged him just because she didn't like him. He'd killed her in self-defense-- she'd been trying to murder him. And the coven scout? He wasn't trustworthy, Hunter suspected he was a wild witch assassin sent after Belos.

One of the coven scouts remarked on how odd it was that the slitherbeast had attacked them. He made a remark that whoever had angered the slitherbeast ought to be petrified.

He knew. He knew, didn't he?!

Hunter couldn't sleep. He hadn't much before anyway, but now-- that scout knew, he knew, and he was going to make use of that knowledge at any minute.

If he went to sleep, he was a dead man.

The scout who'd said so was found dead the next morning, had tripped and fallen off of the keep's walls into the spikepit. A horrible accident.

Hunter still couldn't sleep. Belos noted that, remarked how convenient it was that he could count on Hunter to be ready at any hour.

"Golden Guard? Sir?"

Hunter snapped awake. "I wasn't sleeping!"

"...okay. The emperor requests your presence."

Hunter strode briskly down the halls towards the throne room, until he saw a small white robe whisking around the corner. He froze, then chased after it.

She's dead, she's dead, she's dead!

There was no way that Kiki--

And when he turned the corner, she was gone. Hunter rubbed his eyes. Right. That was fine. Nothing wrong with that. Probably it was just the lack of sleep, and there were plenty of white cloaks, he'd just mistaken one for a robe.

He carried out Belos' mission flawlessly.

Well, almost flawlessly.

On the way back he fell asleep and fell off of his staff.

Luckily he'd been skimming close to the ground, but he'd crashlanded...

Where was he?!

"Golden Brat?!"

Hunter whirled around to see a very startled goth. "Lilith?!" Suspicion crept into the back of his mind. "A sleeping spell! It was you!"

"You fell asleep and crashed," Lilith said flatly, "I had nothing to do with it. I can't even cast a sleeping spell, remember? Curse? No magic?"

"You-- you ran off with the human! She cast a sleeping spell using glyphs! I bet she taught you!" Hunter whipped around wildly. "Where is she?!"

"Still blaming everyone else for your failures? What a child."

Hunter blasted her backwards. "I am not! A child!"

Lilith came up guns blazing, tracing glyphs in the dirt and casting bolts of fire at him. Several glyphs together created a flaming whip that he just barely managed to avoid.

"Get out of my home!" she yelled.

Hunter zipped close to her, kicking the back of her knees. "Attacking a coven official is treason!" he howled, "I'll have your head!"

She froze for a moment. "You sound like--"

Hunter brought his staff crashing into the side of her head before she could finish that sentence. "I! Am! In! Charge!"

"Lilith?!" an old woman came hurrying towards them.

Hunter stopped hitting Lilith, breathing heavily. She groaned, her face bloody and bruised.

"LILITH!" the old woman screamed. Her eyes seemed to burn as she turned to Hunter. "Get. Out. Before you meet an unfortunate fate."

Hunter was gone before she had time to make good on that threat.

He needed to get some sleep. Recharge. Regroup.

A flash of white, caught his attention, and he dove down. She's supposed to be dead!

It was just a white rock. Hunter blasted it to pieces anyway. It was looking a little too smug.

When he made it back to the keep, he went right to his room, locking his door tight. His palisman fluttered towards him, tweeting nervously and rubbing against his hands. Hunter looked down to see that they were stained red, Lilith's blood dripping from his staff.

"Don't worry. It's not mine." He carefully cleaned off the staff and flopped backwards on his bed. "No one wakes me up," he groaned, "I will... I will kick anyone who does out of the coven."

Kikimora chased him through his dreams, followed by a ghostly Lilith, her head dripping with blood.

Something poked him and he woke up with a start, snatching up his staff and smacking whatever it was.

His palisman flew across the room, hitting the wall with a nasty crunch. Hunter scrambled off of the bed, kneeling next to it. "Oh! No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--"

His palisman gave him a wounded look, then fluttered out the window. Hunter grasped for it. "Wait! Come back!"

He waited up for it, but it didn't come back.

He waited another day.

And another.

And the days turned into weeks, into a month.

It probably wasn't coming back because it was scared of Belos, right? Right. His uncle ate palisman, it wasn't his fault that his palisman wouldn't come back.

That was, until he saw it with Luz.

"YOU STOLE MY PALISMAN!"

Luz held the bird protectively. "I did not! It came to me!"

Hunter made a lunge for it, but Luz skipped backwards.

"Hunter, it told us everything! You attacked Lilith?! You killed Kikimora, killed some guard?! What is wrong with you?!"

"Nothing is wrong with me, now give me back my palisman!"

Luz backed up. "No," she said quietly, "It's scared of you. It doesn't want to go back."

Hunter howled, and went on the offensive, casting spell after spell after spell.

Luz was strong and determined.

But she had his friend, the only one he had, and he wouldn't let her take it from him!

Luz fell, just like Lilith had. Just like Kikimora, like the nameless coven guard. And he had to shake his head to clear it, because for a second, he thought she was Kikimora, or Lilith. Hunter held a hand out to his palisman. "Come on. Let's go home."

The palisman hopped around Luz's head, chirping worriedly. Hunter picked it up. "I said, come on. You're safe, now. You're with me."

The palisman pecked his fingers.

Hunter let go more out of shock than pain, watching his palisman flutter back down to Luz, chirping gently and nudging her face. Luz groaned, but held out her arms for it, holding it close.

"What-- I don't--"

Luz glared at him, cuddling the palisman to her chest. "Don't you get it? It doesn't want to go back with you!"

What?! But it was his palisman! "Why not?!"

"Because it's scared of you." Luz looked away. "So am I. What happened to you, Hunter?"

"Sc-- of--" Hunter's hands clenched into fists. "I-- nothing happened! I'm finally doing well, I'm in a good place, no one is going to replace me! You should be happy for me, if you really wanted to be friends!"

Luz shook her head. "I wanted to be friends with Hunter. Not the golden guard."

A tidal wave of anger swept over Hunter, and he whirled away. "Fine-- fine! I don't need you! I don't need the palisman! Keep the dumb bird! You should be scared of me, because I am the golden guard! And that's a good thing."

"That's it, then?"

"That's it! Stay out of my way, human, or I'll kill you, just like I did Kikimora!"

Hunter got back on his staff, shooting back towards the keep. Maybe he wouldn't wait for Luz to get in his way-- he had the manpower, and they were still criminals. Maybe Lilith hadn't ever been able to get in, but he'd beaten Lilith, he was better than she was. Hunter landed again, the tip of his staff blooming with fire. He slammed it down into the ground, and the trees and bushes started to burn. Burning foliage singed through his clothes, leaving little heat sears, but he didn't care. He stalked through the trees, burning everything as he went. He'd smoke out that stupid house demon, and then kill Kikimora-- Luz. He'd kill Luz. And the Owl Lady, too. And that dumb little rat that had pulled his hair.

Fine. They wanted him to be the bad guy?

He could be the bad guy.

#toh #the owl house #toh hunter #asks #my writing #not so crazy as Azula but. he's definitely going that direction :)

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desiree-harding-fic · 4 years

Text

The Phantom of the Opera but Taakitz

In which Kravitz fails pretty spectacularly at Phantoming but he’s trying very hard. Taako fails at “damsel-in-distress”-ing but to be fair he’s not really trying.

My parents were watching Phantom and my brain went taakitz because you know... spooky one and pretty one. But then I had to make it fit, and idk y’all. It’s pure silliness. Lmk if you want a kissin’ part bc if you do I have like 1/3 of that written. Thanks to @fandomsnstuff for encouraging me in every way to post XD

@herbgerblin >:333

*~*~*~*~*

Taako woke up not knowing where he was.

Which was, to begin with, just a massive red flag.

His head hurt. He felt heavy. And where the fuck was he? All he could see was grimy stone brick, and on them, softly flickering candlelight - and the sound of - was that water? He was having a hard time breathing - Lup’s fucking corset, he swore this was the last time she convinced him to take place in some fucking hairbrained scheme -

He shoved himself up to sitting and was immediately assaulted by a voice -

“LUP TAACO, I HAVE BROUGHT YOU HERE TO -”

“What the fuck?!” Taako shouted, leaping to his feet, and then the fucking skirts got tangled and then the floor underneath him tipped -

And taako was wet. He was in water, in all these fucking skirts and he was wet and Lup was going to pay for this.

He pushed himself up again, sputtering, and thank god it wasn’t very deep, he didn’t know what he’d do if was forced to swim in this ridiculous outfit -

The voice came again.

“MISS TAACO, YOU HAVE BEEN SUMMONED TO THIS SANCTUARY OF MUSIC TO-”

“I’M NOT LUP!!” Taako shouted desperately, just to get it to shut up, the voice that was splitting his fucking head in two, and trying to arrange the soaking wet gown into some semblance of order, and he didn’t know where he was, and he woke up here, which was just - there was something immensely wrong with that because Taako didn’t remember going to sleep.

“TO- I’m sorry?”

“I’m not Lup!!” Taako shouted again, throwing his hands up in frustration, and giving up on the stupid dress, and looking toward the direction of the candlelight, and the whoever was standing there screaming at him, and - huh.

A man, half his face obscured by a mask meant to look like a skeleton, in a suit that looked more at home at the opera (where Taako was a moment ago - or it seemed a moment) than - was this a fucking sewer? - and a full on-cloak atop that, and a fucking ridiculous hat-

As Taako’s eyes adjusted to the dark, he could see more of the man’s face, which was, even with the one eye obscured, contorted into an expression of confusion.

He may have registered, distantly, that he also looked rather handsome, but fuck that honestly, because Lup’s corset was cutting into his side and he was wet and - and his brain wasn’t working. He was in the opera house, and then Lup - Lup had begged him to switch clothes because please< Taako, I can’t get Grimaldis to quit following me, please, just to throw him off - and then he was going out the stage door, but he didn’t get there… he didn’t get there because-

“Did you fucking kidnap me?!” he shouted.

“I - I didn’t - you’re not Lup Taaco?”

“No!! Fucking - look at me!” he gestured to the ruined dress, the way it hung, now clearly fitting ill - “Do I look like Lup to you?!”

“Yes! Well, no, I mean, but you - but you- you’re wearing her clothes!” The man sputtered.

“And?!” Taako shouted, “you don’t fucking know me, kemosabe! I can wear whatever the hell I like!” The man, whoever he was, was standing on some kind of shore, and Taako, sick of standing in waist-deep water, started hauling up his skirts and wading toward it. “And that’s another thing! Who are you to fucking - get off kidnapping my sister?!”

“I - No!” Tuxedo Man said, stumbling back further from the shore as Taako advanced, “it’s not like that, I - I can see where you’d think, but I - I didn’t want to -”

“Didn’t want to what?!” Taako continued, finally stepping out of the water, the heavy gown dripping on the stone, so much heavier soaked like this. Taako couldn’t take it anymore. If he had to fight this motherfucker over his sister’s honor or whatever, he wasn’t going to do it in a goddamn evening gown. He started tearing at the clasps at back of it, the ties, anything to get the fucking thing off of him.

“You mistake me for my fucking sister,” he fumed, “which firstly, you’re stalking my sister, apparently, so you’re gonna fucking die - and then you -what? Fucking chloroform me and drag me to some kind of sewer sex-dungeon god knows where, what am I supposed to think?!” The outer-most layer of the gown finally came off, and Taako flung it into the water behind him because honestly fuck this.

“No!” the masked man said, shaking his head furiously, “I didn’t - I didn’t mean anything untoward!”

“I think kidnapping is pretty untoward-”

“I wasn’t going to do anything to - I don’t - it’s not a sex dungeon!” he cried, “I don’t even like her!”

“OH?!” Taako said, and god, he wished he could get the corset off, because he was really running out of breath with all the shouting - “what’s your name, thug, because I’m about to-”

“Kravitz, but - Wait! No! I - I - please don’t, I didn’t mean any harm, I was - I was just trying to give her a violin lesson!”

“Give my sister a violin lesson?” Taako growled, “She’s the goddamn concert master of the Paris Opera I think she knows how to play the violin pretty fucking well-”

“It’s just the solo in the third scene of act five!” Kravitz pleaded, actually pleaded, and Taako supposed that was a point in his favor somehow, but still, “She - she keeps - the phrasing is all wrong, and it’s the climax of the piece, and I couldn’t stand it-”

“So you were going to kidnap her?” Taako said, completely dumb with disbelief because who did this motherfucker think he was - “Who are you to give notes on her fucking performance, huh?”

“I’m the composer!” Kravitz said, throwing up his hands.

That stopped Taako in his tracks, because what? Of all the off the wall lies to get him off the hook, that’s what spooky Kravitz went with? The composer of the opera taking Paris by storm. The opera that just had its run extended another two months. And sure, sure he might as well fight the skull-mask man in the fucking - sewers, he guessed, while wearing his sister’s evening wear, the composer of her fucking opera, who wanted to kidnap her for a violin lesson in the sewer because sure! Taako’s life was already so goddamn weird, he figured this might as well happen too, why the hell not?

Maybe he didn’t wake up at all. Maybe this was all one horrible, drawn-out nightmare. Maybe he’d been hit over the head and this was his brain’s last fanciful imagining before he went out.

He buried his face in his hands, tried to breathe deeply. And then couldn’t. Because of the corset.

Ok, he thought, if this is a dream, it has to end now, because I figured it out. I’m dreaming. Time to wake up.

He counted to five and then peeked out from between his fingers. Spooky skele-man Kravitz was still looking at him. In the moment, without all the screaming, Taako managed to just get a better look at him. He was leaning back against something that looked like a manual for an organ. Weird, but then again, no weirder than the whole. Sewer-dwelling skeleton thing.

There were a few things Taako could do. He could fight the skeleton composer man, who, the more Taako looked, didn’t cut nearly as imposing of a figure as he did a moment ago. Or he could play things out.

The thing was, Taako wasn’t particularly a fighter. And Kravitz the skele-man had kidnapped him once that evening. And getting flustered when Taako shouted at him didn’t mean that he wasn’t capable of taking Taako if he made good on his threats.

And Taako was tired.

Taako sighed, removed his hands from his face. Pinched the bridge of his nose. He was so tired. His head felt like someone had reached down into it and was pulling it slowly apart from each side.

“Uhm,” Kravitz said, “are you alright?”

“No,” Taako groused, and then sighed. He removed his hand. “I would love to kick your ass, darling, because no one stalks my sister and lives, but first,” he gestured to the whole… rest of his get-up. “Would you mind lending a guy a hand in getting this off? It’s fucking cold and ‘chaboy’s gettin’ real tired of not being able to take a complete breath.”

“I’m sorry?” Kravitz squeaked. His voice sounded about two octaves higher than before. His eyes, just for a moment, flickered over Taako’s body, panicked, and - well. That was interesting, wasn’t it.

“The clothes, Kravitz,” Taako said, purposely evoking his name. “Please? I’m wet as all hell and fucking freezing, and if I’m gonna throw you in this water and drown you or something I’d like to at least have a decent range of mobility so if you wouldn’t mind-”

“Um,” Kravitz said, “Please don’t drown me?”

“Gimme that cloak to wear and we’ll see,” Taako said back. Fuck, his head hurt. He was too tired for this.

“I can - I can actually do you one better, if you need me to. I have um…. men’s clothing around the corner if you’d prefer-”

“Fucking fantastic, skeletor, just get a move on.”

“Oh. Alright then, um. Follow me?”

And Taako did. Kravitz pushed himself off the organ and moved to his left, and sure enough, there was something like a corner, and a sort of tunnel, lower-ceilinged, and in it was - well, practically an entire apartment’s worth of furniture, all arranged just-so, with candles perched all about on tables and sconces on the walls. The place was drafty but all the same, it looked quite like Kravitz had made it into a perverted imitation of a home.

Beside the frankly absurd number of candles, and the lakeside organ, there was a series of screens, separating out the space where walls did not. Rugs, slightly tattered and faded. Old brocade armchairs that didn’t match. A desk, ink and pen sitting atop it with scattered papers, and, in the last “chamber” of the long, successive home, a bed and chests in something that looked quite almost like a bedroom.

Kravitz turned around and regarded Taako with a fair measure of confusion as though unsure exaclty what to do next, but after a moment, he fumbled with his gloved hands around his neckline, until he was able to untie the cloak from around his shoulders. He thrust it toward Taako, quite sheepish-looking now behind his half-mask.

“Here,” he said. “You can um… use it to cover up, while I - find you some clothes.”

“Corset first, bones,” Taako said, only just in a small part to watch him squirm. Sex-dungeon indeed. Taako was feeling out the boundaries of the conversation and Kravitz was bashful, of all things. Probably not kidnapping Lup for - well. Probably not that then. Maybe the violin lesson wasn’t an excuse after all.

Taako was beginning to think Kravitz was… well. For lack of a better term, somewhat pathetic. Maybe just insane.

Still, he’d do. All Taako needed was an extra pair of hands. He turned around, back to Kravitz and facing one of the screens. “Help me outta this. I’m not used to the lacing and I need some more eyes. Might have to take the gloves off though. Dexterity, and all that.” That he did say to be mean.

“Oh. Um, yes of course,” Kravitz said, and Taako felt as much as heard him walk up to his back, closer than he’d yet been. Taako felt his hands pulling at the lacing of the corset, felt something come undone, and the constriction lesson by degrees. He pulled in a deep breath. It was heavenly.

For a moment, something frigid brushed against Taako’s back, and he jumped. “Christ!” Kravitz withdrew; Taako could feel that sixth sense of proximity dissipate.

“Sorry,” Kravitz said. “Poor circulation.” His voice was so much softer than before. Something in Taako’s chest twisted at the sound of it. “You should… you should be able to remove the rest of it, now. I can- I’ll get you some clothes. Oh, um.” There was a moment of hesitation from behind him, then he felt the weight of something thick and soft drape over his shoulders, felt Kravitz withdraw again. The cloak. He’d draped it over Taako’s shoulders. It was surprisingly soft. Heavy, too. Warm. Probably did him some good down here.

“There, you can - I’ll get you something to change into.”

Taako felt strangely hot. He busied himself pulling the rest of Lup’s clothes off of him, shivering as they hit the floor with wet slaps. Good god, it really was cold in Kravitz’s - dungeon… or whatever. Even with the many candle flames all around. Removing the corset was a blessing, though. Taako drew in several deep luxurious breaths, pausing in his undressing to stretch. He could hear Kravitz rummaging around in the trunks and chests behind him.

And the rummaging stopped.

“I’m just going to uh… leave these on the bed?” Kravitz’s voice came, “I’ll. I’ll leave you to it,” and he slipped out between a couple of screens, and Taako was alone in his… in his bedroom. In the bedroom of a mysterious masked man who somehow knocked Taako out, dragged him to god only knew where, shouted at him for being Lup and then seemed, inexplicably, very apologetic the moment Taako called him on it.

He supposed stranger things had happened to him in his life.

Then he thought again, and no, they hadn’t.

It was almost disconcertingly silent on the other side of the screen. Taako wrapped the cloak around himself properly, stepping out of the last of Lup’s clothes, and left them in a heap on the floor as he turned around and moved to the bed. He dressed quickly (Kravitz’s clothes weren’t a perfect fit but they worked well enough), draped the cloak around his shoulders to keep out the persistent chill in the air, and stepped out from the screen. Kravitz was standing in the middle of what looked like his sitting room, as though he was waiting for Taako.

Taako crossed his arms.

Kravitz began to speak.

“Mister Taaco,” he said, “you have come to know too much of my domain. I cannot allow-”

“So,” Taako interrupted him, “Are we gonna throw down or what? I promised you an ass-kicking on account of defending my sister’s honor and all.”

Kravitz paused, and Taako could practically feel the frustration coming off of him. “I shall not be taking orders -”

“What happened to your voice?” Taako asked, cutting him off again, because god, what was he doing? “Is that a Cockney accent? What are you going for here?”

“This is how I speak-”

“My dude, we literally had a conversation without you going all Charles Dickens on me like not five minutes ago-”

“Could you let me finish?!” Kravitz finally snapped, accentless once more. “For once?! Please?!”, and Taako just waited, and watched as Kravitz realized what he’d done, as his whole schtick disintegrated before his eyes. “Oh goddamnit all,” he said, throwing up his hands in defeat.

Taako couldn’t help but smile.

“Really nailing it on the whole spooky sinister vibe, my fella,” he said. “Really knocking it out of the park on that one.”

One hand came up to cover Kravitz’s face, laying over his half mask and eyes. Almost like pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It doesn’t usually go like this,” he sighed.

“How do the kidnappings usually go?” Taako teased. And god, what was he doing? He needed to get out of here. It was just that -

“I’m really more adept at hauntings,” his host said forlornly. “The abduction angle is new.”

It was just that everything Kravitz said was stranger, more unexpected, more absurd, more interesting than the last. And… strangely funny. It caught strange corners of Taako’s brain and captured his attention, raising flags and illuminating pathways that he wanted to go down-

But that didn’t mean he wanted to stay. In the dank candlelit sewer, with Kravitz, who, while it was clear he wasn’t a very skilled kidnapper and - whatever his thing was supposed to be here - had still been good enough to get Taako in the first place. And, atop that, was a person who’d just admitted to kidnapping Taako. And who seemed not to be terribly… thrown by the thought of it. Taako didn’t know anyone - well, until now - who seemed to view unwilling abduction as a done thing. No one Taako knew really considered that socially acceptable.

It reminded him that Kravitz, while… intriguing, was by no means safe.

It reminded him that he still needed to get the hell out of there.

“Well,” he started, “the whole production could use some work, kemosabe. Points for the aesthetic,” he gestures vaguely to Kravitz’s getup, and the whole… opulent sewer situation, “but really, Taako’s rating this one a ‘room for improvement’ situation. Nice try, though, points for effort,” he cast his eyes around as he rambled, trying to see if there were any visible exits, but the only way he could see was back the way he came in - through Kravitz’s “house” - past Kravitz.

Nothing for it but to try, he thought.

“Thanks a bunch,” he said, inching forward, “glad to be of assistance workshopping - well, no, not glad, really - but I uh… I’m going to need to be on my way.” He stepped forward, purposeful. Kravitz countered, stepping in front of him, blocking his path. Shit.

“I am terribly sorry,” he said, and the thing was he actually sounded it, “but I really can’t let you do that.”

#phantom of the opera au #taz balance #taakitz #taako taaco #kravitz #silliness hours #hey guys? i love them #also taako got accidentally kidnapped and Kravitz was Not Ready for A+ Elf Rage #He was expecting a trembling damsel #he doesn't realize he got the easy version #imagine if he'd actually got lup #She wouldn't've waited to kill him until after a carefully engineered homoerotic intricate ritual #is this a carefully constructed distraction from the fact that i'm not posting longfic?#yes

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demoanais · 3 years

Text

This will all be moot in a month but I feel like I'm in danger of being misunderstood so I wanted to make my position more clear for the record:

I AM happy Sharon is shown to be hurt, angry and cynical. She's more than earned that. EVC is perfect for playing with the dark side of her character, she has plenty of great experience to tackle that duality. Exploring deeper layers of Sharon is a welcome shift.

I AM happy that the show acknowledges that Sharon was wronged after merely doing the right thing and has long been suffering the consequences of a punishment that vastly exceeds the crime. Of course that's changed her outlook, how could it not?

I AM happy that Sharon has still managed to build a stable life for herself despite all this pain; she is extremely self sufficient and capable and takes great pride in that. It's the emotional blow that stings her the most - she has survived but it never needed to be this hard.

I AM happy that she didn't welcome sam and bucky with open arms and chat like nothing was wrong. She gave up everything and look where it landed her; they were being naive and insensitive to think she'd so happily jump back into the fray for their sakes with nothing more than a raised eyebrow.

I AM happy that despite her misgivings and distrust, she still lent her strength to sam and bucky's efforts because at her core, that's who she is. She hasn't lost her sense of morality even if her heart isn't exactly in it like it used to be.

I AM unhappy about the execution of all of the above.

For example, you have Sharon ask about new cap. Before bucky can elaborate, she cuts him to the quick by accusing him of blind loyalty to the mantle. But that isn't accurate. If bucky's so-called arc is anything, it's demonstrating how his insecurity and lack of direction are causing his grudges to overtake his better judgement.

For him, *everything* is personal. He was steve's friend before he was captain america's, and that's where meaning dwells for him. He doesn't want the shield back or blame sam for giving it up too easily because of some idealogical obsession with 'stars and stripes bullshit' - he thinks it's a slight to steve that sam didn't honor his choice and that it's more than just government issue gear to be passed around. It represents many things (many of them bad, as the show points out) but he doesn't care about all that. To bucky it may as well be a family heirloom, considering what little he has left from his former life.

Of course, this is all what he has to overcome, to (re) establish his own position and identity in the world, and sharon isn't as privy to those struggles as the audience is. Allowing bucky and/or sam to actually elaborate on their issues with walker could have created an in for her to point out some hypocrisy or naivety on their part. But the opportunity was swiftly torpedoed because we really, really need the audience to get that sharon 2.0 is 'awful' now.

So what could she have criticized bucky for instead? Lucky for her, that problem was looking her right in the face drinking her expensive liquor. There is very little justification for the stunt bucky pulled behind sam's back by freeing zemo, and I can only assume consequences are around the corner. Yet again, bucky isn't seeing big picture, he's consumed by his own personal relationship to zemo and the super serum. He acted unilaterally based on his own fears and self doubts but wants to present his actions as logical and well reasoned. Zemo can help in the short term, but what is the cost?

Sharon, being the seasoned cynic she is now, would have seen through that in an instant. How difficult would it have been to jab at the irony, bucky being 'free' according to his therapist but chained to this person who used him as a tool, who continues to exploit his weaknesses, who seems to be far more in control than bucky is in the situation they're all in. Bucky is trying to prove something, he doesn't seem to be sure what that is yet, but he's stubbornly blinded himself to the possibility that he's going about it the wrong way. That is something that sharon could have rightfully called out, but for some reason bucky's most egregious flaw is presented as.... being steve's best friend.

Then you have her dealings with sam, who's problems are more from the other side of the spectrum. He isn't really allowed to bring his personal feelings to the table, he has to deal with the intense pressure of taking on a loaded persona when it may not actually ring true to him in his heart. He also trusted steve and had faith in what that specific cap stood for, but does that mean he's willing to put the whole system on his own shoulders now? He's trying to think above and beyond, about the legacies before him, about his own place in history when all is said and done.

Sam is all about big picture at this stage, and his journey would presumably have him work from the outside in. That's why the glimpses of his family life are invaluable, they give us that contrast between his day to day realities and the loftier, more abstract idealism of the falcon's (or cap's) heroism. His exploration is about staking his own personal claim on the symbolism of that shield, not just for his own sake but for the sake of those who will now look to him as a leader and an inspiration.

To be fair, I think some of sharon's dialogue with sam is marginally better, but still ultimately misses the mark. I envisioned an exchange where she might belittle his decision to continue acting as a representative of the same organization that failed her so spectacularly, suggesting he should tread carefully lest he find himself discarded once the government no longer finds him useful or compliant.

She...sort of got close to saying that? If I squint really hard I guess? But it's off because it's less about the posturing and politics of their roles and of 'the machine' so to speak, than it is about striving to do right when you can. It feels like she's criticizing the inherent value of what they try do rather than the shortcomings of the framework itself. If I get vibes that this sharon seems to waffle on whether or not she regrets what she did in CACW, that's not a good thing.

Bureaucracy, red-tape, iconography - all of the things walker is being parceled with; can you disentangle yourself while refusing to leave the system in the same state as you found it? If I want to be charitable I can chalk this up to semantics, but they haven't given me many reasons to be charitable so far.

Then you have the whole utterly nonsensical bargaining over her pardon (the stupidity of that particular exchange pointed out multiple times on reddit, of all places) and sharon's not-so-subtle suggestion that sam is basically lying to her when he says he can get her pardoned.

If she's trying to say she doesn't believe he actually has the pull to accomplish that, or that he's underestimating how difficult it would be, it's one thing. But saying that he's merely 'pretending' to clear her name is completely unfair. I don't care how ~jaded~ sharon is, there's no plausible reason for her to consider sam capable of such a lie and I find that an insult to them both. Naturally, I place blame squarely on kolstad's writing, and not on sharon herself. It's plain as day he didn't give a wink to a single implication he made with his script, nor does he care to do so.

Am I foolish for thinking her arc could be handled with more coherence? I like to think I'm already controlling for the lackluster quality of MCU writing in general; this actually surprised me. I expect basic and juvenile, but at least there's consistency. Frankly, I think Feige put a little too much slack in the reins here and the characters are paying the price.

Could I be crying wolf too soon before giving everything a chance to pan out? Of course, that's always a possibility and I'd be more than glad to eat crow if things turn out palatable in the end. Are the odds favorable that this will happen? Magic 8 ball says don't count on it, and I'm not in the habit of constantly lowering my standards until they're miraculously met.

#sharon carter #emily vancamp #anti mcu #sambuckysharon

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set-phasers-to-whump · 3 years

Text

gunpoint

prompt: gunpoint (alt no.9)

whumpee: malcolm bright

fandom: prodigal son

hey hi hello! back with some malcolm whump :) hope you enjoy! i wrote this as pre-brightwell but you can read them however you like :)

Malcolm stands outside the suspect’s apartment building, debating over whether or not he should text someone to let them know where he is. On one hand, if he gets into trouble, they’ll know where to find him, but on the other hand, if he tells them what he’s doing they might come and stop him from doing it.

It’s quite the dilemma, one which is solved by a text arriving from Dani: what are u doing tonight?

You can’t tell anyone

Do I really want to know?

I’m at Paulsen’s apartment building

His phone rings, and he answers it quickly to avoid the noise attracting attention.

“You’re at the suspect’s apartment?”

“I’m not inside yet.” He steps into the building behind a man that’s just come in, and asks him to hold the elevator as he hurries across the lobby. “Now I am,” he tells Dani, pressing the button for the fifteenth floor.

“You’re in - Malcolm,” Dani says. “You’re inside?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Don’t do anything too stupid. I’m coming. Give me ten minutes.”

“You really don’t have to -”

She hangs up before he can finish his sentence. The elevator reaches the fifteenth floor, doors sweeping open with a ding.

Malcolm steps out, taking a look around. This is the floor below where their suspect lives, but he’d gotten a weird feeling when they’d first come here to check the place out - apart from being the home of the suspect, the building had also been home to two of the three people who had been killed in the past five days. When they’d come asking about the murders, their suspect had been casual, unbothered, and entirely too welcoming given that two of his neighbors had just been brutally murdered.

They’d done more digging on the man, and Malcolm had completed a profile, and all evidence pointed to him having done it. But it wasn’t enough, Malcolm knew - he could tell that there was something they weren’t seeing, something missing, and he was willing to bet it was in this apartment building.

Hence why he’s here now, walking up and down the halls of the fifteenth floor, looking for something that he has no idea how to find.

Maybe something like a utility closet? he wonders, approaching a wooden door with a sign proclaiming it off-limits to tenants. It’s older than the rest of the doors on the floor, and it creaks ominously when Malcolm opens it.

There’s nothing there. A bucket. A circuit board. A water heater. A vent in the ceiling.

This seems like a room that should be kept locked, he thinks, turning on his phone’s flashlight and peering behind the water heater. A simple sign isn’t enough to keep everyone out, and he doubts building management wants people to have access to the floor’s electricity.

He heads back to the door to examine its doorknob, which does have a keyhole, as well as a chain lock on the inside. The keyhole is fairly scraped up with regular use, but the chain lock looks new. Malcolm wonders who might have a key, and who might have the motivation to install a secondary, interior, lock.

He pulls the door shut and turns back to the room, thoughts shifting away from who has access to this place? to who wants access to this place? He can’t imagine a utility person would need a chain lock, and thinks there must be a reason for it to have been installed.

Malcolm looks around, and his eyes land on the ceiling vent. It’s an average size, too small to fit a person through, but the right size for fitting smaller things through - murder weapons, for example. Among thousands of other things. But it’s an idea, anyway, so Malcolm grabs a small stepladder and places it beneath the vent, shining his flashlight up at it to get a better look.

It seems to open into the floor of a room above him, but from what Malcolm can see through the metal, it’s not another closet. In fact, he thinks, it might be an apartment. He does some mental gymnastics and works out that it’s perfectly possible for the apartment above him to belong to their suspect.

He turns on his phone to call Dani back and tell her his thoughts.

“I’m almost in the parking lot,” she says, before he has a chance to say anything. “Where are you right now?”

“I’m in a utility closet on the fifteenth floor,” Malcolm replies, “and I think I might have found something.”

“What kind of something?”

“Uhh...it might be nothing. But there’s this vent in here, and I think it might open into Paulsen’s apartment.”

“...And?”

“That’s all I’ve got,” Malcolm admits. “Maybe you can come have a look for yourself, see what you think.”

“I’ll be there in a couple minutes.”

Malcolm figures it’s best to stay where he is and wait for Dani to come. While he waits, he busies himself with again looking up through the vent, standing on his tiptoes on the ladder to get a better view.

The door to the closet opens with a loud, startling squeak, and Malcolm nearly falls off the ladder. “Dani,” he says, stepping down and turning around. “You scared me.”

His eyes fall on the person in the doorway - who is definitely not Dani.

“You’re...not Dani.”

Their suspect, Paulsen, smiles. “No, I am not,” he agrees, stepping into the room and pulling the door shut behind him. He slides the chain lock closed and switches off the lights.

“Give me your phone,” he instructs Malcolm, holding out a hand in the light of the phone’s flashlight.

“Why?”

Paulsen draws a gun from his jacket, turns off the safety, and aims it at Malcolm’s chest. “Because if you don’t, I’ll shoot you.”

Malcolm complies, handing over the phone. Paulsen turns off its flashlight, then throws it to the ground, smashing it under his foot.

“Guess I have to get a new phone now,” Malcolm complains, not terribly anxious about the whole having-a-gun-pointed-at-him thing. “I might have to see about buying a stronger one, though.”

“Shut up,” Paulsen fairly growls, stepping closer to Malcolm, until Malcolm can physically feel him standing there. He imagines the gun, aimed straight at him in the dark.

“What’s the plan here?” Malcolm whispers. “Are you really going to kill me?”

The cold metal barrel of the gun presses against his forehead. “Shut. Up.”

He shuts up. He doesn’t want to get shot. Especially not in the head.

“Now listen to me,” Paulsen says, and he’s close enough that Malcolm can feel his breath on his face. “Here’s what’s going to happen. Are you here alone?”

Malcolm nods, forehead scraping against the gun.

“Good. You’re going to leave this closet. I’ll be right behind you, so don’t think about trying anything dumb, okay?”

Malcolm nods again, swallowing hard. He can’t decide whether he wishes Dani would show up now or not.

“We’re going to walk out of here, nice and easy, down the hall, to the elevator, through the lobby. Got that?”

He nods a third time, hand starting to shake. He balls it into a fist.

“Then we are going to get into my car. I’ll drive, but this gun isn’t going to go away. You even think about running, and I’ll shoot you. Is all that clear?”

Another nod. He really doesn’t want to get into a car with this guy, but he very much believes what he’s saying. Plus, it might be a good way to understand him a little more, add information to his profile for his inevitable arrest. Which will come, Malcolm knows. Hopefully it comes before he gets shot.

They step out into the hallway, Malcolm first, the gun pressed into his back, digging into the skin with every step he takes. He feels his breath start to catch in his throat, feels his hands start to shake more, and tries desperately to stop the feeling of fear coursing through him. He’ll be fine. He’ll get out of this.

They round a corner, the elevators in sight. Just then, one of them opens, and Paulsen drags Malcolm back around the corner, pressing the gun to the back of his head. Malcolm gets the message well enough and keeps his mouth shut.

Footsteps draw near, and Paulsen curses under his breath. Malcolm’s heart is pounding now, and he has this terrible feeling that something really bad is about to happen.

Paulsen pulls him backwards as the steps get closer, backing them down the hall, putting the gun again to Malcolm’s back, and kind of leaning against him, casually, as if to disguise the presence of the gun.

The person rounds the corner, and even in the dim light, Malcolm can tell it’s Dani. She’s looking at her phone, muttering to herself, but she looks up about when she’s about halfway to Malcolm, and he sees her eyes widen in surprise.

“Bright?”

The gun presses harder still into his back. “Hey, Dani, what’s up?” he calls out, aiming for casual but failing spectacularly.

“What’s going on?”

“Who is that?” Paulsen hisses into Malcolm’s ear.

“Colleague,” Malcolm replies, eyes trained on Dani, who is watching their conversation with a look of understanding on her face.

“Make her leave,” Paulsen instructs, and Malcolm imagines his finger tightening on the trigger.

“Do you think you could maybe turn around?” he asks, trying to ignore the slight shaking of his own voice. “Just leave. Get back to the elevator, down to the lobby…”

Dani shakes her head minutely. “That’s not gonna happen,” she says, her words not directed at Malcolm. “Let him go.”

“No,” Paulsen replies, and his voice is strong, unafraid. Malcolm doesn’t like that. It’s in line with his profile of the man, which he is at this moment really wishing he’d been wrong about. The guy is ruthless, but collected, meticulous...Malcolm has a feeling that he might very well be dying tonight.

He doesn’t want to die tonight. He really doesn’t. He has to do something.

He pushes himself forwards, feeling the metal of the gun leave his back, and runs, shouting at Dani to run, too. He sees her draw her gun, hears a shot, and another, feels something hit his shoulder, sending him spinning off balance. He hits the ground with the terrible realization that he doesn’t know whose gun had gone off. Who might be hurt.

He lies there in horrible uncertainty for a couple terrible seconds, his head spinning. His shoulder feels like he’s been punched, but he knows he’s been shot. And maybe Dani has been shot, too…

He stumbles to his feet, overcome for a moment with dizziness. When his vision clears, he sees Dani on the floor, kneeling over Paulsen, cuffing him. He’s bleeding from his leg, where, evidently, Dani had shot him.

Malcolm watches silently as Dani wrestles the man to his feet and drags him along, phone to her ear, no doubt talking to Gil. She walks up to Malcolm, who instinctively backs away at the close presence of Paulsen.

“You okay?” she asks, and Malcolm can only nod. He’s not, though. He’s been shot, and he’s pretty sure it’s not serious, but he’s been shot, and for a long time he’d thought that he was going to be shot, and there had been the cold, unforgiving metal of the gun pressed to his skin to remind him of that fact, and he imagines the feeling is going to stick with him for quite some time, and his hands are shaking again and he can smell the metallic scent of his own blood, and he is overall definitely not okay. But he follows Dani and Paulsen into the elevator anyway, pressing a trembling hand to the wound on his shoulder, which, he can feel, is fortunately only a graze.

“Buses should be here any minute,” Dani says, as the group of three leave the building. “You gonna be okay til then?”

Malcolm nods again, sitting down heavily on the building’s concrete stoop. He watches Dani drag Paulsen along to stand on the curb, glad he’s farther away now. She looks down the street anxiously, and he sees her relax when the red and blue lights of police cars approach.

Malcolm feels himself relax at their presence, too, sinking his body further into the cold concrete. It’s going to be fine, he reminds himself, watching Dani hand over Paulsen to another officer. He knows it’s going to be fine.

His body doesn’t seem to care about what his brain knows, though. He’s still shaking, not just his hands, now, but the rest of him, too. He’s breathing too heavily, and he can’t stop feeling a gun pressing into his back, is hyperaware of the blood slowly dripping down his shoulder despite his hand trying to hold it back.

Dani sinks down on the step next to him and touches a hand to his arm. He startles, jerking away from her and hating himself for it.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she says reassuringly. “Paulsen’s in custody and the ambulances are less than a minute out.”

He can’t bring himself to nod this time. He feels a shaky breath catch in his throat, and before he can stop himself there are tears pooling in his eyes.

He sniffs and tries to make them go away, but it’s no use. His vision blurs up, swirling together the colors of the flashing lights around him.

“Can I touch you?” Dani asks, and he finds he would actually really like that now, so he does nod this time, and then her arm is around him, very gentle and mindful of the gunshot wound on his left shoulder. Her hand touches his back, right where the gun had been, but feeling nothing at all like the gun had.

“You’re shaking,” she points out, and carefully tugs him closer. “You cold?”

He shrugs with his right shoulder. “Not really. Just some lingering terror, I guess. Stupid.”

“Hey,” Dani says, her voice serious. “It’s not stupid to be scared. He had you at gunpoint, Malcolm. He shot you.”

“Ambulance’s here,” an officer Malcolm isn’t familiar with interrupts their conversation. “So’s Lieutenant Arroyo.”

With that information, Dani stands up, grabbing Malcolm’s right bicep and gently hauling him to his feet so he doesn’t have to let go of his shoulder. He lets her guide him to the ambulance, tears still clouding his vision. He sinks down onto a stretcher and sees Dani mouth meet you at the hospital. He nods in acknowledgement as two paramedics hover over him, asking him questions he has no idea how to answer.

“Just get moving,” he hears a wonderfully familiar voice say. “I’ll give you as much information as I’ve got, but let’s not waste time here.”

“Yes, sir,” says one of the paramedics, and with that, the ambulance doors shut and the engine starts.

“Gil,” Malcolm says, locking eyes with him from across the ambulance.

“Hey, kid,” Gil says, with a tight smile. “How you doing?”

“Not so good,” Malcolm replies, honestly. “Hurts.” In all honesty, it doesn't hurt that much, but saying it hurts is easier than explaining that he’s still scared, despite the fact that the threat has been completely removed, despite the fact that he knows he’s safe.

“I know,” Gil says, reaching out a hand and grabbing Malcolm’s bloody one. “But it’s going to be okay.”

“I know.”

“Everything is going to be okay, you understand?”

“I know.”

“Good. But don’t you think you’re off the hook for this either. We will be having a talk as soon as we get you fixed up.”

“Okay.”

They arrive at the hospital a moment later, and Malcolm’s hand frantically reaches for Gil’s when he’s pulled away.

“I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he hears Gil promise, as Malcolm is pushed through a set of doors. “We’ll be right here.”

They’ll be there for him...Gil, Dani, probably Ainsley, and his mother, maybe JT, Edrisa...the thought is enough to make Malcolm almost smile. Maybe he really is going to be okay.

thanks so much for reading this!!! i have done a lot of other writing today so this might not be like. the best. but i did have a fun time writing it! hope you liked it!

#febuwhump2021 #febuwhumpday20 #gunpoint #prodigal son #malcolm bright #at gunpoint #shot #fear #my writing #i say things

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