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carewyncromwell · 3 years

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[Ficlet] Gonna Hit Rewind

Hi guys! So this is a little drabble inspired by a prompt by my friend @drinkyoursoupbitch, where I show what my MC, Carewyn Cromwell, was up to during a certain scene in the Harry Potter series!

Before we begin, just a couple of notes --

Post-Hogwarts, Carewyn becomes a lawyer for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement -- you can read more about her life as an adult here, if you’d like! When it comes to the Order of the Phoenix, Carey-Bear doesn’t formally join, instead providing covert assistance while staying autonomous from Dumbledore (who she doesn’t really like as a person) and looking “subservient” to Fudge’s wishes. Later on, this becomes very useful after the Death Eaters take over the Ministry in 1997: when the Battle of Hogwarts begins, Carewyn actually helps take back the Ministry by placing Umbridge under citizen’s arrest and temporarily taking charge until Kingsley Shacklebolt is officially appointed Minister. Carewyn’s outfit in the sketch enclosed below is inspired by this design. Musical accompaniment for this ficlet were “Leave Me Alone” by Michael Jackson (for Carewyn’s conversation with that...certain family member in the aforementioned sketch) and “Turn Back Time” by Derivakat (which inspired the title of this drabble!). And in regards to Carewyn’s negative attitude toward Time Turners...that is 110% my mother talking. When we read Harry Potter and the Cursed Child together, she absolutely hated that it involved time travel, as she found the whole idea ridiculously confusing and illogical. (The whole climax of Prisoner of Azkaban was even her least favorite aspect of the original Potter books. 😂)

Hope you enjoy -- and much love, Soup dear! xoxo

x~x~x~x

“Down here, down here,” panted Mr. Weasley, taking two steps at a time. “The lift doesn’t even come down this far…why they’re doing it there…”

They reached the bottom of the steps and ran along yet another corridor, which bore a great resemblance to that which led to Snape’s dungeon at Hogwarts, with rough stone walls and torches in brackets. The doors they passed here were heavy wooden ones with iron bolts and keyholes.

“Courtroom…Ten…I think…we’re nearly … yes.”

As Arthur Weasley rushed down the hall toward Courtroom Ten, he was unaware that in Courtroom Seven, the door of which was left slightly ajar, Carewyn Cromwell was speaking to her estranged uncle, the new head of the Cromwell Clan, at that very moment, nor that their conversation would ultimately determine Harry’s fate in that courtroom happening just three doors down.

“You’re not supposed to be here, Blaise, and you know that full well.”

“I merely wished to speak with the Minister, little Winnie -- you are aware of how much our family still supports the Ministry and, by extension, your career, are you not?”

Carewyn fixed Blaise with a very cold blue eye. “And I suppose Lucius Malfoy speaking with the Minister down here mere moments ago had nothing to do with you making an unscheduled visit?”

Blaise cocked his eyebrows, his identically colored and shaped eyes narrowing under them.

“I can sense you trying to enter my mind, Winnie,” he said very softly, his eyes rippling like light blue flames despite the hardness of his face. “It won’t work. You couldn’t reach my thoughts when you were a girl, and you can’t reach them now.”

His voice became cooler, to the point of sounding condescending.

“Whatever questions you have, you know your uncle would be more than willing to answer them, if you merely ask nicely.”

‘Answer’ -- ha! Carewyn thought to herself scornfully. Lie your face off, more like. But even so...if I’m going to get what I need, I need to keep him talking...

Carewyn went very quiet, considering Blaise carefully and her next words even more so.

“...Are you or are you not associating with Lucius Malfoy?” she asked softly.

“You might recall that he and Father were business associates back in the day.”

“Of course I do. That’s why I’m asking. Or have you forgotten where Grandfather’s activities sentenced him -- where they sentenced you, until you were able to bribe the Minister to reduce the rest of your family’s sentences?”

“Our family, little Winnie,” Blaise corrected her, a notable, fiery edge to his voice.

You all may be related to me by blood, but you are not my family, Carewyn thought fiercely, but she once again bit her tongue. If she provoked his temper the way she was tempted to, he’d be less likely to talk to her.

When she didn’t respond, Blaise continued.

“Lucius Malfoy has always had a working relationship with the Cromwell Clan. It’s only natural that we speak from time to time, as two patriarchs of prominent magical families.”

“Magical families with certain reputations, you mean,” Carewyn said very coolly.

“Cornelius Fudge thinks very highly of Lucius Malfoy.”

“And of you, thanks to your impressive acting. But that doesn’t extend to everyone else, and you know it.”

“Of course,” said Blaise with a very cool smirk. “That’s something we have in common, isn’t it, Winnie? Putting on a charming face to get what we want, and not caring who hates us for it?”

Carewyn didn’t care enough to argue this point -- she’d already had this sort of discussion with Rakepick several times back in the day, and she knew that it meant Blaise was not only trying to divert the conversation, but also was absolutely full of it.

You’re acting like this fact makes us just as bad as each other, Blaise, but it doesn’t. Even if we have some similarities in our methods, that does not make us the same. I’ve never terrorized people to try to advance myself. I’ve never manipulated or forced anyone to join a criminal organization. I’ve never masqueraded as my nephew in order to try to manipulate my niece into selling her soul and her freedom just to save him. However much I’m not perfect, I’m head-and-shoulders above you, when it comes to the moral high ground.

But honestly, there was no point in arguing with people like Blaise. It wasn’t like she’d ever convince him that everything he thought was wrong -- that Muggles weren’t inferior, Charles Cromwell was an abusive monster, and everything he and the Cromwell Clan did to try to get Carewyn, Jacob, and Lane back under their control was reprehensible rather than justified -- and she didn’t feel enough passion to try. Especially not when there were more important things happening at that very moment...

Harry would be in the courtroom by now. She had to hurry.

Although Carewyn tried to keep her face stoic, her brain was working very fast. Her eyes drifted away, off toward the far wall of the courtroom where the Wizengamot benches were lined up.

“...Look,” she said slowly, her voice becoming a little softer, “my Legilimency has become very sensitive, in this line of work. It allows me to read people’s intentions and feelings very quickly, even when I’m not actively trying to. And Lucius Malfoy...he doesn’t see you as an equal, but as a pawn.”

Blaise’s eyebrows came down over his eyes, but he didn’t respond.

“You and the rest of the Cromwell Clan only got out of Azkaban because you were able to appeal to Fudge,” said Carewyn, “but if you’re associating with the wrong people, that could very quickly sour. Your position will become uncertain again, and you won’t be able to protect them -- especially if Fudge gets the kind of control over the Wizengamot that he wants...where charges and judgments are laid down based on favoritism more than legality. We’re already seeing it with how Fudge is now treating Dumbledore and Potter, after how much he always sucked up to them. End up outside of Fudge’s good graces, as they did, and the same might befall you. I realize that you and Malfoy...”

Are Muggle-hating bigots.

“...have similar politics,” she said at last very stiffly, “...but Lucius Malfoy’s politics are far more extreme than yours, and although the courts decided there wasn’t enough evidence to prove his methods were also...we both know that’s also true. If he falls, he will drag you down with him -- and if you take the fall for his actions, he won’t lift a finger to help you.”

Carewyn forced herself to look Blaise in the eye.

“Grandfather’s dealings with R got you all in enough trouble. You bought yourself and the rest of...our family a second chance -- something many others did not get. Are you sure you want to endanger that?”

Blaise considered Carewyn very carefully as she spoke, his blue eyes boring into hers critically. By the end, they’d actually widened.

“...Are you actually expressing concern for us, Winnie?” he asked very lowly.

Carewyn scoffed. “Don’t misunderstand me, Blaise -- I don’t really think you all deserved a second chance in the first place, after everything you’ve pulled.”

Her blue eyes became a bit more solemn.

“But truthfully...I’m not that upset that you were released from Azkaban. Dementors...they’re wretched creatures. I’ve seen what they can do to people.”

Her expression darkened.

“...I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, however terrible they are.”

Something confused and almost disgusted rippled over Blaise’s face, making his nose wrinkle.

“Ugh -- and here I’d thought you’d actually weeded out that weakness in your heart...”

Carewyn’s red lips came together tightly, but she didn’t reply. The two stared each other down for a moment, before Blaise finally exhaled.

“Very well, Winnie -- you want to know why I’m down here?”

He reached into his scarlet robes and pulled out a gold chain, on the end of which dangled a tiny gold hourglass.

A Time Turner.

Carewyn’s eyes narrowed upon it.

“Lucius Malfoy has expressed quite a bit of interest in my old department, when we’ve spoken,” murmured Blaise. “One sub-section in particular -- one where records of magical predictions are kept.”

Carewyn’s eyebrows furrowed. “Prophecies?”

“They are truly a fascinating thing,” said Blaise, his voice sounding rather airy. “So much value is placed on them -- too much, one could argue...just as one puts too much value on all attempts at ‘future sight.’ Alas, the section of my old department that Malfoy was interested in was not my area of expertise -- my area was in the study of Time, specifically backwards-facing. We did occasionally dip into the study of forward-facing time magic, but more in the sphere of inevitabilities -- things that evolve naturally in nature, every season -- not human affairs. Unfortunately when I was there, there was an employee monitoring the perimeter of the section I meant to enter -- I couldn’t have explored further even if I’d wanted to.”

“So Malfoy wanted you to stop by your old desk and pick up something that might help him or someone else enter the Department of Mysteries?” Carewyn asked. “Why?”

Blaise shrugged. “He didn’t say.”

“And yet you have a suspicion as to why?”

Blaise’s eyes narrowed upon Carewyn’s face, not angrily, but almost darkly.

“I may no longer work for the Department of Mysteries, Winnie, but I cannot discuss the more classified branches of their work too deeply. That is part of the Vow I made when I first joined the Department -- it forces me to speak in hypotheticals and vague descriptions more than specific details. But I fear no random stooge using this tool to try to enter my old department, whether Malfoy or otherwise. In fact,” he added with a smirk, “I would frankly love to see them try.”

He ignored Carewyn’s critical, confused expression and pressed on more seriously.

“You’re not a stupid girl, Winnie. I know you know what’s really going on, under the surface. Me offering assistance to Lucius Malfoy early on is merely how I intend to earn enough favor to keep my family safe, should the worst happen.”

“And what is that?” asked Carewyn.

Blaise cocked his eyebrows again. “Ask your mother. She remembers the First Wizarding War just as well as I do -- how it all started before.”

He turned on his heel and headed for the door.

“Blaise.”

Carewyn speaking his name and sharply grabbing his arm holding the Time Turner made him stop.

“If you wish to provide Lucius Malfoy useful information,” she said lowly, “you can tell him that that employee was not there by accident.”

Blaise looked back over his shoulder, startled. Carewyn closed her eyes tight, trying to block out the intense nausea rippling over her.

“He’s there to make sure Malfoy’s superior can’t reach what he wants,” she murmured. “There are many more, just like him, all with the same goal. It doesn’t matter when you go there -- there will always be someone there who will keep him away from what he wants.”

Blaise stared at Carewyn, his eyes narrowing in bewilderment.

“...Why are you telling me this?” he whispered.

Carewyn swallowed back the lump in her throat.

“I haven’t worked with time magic like you have...but people aren’t supposed to be in two places at once. That I do know. A lot of problems have been caused by people trying to mess with time. Mum told me that once in the 19th century, a whole bunch of people’s lives were erased out of existence, all because someone messed around with a Time Turner...”

“Ah, yes, Eloise Mintumble,” said Blaise, sounding as darkly amused as a bully might upon seeing one of their usual targets wearing a particularly obnoxious dress. “Tried to go back more than a few hours and ended up changing things so dramatically that she both erased 25 people out of existence and aged her body five centuries and died upon return trip. A rather fascinating case study.”

“You’re disgusting,” Carewyn said coldly. But she got back to the task at hand, her voice hardening. “Even if Malfoy couldn’t get what his master wants from the Department of Mysteries with that Time Turner, he could still do irreparable damage with it. If all Malfoy needs is assistance, to believe that you’re helping him and for you to earn enough esteem that the Cromwell Clan stays safe...then give him the intelligence I’ve given you. Don’t give him that Time Turner.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow, his lips spreading into a rather condescending smirk. “Why? Because it’s wrong, little Winnie? Because it’s illegal and immoral, and ‘not the right thing to do?’”

“I’m not foolish enough to appeal to you with morality, Blaise -- I know you don’t have any,” spat Carewyn. “I’m asking you not to do it for your own self-preservation. For the Clan’s. ...For your family’s.”

Blaise’s smirk actually slid off his face. Carewyn held his gaze as best as she could, even with how ill she felt.

“I may not be one of those who takes turns standing watch in your old department,” Carewyn said very softly, “but Jacob is.”

Blaise’s face went rather white, and Carewyn knew she’d struck a cord. For as cruel, selfish, and immoral of a person as Blaise was, he still saw his family -- all of it -- like his personal belongings. And he “took care” of his belongings. He wanted complete control over them and, like Charles before him, he never respected them as people, nurtured them, or gave them any freedom...but Blaise didn’t want anyone touching “his things.”

The older man’s jaw clenched as a rather dark glint flashed through his eyes.

“...I see.”

His teeth still bared, he extended the hand holding the Time Turner’s gold chain and, very slowly, lowered it into Carewyn’s hand.

Carewyn’s eyes softened in relief.

“Thank you.”

Blaise exhaled heatedly through his nose.

“Jacob always was a fool,” he growled, his voice full of resentment. “Risking his life for people like that Muggle filth who abandoned you and your mother -- ”

“Better than selling his soul and freedom to serve the person who locked my mother and all of you up like prisoners,” Carewyn shot back rather coolly.

Blaise’s eyes flashed angrily. “You will not speak ill of your grandfather, Winnie! Everything he ever did in his life was for us, including you, your brother, and your mother, and I will not have you forgetting that!”

“Crow that lie as much as you want -- it won’t ever make it true.”

Blaise seethed as Carewyn pocketed the Time Turner in her robes. Slowly, his temper cooled enough that his lips spread back out into a rather vindictive smirk.

“For the record, Winnie...Time moves in a loop. If Lucius Malfoy were to use the Time Turner after I give it to him a half-hour from now, the effects would’ve already been felt by us by now. We would have heard about someone having broken into the Department of Mysteries before our conversation even started. The fact that we are not hearing that means that he never receives the Time Turner from me. So, in fact, it was already clear that I would give you the Time Turner before I actually did -- ”

“Oh, shut your trap,” Carewyn said tiredly. Just listening to Blaise wax on was giving her a headache. “I don’t even want to try unpacking all that time travel rubbish. All I care about is that Malfoy and his ilk can’t try to mess with time, now or ever.”

She turned on her heel and strode for the slightly ajar door. Pushing it further open, she then looked back over her shoulder at Blaise.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to take care of. Stay out of trouble, or I will not hesitate to prosecute you.”

Blaise’s eyes were very cold even around his smirk. “If there’s anyone who should be warned to stay out of trouble, it’s you, Winnie. I’m not the only one who’s aligned themselves with people who could drag them down, if they fall.”

“Perhaps,” said Carewyn mildly. “But my friends will catch me if I fall, just as they have before. Just like I always catch them. That makes all the difference.”

She walked away, her heels clapping against the black tiled floor as she strode to the end of the hall, listening at the door of Courtroom Ten. She could hear several voices talking inside -- after a moment, she recognized two as Amelia Bones and Cornelius Fudge.

“...certainly described the effects of a dementor attack very accurately. And I can’t imagine why she would say they were there if they weren’t -- ”

“But dementors wandering into a Muggle suburb and just happening to come across a wizard! The odds on that must be very, very long, even Bagman wouldn’t have bet -- ”

“Oh, I don’t think any of us believe the dementors were there by coincidence,” said a very misty, serene voice from inside the Courtroom.

Carewyn’s shoulders relaxed, even as her eyes rolled up toward the ceiling.

Dumbledore. He’d made it in time.

Exhaling heavily, Carewyn quickly turned back around and walked briskly back down the hallway, back upstairs toward her office. On the way, she walked by Blaise, who was now deep in quiet conversation with Lucius Malfoy, and Carewyn and Malfoy coldly stared each other down as she passed.

x~x~x~x

Carewyn hated keeping the Time Turner in her desk. She wanted to be rid of the thing immediately, but she knew she had to be patient.

Around 11:00, just before lunchtime, Carewyn asked to borrow a Dungbomb from Tonks and covertly dropped off it just outside the Auror Department on her way back to her tiny office. The resulting smell resulted in the entire floor clearing out, until someone could deal with the smell. Carewyn herself, however, stayed in her office and powered through, spraying some Muggle air freshener to try to mask the smell.

I forgot how much I hate Dungbombs, Carewyn thought dully. Oh well...desperate times call for desperate measures, I guess.

Keeping the files on a case she was working on open on either side of her, Carewyn read through them every-so-often as she pecked away at a letter she had to write. This letter had to be concise and to the point, if its recipient was going to know it was safe and exactly what she had to do, to help keep Harry Potter from getting unjustly expelled.

Right on time, three hours after Harry’s hearing, Carewyn’s Legilimency picked up the feeling that someone was approaching her office. A moment later, there was a knock on her door.

The ginger-haired lawyer exhaled heavily, her eyebrows knitting together.

“Come in,” she said.

Although she kept her voice level, she already felt a headache coming on. She knew who was on the other side of that door -- and sure enough, when it opened, in came tall, silver-bearded Albus Dumbledore, dressed in long midnight-blue robes.

Carewyn’s eyes hardened as the Hogwarts Headmaster closed the door behind him.

“Hello, Carewyn,” Dumbledore said pleasantly.

“You got my message from Tonks, then?” Carewyn asked.

“To come straight to your office as soon as I arrived, but to not let anyone see me entering? Yes. Though I daresay the evacuation of this floor thanks to the smell of Dungbombs helped with that considerably,” said Dumbledore, and his light blue eyes twinkled. “I presume it has something to do with why some members of the Wizengamot were asking what I was doing back here so soon, and why Cornelius looked even more sour at my presence than usual.”

Carewyn’s face was twisted in a deep frown as she finally took the Time Turner out of the drawer and put it on top of her desk.

“The time and place of Harry’s hearing was changed three hours ago, with no notice,” she said stridently. “The hearing originally scheduled for 11 o’clock instead was moved to 8 o’clock at 7:58 this morning. The letter was sent by owl to Privet Drive at 7:59, right before a second letter informing Harry that because he didn’t show up for his hearing, he was presumed guilty and therefore expelled from Hogwarts. Both letters arrived at 8:52. The Order wasn’t informed of the change until a little after 9, but was also informed by Arthur Weasley that you’d had the matter well in hand and had arrived miraculously early.”

“And so they felt no need to send me any post regarding the matter,” presumed Dumbledore with a dewy smile. “But in order for all of that to have happened, I will have to go back and ensure it does happen -- isn’t that so?”

Carewyn nodded curtly as she handed the Time Turner and a sealed envelope to Dumbledore.

“Three turns back should be enough -- you don’t want to risk changing too much, by arriving too early, and I have a closed-door meeting with Chester Davies prior to that. Give this letter to me as soon as you arrive in the past. As soon as she...escorts you out, head straight for Courtroom Ten. You should arrive just after Harry does -- it shouldn’t raise as much suspicion if you make it to the courtroom after Harry, since he was already in Arthur’s office when he first received word of the change...”

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with some mischief. “Clever as always, Carewyn, my dear. You do the Order very proud.”

Carewyn’s eyes flashed. “I’m not doing this for you or your ‘Order,’ Dumbledore, as you know full well. Jacob was completely at R’s mercy after he was expelled from Hogwarts, and I don’t want to even think about where Potter might end up, if the same thing happened to him. And if Jacob’s guarding something in the Department of Mysteries, I don’t want to make it any easier for You-Know-Who and his goons to get the drop on him.”

Dumbledore’s calm didn’t shift, though his eyes did turn a bit more solemn. “And as always, Carewyn, your cleverness is only rivaled by your caring for others.”

Rising to his feet, the Headmaster tucked the envelope inside his robes and then picked up the Time Turner.

“I’ll be seeing you,” he said cheerily, “or, should I say, ‘I will have seen you?’”

And with three turns, he’d disappeared.

Carewyn gave an exhausted, groan-like sigh.

“I hate Time Turners,” she muttered to herself.

x~x~x~x

When Dumbledore appeared in Carewyn’s office out of the blue at 8 o’clock that morning, the ginger-haired lawyer reacted with a lot of irritation and suspicion. Those feelings weren’t helped when Dumbledore handed her the letter addressed to her, and yet written in a hand identical to hers.

Carewyn,

First of all, yes, I know you recognize this handwriting. This isn’t a trick -- it’s just the work of a Time Turner: specifically the one Dumbledore’s holding. On that note, ask him to hand it over and then smash it. We have more than enough problems in the here and now: no sense in adding more time travel rubbish to the pile.

Now that that’s been taken care of, let’s get to business --

The time and place of Harry’s hearing was moved just a minute ago. It now starts at 8 o’clock in the morning in Courtroom Ten. Don’t worry, Arthur’s already been notified and is ferrying Harry as we speak, but Dumbledore needs to get down there right now. Kick him out of your office, nice and loudly -- there are people outside who could overhear, and you don’t want anyone to think you and Dumbledore are on good terms. Which, fortunately, you’re not.

Now that Dumbledore’s out of your hair, let’s go over what you need to do --

Blaise has sneaked into the Ministry, specifically the bottommost floor near the Department of Mysteries, on Lucius Malfoy’s direction. No, Blaise isn’t a Death Eater -- just short-sighted and self-serving as ever. The point is that he has a Time Turner on his person, which he cannot be allowed to walk away with, under any circumstances. You’ll be able to catch him leaving the Department of Mysteries if you go downstairs in the next fifteen minutes. He’ll be meeting Lucius Malfoy around 8:30, in the middle of Harry’s hearing, so don’t let him walk away without getting that Time Turner away from him. Don’t come at the issue straight-on, though -- you can appeal to Blaise to give it to you willingly. Just keep him talking. Once you have the Time Turner, you can hold onto it until Dumbledore arrives in your office at the time that was originally scheduled for Harry’s hearing, so he can use it to go back far enough to arrive at Harry’s hearing on time.

I know, this Time Travel stuff is absolutely bloody ridiculous. But at least this way Malfoy won’t be able to use the Time Turner Blaise stole to cause even more havoc.

Burn this letter as soon as you’re done reading it. We don’t want anyone coming across it.

Good luck.

As for Dumbledore himself, he arrived at Harry’s hearing right on time, all according to plan.

“Ah,” said Fudge, who looked thoroughly disconcerted. “Dumbledore. Yes. You --er -- got our -- er -- message that the time and -- er -- place of the hearing had been changed, then?”

“I must have missed it,” said Dumbledore cheerfully. “However, due to a lucky mistake I arrived at the Ministry three hours early, so no harm done.”

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #my writing #harry potter #fanfiction #carewyn cromwell #albus dumbledore #cornelius fudge #amelia bones #blaise cromwell #lucius malfoy #time turners #AHHHHHH #YES IT ALL COMES TOGETHER #this took a while to write but it was worth it #but yeah my mum loathes time travel stories #she's a scientist at heart so the illogicality of them just drives her crazy #jacob honestly doesn't like working with dumbledore any more than carewyn does but he does see 'the greater good' of it #so he ends up being a guard not just for the prophecy but also later on for people escaping the death eaters #he likewise just barely evades ministry scrutiny enough to be able to hide people during the War #yes carewyn's choice ultimately does lead to negative fall-out like bode getting imperiused and arthur getting attacked by nagini #which of course carey-bear deeply regrets #but at the same time how much more damage might she have prevented? we'll never know #sometimes in war you have to make bad choices to try to mitigate even worse consequences :(

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rosemaidenvixen · 3 years

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Both Sides of the Sky

Chapter 5: Calling

Ao3

The doors to the front entrance loomed ahead of them. Thick mahogany of solid build, richly carved by very skilled hands. It was clear whoever had first commissioned them must have paid a great deal. But as Claire stepped closer, she was able to notice the countless pockmarks and scars pitting the wood, how they had been so badly warped by the wind and rain that they no longer would hang quite straight.

Not a good harbinger for what lay beyond.

Keeping that thought, among others, to herself, Claire watched as the doors, warped wood catching ever so slightly in the frame, were pulled open. Revealing a grimm faced butler behind them who silently took the card from her father and ushered the three of them inside.

Without turning her head, it wouldn’t do to appear too curious, Claire glanced around at her surroundings. Avalon hall was massive, she had been able to see that much from the outside. But it soon became clear that the state of the front doors was not a unique feature.

Silk curtains that were faded and stained at the edges. Scuff Marks upon scuff marks on the floor from centuries of feet traipsing up and down the corridors. Tarnish creeping around the edges of the candlesticks, giving the silver a rotten appearance. And due to the building’s esteemed age, all the windows were small and far between, the dim light making the hallway feel claustrophobic.

The overall effect was that Avalon hall didn’t feel like a house where living people resided, rather more like an abandoned, decaying ruin from a bygone era that she and her parents were trespassing in.

Fighting very hard to suppress a shudder, Claire followed her parents deeper into the house.

It looked as though the rumors were true, this family may have a lofty and noble history, but they had fallen far indeed. Claire kept her gaze straight ahead and pointedly ignored the peeling wallpaper as they walked further in. Straight into debt by the looks of it.

The butler led them up the main stairs and down a hall on their right, to where someone was waiting for them, before swiftly turning and heading off to complete some other task. Claire had expected Strickler to greet them, as he had on her walks with Jim, but instead they were greeted by his uncle, the venerable Lord Merlin, who was so old Claire half expected him to have powder in his hair.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance Master and Mistress Nuñez,” he politely shook hands with her father before gesturing for them to follow “My nephew is waiting for us in the parlor, let’s not keep them waiting, shall we?”

As they walked he turned and looked Claire straight in the eye, flashing her a grin.

Startled, Claire quickly recovered and managed to return the smile with one of her own.

They’d only gone a short ways when Merlin stepped to the side, opening a door into a smaller small room.

“Please, after you,” the words were intended for all of them, but his gaze was once again locked on Claire. While she supposed most people would be flattered, Claire couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable at the attention, although why she couldn’t say.

Forcing down the cold fluttering in her belly, Claire followed her parents into the room, blinking at the sudden brightness within.

The curtains had been thrown open, filling the room with sunlight and allowing her to see that, mercifully, this space was in much better shape than the rest of the house. Immaculate blue and gold wallpaper, spotless china dishes and sparking silver on oak tables. Couches that looked comfortable and lived in, even if they were a little threadbare.

Claire let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

Strickler was here, and so was Jim, right by his side, both of them standing by a small table holding several teacups filled with steaming brown liquid, two of which he handed over to her father and mother before picking one up himself “So glad you all could make it today, please take a seat. James and I are so happy to have you here,”

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively “He was quite looking forward to this,”

All the adults in the room tittered at that while Claire blushed crimson, across the room she could see Jim’s face turn a similar hue.

Still flushing, she sank into a chair, everyone else following suit. The adults quickly fell into banal conversation concerning the weather and current events. Leaving Claire and James to stare at each other in awkward silence.

She wanted to talk to him. There were half a dozen questions perched on the tip of her tongue. Had he recovered from his tumble in the woods and fall in the river? Who was his mother and why did no one ever speak of her? Did the stone bridge still haunt his dreams the way it did hers?

But despite how much she burned for answers, Claire couldn’t bring herself to speak of those things, not in front of their parents.

It was too….private, personal; and the last thing she wanted was her parents pouncing on those thoughts and picking them apart piece by piece.

Of course there was a chance that Jim felt differently about his family, but the way he also kept his silence made Claire think not.

So here they were. Sitting there mute and bored to tears. Tuning out their families' blathering, Claire allowed her eyes to unfocus, gaze rolling around the room before landing on a sword hanging on the far wall. The blade was dull and the hilt simple, but it was clear that the sword’s true value was in its truly ancient age. She could easily imagine Strickler plucking it from foreign shores during one of his many expeditions.

Unfortunately by now their mutual silence had been noticed.

“James, why don’t you show the young Miss Nuñez our collection,” Claire jolted slightly upon hearing Strickler mention her name “I’m sure she’d find it fascinating,”

James stood from his chair and extend a hand towards her, flashing a smile that was almost convincing “Of course,”

Claire lifted herself up and returned his smile “That sounds delightful,” at least it would be better than sitting in silence. She allowed Jim to lay a hand over her forearm and lead her to the other side of the room.

“This sword is a viking artefact, along with that shield,” he inclined his head to the right “The vase and teapot are from the far east,”

“Very impressive…” Claire nodded along politely, when her attention was captured by a large painting hanging near the corner, a woman wrapped in silver gossamer reclining in a pond. A simple image, but captured in breathtaking detail “What about the painting, right next to the shield?”

“I...don’t know,” Jim glanced back towards the seated adults.

“Nothing much interesting about that one I’m afraid,” Strickler said with a shake of his head “Merely a gift from an old acquaintance,”

Claire’s eyes darted over the ripples and waves captured in shades of blue paint “It’s very lovely, is it an Undine?”

Strickler let out a chuckle, that sounded more than a little patronizing “A naiad actually,”

Despite her best efforts, Claire felt herself flushing at his thinly veiled condescension “What’s the difference?”

“Naiads live exclusively in fresh water whereas Undines aren’t bound to any one form of water. Oceanids live in open seas and nereids live along saltwater shores,”

For a moment the entire room was silent as everyone turned and stared at Jim. He flushed, clearly feeling the weight of their gazes.

Claire felt a grin, the first entirely genuine one of the day, spreading over her face “I didn’t know you were so well versed in mythology,”

“I...um....” Jim glanced over at his father and uncle for help, face a deep red.

Merlin let out a loud laugh, giving his knee a hearty slap “My dear nephew you’re too shy,” he glanced towards her parents “James has always had an avid interest in mythology, we had trouble getting him to put the books down,”

Jim, clearly embarrassed, was blushing a bright scarlet, and couldn’t seem to stop fidgeting under the attention. Meanwhile, even while she sympathized with the scrutiny, Claire was absolutely brimming with delight. Finally something that she and Jim could talk about, at least while they were in mixed company.

Still chortling, Merlin got to his feet “How about I show you two youngsters the library,” he glanced towards her parents “With Master and Mistress Nuñezs’ permission of course,”

Moving so subtly Claire was sure that she was the only one who saw, Ophelia and Javier shared a sly look with each other before turning towards him “We think that sounds delightful,” Javier said, both him and Ophelia positively beaming.

“What do you think of the classical myths?”

“They form the bedrock of literature as we know it and have persevered to the modern age due to their highly advanced themes and ideas,”

Jim’s gaze briefly flickered toward Merlin, sitting in a leather chair in the corner of the library holding a book whose pages he hadn’t turned for nearly an hour, the older man giving him an almost imperceptible nod. Claire pretended not to notice.

She thumbed through the thick book on the table in front of them “One of my favorites is the myth of Tantalus. He tried to trick the gods by feeding them his own son, but they weren’t fooled. They restored his son to life and condemned him to the underworld, with food and water forever just beyond his reach,”

“Oh yes,” he nodded “That is a classic, did you know that’s where the word tantalize comes from?”

Claire did, but she smiled and nodded as if she didn’t, keenly aware of Merlin’s eyes on the two of them.

Like the rest of Avalon hall, the library was old to the point of being ancient, but rather in a cosy sort of way. Mahogany shelves and angled windows giving the room a feeling of warmth. Walls completely lined with books from end to end, supplemented by the occasional freestanding shelf. Most impressive was the collection itself, the largest collection of books Claire had ever seen in her fifteen years. Some published as recently as a year ago, some centuries old; all filling the room with the sweet scents of paper and leather.

At first she’d been excited to discuss literature and folklore with Jim. Both of which were things she very much enjoyed, and hoped that they would be able to build upon a mutual interest. But what Claire hadn’t accounted for was Merlin hovering and ever so subtly correcting Jim when he strayed from what he deemed to be the proper responses. Most of which Claire already knew from her own studies. Making the entire conversation feel dull and rehearsed. Exchanging repetitive answers may be better than silence, but not by much.

Maybe if they wandered off the beaten path a little she could get Jim to tell her his own opinion and not the one his uncle approved of. There was a copy of Bluebeard just across from her, but that didn’t feel quite appropriate right now. She reached over to the far end of the table and pulled a new book with a dusty blue cover towards them “Have you read the Poetic Edda?”

“Yes I have,”

She waited for him to elaborate but he didn’t.

“Thrymskvida is my favorite portion, what do you think of it?”

“Truly a classic piece of Norse myth, although there is debate on whether its origins are Christian or Pagan,”

Well this clearly wasn’t working, time for a different approach.

“What is your favorite Arthurian legend?” she said abruptly, setting the blue book to the side without preamble.

Jim started, clearly caught off guard. He stammered for a few seconds before coming up with an answer “Oh, uh...Sir Gawain and the Green Knight,”

A solid classic, one that she could easily see Lords Strickler and Merlin lecturing him on how it was the best.

“That’s a good one, although I’ve always thought Gawain got away pretty easily considering he broke his word,”

Jim’s amiable expression slipped, sliding into a soft frown “Gawain did keep the scarf the lady gave him, but he could have easily given it to the lord after he let the green knight chop off his head. He wouldn’t have been breaking his word, just stretching it,”

Claire paused, mulling over his words “I suppose that’s true, but Gawain gave his word to give the lord whatever he gained during the day once he got home, not whenever he felt like it. He broke his word, and for that he deserves to be punished,”

“But--”

From the corner of the room Merlin rustled the papers of the book in his lap just loudly enough that it was clearly intentional. Jim shut his jaw with a click.

Claire had to bite her lip, quite hard in fact, to keep from groaning out loud. Just when their conversation was finally starting to get interesting, apparently disagreeing with her trumped what his uncle considered ‘correct’ as far as polite discussion went.

But what was the point of having a conversation if the other person agreed with whatever she said?

Claire had entertained the company of more than a few boys who had agreed with everything she said. Quite frankly she would sooner jump in the river again.

Time for another subject change “My favorite is the Quest for the White Hart,”

Jim nodded slowly, cowed back into meekness by his uncle’s interference “That is a really good one,”

“I enjoyed Pellinore’s quest for Nimue the most, especially at the end when he ends up cursing himself by not helping his daughter and the knight,”

“Really? I always thought that was pretty grim, he was told to let nothing distract him from his quest, he was only following instructions,”

“Doesn’t matter, he could have helped them but he didn’t,”

Jim paused for a bit “Wouldn’t that parallel Gawain’s story then? It’s not about what would be considered fair, it’s about keeping your word,”

Claire felt a smile tugging on her lips, very clever, it looked as though they could have a half decent discussion after all “I guess you have me there,” she pulled the green leather bound tome closer “But while we’re discussing the Green knight, you know how the old woman was really--”

The clock against the wall abruptly started to chime, signaling Merlin to sit up from his chair with a creak “I’m afraid our time together today must come to an end, feel free to keep the book Miss Nuñez, young James can collect it at a later time,”

And by that he was surely referring to when he and Strickler would come to their house with Jim to visit her in one weeks time. Which she knew her parents were no doubt arranging at this moment.

But still, she was disappointed that her time with Jim, however awkward and supervised, was coming to an end...which was not something Claire was accustomed to feeling .

She swallowed the confusing knot of emotion as the two of them followed Merlin out the library and back down towards the parlor, having to force the words out past it “Thank you, I will be sure to keep them in good condition,”

Claire thought that she and Jim would be able to get to know each other better when they weren’t slopping through the wilderness, but as it turned out their families' supervision wasn’t much of an improvement.

And unlike any of the other boys her parents had set her up with Claire wanted to know Jim better. He was genuinely sincere, and while Jim played the role of a nobleman well enough, Claire could sense something more beneath the surface. Like watching the surface of the sea and seeing the shadow of a hidden beast moving deep within.

She eyed the back of his head as they headed down through the gloomy hall.

If Claire wanted to get to know Jim, the real Jim, then she was going to have to get a little more creative.

#tales of arcadia #Trollhunters #fanfic #both sides of the sky #rmvwrites #claire nuñez #ophelia nuñez #javier nuñez #merlin #walter strickler #jim lake jr #Regency AU

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ladylouoflothlorien · 4 years

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Heal My Heart

anonymous asked:

I see you have requests open! I'd love to see something with Dwalin awkwardly courting a sweet little hobbit healer reader who also takes no shit.... is that too specific? I just need more Dwalin content! ~cassiabaggins Ok so, I swear to god are requests supposed to be this long when you write them ^^;;;? I guess when I did the other request I got for Dwalin before and I said “any excuse to write for Dwalin” I really meant it. I’ll tag you just to make sure you see it! @cassiabaggins SO HERE YOU GO: Heal My Heart Dwalin x Female!Hobbit!Reader Words: 3676

“Tea’s at 4.” Bilbo had said. “Don’t bother knocking.”

Well there he was outside of Bag End at precisely 4pm – he’d timed his arrival perfectly.

Dwalin had been looking forward to his visit to the Burglar of Bag End for many months. He’d spent one winter in Erebor after the reclamation and, as much as it pained him to admit it, it was not the home he once remembered. There were too many ghosts in the stone walls for him, not least the death of his great friend and King who he hadn’t been able to save. Dain had graciously offered him a decorated position in the Royal Guard, and though Dwalin truly appreciated the offer, he’d declined. He had his share of the treasure, so there was no need for him to work. Apart from that, he knew deep down that no King would ever hold his loyalty in the same way that Thorin had, and how could he dedicate his life to protect a King he cared little for when he’d already done that for a King he did care about and had failed. Not long into that cold winter, he’d began entertaining thoughts of following Bilbo back to The Shire, if only for a change of scene. He needed to get away from that mountain mausoleum.

It surprised him just how much he longed for soft grass and rolling hills, perhaps because it was the exact opposite of the things that reminded him of his pain. Balin had been the one to convince him to wait until the winter was over before heading out, especially as he intended to undertake the journey alone. Azog might be dead, but the roads were still far from safe. The snow had come, and stayed for months, but as soon as it had melted Dwalin was ready to leave. He’d completed all his preparations weeks before.

Bag End was exactly like he remembered, although the mark Gandalf had placed on the door was gone. The Shire itself didn’t seem any different, though he’d hardly gotten a good look at it the first time he’d been there, considering he’d arrived under the cover of darkness. He stood in Bilbo’s front garden, stalling, for now he had finally arrived at his destination he felt a strange hesitancy to complete his journey. That, and he was still debating as to whether or not he should actually knock, or simply walk in. Which would be more of a surprise? After a short internal debate, he decided to heed the Hobbit’s advice, and he pushed the door open without knocking.

When Dwalin stepped into the Smial he was suddenly transported back over a year before, remembering how he felt setting off on such a mighty quest. Had he known quite how it would end, he most likely would have done everything in his power to prevent it from happening, for what was a Mountain Throne without a King to sit in it? The tall dwarf was pulled from his moping by the sound of voices. The first, Bilbo’s, but the second he did not recognise. Intrigued, he walked towards the voices and found himself hovering outside Bilbo’s Kitchen.

“Bilbo really, this is the absolute last time I stitch you up because you slept with that silly knife in the bed.”

Dwalin heard the tell-tale sound of Bilbo sniffing, and just knew he was wrinkling his nose. Beorn’s nickname for Bilbo had been rather accurate, hadn’t it?

“It is not a ‘silly’ knife. Its name is Sting, and it’s my sword.”

“Sword or no sword, it does not belong under the covers Bilbo Baggins!”

Bilbo being scolded? Now that Dwalin had to see. Quite as a mouse – or at least a mouse that was close to 5ft of solid muscle – he moved his body so he could peek around the open arch-way that led into the kitchen. As silent as he’d been up until that point, the sight of Bilbo sitting on his kitchen bench – blushing – as a sweet female hobbit tenderly examined his arm, made him forget himself.

“By Mahal buglar, ye’ never told us ye’d found yerself a wife!”

---

As it turned out, Bilbo had not found himself a wife, thank you very much Mister Dwalin. The Hobbit had been blushing because he’d been embarrassed, as it was not the first or even the second time he’d needed patching up after cutting himself on his on sword whilst he slept. Dwalin understood the underlying meaning behind the injuries; the Hobbit had been sleeping with his sword because he felt unsafe somehow. Dwalin didn’t need to be as smart as his brother to work out why that might be.

If he’d needed an excuse to stay in The Shire, he could’ve used the excuse of staying to help Bilbo feel safe, but as it turned out Bilbo was more than eager to have his friend stay at Bag End for an extended period of time.

“Now you’re here you surely won’t be off again in a hurry, Dwalin! I’ll have the guest room ready for you in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

Dwalin hadn’t been quite sure how lambs’ tails came into anything, but he wasn’t going to question an invitation to stay, not now he had yet another reason for wanting to remain in The Shire for the foreseeable future. By Durin’s beard if she wasn’t the most beautiful creature he’d ever beheld, beardless face and all. Having found out that she was not in fact Bilbo’s wife, but rather his cousin – once removed on his father’s side, and thrice on his mother’s – and The Shire’s most knowledgeable healer, he’d felt a sense of relief he could compare with none he had ever felt.

It had taken Dwalin all of 10 minutes to realise that she was his One, and he was not at all disappointed that she was a Hobbit, though he realised that Hobbits did not love in quite the same way as Dwarves did and he knew he would have to properly win her affections. He felt up to the challenge, though the very thought of courting her made him jittery all over. Still, if he could face down a pack of warg-riding orcs with less than a handful of fear then surely he could face this new challenge head on.

---

The day you met Dwalin had started out no more remarkable than any other day, but it had not ended so. You’d been rather exasperated to find that, upon your visit to one of your more cherished family members for afternoon tea, you had yet another injury to tend to. You were growing rather concerned for your cousin Bilbo, though it came out of you as exasperation. So far he had only given himself gashes – rather nasty gashes, but gashes all the same – but you knew that sleeping with a sharp object could never bring anything but harm. How long would it be before he gave himself an injury that would be much more difficult to fix, and more difficult to heal from?

You’d barely finished the business of stitching up his latest cut when a third party had made itself known in Bag End, and by the Lady you were glad he hadn’t shown up before or else you might not have had the presence of mind to complete the stitches properly. You didn’t think you’d ever seen anyone quite so attractive in your entire life. You felt certain that his biceps were larger than your head, and oh sweet Yavanna, he really did tower over you, being a respectable 3ft and 6 inches yourself. You finally understood why the Lady had taken Aulë as her husband. It seemed a very wise decision if he looked anything at all like the beings he’d created.

You were rather busy for a week after the Dwarf, Dwalin, had arrived, but after that time you began to find more and more excuses to visit Bag End. Your cousin, who seemed to see right through you to the real reason of your visits, also began to invite you to dine with him more regularly than before.

A week more, and strange things began to happen. A strong wind had blown a tree down, which had in turn damaged the fencing in the front garden of your own Smial. You’d mentioned this in passing whilst eating dinner at Bag End one night, as you hadn’t yet had a chance to get it fixed. Then the next morning as you left your Smial to go and collect healing herbs, you found none other than Dwalin himself in your front garden. The tree that had fallen was no more, having already been chopped up – by one of Dwalin’s axes, you assumed – and the logs piled neatly. The gruff dwarf was already going about the business of mending the broken fence when you greeted him. Naturally, you thanked him profusely and asked him what he wanted in return. He’d seemed about to say something, but a wonderfully pink colour had spread across his cheeks, partly hidden by his facial hair, and he’d clammed up. He’d quietly grumbled something about not expecting anything in return, and that it was the least he could do for any cousin of Bilbo’s, and so you’d thanked him once again and gone on your way feely very grateful but also thoroughly confused.

The second incident occurred two days after the first. At about midday you’d gotten a knock on the door, and when you opened it you’d been surprised to see Dwalin once again at your front door …. holding a brace of rabbits. He held them towards you, and you’d taken them, for there seemed nothing else to do.

“A-are these for me, Mister Dwalin?” You’d asked, and he’d nodded to confirm it, but had said no more.

You floundered a little at that, having never been gifted meat before, but you’d stepped to the side slightly and asked him inside. You supposed the least you could do would be to offer him some refreshment – it was time for lunch after all. Dwalin had once again gone that rather delicious red shade and had muttered something about ‘not wanting to impose’ so quietly that you almost missed it. He’d bowed a little then, and hurried away, and you were left feeling as confused as you’d felt at the conclusion of your last meeting, although this time the confusion was tinged with disappointment. You’d rather wanted to spend some private time with the gorgeous Dwarf, but he didn’t seem interested at all. His kindness towards you was rather frustrating if that was all it truly was.

After a few more similar happenings, you finally snapped. You’d waited until you knew Dwalin would be away from Bag End – several Hobbits had been employing him to do menial tasks they were not strong enough to do themselves – and when the coast was clear you snuck in to have a private word with your cousin.

“And that’s not all, Bilbo!” Your hands tugged at your hair in frustration as you paced the floor of his study, whilst Bilbo himself remained seated calmly in his chair.

“First it was the fence, and then the rabbits, but he’s also given me furs ‘in case next winter is too harsh for ye’ lass’..” You paused to glare at Bilbo as he laughed at your poor imitation of the dwarf’s accent.

“Yes yes, well you laugh, but he’s also given me a brand new dagger to make it easier for me to collect herbs. It looks like he made it himself Bilbo! No-one around here would either make or own a knife with dwarvish runes carved into it!”

At that Bilbo sat up a little, suddenly alert. All the gifts Dwalin had been giving you, and the order, seemed to be ringing a bell in his mind, he just couldn’t quite remember why.

“Now, don’t you worry. I’ve been writing letters to his brother Balin, you see.” He picked up a piece of paper from his desk and held it aloft.

“It’s my turn to write, and write I shall. I will ask Balin if there is any greater meaning behind this, and when the raven brings his reply we shall know all, if there is anything to be known.”

---

Another fortnight of you enduring an adorably blushing, extremely helpful, frustratingly unwilling-to-explain-his-actions dwarf and Balin’s letter finally arrived.

Dear Bilbo,

As always it was very nice to receive your letter, but I won’t waste your time with needless chatter, as I am sure you will be eager to hear what I have to tell you next.

It would seem that my brother Dwalin has forgotten the first rule of Dwarven courting, which is tell the person that they are being courted, for though he is as stone-headed and iron-fisted as our father could have ever wished for, he is sensitive in his own way.

As you have no doubt deduced from that previous statement, it would appear that my brother is trying to court your cousin. Dwarrow do not go about sharing the details of our rituals and habits, but it is necessary in this case, and though you are a thief I know you to be an honest one, my friend, so I know I can count on you not to spread this information further than is needed.

Our courting is about showing your intended that you can take care of them, provide for them, keep them safe and protected. From what you say Dwalin has been doing, it seems he has covered these steps and is moving on to the next. The dagger you could say is a gift with the purpose of protecting her when he cannot do so himself, even if he has used the herb-gathering as a cover story. I would not be surprised if he soon gives her something more expensive – there should be at least one gift given to enhance something about her that he finds beautiful.

Do write again Bilbo, if all goes well I hope I shall soon be able to call you family in more than just combat!

Yours,

Balin.

“Well.” Bilbo said to himself as he leaned back in his chair, bringing his pipe to his lips. “Well, isn’t that something?”

---

You sat in your front room, twisting your skirt between your fingers anxiously. You’d heard about Balin’s letter from Bilbo, and now whenever you weren’t busy you were anxiously waiting for Dwalin to come around with his next gift. You hadn’t seen him for a few days, and you could only assume that the next time he came, it would be with the ‘expensive gift’ Balin’s letter had mentioned. Your stomach was twisted in many, many knots, for you knew that you had to get Dwalin to admit that he was courting you – your heart could only take so much, and though Balin’s letter had done much to confirm your own sneaking suspicions, you couldn’t get the nagging voice of doubt to shut up. Besides, Balin’s letter had said it was only right and proper that Dwalin actually let you know that he was trying to court you.

Then it came, that knock at you front door, and you practically jumped a foot out of your chair at the sound. You took a deep breath to steady yourself before going to open it, and were rather disappointed to see that it wasn’t in fact Dwalin, but a rather frantic looking Hobbit that you didn’t know that well. As it turned out, their husband had come down with a fever, and before you knew it you were rushing off to treat them, your worries about Dwalin temporarily forgotten.

By the time you got back to your Smial, it was dusk, and you were exhausted. You almost didn’t notice Dwalin sitting on the bench in your front garden, patiently waiting for you to return with a box in his hands.

“O-oh, hello Mister Dwalin!” You stammered out, and felt rather put-out that you hadn’t had any alone time to prepare yourself for meeting him.

“Good evening, lass.”

As always he was rather quiet when addressing you, seemingly unable to look you in the eye for more than a second in total. He shuffled where he stood a little, and then held the box out to you, telling you to take it without using his words. You steeled yourself before replying, pushing your shoulders back in an attempt to physically force confidence into your small body.

“I… Dwalin I…” You took a deep breath and tried again.

“Dwalin I cannot take this, I-”

You’d been ready to continue, to explain everything, but Dwalin’s face visibly fell so dramatically that it caught you off guard and your words escaped you. His whole body seemed to deflate and sag until he was almost your height, and you swore you could see his hands tremble slightly around the box they were still holding.

“O-of course lass..” He began, his voice trailing off until it sounded more like he was grumbling at himself than really responding to her.

“Don’t know wha’ I was thinking… ugly brute like me… of course ye’ wouldn’t…”

You were so stunned by the things he was muttering about himself that you couldn’t do anything, and only when he turned to leave did you finally regain control of yourself. You reached out your hand and held his arm to keep him where he was, and he stilled, though you did not doubt he could break out of your hold in an instant If he chose to. He looked at you, his face a heart-breaking picture of self-doubt, confusion, and a small amount of hope.

“M-mister Dwalin.. that is to say..” You could feel your own face growing red as you tried to force out the words you’d so carefully prepared by yourself, in front of your mirror.

“I-I will gladly accept it… but isn’t there something you need to say to me? That is.. I.. Balin’s letter said…” You trailed off, your embarrassment and anxiety having risen to no-doubt dangerous levels.

Dwalin on the other hand finally seemed to have regained the ability to speak at a normal volume around you.

“Ye’ had a letter from my brother Balin, lass?” He asked, utterly confounded by the idea, for how would his brother even know to send you a letter? You shook your head quickly.

“N-no.. his letter to Bilbo!” As you continued to speak, you voice got quieter and quieter until Dwalin had to strain to hear the words.

“He said.. that dwarven courting … needs to be… told plainly.. I mean..” You swallowed, once again consumed by the thought that maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t actually been trying to court you at all and this was all some cruel trick.

The truth of the situation finally dawned on the old warrior.

“Oh Mahal.. lass I’m such a fool…” He groaned, and finally all the words he’d been yearning to say but hadn’t had the courage to came spilling out like a flood from a burst dam.

“I wanted to tell ye’ really I did… but I couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come. I should’ve stopped then lass, but I did not have the strength …”

You let out a shaky, but relieved breath, and let go of his arm in favour of gently taking his – much larger – hands with your own, curling slim fingers over thick fingers where they still grasped the box.

“Dwalin. One question, just ask it.”

You could visibly see him swallow, buying himself time to gather his courage.

“Will ye’ let me court ye’, lass?”

“Yes, yes Dwalin I think I will.”

You laughed out loud, euphoria filling your small frame, and you flung yourself against Dwalin. Your arms found his broad shoulders and thanks to his warrior’s reflexes he managed to catch you with one hand, still holding the box with the other, all the while not even realising what had happened. Before he had time to process that you were in his arms – well, arm – you kissed him, and when his brain finally caught up with reality, he kissed you back as well.

---

Several months later, you lay sprawled out on your marriage bed, feeling practically weightless. Dwalin lay beside you, on his side with one arm resting over your stomach.

“Did ye’ enjoy that lass?” He asked, a teasing note in his tone as he looked at you, though there was an undercurrent of insecurity. He still didn’t quite know how an old, battle-scarred dwarf like him had managed to wed a sweet wee hobbit like yourself.

You turned your head slowly to look at him, your eyebrows raised almost to your hairline.

“Dwalin love, are you kidding? That was incredible.” You smiled softly at him and reached out a hand to stroke his cheek, and when your fingers lightly brushed over his facial hair he groaned a little and pressed into the touch.

“Oh? Dear husband, would you like to go again?”

His eyes snapped open in surprise. Of course he would very much like to, but he’d imagined that you would probably want to sleep after the first, as the wedding had been a long and – though very happy – rather tiring.

“A-again?” He choked out, and your smile turned mischievous.

“Oh yes, I think so.”

You pushed your hand against his shoulder and watched with satisfaction as he rolled onto his back, though you knew he could easily resist if he wanted to. You swung one leg over his thick waist and settled yourself above him, and he thought he might go blind to see such a vision above him.

“This time, however, I think you should lie back my dear, and let me take care of you.”

“Oh Mahal.”

Dwalin realised then that he would get little sleep that night, but as your form shifted over his, he realised that he did not care.

The End.

Forever Tags: @sweeticedtea @cd1242 @strongandfreedc @pixierox101 @jotink78 @luna-xial @underthemoon-imagines

#dwalin #dwalin x reader #dwalin request

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crowbarstodd · 5 years

Text

Course Of Nature (2)

Chapter Summary: LadyNoir are real best friends, and Marinette and Robin are back at each others throats Rating: G Word Count: 2160 Pairing: Daminette

Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four

You can do it!”

“I really don’t think I can,” Marinette whined, sprawling over Chat’s lap lackadaisically, digging her elbow into his thigh and knocking his arm with hers by accident.

He didn’t seem bothered, simply grabbing the handful of hair she had thrust in his hand and began braiding, making sure to stroke through her blue locks gently.

She pressed her cheek against his leg, enjoying the way his whole body seemed to thrum as he chuckled at her expense. “Yes you can,” he insisted, ever faithful. “You’re Ladybug!”

“Not without this mask I’m not.”

She winced at the resulting flick of his fingers against her exposed ear, pinching at his knee in retaliation.

She smiled a little when he laughed, closing her eyes and basking in the moonlight.

He’d seemed lighter as of late; happier, and she was sure his new patrol partner had something to do with it.

Under all his jokes and smart remarks, Chat was a bundle of affection and insecurities, eager to be unfolded. She hadn’t spent much with Nightwing at all, but she was grateful to him because her Chaton was flourishing under his tutelage. Now if only she could say the same about her partner.

“I can hear you thinking.”

“Don’t eavesdrop then.”

Another ear flick, this time returned with a lazy backhanded swipe toward Chat’s general head area, missing completely.

“I’m serious m’lady, you look... Not happy.”

Marinette shifted so that she was staring straight into Chat’s vibrant, green eyes. “Robin’s such a hard-ass.”

Chat snickered, assumedly at her choice of wording and not at her distress. Hopefully. “I guess he hasn’t been tweeting you right, huh.”

Definitely laughing at her distress then. “He’s so annoying! I’m too loud, too slow, too small, and my costume is too obnoxious apparently!”

Chat’s eyes softened, hands tugging lightly at the end of her new braid in his own brand of comfort. A little reminder of his presence. I’m here. I’m on your side. She heard his unsaid words loud and clear. “You’re not taking him to heart are you?”

The lack of respect hurt her feelings, sure, but she had long since been exposed to bullies of all kinds, and it was frighteningly easy for her to simply let his words enter one ear and exit the other a moment after. “No, Chat.”

“You’d tell me if he upset you seriously though, right?”

“Of course I would,” Marinette admitted. There wasn’t much she could hold back from her partner.

“I know he’s not ideal—“

“For real.”

“But,” Chat continued as if he hadn’t heart Marinette’s remark. “I think he can be better. I mean the way Nightwing talks about him... I think he’s just not the trusting type.”

“I’m not sure how much I can handle, Chat,” Marinette admitted. It was hard for her to say out loud that she needed help as Ladybug. Marinette was a mess, but Ladybug had the world on her shoulders, and still kept them straight. Or at least, she was supposed to.

“Don’t lose yourself to him,” Chat warned, “I know you, Bug, and I know that no matter how much you struggle you won’t quit. But this isn’t something you can keep pushing through. If Robin keeps pushing you, we’ll just have to switch patrol buddies.”

Marinette almost sat up in shock. Chat admired Nightwing above anything, she would rather eat her shoe than make Chat lose such a valuable supporter. “No way!” She protested, heated.

Chat pushed her back down with a finger on her temple. “Relax, Bugaboo, it’s just a precaution. Besides, we’re a team, okay? There’s not a lot I wouldn’t do to help my partner.”

Marinette could’ve cried right then, heart truly warmed by her partner’s words... But Chat always had something to say.

Shoving her off his lap, he climbed onto hers, yanking her hand and dropping it on his blonde crown. “It’s my turn now,” he said with a cat-like grin. “Last night Nightwing taught me how to do an elbow-strike!”

Marinette snorted, petting Chat’s hair softly as he spoke, letting each word wash over her like a fuzzy blanket, providing comfort.

--—--—--—--—--—--—--

“You’re late.”

“Actually, I’m Robin.”

Marinette huffed out a frustrated grunt, blowing stray strands of blue hair away from her face. “Last week you lectured me about the importance of time management.”

“Yes, and I’m pleased to know you remembered.”

“Robin.”

“You need to work on your interrogation voice. It’s hardly convincing.”

Marinette’s eyes narrowed, patience growing incredibly thin. “Robin.”

Mrrow

A silence settled between the two of them. Robin had his typical spicy poker face, though Marinette could easily spot lines of tension on his face.

She heard a meow, she was sure of it, but there was no way...

Mew.

Oh my god.

“Robin are you hiding a cat?” Marinette couldn’t keep the incredulity out of her voice. It was just so difficult to believe that the stone-hearted demon would actually do something like that.

Reluctantly, Robin lifted the side of his closed, black cowl. There was a flash of yellow, indicating a different material used for the inside of the cloak, and Marinette forced herself the push away the urge to ask. Instead, she watched as the inky black made way to display a slightly damp, light brown cat.

Marinette melted at the sight. “A kitten!” She squealed.

“Don’t be foolish,” Robin snapped, “he’s fully grown.”

“All cats are kittens, Rob,” Marinette informed him flippantly, holding the lovely thing gently in her arms. “You’re a baby aren’t you?” She cooed, absolutely delighted when it blinked up at her with large, brown eyes and yawned.

Robin frowned, but let her, sinking back into the shadows where he was more comfortable.

“I used to have a pet cat,” she told him, unsure why she was suddenly sharing a piece of herself with someone she hardly knew and hardly liked. “When I was six it got run over. I wanted to bury him, but my family didn’t have a backyard, so we had to let him go. I didn’t stop crying for weeks.”

Robin’s admission came after an extended silence, and was completely unexpected. “My grandfather ordered me to kill a kitten once. It was a white angora, barely three weeks old.”

Marinette felt bile climb her throat at the confession, suddenly lightheaded. What kind of monster would force a child to do something like that? What kind of childhood had Robin endured?

Any further contemplation escaped her mind when Marinette felt his arms wrap around her. His moves were stiff and rushed as if he hadn’t wanted to do them in the first place, and she’d been so stunned she hadn’t even

“Huh?”

Robin cleared his throat, awkwardly adjusting his mask. “Nightwing told me it was customary to exchange physical affirmations in the form of hugs when people exchanged secrets. Is that not the same in Paris?”

Bubbles of laughter floated from her tummy and spilled out between her lips like a waterfall. “Yes,” she decides to say, still giggling between words. “It’s the same in Paris, Nightwing was right.”

Robin tutted and crossed his arms, but under the faint glow of early morning sun, assisted by throbbing night-life lights, Marinette could see him glow just a smidge.

Their small respite (dare she say, bonding moment), was interrupted by a muffled shriek, only a few meters away.

They jumped into action instantly. Robin grabbed the cat from Marinette’s grip, tucking it somewhere inside his coat, leaping off the building, and into the street shortly after her.

“Stop!” Marinette ordered, standing before a masked robber, holding a kitchen knife before his young victims. The kids looked to be barely in their pre-teens, scrawny and small; naturally easy targets. The robber was built like someone who had once been extraordinarily athletic, but in recent years, had only worked out sparingly. Still, he was much larger than her, and from his growls, she could tell he was also much angrier.

The robber didn’t have much choice other than to stop when a black blur landed on his shoulders, yanking his entire body backward and onto the ground. The children shrieked, and Ladybug acted instinctively, leaving Robin with the perpetrator, grabbing a child in each arm, and swinging away from the sight.

They were young boys, and upon closer examination, she recognised one to be her classmate, Alix Kubdel’s younger cousin, Oliver. At least she knew where to drop them off, seeing as they were shaking too much to respond to her properly, and the other young boy was on the verge of tears.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, keeping her voice soft and soothing. “Nothing bad’s gonna happen to you while I’m patrolling okay? I’m gonna drop you both off at Oliver’s house, is that alright?”

Oliver squeaked, hiding his face behind his hands. “You know me?”

“Sure do, Ollie-boy, I saved you from some loose zoo-animals once didn’t I?”

His friend looked up at her with awed eyes, no longer trembling. “Woah,” he whispered.

Marinette wasn’t heartless enough to drop them off at the doorstep, instead waiting by them until Oliver’s mom’s answered the door, and wrapped both boys up in large hugs, promising to call Matthew’s parents for her. She made a mental note to try and remember Matthew’s name, just as she did with each citizen she met as Ladybug.

When she returned to the crime scene, Robin was standing above the robber’s unmasked body, tying his arms behind his back.

Robin didn’t look at her, though she knew he heard her land beside him. “I’ve called the cops,” she informed him.

“Tt.” Great, he was pissy again.

“What is it?”

Robin made a sound from the back of his throat that sounded like a mix between a grunt and growl. “You put yourself in unnecessary danger. You should never jump right in front of the attacker, and to jump into danger and just stop? You hadn’t even disarmed him. What if he had other weapons? Or he threw his knife?”

“He wasn’t going to,” Marinette replied, brows raising at the bitter edge to Robin’s voice. “He was holding a kitchen knife, this was probably his first gig. I was safe.”

Robin turned to face her fully, mouth set in a deep frown, shoulders raised in clear anger. “Safe? How could you know that? There’s no guarantee of safety in our line of work, you must be naive to even think so.”

Marinette took a step closer, blood beginning to boil. “Thank you for your concern, Robin, but I think I’m qualified enough to assess a situation. I wasn’t in any danger.”

Robin strode forward, poking Marinette hard on the chest as he spoke. “You are blind to the privilege your miraculous grants. Wake up and realise that there are cities, countries, continents that are outside the reach of your little fix-it spell. You don’t understand danger because with your magic, you’ve never truly felt it.”

His words felt like a slap in the face. How could he say she didn’t understand danger when at least four times a week she had to combat a psychological terrorist and his creations? Because he had no powers he understood more than her? No, that wasn’t right and she knew it.

“I don’t think you get to decide what I know about danger for me!” She shoved him back and hissed under her breath when he barely moved. Her heart was beginning to beat erratically, pumping righteous fury in the place of blood with every second that passed.

“If you understood then you wouldn’t have left in the middle of an arrest!”

“It’s not an arrest if you’re not an officer, idiot! Besides, civilians are the priority and you were scaring them!” Their foreheads grazed with how close they were standing, practically screaming at each other’s faces. She had half a mind to lose control and deck him where he stood, but her ever-present concern of being akumatised reminded her of potential consequences if she completely submitted to her feelings.

“Excuse me?”

Marinette leaped away from Robin, suddenly realising the lack of distance between them. Officer Roger Raincomprix stood at the end of the alley, a silver pair of handcuffs clutched in his grip, as he scanned the two of them with quizzical eyes. “I’m here to make an arrest,” he explained.

Robin nodded, pointing at the man on the ground with his chin. “Take him.” And with those final words, he edged back into the shadows and disappeared from Marinette’s view, probably to sulk.

It was two steps forward one step back with him. Not even an hour ago she was beginning to enjoy his presence, but now she was back to ripping hair from her head out of frustration.

She aimed a scowl at the direction he ran off in, feeling confused and angry all at once.

End Notes: :DDD lol so this ending is less than ideal but dont kill me pls. They have to learn how to understand each other first and it’s gonna be slow process, especially when both Damian and Marinette are so hard headed, and they have such different views on Heroship. Writing best friend Chat was so fun though so I really hope y’all like him and how I portrayed LadyNoir’s friendship.

I’m so excited for the next update when we’ll finally be Marinette outside of her costume ahhhhhh.

Tag List: @just-rant-and-write-fic-idea @kceedraws @mystery-5-5 @2sunchild2 @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @treebrosha @mooshoon @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @aarushi-03 @ladylb @crazylittlemunchkin

Feel free to leave me a message or ask if you want to be tagged/untagged <3

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thorne93 · 4 years

Text

Unforeseen Chasm (Part 68)

Prompt: Two sisters fall for men that are absolute enemies. The love they have could tear all of them apart, or it could bring them together.

Word Count:5823

Warnings: Language,endgame plot, happiness, fighting, angst and fluff, reunited family, the truth comes out, character deaths, fighting while pregnant, Note: This is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written (including my novels). It’s a collaboration with the amazing @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo. It started as a funny “What if…?” and it evolved and got huge. This took two years to write. We are both proud and happy and we hope you enjoy it. It follows from Thor 1 to Endgame in the MCU. Some of the timelines may be off in order to fit certain people, and some characters may show up earlier or in different ways than they have in the movie. But for the most part, it follows the MCU. It also has a bit of crossover with some other Marvel characters throughout the story.

Masterlist for Unforeseen Chasm

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tony, Rocket, and Bruce all worked on getting the stones on a glove. Once it was set, and it seemed safe, the main question was who was going to do the snap. Of course, you couldn’t wield the power, or Shannon. Thor offered himself up, but between you and Tony, you convinced him not to.

Bruce said that he would have to be the one who did it due to the gamma radiation and the Hulk’s actual size. Bruce had gotten a chance to sit Shannon down and explain to her what he planned on doing. He knew that it would potentially cause some damage so he asked her if she would use her healing ability so that whatever damage was done wasn’t permanent. She was wary of it all but knew she had to put aside what she wanted for the greater good to bring back her son and her parents as well.

As soon as it was decided that Hulk would wield the glove, everyone geared up, just in case his Hulk form went berserk. Tony, Rhodey, and Scott got their suits on. Clint got his arrows. Steve suited up. You and Shannon slipped into your fighting gear that had been adjusted by nanotech to properly fit her baby bump. You formed a forcefield around yourself. Tony ordered FRIDAY to activate the barn door protocol, to keep the compound safe, and to keep the rest of the city safe. Everyone was ready to face whatever happened or fight whatever happened.

Bruce transformed into Hulk, the lucid form of the Hulk and he put on the glove. The power surged over him, making everyone nervous, but after checking with him, he was able to get out that he was fine. He held on for a few seconds, then finally -- he snapped.

Then he collapsed. Tony and Shannon worked on healing Bruce’s arm, while the rest of the team tried to see if it worked.

Nothing seemed different for a second, but then Clint’s phone started to ring. It was a sign.

Hope, relief, joy, ecstasy flooded through you as you watched Scott go over to the window and see life outside of it.

“Guys, I think it worked!”

But in a flash of milliseconds, Hulk grabbed Shannon. Scott was blasted backwards. Hell, everyone was blasted.

The compound had been hit by a missile, several missiles in fact.

You fell forward before falling down into a hole one of the missiles had caused. For a second, you were disoriented as hell. Water was falling on you, debris and rubble were all around you. A large piece of the building was on top of you.

You looked over, trying to assess what the hell had just happened, when you saw Hulk struggling to keep part of the building up and protecting Shannon.

Rocket’s voice snapped you out of your confusion.

“I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe!” he gasped rapidly.

Immediately, you scrambled to your feet. Using your power to get the building of yourself, you got up, assessing any damage to yourself quickly. Then your purple power extended from your hand as you lifted the debris off Rocket. Next, your power flew to Hulk, helping him lift off the giant piece of building he’d been holding up.

“Can anyone hear me?” you spoke into the coms. You kneeled down beside Shannon to make sure she was okay as you spoke, but the water was flowing in fast. You knew if you didn’t get everyone out, and quickly, they’d drown. “There’s water filling down here. I’m going to go up and see what the hell that was. Does anyone copy?”

“I hear you,” Scott responded. “I’m on my way. I’ll get everyone out. You go.”

With one last check on Shannon, you soared up, flying high up. It took a second to navigate through the water falling on you, the debris settling, and all the jagged rods and beams sticking out, but finally, you broke through the top.

As you hovered in the air, you saw the last thing you’d ever want to see: Thanos - alive, and for lack of a better term, well. He wasn’t fucking dead, and that was the main issue.

The stones, where the hell were the stones?

Well, he didn’t have them. That was the main thing, and you needed to keep this purple sack of shit away from them at all costs. He had just kicked Steve across the wasteland that was the compound. The vibranium shield was broken in half. Steve was struggling to get up. You looked around and saw Thor laying on his side, and Tony’s suit immobile.

Suddenly, Thanos began talking, and you slowly hovered toward him, but he didn’t see you, you were just out of his field of vision.

“In all my years of conquest– violence– slaughter– It was never personal. But I'll tell you now– what I'm about to do to your stubborn, annoying little planet– I'm gonna enjoy it. Very, very much.”

Just then, an army beamed down from the ship above. Hundreds of Thanos’s soldiers landed on the field before you. You landed in front of Steve, trying to protect him from Thanos and his army.

“And I’m going to enjoy killing you again, very much,” you mocked as you stared him down.

“Ah, Y/N. I find it hard to believe that you could’ve killed me. You couldn’t even take over a city with your pathetic excuse of a boyfriend,” he retorted, giving you a look as if he’d already won.

All you did was smirk before you replied, “Killing you was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

Your eyes glowed purple before you and Steve suddenly heard something, in the coms.

“Hey, Cap, you read me?”

It was Sam. For the first time in five years, it felt like you could breathe again.

You and Steve gave each other a confused look, looking around to see where he could possibly be.

“Cap, it's Sam. Can you hear me?” he repeated. “On your left.”

A portal began to form behind Steve and you stood dumbfounded at the sight. Dumbfounded, but relieved and elated all the same.

Out of the portal walked T’Challa, Okoye, and Shuri. A sight for sore eyes.

Steve looked and sounded as if he were about to cry from sheer elation, and to be honest, you thought you would too. You and Steve would go against Thanos alone if you had to, but God it felt great to know you had a chance, a real fighting chance with all of your friends behind you.

In the next second, Sam came flying out, and then suddenly, dozens of portals were opening all over behind you and Steve. Strange appeared with three other beings you’d never met, and then suddenly Peter swung through.

With every new person, your heart felt fuller and fuller.

Armies began walking out. The Asgardian Army, the Wakandan Army, the army of sorcerers.

Your eyes were scanning, searching, looking everywhere for one particular individual. You didn’t see him though and your happiness started to deflate. Just as you turned to look though, another portal opened in front of you, and out stepped your one and only.

“Did you miss me?” Loki breathed as he stood before you, in the flesh.

In that one instant, that one moment, all else stopped. You forgot about everything and everyone. You forgot where you were, what you were doing, who else was standing nearby - absolutely everything disappeared and he was all you could see.

It was all you could do to keep from ugly crying from happiness. You wanted to throw your arms around him, never let him go. But you knew you needed to focus.

Scott, Bruce, Shannon, Rocket, and Rhodey showed up. Wanda and Pietro appeared. Tony and Thor joined the ranks. Soon, everyone was back that had been wiped off the face of the earth.

You gave Loki a smile and a look full of love before you and Steve looked at each other, a glint of determination in both your faces before the two of you turned, flanking each other.

“Avengers...” Steve shouted and everyone got in their battle stance as Steve called for Mjoirnir. “Assemble!”

In the blink of an eye, hell broke loose on earth.

The Avengers army charged forward at Thanos Army. After just seconds, the armies collided.

You were flying in the air, trying to get to Thanos. He was your soul focus. But he was too far away.

As you were flying, flying monsters from Thanos’s army came right at you. Smaller aircraft were deployed from Thanos ship. You did your best to use your electric dark energy to blast the aircraft out of the sky and crash through the monsters, decapitating them as you went.

Your eyes couldn’t help but scan the field for your loved ones. Loki was doing excellently, navigating the field as if it were a ballroom. He cut, slashed, punched, and dodged. Shannon stayed in the air, mainly healing anyone from above. Remy charged debris and cards, throwing objects as fast as he could, using his staff for close combat. Tony took to the air as did Wanda and Stephen, doing very well and staying out of most of the ground fight, which was good. Your eyes found Bucky and Steve, and you were nervous for them, worried, but you knew they could handle themselves. T’Challa and Sam were fighting fiercely. Thor was using lightning and his axe, full of rage and fury.

Everyone was fighting the fight of their life.

But you needed to focus on Thanos so he didn’t get the --

You internally gasped, glancing around. Where were the stones? Where was Clint? Did he have them?

Tony had been flying about fighting from section to section when he was surrounded by a few of Thanos’ goons blasting them with his hand thrusters. He became unaware of the enormous being that was coming towards him from behind, smacking him into a pile of debris in that instant he managed to turn and was using the blasters when the creature gets pulled back by the synthetic webbing that Peter had created and the monster was killed by giant Scott. Peter rushed up to Tony and began rapidly talking.

“Hey! Holy cow! You will not believe what's been going on. Do you remember when we were in space? And I got all dusty? I must've passed out, Because I woke up, and you were gone. But Doctor Strange was there, right? He was like, ‘It's been five years. Come on, they need us.’ And then he started doing the yellow sparkly thing that he does all the time–” Peter was caught off guard.

The entire time that he was talking, Tony was astounded about how unfazed the kid was being about the whole situation. The more he heard the kid talking the more emotional he got knowing that they had brought them back. Scrunching his face a little he got closer.

“Okay kid, hold me.” Tony pulled Peter close and held him tight.

“What are you doing?” he sounded a little confused but welcomed the much awaited hug. “Ohh, this is nice” and hugs the older man tighter.

“Mrs. Stark, it appears that your son and your husband are embracing each other,” TADASHI announced.

“Are they in a safe spot?” Shannon asked her AI.

“Yes they are safe,” came the Japanese accent.

Monsters of all sizes and kinds were flying at you, trying to keep you from getting to Thanos. Proxima jumped up on a rock, and launched herself at you from the side. You didn’t see her coming and she slammed you out of the sky. You went rolling along the debris.

You coughed as you got to your feet quickly, Proxima making her way toward you. You were shaking your head. You had to kill her...again?

Why did you all have to kill and fight people you’d already defeated once before? This was just insult to injury.

“Ready to fail again?” she asked with a smirk.

“Ready to die again?” was all you said before you charged your hands, shot out your purple electric energy and it kept her still. You were just about to kick up the voltage, hopefully stopping her heart, before suddenly her eyes went wide and she gasped, her chest moving forward.

You frowned, leaving your power on her, but then you saw blood trickle out of her mouth. You let your power stop, confused by why she was bleeding. But when she dropped to her knees, you realized why.

Loki stood behind her, wiping his knife on his pants.

“Thought you could use some help,” he smugly responded and all you could do was smile and shake your head. Oh how you’d missed him.

“I didn’t, but I appreciate you trying to help me,” you assured with a stunning smile.

Suddenly Clint’s voice was in your ear though, pulling you from the trance you’d been in.

“Cap, what do you want me to do with this damn thing?” he asked.

Your eyes searched the battlefield but from where you were, you couldn’t see him.

“Get those stones as far away as possible!” Steve replied with a harsh grunt.

“No! We need to get them back where they came from,” Bruce responded from somewhere on the battleground.

“No way to get them back. Thanos destroyed the quantum tunnel.” Tony’s voice came through everyone's earpiece.

“Hold on!” Scott huffed and shrunk to normal size and pulled out a remote. “That wasn't our only time machine.” Scott pressed the button, which activated Luis's van's horn, which was heard from afar.

Hearing so, Cap went to higher ground. “Anyone see an ugly, brown van up there?” Steve asked.

“Yes! But you're not gonna like where it's parked!” came Valkyrie from high above.

“Scott, how long do you need to get that thing working?” Tony managed to ask.

“Maybe ten minutes.” He hid behind a piece of debris.

“Get it started. We'll get the stones to you.”

Hope had landed next to Scott and took a breather.

“We're on it, Cap,” Hope responded for Scott. She turned to him and smiled and started flying.

Scott and Hope were on their way to the other time machine, trying to repair it while Clint ran across the field, trying to get it to them. You shot in the air, about to try and help him, or at least stop Thanos from getting to it.

Before you could locate him though, T’Challa asked Clint for the gauntlet. At his voice, you finally found the two of them. T’Challa took off like the speed of light. He was able to dodge shots and blows from several of Thanos’s soldiers. He landed with a large blast knocking several enemies back, but then Thanos sword came flying at T’Challa, dislodging the gauntlet from his grasp.

Terror overtook you and you were just about to fly down to protect the stones when Wanda beat you to it. She landed between Thanos and the gauntlet, a white hot rage burning in her expression. You couldn’t help but feel pride and sympathy.

“You took everything from me,” she stated darkly.

“I don’t even know who you are,” he responded defiantly.

“You will,” she vowed before slowly rising in the air, bringing along several pieces of debris with her.

For a split second, you wondered if she’d even need your help. Maybe Wanda would finish Thanos right here and now.

She launched objects at him that were the size of buildings. He just took the brunt of it and kept coming toward her before she fired shot after shot of her power at him.

Then you suddenly remembered the stones. Your gaze shot to the gauntlet where T’Challa was running towards.

Ebony Maw had picked up the earth where the gauntlet was and T’Challa was trying to grab it, but Maw used the earth to slow him down, trapping him.

“Hey, Maw!” you shouted, hoping to get his attention. You charged several stones nearby and slung them at Maw quickly. He deflected some of them, but at least his concentration was broken for a second, just enough time to let Peter Parker dive at the stones and grab the gauntlet.

Maw glared at you angrily, realizing what you’d just cost him. He threw earth, stones, debris at you, but you just put up your shield made of your birth power - Bio-Kinetic energy. Anger flared through you. You had failed once, been too distracted before, not again - never again.

With a surge of energy, you picked up debris and threw it at Maw and while he was distracted dodging it, your other hand came up, your power wrapping around his throat, the dark energy clenching tightly. He tried to launch objects at you to stop you, but your forcefield surrounded you and every object that hit you just disintegrated.

“Goodbye, Maw,” you said with dark happiness. You squeezed a little tighter and he went limp. You dropped him on the field, happy to be rid of another obstacle.

Peter Parker was jumping and slinging webs as fast as he humanly could to get away from the creatures from Thanos’ army. He had gotten far enough to activate instant kill mode. “Uhhh I could use a little help here, anyone?” Peter sounded distraught.

“I’m coming, Peter, hold on!” came Shannon’s voice through his gear. She flew as fast as she could. With the help of her AI Tadashi she managed to locate him and stop the creatures from coming too close to him. “Peter, on my mark, jump!” she yelled.

Soon enough, she was just above him and he jumped, latching his spider legs onto her suit.

“Thank you! Ms. Moran.” He sighed in a bit of relief while hugging the gauntlet.

“No worries, Peter and it’s Mrs. Stark.” Shannon giggled. “Alright, I’m sending you up with Valkyrie, ready?”

“Ready!”

He got thrown into the air and was caught by Valkyrie and off they went on her flying horse.

Just as you finished killing Maw, you looked around to see where Thanos was, if Wanda had made any progress on killing him or stopping him. Yet, when you glanced to where they were before, Thanos was in the air as Wanda slowly ripped away his armor. He ordered a “rain fire” command, but Corvus argued with him against it saying it would harm the troops on their side as well as your side. Thanos demanded he do it anyway.

In one second, shots came raining down from the ship, hitting anywhere and everywhere. It knocked Wanda back as well as hit multiple people on the field. Your hope fell away as Wanda flew back, far away from Thanos. When Wanda was pushed back, it broke her hold on Thanos.

The sorcerers tried to act quickly to shield those that they could from the blasts. Then two seconds later, one of the shots hit the edge of the lake, and water came crashing in, threatening to flood the whole battlefield.

“Uhh, guys don’t mean to interrupt but the lake water is going to flood this area if we don’t do something soon!” Shannon announced while trying to keep her eyes on Peter.

Stephen took notice and flew over quickly before the water could hurt anyone. He began whirling the water into what appeared to be a water cyclone to keep it contained. You shook your head, wondering why he didn’t just lift the old debris up to keep it held back so he could fight too, but now wasn’t the time to argue with him.

Your sight reset on Thanos now. He wasn’t fighting anyone, and the gauntlet was still out there.

Peter had it and he was struggling. “I got this. I got this!” he yelled as he shot a web and glided along.

You were trying to decide whether to help Peter or stop Thanos. Your heart was racing. Seconds mattered, every second meant something. You didn’t have time to debate this for long. Finally, you made the executive decision to stop Thanos - several people could help Peter, but only a few of you could stop Thanos.

“Shannon, I’m going after Thanos. Peter needs help, I can’t get to him,” you told her, knowing she would be there to help him in an instant.

“Tadashi, scan the area for Peter. I need to know where he is,” she called for the AI.

“He’s still up in the air. They are getting close to the van, Mrs. Stark.”

“Alright turn on the thrusters.” From there she jetted to where they were. She was just about to get there but one of the ships snapped his webbing and he was rapidly falling. Thankfully the iron spider suit he was wearing had protected him from any of the harsh blows from the debris.

All she could hear were his screams and grunts as he fell. She got there just in time to shield him from the blast that had been far too close to her liking.

“Okay, I don’t got this. Help! Somebody help!” was all that anyone close could hear. “Ahh!” he yelled in panic.

“Peter! Are you okay?” she asked, letting her helmet retract so she could get a closer look. Her eyes began tearing up, seeing him standing there all bruise. “Oh, my son! You’re back. I’ve missed you so much.” She helped him stand and pulled him in for a hug.

“Hi there, Mrs. Stark, it’s good to see you—-” He got out once he steps back. “Wait, what do you mean by son?” he looked confused. “I mean I do see both you and Mr. Stark like family but—” he got cut off.

“There’s so much that I need to tell you, but this isn’t the time nor the place.” She smoothed his hair back, a few stray tears going down her cheek. “When all of this is over you, me, and Tony will have a talk okay?”

“Mrs. Stark, don’t cry. Things will turn out right, I know it will.” He tried to cheer her up. “Are you sure you should be here though?” He started looking around hoping that no enemy was near. “Am I in trouble?” he instantly got nervous when he heard about having a chat with the three of them.

“Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble, Peter.” She ruffled his hair and he smiled sheepishly.

Soon enough more enemies started to approach and between the two they were able to diminish the numbers of them but more kept showing up. Shannon knew she had to keep Parker safe at all costs so she managed to connect all her powers together and send a surge of thunder and things to kill a large diameter of the enemies.

Just as you locked eyes on Thanos and set out for him though, the shooting from above stopped. Everyone halted on the battlefield, wondering what had happened. The shots didn’t stop though - they were redirected towards the sky, the clouds.

You frowned, confused. Your eyes met Steve’s, then Remy’s. Everyone had the same look you did -- utter confusion.

After a few people muttered their bewilderment and then soon it was easily realized why the ship had changed its aim.

Carol Danvers had just entered the battlefield.

She crashed through the ship, disabling it, and slammed through it again for good measure. The ship powered down and fell into the lake.

Everyone took a moment to shout with joy but it was far from over. Carol flew through the area looking for Peter and the Gauntlet.

“We’re over here, Carol,” came Shannon’s voice.

Carol landed, looking at him with a smile. “Hey I’m Peter Parker,” he introduced himself while hugging the gauntlet.

“Hey, Peter Parker. Got something for me?” She cocked her head.

He walked and lowered the stones, looking to the oncoming horde. “I don’t know how you’re going to get it through all of that,” he said in an exhausted tone.

Shannon and all the over women gather up. Wanda on his left.

“Don’t worry,” Wanda assured.

“She’s got help,” Okoye appeared on his right and you in front of them.

You stood shoulder to shoulder with the other women of the field as all of Thanos’s army charged towards all of you. Carol’s mission was to get the stones to the time machine. The rest of the women were to get the army off of Carol, clear her a path. Yours was to keep Thanos from getting to Carol.

Taking flight, you rocketed toward Thanos, who saw you, he was about to throw his sword your way, but something else sharp sliced your side, sending a searing pain up your right side. You began falling towards the Earth, glancing to see who hit you as you did so. Right before you landed, you saw Corvus smirking at you. When you hit, blood shot out of your side and you wheezed.

Get up, you ordered yourself. Monsters and soldiers were running at you but you held out both arms, charging items and throwing them and using your electrical power to knock them back. In a way, all you had done was clear a path so Covrus could run at you. He had picked up his spear, raising it high above his head before throwing it at you.

You rolled out of the way and onto your feet in one movement. A flash of anger went through Corvus as he jabbed at you again and again. All you were doing was dodging his shots before finally, you used one hand to grab the spear when he shot it towards you. He looked at you in surprise, but you used the hand on the spear to charge it until it blasted him off the end of it, sending him flying backwards. You charged the spear and launched it at him with all your force. It hit him square in the chest.

One second after he was dead, you remembered you needed to get to Thanos, to stop him from getting the stones, but when you looked up to find him, your blood ran cold.

Thanos had been slowed down by Hope, Shuri, and Shannon’s blasts, but then he resorted to another way to stop Carol. He threw his weapon straight into the time machine, causing an explosion that knocked nearly everyone on the battlefield.

You were too far away to help, but you saw that Carol had lost the gauntlet. Thanos made a move toward the glove, but Tony was nearby. He slammed into Thanos hard enough to knock him away from the gauntlet for a second, but Thanos, filled with wild rage, hit Tony -- your blood boiled at the sight.

Thor landed in front of the gauntlet, swinging furiously at Thanos. He swung his axe towards Thanos’s head and neck, but Thanos caught it. Thor summoned Mjorner, trying to brace the axe to push it towards Thanos’s neck. It looked like he was winning, but needed some help. Steve ran up and dove on the back of Thanos.

Thanos somehow shoved the weapons away from him, headbutted Thor, and threw Steve off of him, slamming his giant fist into Steve’s sternum, effectively knocking him out.

If your blood wasn’t already on fire from the attack on Tony, you were absolutely enraged now.

Immediately, you began flying towards them. You darted towards him, trying to fight monsters and soldiers as you went, shielding yourself from any other weapons that may be launched at you.

Thanos made towards the gauntlet, he had it in his hand, but Carol made it to him in time. She caved in his knee, punched him in the face, threw blasts of energy at him, dodged his blows, he grabbed her arm and threw her far away.

Come on, you screamed internally, pushing yourself harder.

Thanos put the glove on and your body felt hot, cold, numb. Every emotion raged through you like an ocean had hit you.

He raised his hand and went to snap. You were almost there. You could almost get him!

Not again, not again, not again!

Carol was suddenly back, her hands forcing Thanos’s hand open, preventing him from snapping. She pushed on the gauntlet hard, then pushed even harder, forcing him on one knee, bending his fingers so far back you were praying they were going to break. He tried to headbutt her, fight her, punch her, but her energy field was too strong.

Thanos suddenly grabbed the power stone and he held it in his other hand. He closed his fist around it, and punched Carol, sending her far away.

For the briefest of seconds, you felt failure, that it had happened again. He was going to win.

He put the powerstone back in the gauntlet, he was acclimating to the power of the glove, he said, “I am… inevitable.”

But then, you were there, right next to him. The hope, anger, fear, joy, all of it had returned.

Just before he could snap though, your dark energy wrapped around the gauntlet forcing it open.

“No,” you all but snarled.

Thanos stared at you with wide eyes, and he tried to punch you, much like he did with Carol, but your shield protected you.

Then your power bled onto him, starting from his hand, to his arm, then finally all over his body. Purple electricity snaked around his body. You lifted him off the ground.

Your voice was full of pure malice and power, as you said, “You see, Thanos? When you take away your weapons--” your power peeled off the gauntlet from his hand “--and your armor--” your power pulled his armor off piece by piece, ensuring to wrap your power around his neck as you did so “--and your power…”

He floated there, in nothing more than a shirt and pants, his eyes squeezing shut from the pain around his neck and body as your power slowly squeezed him tighter like a boa constrictor. You slammed him into the ground, on his knees, so he could look over and see Tony, who had the stones.

“You’re nothing more than a man,” you said. “You’ll never hurt my family or this world again,” you vowed as you stared at him, and he at you.

Keeping Thanos in place with your purple, electric energy, you walked over to Tony, taking his left hand and holding it. You let your red bio-kinetic energy flow into Tony. It would help him so he didn’t have to take the full force of the stones. You knew your body could bear it, thanks to the power of the mind stone, and you knew by charging his body cells to their full potential, he could withstand the power even more.

One arm, one power flowing out of each as Shannon came over to constantly heal Tony, so that the power didn’t kill him.

It felt like you were being ripped in half. The pain was almost unbearable. Thanos was strong, and it took every ounce of your energy, power, and concentration to hold him back as well as not letting the stones completely kill you or Tony.

Shannon had been forcing her healing powers onto Tony. When her body began to feel the distress from the babies, she took a deep breath and calmed herself, focusing on keeping her husband and her sister healed. So you two could do what needed to be done, so that things went how they needed them to go.

“You almost had it there, buddy, but guess what?” He stopped in front of him and crouched down. “Out of all the possibilities there was only one shot at winning this and you know why?”

He looked around and saw everyone that had been dusted and was back. He looked towards his wife and his son and the family he formed within the Avengers.

“Tony, I can’t push my powers any further.” She looked to him, seeing just exactly what the gauntlet was doing to him and you. “Gahh!” she screamed from the exhaustion.

“Shannon!” both you and Bruce yelled.

“Because this wasn’t inevitable and I.. am.. Ironman!” he shouted and snapped his fingers.

Thanos looked on in despair as his troops began to fade into the air. At the very end when he is the only one left, he said, “This wasn’t supposed to end like this.” With that, he had become a pile of dust blown away a moment later.

“Holy shit,” you breathed out weakly before falling to your hands and knees, trying to catch your breath. That ordeal just took everything out of you.

Looking back to where both Tony and you were at, Shannon could see the power of the gauntlet. Raw energy had left most of his right side injured. He stumbled for a bit before his body collapsed beside a pile of debris. Rhodey soon flew in and went up to Tony to see his long time colleague and friend laying there in pain. Soon after Peter flew in and ran to his mentor.

“Mr. Stark? Hey- Mr. Stark” he stopped for a moment. “Can you hear me? It's Peter. Hey. We won, Mr. Stark– We won, Mr. Stark. We won. You did it, sir. You did it.” He broke down and hugged him.

“Alright kid, alright I know,” he patted the kid on the back. “Come on, breathe, I’m not dead, okay?” he tried to joke.

Shannon walked over with the help of Bucky. He had been told that she was pregnant and had used up most of her energy to keep them all alive.

“Thank you, Bucky.” She kissed his cheek.

“No problem, doll.” He smiled and walked back to Steve’s side. “Hey, babe,” Tony hoarsely got out. “We did it.”

She sat next to him and leaned her head on his left side. “Yeah we did, now how about we all go back to the cabin to clean up and eat?” she suggested. “The babies starting to get too active.” She grabbed his hand and put it on her belly.

“Oh boy, those kids got energy!” He laughed. “I don’t know how you managed to fight here with us today while carrying these little miracles.” He kissed her cheek lovingly.

“Get a room!” you teased as you walked up to the pair and offered your hands to get them to stand.

“Hey, we have and it made you an aunt, didn’t it?” He smirked. “Alright, FRIDAY, see if there’s any quinjets left to get us all home.”

“Right away boss.” It took a moment. “There seems to be 3 quinjets still fully functioning, sir.”

“Alright you heard the AI, let’s get our butts into those jets and head back to their home.” Steve ever the team leader.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List: @essie1876 @magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527 @missinstantgratification @thejemersoninferno @rda1989 @munlis @thefridgeismybestie @bubblyanarocks3 @igiveupicantthinkofausername @kaliforniacoastalteens @feelmyroarrrr @kaelingoat-blog @friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo @damalseer @heyitscam99 @yknott81 @sorryimacrapwriter @glitterquadricorn @xxqueenofisolationxx @little-dis-kaalista-pythonissama @bittersweetunicorm @alyssaj23 @sea040561 @princess76179 @thisismysecrethappyplace @sarahp879 @malfoysqueen14 @ellallheart @breezy1415 @marvelmayo @random-fluffy-pink-unicorn @cocosierra94 @hardcollectionworldtrash @capsmuscles @marvelloushamilton @paintballkid711

Loki: @lostinspace33 @ultrarebelheart @lenawiinchester @esoltis280 @tngrayson @wangdeasang @harrymewmew @jayfantasyatyourservice

UC: @lokis-high-priestess

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valiancyvulnerability · 3 years

Text

A Reflection and an Apology

I do not know where to begin.

In my attempt to begin, I hope you are doing well and are in a good mental space. “Things” continue to be difficult during this time; it’s frigidly cold, and there are a multiplicity of reasons to not be okay lately, if that is the case for you.

I went MIA for a long while because I foolishly fell into a self-inflicted trap once my mental health seemed to be improving during the fall semester. I had fully convinced myself that I had no other advice to offer, I had no reason to heal thru typing my jumbled thoughts onto a computer screen, and that, my friends, was a mistake I deeply regret.

Once I had become fully adjusted to college life, I was felt truly comfortable and at ease. I involved myself in extra-curriculars, made a handful of friends, and started eating again. I remember telling my therapist at my last appointment before school that I would call her a month into the semester to check in, but I never dialed her number. I ghosted her all of first semester because it felt as if therapy was something for me to temporary utilize when I am not doing well, and I was doing, so what was the point?

A toxic part of my personality is that I choose to believe that I can solve all problems alone. In all aspects of my life, that has always been the case. Give me an issue--and I am quick to get my ass in gear and think of the most reasonable solution to execute. I was not cognizant at the time that this was playing a principal role in how I viewed my own “healing”. I was not relying on anyone else other than Carson to get better, and once I got to a convincing enough spot, I ran with it and gave myself a pat on the back. Gold star. This was all me, and simply because I got results, it seemed healthy at the time.

Once the end of October rolled around, there was a sudden turbulence that didn’t seem to be the result of anything specific. I started to slip with my schoolwork, I engaged in hour-long staring contests with the ceiling, I locked myself in my room all day and took frequent unnecessary naps, and I stopped eating once more. Back at square one. Friends and family reached out, but it all sounded like white noise to me. I have possessed the ability to just push through my entire life, and this just happens to be a rough patch. Call me egotistical, but I was fully absorbed in the idea that the only person that could help me was me.

The rest of first semester was a series of many beautiful ups and many ugly downs. It was definitely a “going through the motions” type of situation. Every thought in my brain was so askew at all times that it disguised itself as a sense of consistency and comfort. I told myself I was excited to go home for break, but I knew the transition was going to absolutely wreck me just as much as it did when I moved in, whether I chose to acknowledge it or not.

I moved all of my belongings out of my dorm and drove back to my hometown. I drifted from all of my friends from school that were important to me. Once finals were over, I blocked out everything school-related from my brain. I spent my time with my home friends, but was rather inconsistent as a friend to them. I blew up on my family daily, using some of the most explosive and hateful language that I have ever used. The excessive sleep persisted. I texted my therapist to seek medication. She replied that her soonest opening was the morning of my birthday.

My birthday quickly approached on December 22. This was the first year I was home on my actual birthday, just because COVID had tampered with our typical holiday plans. My friends threw a birthday party for me the evening of the 21st, which meant the entire world to me. I knew about it prior, and felt a peculiar dread filling up inside of me as the day lurched forward. Are they doing this because they know I haven’t been doing well and this is just an act of pity? Do they feel like they have to? Do they even want to do it in the first place? I wanted to stay home and sleep as I had been doing all afternoon. Nonetheless, I got myself up, got ready, went and met my friends and had a great time.

On the day of my actual birthday, I woke up and went to therapy. Upon my arrival, I caught her up on what had been going on in a fit of run-on sentences and utter word vomit. She suggested medication and set me up with a psychiatrist to meet with. I knew this was finally a form of relying on someone that is there to help. Although I wasn’t being my own usual rock, it did not feel like defeat. It felt like I was slowly being lifted from underwater. That evening there was a set plan to be with my family and get dinner, have cake, the works. The day continued. to drag, and I hibernated in my room, cocooned in blankets. I finally came downstairs to use the restroom and not two seconds of me being downstairs I got in an argument with my family. In a swift movement, I got dressed, got my keys, and started to leave. I wanted to just drive around aimlessly and pretend I had a different final destination rather than just returning home. On my way out the door my mom expressed that she had tried to make the day special and felt as if she had failed as a parent.

This was a huge turning point in where I finally stared my own struggle straight in the face, sobbing, right in my own living room as it grinned back at me. I broke down, and the feeling I was experiencing was something like being submersed in a dream that you are conscious in, yet out of control. I felt as if I was choking, I wanted to vomit, but I stood, blubbering and trembling like a frightened chihuahua. Tears spilled down my face in furious waterfalls, and the expression on my face was still as stone.

After gathering myself, I went on my drive as planned, and it was storming. What am I doing? I thought about my therapy session from that morning and recalled telling her that there was not a day where I don’t think about not being alive. It’s rare that I feel like a danger to myself, but I explained that it was more of a sensation that I desired to be in a comatose-like state in a foreign country where I was ultimately unknown, and I wouldn’t be a burden to anyone in my life anymore.

What am I doing? I felt a pull to leave Illinois altogether without warning. Don’t tell your friends or your family, just go. Their lives will continue to move forward as they have and you are doing this in order to no longer be at a halt. Drop out of school. Get a job. Get an apartment, maybe with some plants and a neat rug. Start fresh. Be the genuinely good person you have failed to be for too long. Maybe cut your hair, too.

I have felt this weird pull to be elsewhere since my birthday. I started my antidepressant, Lexapro, right before I moved back into school for second semester. I am having a difficult time making friends. I cry every day. I sleep too much. Truthfully, waking up, getting ready, and making coffee in the morning feels like an immense feat. The psychiatrist told me I would go experience a “blackbox” period for up to six weeks where I would feel alone, exhausted, nauseous, and would potentially be a danger to myself. I have felt all of these things the past few weeks.

Now that I am beginning to scrape the surface of my body being acclimated to the medication, I feel better. Like really, I do! The desire of this “elsewhere” still lingers in the back of my brain, although it has taken on somewhat of a different form. I continue to daydream of this apartment, the plants, the rug--but it is not an attempted escape. In my head, it looks like a potential adventure for healing as opposed to avoidance when life challenges my well-being.

The biggest lesson I have had to learn (the hard way, unfortunately) from 2020 as a whole and the preceding months is that I need to start taking the initiative to do things for myself. The toll my health has taken has been overwhelming, and I had tricked myself into believing I was “doing what I needed to do” by taking an extra 3-hour nap and locking myself in my room every day.

I have had to cut out things that were no longer serving me. Some were more painful than others, but I couldn’t be apologetic for it anymore. I have had it with waking up every day in a state of complete misery, permitting others to walk on my emotions, hating my body, and the way I was living. In order for me to move in any type of positive direction, I myself had to come first.

I still have my down days, but my lowest point is behind me now, so I can properly reflect on everything that has happened up to his point. I feel as if I owe you an apology:

If you have been a part of my life in any way, shape, or form in the past year, I am sorry. I have been inconsistent, moody, dishonest, and just a poor quality individual. In order for me to give love to anyone I cross paths with, I had to be able to provide that for myself. Instead of repairing a broken machine, I kept using it until it combusted in the faces of everyone I care about. I wish there was an immediate fix to the problems I created over time, and if there was an instant solution, I would follow it with my entire being.

From this point forward, I want to assure you that I am trying to be better. I want to be there for all of you in the way you have tried to be there for me. I have not been kind to myself, and especially nobody else. If this feels applicable to you, please reach out to me so I can do my best to make amends personally.

With love,

Carson

This is not intended to be a pity trap. I am not seeking that. However, my goal is to normalize the conversation about mental health. The truth is that we all have a brain, and more often than not, we don’t always listen to what it needs. I hope that if you find yours asking something of you, you listen.

As always, stay safe and well. If anyone ever wants to extend the conversation of mental health with me personally, do not hesitate to reach out.

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krisseycrystal · 4 years

Text

rated: g

fandom: Steven Universe

prompt: “Competition” + BisPearl (& Steven)

requested by: @moominquartz (& myself)

SO I’M PRETTY SURE when my darling husband, Isaiah, first said “I can’t decide to request BisPearl w/ Competition or Protecting Someone You Love” I said “both” but then SUF ended and I cried my eyes out and got slammed with feelings to explore Steven’s adventures post-show, out on his own, while still connecting with the gems who love him

maybe just bc under this past year i, too, moved out for good across the country from my family and i want to see him enjoying it

so now have this lengthy oneshot. enjoy!!

- o - o - o -

Put it There [Read on AO3]

- o - o - o -

Give me your hand, I’d like to shake it, I wanna show you I’m your friend You’ll understand if I can make it clear, It’s all that matters in the end

- o - o - o -

Steven is in some tiny nowhere town in the snow-capped mountains of Wyobrado when Pearl comes to visit. Unlike Amethyst, Pearl doesn’t have a bag in her hand when she arrives. She warps in to the nearest pad with the clothes on her back and a bright smile on her face and as soon as she sees him, she extends her hands and trills, “Oh, Steven!” and Steven lets her run to him, laughing as they crash into each other.

The air is full of, “So how’ve you been?” and “I’m so happy to see you again,” and “I saw the pictures you sent! You look like you’re taking to skiing much better than roller-skating!” and “Oh! Is that what it looks like?”

They talk for the entire drive down the mountainside to the classic 50’s-style diner run by Old Marjory. Steven finds out this was a mistake when Old Marjory, who absolutely adores him, meets Pearl, who also absolutely adores him. Steven tries to hide his head under his menu and even then, he doesn’t feel like he’s able to fully escape.

“Did you have to tell her the one about the Ready-Whip?” he whines once Old Marjory has stepped away.

Pearl laughs. Steven watches her thumbs fly across the screen of her phone and wonders if he’s part of the reason she’s somehow gotten so fast at texting while he’s been gone. “Why? Were you embarrassed?”

“Uh, duh! Anything that happens when you’re twelve is embarrassing.”

“Huh. Really? I wouldn’t know.”

Steven scoffs and props his elbow up on the formica table. “Course you wouldn’t,” he says with his cheek squished against the heel of his hand. He watches the birds gathering on the telephone wires on the street. After a moment of silence, he looks to Pearl again.

Her pale blue eyes are still on her phone.

Huh.

“So, uh, I know we just drove down the mountain, but we’re going to have to drive back up after dinner to get to the B&B I’m staying at. Sorry about that. Old Marjory’s chicken and waffles make the out-of-the-way drive totally worth it though; I promise.”

Steven looks up from where his finger has begun to idly draw shapes on the patterned formica.

Pearl’s response is a second delayed. “Hm? Oh, no, that’s fine. You know I don’t mind riding in the Dondai with you.”

“Yeah,” Steven says slowly. His eyes dart between Pearl’s face and her phone, hovering in front of her pointed nose. “Speaking of which, the B&B is really cool. It looks like a ski lodge, but much smaller. It’s got this awesome stone fireplace in the common room; I can’t wait for you to see it! I love playing the new Hummingbird with my feet up against the gate.”

“That sounds wonderful, Steven.”

“Yeah…” Steven swallows. He drops his hand from his cheek and straightens up. “So, hey, uh, is everything okay?”

Pearl’s gaze finally snaps up. “Huh? Oh, yes. Everything’s fine.” She smiles and--for the first time that Steven can remember--instead of putting her phone away in the ether of her gem, she turns it over and places it on the table at her elbow. Just before she locks the screen, Steven thinks he catches the name sprawled across the top of the text message window.

Peridot.

Double huh.

He didn’t know those two were on such familiar speaking terms.

“Do you like it here in Peak City?”

Steven chuckles and shrugs, but avoids meeting Pearl’s gaze. He knows what she’s really asking. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. Old Marjory’s waffles do make a pretty convincing argument to stay. I just…don’t know if this is the place for me yet.”

“That’s okay! You haven’t been to all 39 states yet. You still have 12 more left, right? That’s 12 more options and countless more cities among them, too.”

It’s the little things--the little details that Pearl remembers--that shows how much she really does pay attention to his texts and letters. His heart feels warm. Whatever tension that was building in his body ebbs. He crosses his arms over the formica table. “Yeah,” he sighs and smiles.

He is so, so glad to see Pearl.

Pearl continues right on as if he hadn’t said a word and he lets her prattle, listening fondly with his chin resting against his forearm.

“You’ll find your place, Steven. And even if that place changes over time, that’s okay, too. Why, you know how many temples your mother, Garnet, and I went through before we settled on the one in Beach City? Not that there were many completed temples on Earth before the war started, and not to mention there were a lot of upgrades we had to do to the temple’s interior to make it suitable, but stars, you should have seen it before we put our own spin on it! Come to think of it, that temple has undergone several changes since then, as well…”

- o - o - o -

It’s not like Pearl needs a bed, but they accept the cot anyway from the kindhearted B&B owner when his husband nods at them from over his shoulder with a look that reads, “Just let him give you the thing and be done with it.”

The cot remains folded and upright on its wheels, pressed to the far wall, as Steven and Pearl stay up late into the night talking and talking and talking.

“How’s everyone in Beach City?”

“Great. The annual Food Truck Fair was two weeks ago. It was a--what do you call it? A hit? Everyone loved it; Beach City had hundreds of off-season visitors. Mayor Nanafua was proud. So was Mr. Dewey, I think. You should come by to see it next year; Blue Lace is talking about getting a Spacetries truck for it.”

“That’s amazing!”

“Little Homeschool’s growing every day. Winter Break’s coming up too, you know. Garnet, Amethyst, your father, and I have been talking about using the time off to come see you together, if you don’t mind dealing with us again in a few weeks.”

“You know there’s nothing I’d love more than that.”

Pearl smiles and puts her hand in his curly hair. She leans forward and presses a kiss to his brow.

“We can talk more tomorrow. Why don’t you get some sleep?”

“Kay. Love you, Pearl.”

“I love you, too, Steven.”

- o - o - o -

Steven isn’t sure what wakes him. He stares groggily at the red 2:03 AM glaring at him from next to the bed and rolls over.

The light of Pearl’s phone screen illuminates her waxy, furrowed face. Her gaze is focused, thumbs moving rapidly across the bottom. Again. A deep frown curls her mouth. Tension tightens her form and stiffens her already rigid posture.

“Pearl?” he groans.

Pearl’s head jerks up from her phone. The light catches her surprise before she locks the screen and douses the room in night.

“Steven?” her voice swims to him from the chair closest to the curtained window. “I’m sorry. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“I don’t think so.” He rubs at an eye. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes.”

Steven wishes he could see her. Pearl may have been the original secret-keeper, but she has never been good at lying. He wonders if he should ask about her phone; if he should question what’s going on with Peridot and whatever it is that’s got Pearl frowning so much when it’s only the first night of her visit.

But he wonders if that’s just him being petty, hoping she would be so excited to see him that nothing could be wrong.

“You’d tell me if it wasn’t, right?”

There’s a split-second of hesitation. At first, Steven worries that it means whatever follows will be a lie and he doesn’t want to think about the implications of that--but then the mattress dips and familiar, slender fingers card through his curls. A warm hand brushes against the curve of his ear.

“I would, Steven.”

Steven takes a breath. He tells himself to trust those words. With Pearl’s hand in his hair, he falls back to sleep.

- o - o - o -

The next morning, Steven wakes to find that it has once again snowed outside his bedroom window, just as it has for so many of the other nights he’s spent at this B&B. He thinks this might be the perfect time to finally get Pearl on a set of skis at the resort further up the mountain.

“Have you ever done this before?”

“You know,” Pearl says as she stares at the giant boots Steven hands her, “I think I’d remember if I had.”

Steven snickers and takes that as a no. He gets to his knees in front of her feet. “Just a heads-up, then: these are going to get pretty tight.”

“What? Steven? What are you--” Pearl’s face does a weird thing when she looks at him. When he raises an eyebrow, pale blue floods her cheeks and she waves a hand, looking away. “--s-sorry. Go on. What were you saying about the boots?”

“Uh.”

Steven half-wonders if he should say something. He’s spoken with his therapist about this before: how he’s gotten instinctively used to knowing when one of the gems are looking at him but not seeing him. His therapist has said not to skip over that feeling like he has learned to do his entire life.

This could be such a good moment to practice it; he knows it could be.

But he straps on Pearl’s boots for her and says, “I said they’ll feel tight. They’re supposed to be,” anyway and feels disappointed in himself.

“You’re sure I shouldn’t fashion my own?”

“It’s better not to. They’re tight for a reason. You’ll see.” Steven stands back up and picks up the skis sitting next to the crate Pearl’s perched on. He reaches out to hand Pearl her rented set when Pearl’s phone chimes.

“Oh!” As if struck, Pearl straightens. Her hand flies into her pocket. “I’m sorry. Give me just one second, Steven.”

“Oh…uh, okay.” Steven withdraws his hand. And the skis.

The excited smile that had been stretching Pearl’s mouth dims the instant she unlocks her cell.

Steven’s fingers tap against the flat side of his own skis. “You sure everything’s okay?”

Pearl doesn’t answer. She stares at her screen with a deep frown until finally her thumbs dance across its surface madly. “I’m sorry, Steven. What did you say?” she asks when she’s finally done.

Steven watches the phone slip right back into Pearl’s pocket, not her pearl. He passes over the skis.

“It’s nothing.”

- o - o - o -

They take a bunny hill first.

Pearl is nervous, as Steven remembers he himself was a few days ago, but he smiles warmly as he and the attendant patiently explain over and over again how, exactly, she is supposed to fall.

“Why is this even a thing?” Pearl mumbles and Steven laughs. “A sport in which humans first have to learn how to properly fail before they can even begin trying?”

Isn’t that just life? Steven wants to say, but the words balance on the tip of his tongue and don’t slip off. He laughs and shrugs and says instead, “I don’t really know. Must be a human thing, I guess. I think we do a lot of that in general, anyway.”

There’s something in Pearl’s gaze that makes Steven’s chest warm and fuzzy when she looks at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Pearl shakes her head. Her soft smile melts into something determined. “All right. Okay! Let’s do this--this--what did you call it? Skiing? Let’s ski, shall we?” she cries and pulls down the snow goggles she fashioned around her own head.

Pearl takes the bunny hill stiffly, her body refusing to yield the snow. She descends the slope in a completely straight line.

Steven laughs so hard he almost falls over.

- o - o - o -

Pearl is a quick study. Steven has always admired that about her: how quickly she can adapt and master a new skill. They talk the entire ski-lift up to the higher hill about it and Pearl gets so bashful after all of his compliments and says, “Oh, stop it,” and Steven realizes how much he really was looking forward to this: spending time with Pearl again.

Then Pearl’s phone chimes.

And Steven’s smile slips.

“Oh! One moment,” Pearl says.

Steven watches the emotions that play across her face as she bends over her phone. He hates the way his chest twists at them. He hates the way he resents something that isn’t really a problem; it shouldn’t be a problem. So why, again, is he upset?

“Okay,” Pearl finally says as their seat approaches the hillcrest. “And just in time!”

The bar is unlocked and Steven drops down onto the snow. His fall is fast and heavy; it shoots hard through his knees.

“Wha--” Pearl scrabbles to follow. She isn’t quite used to the long planks strapped to her boots and wobbles once she lands. Her sticks wave dangerously before she plants them into the snow. “Steven! Wait!”

Steven’s throat is tight and it’s stupid. He feels stupid. He shakes his head and pulls down his goggles. “Sorry. You okay?”

He can’t see Pearl’s face; he knows she can’t see his eyes. But he hates the way he knows all the same that she’s looking at him and seeing straight through him.

“You’re not.”

Steven bursts. “Of course I’m not!”

He hates it as soon as it leaves his mouth but it’s true and didn’t his therapist talk about being more honest about how he feels, anyway? About being more unafraid to talk to his family about the things festering inside? He forcibly swallows down the wall he wants to build in his head and in his heart. “This is probably gonna sound really, really petty, but I was really looking forward to you visiting me, Pearl! I was looking forward to this!”

“Oh, Steven,” Pearl says in that way she always has for as long as he’s known her. She frees a mittened hand and touches his shoulder. “That’s not petty. You know I’ve been looking forward to spending time with you, too.”

“No! I don’t know!”

Pearl blinks. Her hand falters.

“I don’t know that you’ve been looking forward to seeing me again, because honestly it doesn’t feel like you’re here sometimes! Like you’re here, but you’re…not really here. Do you want to be here, Pearl? Do you want to go skiing? Or are you just trying to keep me happy? Because we can go back to the B&B, and you can go back to Beach City if--if there’s more important things waiting for--”

“--oh, Steven!” Pearl’s hand flies to her mouth. “Is that how you feel?”

Okay, so, we’ve reached this point, Steven wants to say to the copy of his therapist in his head. We’ve put everything out there. Now what’s supposed to happen? Is he supposed to feel good?

“Y-yeah,” he rasps. He blinks hard and his ski goggles fog up. He pushes them back up onto his brow with a sniff. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

Pearl hugs him.

“Oh no, Steven, I’m sorry!” she cries. “You’re right! You’re absolutely right! I’ve been so rude to you!” After a sniff, she pulls away and flourishes away her mittens to wipe at her face. “Ugh, I’m such a hypocritical fool! After everything that’s been going on with Bismuth, now I’m doing the same thing to--”

“--w-wait, what’s going on with Bismuth?”

Pearl’s head snaps up. Her cheeks are a strange, unnatural shade of ice blue. “I…”

Steven shoves his ski sticks into the snow and searches Pearl’s face. “Wait. Did something happen to her? Is she okay?”

“What? No. I mean, yes! She’s fine. She’s just…” Pearl looks away. The blue is everywhere, now, spilling down her neck and off-coloring her usual shade of porcelain hue. “…she’s great, actually. Little Homeschool keeps her busy. She’s also been, um, how you like to say ‘hanging out’ with other people. Especially Biggs. Those two have finally reconnected after all this time. They’re thick as thieves. I…I don’t know, I guess I’m just…”

Pieces are startling to click in Steven’s head. One by one. He blinks. “W-wait. Is this why you’ve been texting Peridot? Are you…trying to keep tabs on Bismuth?”

“What? How do you know I’ve been--?”

“--are you jealous, Pearl?”

“Wha--” Pearl freezes, mouth hanging agape and speechless. “Jealous! No! Of course not! I would never…”

Steven can’t help it. He laughs.

Perhaps it’s the relief of finally getting everything off his chest and being told it’s okay. Perhaps it’s just because he’s really glad Pearl’s just being Pearl and nothing is truly seriously wrong at home. Or perhaps he’s just genuinely found it really funny that of all the people in the world, it is Pearl who has found competition trying to vy for Bismuth’s attention--who, last time he was on the phone with, has been voicing similar worries about Pearl and her time she was spending with Volleyball.

“Steven! Are you laughing at me?”

“M-maybe a little,” Steven admits. He pinches off one of his mittens to wipe at his face and dried tears. “Gosh, this is just like a reverse of that time you guys took me to that vacation house. It’s…wow.” He chuckles again. “I’m really glad you told me this.”

“I…” The anger deflates as quickly as it came. Pearl softens. “…yes. I could say the same to you, Steven.”

She reaches forward and cups his cheek. Steven stills under her touch.

“Really, though. I am sorry. It was never my intention to make you feel like you weren’t important to me or that I didn’t care about this opportunity to spend time with you, when everything I feel is the exact opposite. You mean the world to me, Steven. You should know that.”

Steven’s smile wobbles; it melts into something crooked and tender and touched. He sniffs and wipes at his face with chilled fingers before he remembers he should slip on his mitten again. “You mean the world to me, too, Pearl. Wanna go down this slope together?”

Pearl reaches into her pocket and touches her phone to her gem. With a small shimmer of light, the device disappears.

“I’d love nothing more.”

- o - o - o -

“…then she said, ‘Whoa there, Pearl! Don’t you know? It’s Bismuth before pleasure!’ And I--”

Steven howls.

“--I didn’t know what to say!” Pearl laughs in the middle of her words, breaking up her speech. “I had no idea what to do. I was still under the mindset that I was just a Pearl! It was so embarrassing for me; I can’t even imagine what it must have been like for her!”

Steven has to hold on to the neck of the Hummingbird so as not to let it topple forward off his lap. The strings hum under the hard pressure of his fingers.

Pearl sighs, a nostalgic smile spread across her face. She plucks a G on Steven’s old ukulele. “Oh, but that was eons ago. I doubt she even remembers that now.”

“I don’t know, Pearl,” Steven hums once he’s finally done laughing. He leans back and props his socked feet up on the iron gate of the common room’s stone fireplace. “I still say you should talk to her. After all you’ve got to…” He dramatically strums a pleasing D. “…mind your own Bismuth, right?”

Pearl laughs and shoves his shoulder gently. “Oh-ho-ho, stop.”

Steven chuckles and rocks back. He rests his shoulder against Pearl’s side. He strums another G. “Really, though. Thanks for coming to see me, Pearl. I hope you had as much fun as I did today skiing.”

Pearl hums happily and echoes the chord. “I had a lot of fun with you today, Steven.”

Steven lifts his chin to look up at her.

When Steven starts strumming, Pearl follows along. When he opens his mouth and sings, “I don’t care if it weighs a ton,” she sings with him, “As long as you and I are here, put it there,” dipping her voice in pleasant harmony.

The hearthfire crackles at their feet, warm and strong.

- o - o - o -

If there’s a fight, I’d like to fix it I hate to see things go so wrong The darkest night, and all its mixed emotions It’s getting lighter sing along

- “Put it There” by Paul McCartney

#steven universe #steven universe future #su #suf #pearl #fanfic #krissey writes a thing #fluff bingo!#here we go again #i couldn't help myself and also had to integrate a paul mccartney song #my impulse control is not so great on quarantine guys #but we been knew this #i hope u enjoy the fluff #competition

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mrs-dragneel-stark-solo · 4 years

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Unforseen Chasm (Part 68)

Part 68 of Unforseen Chasm

Prompt: Two sisters fall for men that are absolute enemies. The love they have could tear all of them apart, or it could bring them together. Word Count: 5823 Warnings: Language, endgame plot, happiness, fighting, angst and fluff, reunited family, the truth comes out, character deaths, fighting while pregnant, Note: This is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written (including my other fic series). first major Collab with my best friend @thorne93 what was first a simple “what if” moment turned into a two year writing session and I’ve never been more prouder of myself than when i started my first series. goes through most of the MCU plots there are some changes to accommodate for what we wanted and there is a bit of a crossover between the MCU and other characters. I hope you guys enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it.

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