#Feel free to invent your own canons for your own AUs but leave that out of the discussion | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

normal-thoughts-official · 4 years ago

Note

I LOVE LOVE LOVE YOUR BEAUTY AND THE BEAST IDEA. But may I also propose: Magnus cursed from a young age (probably bc of Asmodeus) that anyone who touches him is hurt by a blast of magic he can't control. (This may result in his mother's death). He locks himself away of his own will. Alec teaches then that it's fear that makes him lash out. Featuring: touch starved Magnus.

this idea is GENIUS actually and i love it. tbh me and my friend have a similar idea that we talk to each other about (lol) but it isn't a B&B thing, its more of an adventure AU. anyway, lets go!

so in this universe i guess magnus banished asmodeus like in the original sh verse but asmodeus cursed him with the "everyone you touch will be in indescribable pain" thing. maybe just as revenge, maybe to try and use it as bargaining chip because okay magnus, is it freedom that u want? u want to be able to have ur own friends and ur own life? fine. get me back, and ill leave u alone, and ull be free to have friends again. if not, ull be still isolated just like before. so is it gonna be win-win, or lose-lose?

but magnus doesn't budge because he knows that if he lets asmodeus free things will only get worse not only for him, but for the whole world. he is too dangerous to be out there. so, magnus resigns to his fate

and i guess in this version he wouldnt have a lot of close friends because he had been with asmodeus his whole life before he was cursed, so he was just. alone in his self-imposed isolation with no one to talk to. maybe he enchants the furniture so they gain sentience but they can't really feel pain, so at least he has someone to talk to. god im so fucking sad already

so is the furniture his friends in canon? im not entirely sure how i feel about that but also the idea of ragnor as that clock from the original movie is great. thats my most important thought on the subject ngl

btw its 4 degrees Celsius in here so im typing with gloves on so ull have to excuse my typos i am a mere brazilian and i want death

anyway okay so i guess his friends are like pieces of furniture that he spelled into sentience and they aren't his servants or anything cuz that's gross but they just like, hang out. wow im actually managing to type pretty well all things considered

so at least magnus has people to talk to but he's still touch starved because you know... a clock can't hug you and that'd just be weird. maybe them becoming sentient was an accident? lmao like magnus just wanted to automate some functions like having the clock talk to tell him the time or something and it turned out that they became sentient. possibly his magic is a little fucky because of the curse so that's why that happened? or maybe he just is way more powerful than he realizes and we all know he invented the spells he used to try and automate the things anyway. but if he gets people to talk to, well, he's not complaining

im focusing too much on this. anyway. id also like to note that im making rapha the cook/stove thing because i mean, come on. it's right there

and ok i guess alec comes into this because he uhhhhhh no u know i might go with that izzy thing. so izzy ran away from home because of maryse's bullshit and alec was sent to bring her back. so he was going after her but in the middle of the path there was the whole wolf attack thing that scared off his horse and LUCKILY magnus' house/tower/whatever was right next!!! so of course they take alec and his horse in but also WHOOPS there's a huge snowstorm that lasts for days (par the course for where magnus lives, actually. he DID want somewhere people would avoid. but also i think maybe his magic being fucky has something to do with it) so i guess alec is stuck at magnus' for the foreseeable future

which is HELL for magnus because he is terrified out of his mind that they will accidentally touch and alec will be hurt. and like.... his Constant Crave For Touch is already bad on a regular day, but having someone who could actually hug him in theory just makes it worse, you know? he hasn't interacted with other human beings in so long, just having one there is enough to make his need for touch almost unbearable and just... completely constant. it's hell

so magnus is scared, which means that he keeps to himself. so he tells alec not to go into his room, he tries not to eat at the same time, and other stuff like that, bUT his friends keep sabotaging his plans because they want him to have another friend, jesus christ!! (rapha being like "come on now magnus, you don't want my soup to get cold, do you? i'll be deeply offended. i guess you have no choice but to eat with alec". so magnus goes but the first thing he does is magic his regular table into a gigantic rectangular table with 41908410 seats and seat on on the side opposite to alec. alec just sighs

so like he's constantly coming across as rude because he is trying to avoid alec, alec just doesn't know why

but alec is also a stubborn bitch who goes stir crazy and refuses to just sit around isolated doing nothing while they wait for the stupid storm to finally be over so he can go get his sister. and magnus saved his life, so it's the least he can do to repay him in some way. besides, this is what, the first time that he's been completely away from his mom? for such a long time too? and he's finding that he feels... weirdly free and just relieved and he doesn't want to waste that opportunity with standing idly around alone all day. he had enough of that at home, thank you very much

besides yeah magnus is being rude but alec is used to straight up assholes and abusers (jace. i'm talking about jace. also maryse ofc but mostly jace) and magnus is not that. in fact he makes very polite conversation and is actually pretty fun during dinner, all things considered. he's just.... super private, i guess

AND magnus' friends are all being a nightmare with the making them interact so you know. they end up interacting. and alec makes it a point to help him take care of his house because it is a certified Depression Lair™. magnus can take care of it magically but it's like... so dark and almost suffocating at times and there is stuff like bad painting and piping problems that he never bothered to fix because it isn't affecting the functionality too much but it DOES makes life harder and alec "everything must be at 100% always" lightwood is not here for it so for a few days they are working on fixing the house and... magnus actually feels a lot better when the place has actual sunlight and looks inviting and like a home, he has to admit. when he says that to alec it might be the first time he's given him a real smile and man, is alec smitten

sidenote i guess this means that magnus doesn't exactly... dress well in this au lmaoo i mean it makes sense too because canonically magnus uses dressing up as a way to convey an image of power and untouchability and he doesn't really need that in this AU since he is completely isolated. so i guess he is a bit more like twi magnus - bare-faced and wearing comfortable clothes and the like. this isn't a twi au i'm just saying that it makes more sense for him to dress like that in that context

anyway. after the whole house fixing thing, they officially become friends. it turns out that alec also knows a bit about what it's like to feel isolated and touch-starved (altho he's always had izzy to help in that department, but still) and also what crappy parents are like. magnus shows alec his little mirror that he's enchanted to be able to show him anything he wants and how he uses it to be able to see all the places in the world he'd like to visit - he loves people, he loves culture, and sometimes it's all he can do to watch what's going on in Mumbai and it makes him feel a little better, so, he does that. he also admits that sometimes he catches on some drama happening and uses the mirror to see the people involved and make sure they are okay. kinda like a soap opera of his own but he has the means to interfere and help because of magic, so he will have someone who's struggling with money suddenly find hidden cash or have an "unknown dead relative" give them a lot of money in their will, or something like that. and if he also watches some of their personal drama that unfolds, well. he is lonely and it's not hurting anyone

but magnus doesn't tell him about the curse, and he still makes sure to keep his distance. it stings a little to alec, but it hurts magnus the most because fuck, maybe he just desperately needs someone who will give him the time of day, but he likes this guy and that only makes it harder to keep his distance. he makes it a point to always be at at least two arms length from alec, which alec thankfully respects and doesn't try to get him to breach, but. shit. it's still so hard to not want to just rest his head on his shoulder or get a hug or even fucking touch pinkies like stupid children and he can't. alec even once jokingly suggests that they have a ball since magnus doesn't know how to dance and magnus is actually excited for a second before he remembers that he can't, it would have to mean that alec touches him, and he can't

someone - maybe ragnor - even suggests that maybe he could try gloves and heavy clothing so alec isn't really touching him but magnus refuses to try because he doesn't want to risk it not working and alec getting hurt, because he'd never forgive himself. besides, getting a taste would only make it hurt more. he can't. he can't

but it's alright because at least he has some human company - he loves his friends, he does, fiercely, but it's different when they kind of have no choice but to be with him and also are enchanted creatures. he doesn't even know if they aren't nice to him just because he enchanted them into life, even tho to be fair if he had a choice ragnor wouldn't be that grouchy - and alec makes him laugh and gets him and helped make his place feel more like home, a little bit. and he can pretend that he feels the warmth from alec's body when they are sitting by the fire and feed these crumbs to his desperate need for touch and company

and then the snowstorm ends and it's time for alec to go

honestly, alec himself is kind of heartbroken, but- he loves his sister, and he can't just leave her alone in god knows where, even if he dreads the thought of coming back home now that he's been away from his family for so long. but magnus doesn't want to keep him, and doesn't want alec to feel pity for him, so he's all but pushing alec out of the door (not literally, of course. he can't do that, it would mean touching him) all "go, go, you never know when another storm might start. go see your sister. take my mirror, you can find her more easy". and alec's all "but it's been the only thing-" and magnus waves him off, of course, all "i can always make myself another one. besides, you'll have something to remember me by. now go"

so.... alec goes

and hooo boy magnus is heartbroken and a mess because even tho he knew how much having someone else there helped he had almost forgotten what it was like to be the only human in the house. he just feels extra lonely and even kind of bad about it because hey, his friends are there - not that they begrudge him for it, of course. it's not like they don't also hope for the chance to get out of the house and do other things, but well. they can't. so they understand him. and they know how awful he's feeling right then, but what can they do?

meanwhile alec finds izzy pretty quickly - she's living with this one insufferable villager named clary that alec absolutely can't stand, but- she's happy. and she doesn't want to come back, which alec expected, but he finds that he can't actually insist for her to come back. how could he, when he himself doesn't want to go?

and izzy insists that he stays with her - there's no reason for him to come back. they can stay in the village, and work, and build a life for themselves. alec is the only thing she's been missing ever since she left, and in here the both of them can actually be happy. and do it together, like they're meant to

and when he first gets into the village is the first time since izzy ran away that he was hugged and fuck, it's hard to say no to her

but also... he misses magnus already

and he doesn't know if he can just stay and leave him behind

and of course izzy is like "who is magnus?" so alec tells her the story, how he was attacked by wolves and rescued by this house that miraculously was in the middle of the single most inhospitable placealec had ever seen in his life. and the kind but wary stranger who always keeps his distance but seems so eager for connection, who made alec feel welcome and laugh and feel like he built a life for himself there

and clary tells him that she's heard of the story, but she never knew it was more than a legend - no one really remembers what happened. some say that magnus made a sacrifice to rid the village of a demon, and it turned him into a beast, forever locked in his castle. some say that he himself is the demon, and it's the tower that's containing him and keeping the village safe. some even say that he died battling the demon, and it's his ghost that keeps watch on the tower

she wants alec to explain which one is true, but it's all alec can say that none of these are right and he knows nothing because magnus never told him. all alec knows is that he doesn't want to leave magnus behind

and clary is like... well, if he's not a demon or a ghost, maybe we could bring him to the village too. he has magic, right? he could bring the tower closer. and maybe the other villagers could, you know, visit him and hang out. and he wouldn't be as lonely, and then alec and izzy could both stay

driven by this failproof plan, they decide to go back to magnus and tell him their great idea

except they are IDIOTS and forget about. you know. the damn wolves

and like holy shit is this pack big or what? like no seriously why are there infinite wolves in that one singular pack in beauty and the beast. like holy shit dude there's more wolves near the beast's house than in the whole yellowstone park

anyway there are Many Wolves and while alec is a good archer, izzy is a fantastic fighter, and clary is Fucking Crazy if you give her something stabby, there's only so many wolves they can take on at the same time

good thing magnus is a pining idiot who did in fact make himself another magic mirror and was watching alec with it. so he knows that the dumbass is in trouble and for the first time in years, he uses the portal (his own invention, and he had never gotten to use it before!) to get to them and fight off the wolves

so magnus saves all their lives, at the cost of getting severely injured and passing the fuck out. izzy, who's the one closest, runs to get to him and help put him on one of their horses... and is immediately hit by a blast of magic that almost makes HER pass tf out too

which is when they finally learn that, oh. that is the curse

izzy is fine, of course - the pain ended as soon as she was away from magnus

but it does pose the problem of How The Fuck Are They Getting Him Back To Safety, because they can't exactly wait for magnus to wake up (it's freezing, for starters) but with this amount of pain it won't be physically possible for them to hoist him up and get him on the horse. shit, will the curse work on the horse?

they bring alec's horse (by far the strongest of them because alec is huge buff mcgee) and try to get him to touch magnus and the spell does NOT work on the horse because in order to be dramatic asmodeus was like "you shall never feel human touch again" when he cast the spell, which accidentally gave a LOOPHOLE for non-human animals. so magnus could have had cats the whole time, which he had always dreamed of, but he didnt want to risk testing. besides, his house would be a poor environment for a cat and [self torture noises]

anyway thats one less problem to deal with, 99 to go, so they use some ropes to hoist magnus on top of the horse and bring him back to the tower (it's closer than the village) so they can tend to his wounds. thankfully, as the assigned Big Brother of a very irresponsible izzy, alec has experience with first aid, altho he never really dealt with anything quite this bad. and magnus' friends help, too, as much as they can. inevitably this means that alec ends up touching him even if by accident sometimes, but he knows what to expect so he Powers Through It because he won't let magnus die, damn. and as horrible as that is alec has experience with powering through pain, so. he's gonna bandage him up god damn it

izzy can't stand to see him dealing with that himself tho, so she helps, and clary ends up helping as well because they figure sharing the pain makes it easier and alec doesn't have to be too hurt. minimal touching accidents for alec! good

*narrator voice* And Then Magnus Wakes Up And Alec Hugs Him

full on launches on top of him and brings him into his arms and Magnus screams like NONONO OH MY GOD WHAT ARE YOU DOING ALEC NO GET OFF ME YOU'LL BE HURT and his shock and distress at the whole thing sends another whole blast of magic that explodes that whole mf before it can touch alec and alec feels no pain and magnus is like.............. did i just COUNTER the spell? and everyone's like well! it looks like u did!

which earns him ANOTHER hug (oh my god alec stop he's so stressed out by this) (who knew alec was so touchy?) and this time he's paying attention to that gut reaction and because magnus is a Certified Magic Genius he realizes what it is that he's doing to counter the spell and immediately starts working on a way to turn this into unhexxing himself for good

which he DOES after some time idk how long but alec stays with him meanwhile and maybe izzy and clary do too, because magnus needs all the company he can get and besides, izzy has always wanted adventure and clary has never left the village before, so this is interesting to them at least. and magnus gets to meet new ppl which is nice

eventually the Begone Spell spell is performed and it works and turns out that when it does that it also unfucks magnus' magic and perfects his sentience spell turning all of his friends into humans WOW WHOD HAVE THOUGHT. so all of them are free to leave the tower as ppl at the same time and GROUP HUG!! and magnus cries like a baby in the group hug because holy shit hes been needing something like this so bad for so long and he never expected to have that with his friends but here he is :)

and then yeah they all move to the village to live a simple but fulfilling life and Magnus and Alec start living together in a little cottage and become husbands the end <3 this is so long too rip me

#sh #shadowhunters #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #izzy lightwood #lightwood siblings #clizzy if u squint #beauty and the beast au #part 2 i guess lmao #ask #shum-baby #long post #abuse mention

34 notes · View notes

westiec · 4 years ago

Text

June 25: t4t Chengqing! 💜❤🏳️‍⚧️

handwaved lots-of-people live AU, canon-era, trans woman Wen Qing, trans man Jiang Cheng, porn with feels

A/N: In this AU, we're assuming cultivation techniques exist with similar effect to hormone blockers and HRT. Wen Qing has breasts and a penis, referred to by the narration in non-specific terms. Jiang Cheng's bits aren't described, though Wen Qing makes reference to his cock. Explicit bits under the cut!

Read on ao3

They're in her favorite place in Lotus Pier, the private pavillion in the little cove behind the sect leader's rooms, when he asks.

It's a sultry summer evening, fireflies dancing beneath the softly swaying branches of the willow trees on the shore and a gentle mist rising above the lotuses, their blooms furled and guarded like precious secrets in the twilight. It's nothing like the home she grew up in, but it's the place in her new home she feels most free. Jiang-furen and Wen-daifu are left behind, put away with embroidered outer robes of vivid purple and scarlet or nestled on soft fabric in a lacquered box next to a crown that could be both lotus and flame and a comb that represents a bold promise fulfilled.

Here, she need only be Wen Qing, and her companion need only be Jiang Cheng, her lover, her husband, her friend.

His head is in her lap, and she's combing her fingers lazily through his unbound hair. The fine hairs behind his ear have curled from the humidity in the air, perfect little spirals that she twirls around the tip of her finger. He hums a low, satisfied rumble against her thighs. "Wen Qing, could I—" he starts, a blush spreading across his nose and those perfect cheekbones.

Ah, she thinks, one of those evenings. She digs her fingers a little more firmly into his hair, scratching at his scalp and tugging with the kind of tension she knows grounds him.

"Ask for what you want, A-Cheng," she instructs.

Intimacy between them has been... interesting to figure out. Neither of them had much space to become practiced at tenderness, and both of them have known their own bodies first as raw material to be shaped, cultivated into the right tool, the right weapon, something with which to do what needed to be done with a little friction as possible. Learning pleasure as husband and wife has been a negotiation, a dance, and—somewhat to both their surprise—a delight.

"I'd like to make you feel good," he says, still adorably red in the face but undeterred. "To undress my wife and properly appreciate her beauty."

He's quiet as she considers, closing his eyes and giving her the space to feel out where she is in her mind and body today, if she's up for this kind of attention. It's a lot, the fervency of her husband's admiration. A shiver races down her spine, and he smirks just a little, no doubt interpreting it as anticipation.

Correctly, as it turns out.

"You may," she tells him, and his smirk blooms into a dazzling smile. She tugs sharply on his hair again, and he bites his lower lip to school his expression into something less giddy. She relaxes her grip, and he sits up, pulling his hair back into a single low braid with brisk, efficient movements of his hands. She loves his hands, strong and scarred and so different from her own, and he blushes again when he notices her watching.

He inclines his head towards their rooms. "Is my lady ready to accompany me inside?"

She asjusts her seat on the cushions and tosses out a quick talisman, mentally offering a wry thanks to her brother-in-law for inventing a silencing charm that doesn't require an enclosed space to set. Jiang Cheng’s eyes go wide and dark, and she grins. "It's such a lovely night though."

He glances around quickly, as though reminding himself they can't be seen, then gives her far too low a bow. "As my lady says."

It's always heady, being loved this way. Jiang Cheng moves with such reverence, carefully loosening the ties of her robes and drawing the soft fabric slowly apart. He kisses each bit of skin as its exposed, soft presses of lips against her throat, her shoulder, down her arm. He takes her hand and turns the palm up, kissing along the sensitive skin from the inside of her elbow down to her wrist, nipping at the meat of her thumb when he reaches her palm. She twists her wrist to trace over plush lips, and his mouth is hot and wet when he draws her fingers between them, tongue tracing patterns on the pads of her fingers. The sight and sensation is more erotic than it has any right to be, and a little shudder passes through her. He pulls off with a quiet pop and moves back up her arm, kissing across her collarbones and repeating the whole procedure as he slides her robes off her other arm. He's beautifully obscene, sucking on her fingers with his eyes closed in bliss, and she watches him for awhile, letting the heat build in her belly and between her legs. He'd stay there as long as she let him, though, so eventually she curls her fingers to dig her nails into his eager tongue, and he releases her with a chuckle and a kiss to her fingertips. "Apologies," he says, sounding not sorry in the slightest.

He snakes his arms around her and runs strong hands down either side of her spine. She arches back into him with a little sigh of pleasure as his fingers find the spots where he's learned she carries tension. "Massage?" he offers, but she shakes her head.

"Not tonight." She loves it when he presses her down and works out all the knots and kinks in her back, but she has better use for his hands right now. She leans back further, and he takes the hint, lowering her onto the cushion and swinging a leg over to kneel astride her thighs. He leans in to place a kiss on her brow, and she closes her eyes so he can drop more kisses on each closed lid, the tip of her nose, scattered across her cheekbones, on her earlobes and the hinge of her jaw, back and forth until she growls and bites at his lips when they press featherlight to the corner of his mouth. She swallows his laughter as he opens for her, letting her bleed off some of the fire he's stoked in her veins in hungry, passionate kisses. Her hands are in his hair again, and she knows his neat braid will be crooked and messy when she lets him up. Good.

After a while, she relents, and he pulls back with laughter dancing in his eyes, the way he always gets when he riles her up enough for her to let her control slip. She pretends she isn't half-breathless and nods imperiously for him to continue. He's smirking again as he moves down her chest, but she decides to allow it, for what's coming next.

Wen Qing is not a vain woman, merely one fully aware of her impressive accomplishments. Her breasts, in her opinion, are one such accomplishment. Her family's work in medical cultivation includes several treatises on people like her and Jiang Cheng, who know themselves to be something other than what the bodies they were born with suggested, and she had worked diligently as a child to grow her golden core fast enough that she might take advantage of that knowledge from an early age.

Jiang Cheng runs his hands up her sides and cups her breasts, pushing them together and kneading them gently. His hands are the perfect size to span their fullness, and she loves the way it feels when he plays with them. He brushes his fingers over her sensitive nipples, pinching and teasing as they stiffen up further under his ministrations. Her breath stutters when he looks up at her through his lashes and bends to take one in his mouth. He rolls it back and forth under his tongue, nibbling gently at first and then less gently as she arches her back and presses her chest up into his face. He sucks, hard, pulling back until her breast hangs stretched like a drop of water from his lips, and at the same time he pinches her other nipple. He releases her from his mouth and follows the tender flesh back down, nipping and kissing his way over across her chest to give the other side the same treatment.

It's gorgeous and intense and for a while Wen Qing thinks they'll just stay like this, grinding against each other while Jiang Cheng worships at her breasts. She wouldn't mind. It's blissful, nearly euphoric, the way he suckles and licks and teases them, but when she bucks her hips up, he chuckles and pulls back.

"Apologies again," he says, "this husband was distracted by his wife's perfect breasts." The fact that he so clearly means it is almost—almost—enough not to earn him a glare. The breeze through the pavilion is cool against her wet nipples, and she wants to shove his face back to her chest.

Then he slides further down and bites at her hipbone, and the noise she makes is somewhere between a moan and a yelp. He plays his fingers across the waistband of her inner skirt. "May I continue?" he asks.

"I was promised undressing and appreciation," she says, with as much cool haughtiness as she can muster while she feels like she's burning up from the inside. "And you know I can't abide leaving a task half done."

He laughs at that and sits up to pull the skirt away. He runs his hands down the ouside of her legs to her feet, digging his thumbs into the edge of her arches firm enough to make her hiss. She can feel the thunderstorm charge of his qi flowing through her meridians and stoking the fire in her belly.

"I should never have explained acupressure points to you," she teases. "That's cheating."

"Your meridians are beautiful too," Jiang Cheng insists, unrepentant. "I mean, I assume. You'd know better than me." She laughs and hooks her heels around his waist, tugging him back down towards her. "I was going to kiss up and down your calves and praise the beauty of your feet," he grumbles.

"I'll consider them duly praised," she declares. "I'd rather have your mouth a little higher."

He grins again, and lowers his lips, now flushed from his earlier efforts, to the inside of her thigh. "Like here?" he murmurs, and she sighs something like a yes as he begins to trace swirling patterns over her skin with his lips and tongue. He teases back and forth, a little higher each time, sending waves of pleasure up her spine. She lets her eyes fall closed as he reaches the apex of her thighs.

"You're gorgeous," he says, cupping her sex and pressing down with his whole palm, the way he knows she likes. Years of training her qi to shape her body mean that she doesn't get hard without intentional effort to direct her blood and energy to that organ. She usually prefers not to, because she loves the way this feels. Firm, deep pressure against all the most sensitive parts of her. Jiang Cheng’s mouth is hot and wet as he licks and kisses between her legs. She moans and presses up into his face, chasing that slick heat and pressure that feels so good. He takes the very tip of her into his mouth, sucking and teasing it like he had her nipples, and she shudders at the burst of intense sensation.

She's close, she realizes, built up slowly from his thorough teasing of her body. She thumbs at her nipples as she pants out, "Can you— A-Cheng, please, I want—" and he grinds the heel of his palm over her hui yin point. He's cheating again, she distantly notes, sending a burst of his own energy into her body, but she feels too good to tease him for it. The charge of his qi—like lightning, like zidian, like nothing else in the world—twines with the fire of her own energy and races through her, a bright burst like sparks up her spine over the lower, slow waves of pleasure rolling through her body. It's gorgeous, and every time she lets Jiang Cheng pleasure her like this, she's overwhelmed by the sheer decadent bliss of it.

When she opens her eyes, he's already staring up at her, resting his head on her hip and smiling that soft, awed little smile he gets sometimes when he's not thinking about what his face is doing. "Come up here," she says, no command left in her voice at all, but he comes and curls around her, kissing her gently, still with that same reverence. "That always feels so decadent," she admits, lingering wisps of pleasant sensations still humming gently through her body. "Give me a second, and I'll be happy to return the favor?"

"Not tonight," he says. Sometimes it's easier for him to focus on her. When she glances out the corner of her eye, though, she sees a blush creeping across his cheeks again. "Besides, I, uh, kinda..."

"Ground your cock into the cushion while you were using your mouth on me?"

Now he flushes fully scarlet. "Yes. That," he chokes out. Wen Qing kisses his flaming cheek. "It's just so much more sensitive now!"

Perks of marrying a Dafan Wen, she thinks smugly. Perks of the war being over, too—she'll be able to teach such techniques much more widely.

"Good," she says aloud. "I like when you enjoy yourself, husband."

"I like to enjoy you," he shoots back.

"And you do it so very well," she agrees. His smile is pleased now, and she kisses it off his lips, feeling perfectly, wonderfully herself in the heart of Lotus Pier. 💜❤

#PrideMonthSnippets Masterpost!

#PrideMonthSnippets #the untamed #wen qing #jiang cheng #chengqing #trans pride #trans headcanons #t4t chengqing #sexy times #oh golly this one is not a snippet #westie writes

31 notes · View notes

crystalirises · 4 years ago

Text

NPC Fundy AU

Essentially, Fundy is not part of the main canon. He's just a person living within the SMP. However, that doesn't mean he doesn't have any ties to the people within canon...

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31985884/chapters/79557208

His papa had promised him that he’d be back.

That was five years ago. Now, there was but a rotting cottage behind him and a god with an offer before him. Fundy glanced down at the god’s open hands, the paleness of their gloves reminded him of pure white snow. Their head was spherical, not quite a face but he could make out an X and D, which looked like they were perpetually joyful. He hadn’t felt that happy in a long, long time. The god had followed him from the river that he had been fishing from, whispering sweet words into his ears, promises of a better life in a better world. Fundy couldn’t trust them, couldn’t trust in promises. Promises were meant to be broken, as his papa had so demonstrated.

No. He wouldn’t trust in the god’s promises. What he wanted was a deal.

The god was surprised at the little fox’s audacity, but they let out a giggle, agreeing to the proposition. It wasn’t an issue to them anyway. So the god asked what the boy wanted, expecting the usual wish of treasure beyond any man’s wildest imagination. Yet the answer shocked them. For the boy had asked to be let into their world, in exchange for his memories. Not quite the deal. Not one that they found to be fair. But if that is what the boy wanted, then they shall agree to it.

Though Fundy did intervene before the deal was to be set. He wanted to leave a letter.

The god let him, after all, it would be the last act he’d do in this life.

Fundy had rushed back into the home that he’d known for most of his life. He had been eight when his father had left, promising a quick return and a gift for Fundy once he came back. He waited through all five springs. He waited through all five summers. He waited through all five autumns. He waited through all of the five winters, when all he could do was throw in scraps of wood and clothing into the fireplace to keep himself warm and chewed on grass to keep himself alive, but his papa never came back. So, he picked up a pen and paper, and began to write:

‘Papa… Wilbur, something interesting happened today. A god approached me today, and asked if I wanted to go with them. I think I will. I miss you, everyday. But I think it’s time for me to go. I pray that you find this letter, and that you may be happy knowing that I am in a better place.

I’ll always I love Love you Goodbye.’

He left the letter on the table, trusting that it would stay and not be lost to the wind. Fundy rushed back to the god, whose hand had reached out to hold his. And off they went to the Essempy.

---

When he first met General Wilbur Soot, his first thought was that the man was charming. Fundy had been working on one of his many inventions when someone had chanced upon his house. He opened it to find a man in a blue uniform. He need not look at the flag that was finely stitched onto the man’s jacket. Everyone within the Essempy had heard of the General of L’Manburg.

Most had called him persuasive and revolutionary. Others called him a lunatic and a hopeless dreamer. Fundy had neither opinion, for he had no care towards the coming L’Manberg-Essempian War. He knew that L’Manburg was short on supplies and on men, and the general of a losing country could only be at his doorstep for one particular purpose. Fundy had expected many promises to be made, anything to get another soldier in L’Manburg’s ranks.

He had not expected to be pulled into a nearly suffocating hug.

It took a while for him to free himself from the man’s grasp. Still, the man held onto him.

At least the promises had been proposed, like he’d expected them to be. The General promised freedom, a life away from tyranny. While the man continued on with his calculated rambling, Fundy couldn’t help but listen, a part of him wondering why this scene felt so familiar. Fundy standing before a man on the precipice of making history while continuously staring out from the safety of his den. The man laid a hand on his cheek, crocodile tears flowing past his cheeks.

The general then promised his safety, and Fundy couldn’t help but feel like the man hadn’t promised anyone else that. Yet he was not the type of person to trust in promises. This man knew the game of charm and wit, knew the proper words to sway people to his side. Fundy would not have it. He was content to live his days in the sereneness and simplicity of his home. Besides, he’d heard the rumors, heard of the masked man that ruled over the lands of the Essempy. The General of L’Manburg may not fear Dream’s retribution, but Fundy sure did fear his punishment.

In truth, the promises felt like a luren’s lure. Ones that would lead him to his own demise.

The man still stood before him, crying out to a stranger who did not know him. Fundy let him cry, for there was nothing wrong in that. The general may be a siren, but he was still a man. Fundy would give him this moment of weakness, though he knew not of what the man cried for.

It was a pity really, moving though his promises may be, Fundy did not believe in promises.

Fundy smiled, and declined to join L’Manburg’s side.

---

When he first meets President Wilbur Soot, he is genuinely surprised to find the man alive, albeit down to two lives. He hadn’t meant to go near L’Manburg, hadn’t even known where it was, but he’d spotted the president. Well, the president spotted him. The man had quickly rushed after him, the same charming smile on the man’s face while he pulled Fundy deeper into the country.

He held on tightly to the basket of pastries on his arm, forcing down his irritation while the man gave him an extensive and thorough tour of the nation. The president seemed particularly fond of the blackstone walls that surrounded L’Manburg, stating that they were built for his beloved son.

Fundy nodded along, letting the man tell him tales of the nation he and his brothers had fought so hard for, trying to quell his rising curiosity from getting the better of him. No one had ever mentioned that the president had a son, only two brothers. The president continued to pull him along, introducing him to a few residents that walked by them. A few of the people’s faces were familiar to him, and Fundy was quite surprised to find former Essempians within L’Manburg.

Their little walk finally came to a lull by the time they reached a van… with a burning hot dog on top of it. Fundy averted his gaze, coughing down a chuckle at the oddity of such a vehicle.

“How do you like our nation so far?”

Odd. The president’s wording of the question felt too personal.

“A good nation, I suppose.” Fundy glanced around, pursing his lips together. The ruler of the Essempy would not take this transgression lightly, yet these people walked around like they were finally free. He shook his head at the falsities. He glanced over at Wilbur, taking in the details that people did not wish to see so they chose not to see. This man was ambitious. A charming and ambitious man. Fundy could only hope the ambition didn’t fall into obsession. “L’Manburg seems to be thriving. I suppose congratulations are in order. You won the war, how impressive.”

“It is. We won. We have independence!” The man clasped a hand around his shoulders, nearly jostling the pastries off the basket. He tried to give the president a smile, happy for the man but he did want to get home. He would also rather not think about how the man kept wording his statements so personally. Fundy moved away from the president, taking a small step back to show that he was leaving. The man’s eyes seemed to widen. “You have a home here, Fundy.”

He nods in understanding, an awkward smile showing on his face.

Fundy declines the president's offer.

---

When he first meets the exiled ex-President Wilbur Soot, he nearly slams the door on the man’s face. The man, for lack of a better description, looked like shit. It was the dead of night when the man had come to visit him, the scent of gunpowder clinging to the man. Fundy, despite his better judgment, invited the man in for a midnight cup of tea. It felt odd to be in the man’s presence. He didn’t feel safe around him, didn’t feel like the man was the same man he’d been before. Fundy glanced up, nearly jumping once he realized that Wilbur hadn’t stopped staring at him at all.

“You hate me.” The man’s words were a surprise. His ears flicked up, his tail wrapping around his waist. Fundy hadn’t the faintest idea where the man had gotten that idea. Wilbur hadn’t made a move to grab at his teacup, glaring at it like it was poisoned. “No… you must despise me.”

“Wilbur, I don’t know you enough to hate you.”

“That’s my fault, isn’t it?” The man suddenly stood up, grabbing the tea cup before smashing it against the ground. Fundy flinched, arms wrapping around himself in fear that Wilbur might turn his attention to him. He wasn’t much of a fighter. Luckily, the man fell into a tired rant of his miserable life. Fundy couldn’t understand a single word, but he could hear the pain in Wilbur’s voice, the regret. “This whole shitshow. It’s my fucking fault. Everything I care about is gone!”

“I— Wil…” Fundy rose from his seat, mindful not to step on the shards of glass on the floor. He’d have to clean that in the morning. He laid a gentle hand on Wilbur’s shoulder, shaking him back to reality. “You were a great general once. You can get your nation back. I know you can.”

“THAT DAMNED NATION IS FUCKING GONE! IT’S BEEN GONE SINCE THAT FUCKING TRAITOR LED US TO THEIR DEATHS! … It’s been gone since you told me you wouldn’t live within our nation’s walls…” Wilbur sniffled, slamming a hand against the table. Fundy tried to ignore the last statement. He had no idea why Wilbur was stating such an accusation, but he could only imagine why. Perhaps the man wasn’t even seeing him. “L’Manburg is gone. The idea of that nation never even left my imagination. How could it when the reason I founded it for wasn’t even with me? That nation has to go, my little champion.”

He tried not to flinch when the man suddenly embraced him.

Fundy couldn’t help but lean in, wondering if this was how it felt to have a parent.

Really… He shouldn’t have been surprised to hear about Wilbur’s death a few weeks later.

Still… he couldn’t help but mourn for the man anyway.

---

When he first meets Ghostbur, the ghost insists that he stay with Fundy.

He even brought along a friend, Friend the Sheep.

The others - Wilbur’s friends and family - had glared at him in resentment, except for a few who had an understanding look in their eyes. They seemed to agree, most reluctantly, that Ghostbur should stay with him. Fundy found that quite odd, but they had insisted - some desperately and others threateningly - that Ghostbur stay with him. He couldn’t do much since the ghost had chosen to barge into his den everytime he had the chance to. Fundy found it… endearing.

Although… he wished the ghost wasn’t so… clingy. Fundy could barely breathe around him.

Ghostbur was cold, not personality-wise but physically. He had no idea of space, always inserting himself into every little detail of Fundy’s life. Worst still, the ghost treated him like he was a helpless child, even once trying to carry him up into his arms like he had the strength to do so. Fundy was eighteen. The ghost insisted on always hugging him, calling him ‘his little champion’ and every other petname that he could think of. At first, it had been nice… to be wanted by someone in such a way, but overtime, it became too overbearing for him to handle.

Yet each time he looked into those broken dark eyes, he couldn’t help but sigh and let the ghost do what he wanted to do. Ghostbur was imagining him for someone else, and everyone expected him to help the ghost remember. If this was the cure, then he’d gladly go on with the charade.

It’s what he would want anyone to do for him… help him remember.

He spends most of his mornings tending to his farm with Ghostbur, the ghost either singing a little song with his guitar or telling tales of the life that he could remember. In the afternoons, they would go over to New L’Manburg and fish with Philza, Ghostbur’s dad who seemed all too guilty to be around Ghostbur. In the nighttime, he would either have tea with the ghost who would be reading in the corner of their shared home or Ghostbur would pull him outside and they would make Chinese lanterns. Fundy found that he liked those moments with Ghostbur the most.

It was an odd companionship, but Fundy found himself feeling less alone with the ghost. Though he knew that the friendship wouldn’t last long. In the end, Fundy was nothing but a stranger.

When Tommy was exiled, Ghostbur followed after him.

Huh… Maybe Tommy was Wilbur’s son?

---

He met him again. The real him. The live version.

Fundy stood at his den’s open doorway, staring up at the man who crawled his way out of hell.

He heard the rumors.

He didn’t think a man could ever cheat death. But then…

Did he expect anything less from Wilbur Soot?

The man that stood before him, frightened him.

This man didn’t have the general’s charm that made Fundy trust him.

This man didn’t have the president’s hospitality that made Fundy like him.

This man didn’t have the exile’s desperation that Fundy felt sorry for.

This man didn’t have Ghostbur’s amnesia, which Fundy sympathized with him for.

This man was…

Fundy wasn’t sure.

He was bolder. That’s how Fundy would describe him.

He had grinned widely at Fundy, pulled him close with the intent to never let go.

He called him his little champion.

He called him son.

And when the man reached for his hand and asked Fundy to go with him.

Fundy said yes.

He wasn’t sure what the man would have done…

If he’d said no.

#fundy #wilbur soot #dream smp #dream smp fanfic

20 notes · View notes

cristobalrios · 3 years ago

Text

My Holo-Headcanons that I still need to turn into fics sometime and the original posts I made about them, A Compilation:

The Trouble With Emergency Holograms: La Sirena Tribble shenanigans, already started writing this one but has just been sitting in my WIPs for like a year.

Multiple Personalities: Some Sci-Fi reason the holos all have to temporarily be inside of Cris's head so they temporarily take over his body like That Episode With Data or That Episode With Seven, or kind of like That Other Episode With Seven and Doc although personally I'd prefer this to be an episode and not a fic, so we actually get to see Santi doing the rapidly-switching-between-personalities thing.

Holo Programs for Emergency Holos: Steward's recreational holo-program for the EHs where everyone gets to have their own dream job that's supposed to be not what they're programmed for, like an "if you could do anything other than your current job, what would it be" scenario. Emil is just... A doctor. Or is he? His hospital is actually a front for his secret spy base and no one knows it until Enoch spies on Emil and then the secret's out.

The Importance of Being Eddie: Rios pretends to be an Emergency Hologram that doesn't exist to get out of a conversation when he was Not in the mood for anything resembling social interaction; it was quick and easy and felt really good so he started using this excuse more, so he invents Eddie, the Emergency Departure Hologram. The Holos hear Rios doing this sometime and decide to help him out and have some fun of their own, so they take turns pretending to be this Eddie holo so people don't only see Eddie when they're looking for the captain and Eddie doesn't only leave the room to "find him" and never come back. And things... Get out of hand. Title named after the fact that this sounds suspiciously close to a variation of "Bunburying" as Algernon named it in The Importance of Being Earnest (I also love the fact that his name is Eddie, as named by @enigma-the-mysterious, specifically for the fact that it's reminiscent of Edward Hyde that this also... kind of resembles, if you squint, although the name came from "Emergency Departure Hologram" and was not, as far as I know, a literary allusion)

Hospitality: The origin of the Emergency Hospitality Holograms, an idea pitched to Doc when working on the Emergency Hologram Basic Installation Package, by his friend and fellow Voyager veteran Neelix, after meeting another beloved self-aware hologram, Vic Fontaine. Not exactly a story about our Holos on La Sirena, but sort of an origin story for Steward, so related.

The KitKats and That Time Cris's Generosity Was Mistaken for Negligence: Working title. Two things were talked about here; a Cute Fluff story where Enoch gets to have Emil's KitKat because Emil doesn't like them, but there are Conditions, and; Rios handing some things out the the holos, and Enoch sneaks back in line seeing if he can get away with getting Two without Cris noticing, and when Cris does give him another without any comment, he is suddenly worried that Cris really didn't notice that one of the holos was there twice and he's slightly offended.

Holo-ween: The Holos have a tradition on Halloween; try to confuse Rios about which Holo is which. They switch it up every time, including one time all of them looking exactly like him with no other visual or auditory indications of differences.

Portal: The Holo Squad play Portal. That's it, that's the entire thing.

I Swear My Smart Devices Are Alive: A modern AU where the EHs are Cris's smart devices and Agnes is the cute IT Tech who comes over to fix them when their idiosyncrasies get on Cris's nerves enough.

Forgery: The Holos can mimic Cris's handwriting perfectly...

Collection: This one is actually post-Picard S1, or during. Elnor wants to learn about why people have... Stuff. Just, stuff, for no apparent purpose, that they seem very attached to (read: Cris and his mermaid statues). Steward tries his best to explain it to him and the Holos show Elnor their own collections and hobbies, and help him find hobbies of his own.

Diagnostics: Ian takes his duty as their equivalent of ""Doctor"" to his fellow Emergency Holograms very seriously, but in true Rios-fashion, neglects to take care of himself. This results in the actual EMH having to step in. @talvenhenki already did an absolutely wonderful fic based on this idea that I love in chapter 8 of Voyages of the Freighter La Sirena, but I might do a version of my own. Maybe it will take place not long before this one, when Emil (and possibly Agnes, as mentioned in that version above, so that's an idea) goes to Ian before Cris intervenes. Anyway, whether or not I ever actually write it, definitely go read that version!

Emergency Command Hologram: A theory I had pre-Stardust City Rag that started off as a joke and turned into "wait this would actually be fun if not in canon, at least as an AU" - I have subsequently decided that this is going to be a recurring nightmare of Rios's, that he finds out that the real him died and he's a holographic copy of himself as a modified ECH the holos have been using to fake still having a captain. That he actually died and the holos covered it up to avoid being deactivated permanently or changed by the ship's next owner. The cover up aspect, of course, goes "nicely" with Cris's trauma.

Steward and His Roombas: I really don't know where the original stuff is for this (the link to the post is broken now, I don't know where it went) but this was completely inspired by Stabby the Space Roomba about Steward and his ship cleaning bots and Emmet taping a knife to one of them like the infamous Stabby that inspired the wonderful, beautiful fic @procrastinatorproject wrote and gifted to me, A Night at the Opera. Please go read it if you haven't (and reread it if you have). And listen to the podfic version @thelaithlyworm is making, here. They're both wonderful!

Meta that aren't fic ideas but are interesting/important observations and/or headcanons:

An Exploration of Emmet's Tattoos: Pictures, identification of whatever I could identify, and discussion of all of Emmet's various tattoos that we have been able to see on screen so far.

Connection: The holograms in the Emergency Hologram Basic Installation Package are interconnected with each other and the ship in intricate ways. This post itself is mostly a meta on the holos instead of an actual plot bunny but there's definitely stuff that can be done with these concepts.

Emergency Hologram Basic Installation Package: I have character bios for each of the holograms on my carrd that also has some headcanons about the EHBIPs as well. Carrd Home Page; Emil; Enoch; Steward; Emmet; Ian.

Also, these ideas are open for other people to steal (I would love but it's not required to credit me and possibly any others who helped make these ideas, as shown on their original posts, since a lot of them were definitely a collaborative thing).

If you do use any of these ideas, feel free to reblog this with the link to it!!

#cristobal rios #holo squad #emil (emh)#enoch (enh)#steward (ehh)#mr. hospitality (ehh)#emmet (etsh)#ian (eeh)#reference

14 notes · View notes

sledgefuweek · 4 years ago

Text

Each year we take a close look at the prompts for Sledgefu Week, for those who may be stuck for ideas or not quite sure about what the prompts could entail. Below the readmore are all seven prompts, as well as a short write-up exploring what they mean and some ideas to help get the creative juices going. Enjoy!!

Sickfic

This is a really popular and well-known fanfic trope that I feel probably needs little explanation, but I’ll write a little bit about it anyway! It essentially covers fic where one character is ill and the other cares for them -- it could encompass any kind of illness at all, (including chronic illnesses) and there’s a lot of room to get creative with it. You can go for angst, hurt/comfort, or fluff: it’s just a really good general prompt that I think works nicely to kick the week off!

It suits for Sledgefu pretty well, considering Snafu’s canon mild hypochondria, as well as the fact that Eugene’s dad is a doctor. It could be fun to lean into it: make Eugene play doctor for an actually-sick Snafu, and it could be just as fun to subvert it! There’s really endless options for canon fic: shrapnel wounds turned bad, heat-sickness, seasickness, illness from bad food or bad water or any kind of tropical disease you can think of (malaria is a big one!). You could make one of them (or both) a medic; you could genderswap them and write the gay field nurse fic this fandom sorely needs. And of course if you choose to branch out into modern AU you can begin to think of what might afflict them outside of a war setting: has Eugene been working too much and come down with a cold? Are they hungover, and need mutual care (and lots of takeout)? A lot of the time sickfic focuses on one character doing the comforting and the other character feeling unwell, but there’s nothing to say they can’t both be feeling shitty! I think we say this every year but there’s really no rules at all, you do whatever you feel inspired to do. With Sickfic, just be mindful to tag anything that others might be affected by eg. vomiting, blood, needles, etc.

Tarot

I feel like Tarot is pretty well-known to the Sledgefu fandom, or at least to those who like to write Snafu or his family a little witchy. In case you just have a vague idea of what Tarot actually is and what its purpose or origins are, I’ll explain it as concisely as I can! Tarot decks started life in Europe as playing cards, but eventually began to be used for divination. It’s made up of four suits, or the Minor Arcana, (Wands, Cups, Swords, and Pentacles) as well as a twenty-two card Major Arcana (the imagery of which you’re probably very familiar with). Commonly, tarot decks and tarot reading is used as a means of communicating with the higher self, deities, or with the universe. They can be used as a way to see the future, answer questions, or to give/receive advice. There are different ways of reading them too, depending on how one lays out the cards: I don’t want to make this too wordy, but if you’re curious I encourage you to check out this site to learn more!

For writers, there’s a lot of places this prompt could take you! Probably the most obvious will be fortune teller fic; a classic. Lean into Snafu’s Louisiana roots and have him telling fortunes in the depths of the French Quarter, or go against the grain and have Eugene reading cards and palms and tea leaves as a practice passed down through his family. Or maybe more casual: modern AU Sledgefu flirting through amateur tarot readings with a deck picked up from a junk shop. If you read Tarot and have a connection to it, you can express that through writing! It’s a pretty open-ended prompt, especially if you consider some of the meanings of the cards; you could even write a story inspired by that! The Hermit: Snafu withdrawing, leaving Eugene on the train to spend the next few months in solitude, working through things. The Moon: Snafu and Eugene hitting a rough patch, hiding things from each other. The opportunities really become endless once you start taking the readings of the cards into account! And for visual artists, this must be such a fun prompt: I feel like it’s so a visually rich, whether you’re re-drawing the cards to encompass Snafu and Eugene within them, or making a collage based around some of the things mentioned above: fortune tellers shops, witches cottages, etc.

Trinket

Every Sledgefu Week we tend to have a couple prompts that are a little more open to interpretation, and this year’s ‘Trinket’ is one of those. It might be difficult to try and think of something to base a whole fic or piece of art around, but we really encourage you to let your imagination run wild! There’s already some great trinkets in the show itself: Eugene’s ring, the lighter that Gunny Haney gave him, Snafu’s stolen gold teeth, or their dog tags. Think of small, special objects that you might have: what imbues them with comfort or meaning? What makes you love them? You could have Eugene giving Snafu his ring, or have Eugene musing over war and death and loss while smoking a cigarette lit by his lighter. If you’re into Modern AUs, how could these objects carry through to modern day? Once you start thinking about it, the ideas start rolling in. Feel free to invent special trinkets for them: or maybe trinkets that they hate and want to get rid of, trinkets that remind them of bad times. Trinkets that remind them of each other, or family, or war. So much meaning can be held in the things we own, and I think it’s such a lovely concept to explore!

Crossover

So this prompt was born from the sheer number of suggestions we had for various movie, TV, and book AUs. We didn’t want to put them all to the poll and risk a lot of you feeling disappointed over the one you wanted not being selected, so thought it’d work best to condense them into a ‘Crossover’ prompt so everyone could do whatever they liked. So this is a very very broad one! It would be impossible for me to really go through the prompt and highlight some things that you could do for it, because you can really do anything you want to! Anything! It encompasses movies, video games, TV, books, musicals... if something tells a story, you can do a crossover. So if there’s ever been a film/book/etc. AU you wanted to do for Sledgefu Week but couldn’t quite get it to match the prompts, now is the time!

Vacation

A pretty self explanatory prompt, and one that I think can appeal to people who prefer canonverse and those who like modern AU too! Do you want to send Snafu and Eugene on the holiday of their dreams, or are they gonna be bickering in a gas station over who gets control of the map? Is Snafu gonna drive across a couple states to surprise Eugene by visiting? Is Eugene gonna do the same? There’s a lot of scenarios you can apply to the backdrop of them vacationing, and a lot of emotional journeys you can take them through! And for the canonverse crowd, you have the extra addition of letting them go have fun on an R&R, or taking a road trip post-war, visiting 1950s Paris... you can really do whatever you like!

Historical

This was another prompt like ‘Crossover’ that came from a lot of various suggestions that all boiled down to a similar thing: different historical events or periods. So like Crossover, I won’t linger too long on it (this post is long enough already) except just to say again: do whatever you’re inspired to do! There’s no rules here, you could even take everyone out of the Pacific and put them over in Germany: give them a different experience of war. In fact, you can do that with any war if you wanted to! Wanna do a M*A*S*H AU but made something else for Crossover? You could do it here! Want to put them in the 1920s? You got it. In the 1850s? Yeehaw, they’re cowboys now. 1969, Summer of Love? 1600s, make Snafu a prince? Literally the world is your oyster!

Horror

Past Sledgefu Week prompts have included things that could come under the horror umbrella (Supernatural, for example) but didn’t necessarily have to be made 'horrific’. For the ‘Horror’ prompt this year, we want to see frightening! Disquieting, uncomfortable; creations that either cross over with existing horror franchises, or lean on horrific things you come up with yourself. Horror movies, or TV shows, or books or podcasts or pieces of art all seek to elicit a sense of fear: this can be done by tapping into common phobias, or nightmares, those things which are universally and almost instinctively scary. We want to see things which lean into that, in whatever way you want to do it!

I’m no horror media expert (not by a long shot) but the opportunities for this prompt are really vast simply because horror has so many subgenres to work with. You could go gothic horror; Dracula, Frankenstein, Wuthering Heights (a personal favourite AU -- Eugene soaked out on the moors, searching for Heathcliff-Snafu? Divine). Or you could go to the opposite end of the spectrum: Jennifer’s Body AU, Final Girl AU -- there’s no set way to do horror, in fact you could even bring horror into canonverse if you don’t like AUs. Think the Terror: some unknown beast lurking beyond the borders of their camp on Pavuvu, or Okinawa. Or you could even take the prompt entirely literally and explore the horrors of war and the toll it takes on them both. Please don’t feel stuck into needing to do Scary: horror is about fear and revulsion and dread, and these feelings don’t necessarily need to come from a haunting! (This is also a prompt ripe for monsterfucking, just FYI).

- - - - - - - - - -

So that’s the prompts for this year! They’re all really really great, and have a lot of potential to make some fantastic stuff :~) And to reiterate something I said right at the start, there are no rules here! I think every year we normally get at least one person unsure whether their idea will be okay for the prompt they’d like to make it for, so I just wanna say here: don’t second-guess yourself! As long as it can be linked back to the prompt in some way or another (can literally be the vaguest way possible) you’ll be absolutely fine. We don’t vet submissions at all, especially not for their content relating to the prompts. All we ask is that you remember to stay respectful in what you’re writing, and when the time comes to post it, you tag and warn appropriately :~)

On the subject of writing respectfully, we’d like to just take a moment to link the document on mindful writing re: race and gender that was made last year. Please take a look at it, even if you read it last year! It’s always good to keep these things at the front of your mind, as fandom is a community sport and we want to keep it fun and safe for everyone involved! So thank you if you’ve made it this far through this whole post, check out the doc, and enjoy the rest of the run-up to Sledgefu Week!

#sledgefu #sledgefu week #mod talk #info #if you saw this post before yes you did no you didn't <3 it has the horror prompt on it now lmao

15 notes · View notes

essektheylyss · 3 years ago

Text

Fanfic ask game for procrastinating on writing, that's what I'm understanding here, got it.

(tagged by @mllekurtz, thank you! these are super fun questions)

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

55! Jeeeeeez that's a lot.

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

295k. (Maybe it's because I come from the writing month world but that's the only stat I genuinely pay attention to lol.)

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

In current times, only Critical Role—back in the day I wrote on ff.net for Heroes and Castle and a few YA books.

4) What are your top five fics by kudos?

before it buries me

This was... actually my first shadowgast fic! One-shot set right after 91.

now I will ask you to be brave

Okay, so, this fic. I will not describe it, as I don't want to get anyone's hopes up. I started it right after hiatus with lofty ambitions and promptly realized my hubris, and now it is definitely never going to be finished. I did not get far. My deepest apologies to anyone who has read it and wanted more.

seeing eye to eye

One-shot of the nein running into Essek's family, and Beau understanding him a little better, rich kid with shitty parents to rich kid with shitty parents. A very specific characterization of Deirta in here, mostly filtered through Beau's mentality, which was so fun to write.

not from the absence of violence

OLD GUARD AU MY BELOVED. I desperately want to write in this au more but have not had the time or ideas, but holy shit I love this au so much.

cruel tricks the gods play

Another pre-97 shadowgast one-shot—the peace talks go very wrong and Caleb and Essek end up pulling a Titanic on a plank of wood after the ship sinks. Very fun, very no longer canon-compliant.

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

So, okay, I do not, but this is a Thing for me, because I have, inexplicably, deep panic about responding to ao3 comments. I do not know why. I can feel physical panic thinking about it now. I aggressively hate it because I do really want to respond to comments because commenters are so lovely! I think it is a combination of my brain not knowing the culture of ao3 interaction well enough that it seems alarming (thanks, neurodivergence) and college screenwriting workshops in which I was taught not to respond during critique.

In any case, I do not have the same weird panic about tumblr interactions, so I'm always down to chat here.

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

You know, for all of the angst that I write, I don't really write angsty endings. I think my two main Verin-centric fics (laid out one by one and this guilt-ridden heart) end kind of angstily, because that relationship isn't gonna be fixed in a conversation. But in general I think the worst I've got is bittersweet.

7) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I don't—I'd have to have a really, really good concept to write a crossover.

8) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not that I can remember, though who knows if I got any in high school. I'm a little impervious to flames anyway—again, workshop classes helped with the reminders that critique is what's useful, while hate is just, 'you can't please everyone'.

9) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I do not!

10) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I mean, not that I'm aware of lol.

11) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

12) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope.

13) What’s your all time favourite ship?

I mean, currently? Shadowgast. I don't have an all-time.

14) What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

sweet child. "Someday!" she says, shaking her fist at an unforgiving god.

15) What are your writing strengths?

I've suddenly forgotten every comment I've ever gotten. I am pretty good at grounded settings when I put in the effort. I think I am good at matching character voices—far better than inventing new ones.

And in terms of writing process... I managed to decide somewhere along the way that I like my own writing? Which is very hard, but also once you do that, it's a lot easier to just write instead of being hung up on quality, and it's then easier to notice when you're falling out of your own voice or when you actually need to rewrite a scene. I think I forced myself into this practice because I am soooo bad at sitting down and editing, so I have to do it as I write, and I had to get over the "this writing sounds like me therefore it is bad" feeling to manage that. (This has been my "love yourself as a writer" high horse.)

16) What are your writing weaknesses?

I think I overexplain. And on the other side, I lean so heavily into showing emotion via physical sensation that I forget to actually write the emotion.

And on a similar process high horse, I am so bad about feeling constantly like I need to write everything right now. This is primarily a problem because if I get too in my head about it, I end up writing none of it. I have not found a way to combat this, except to put one sentence in front of the other. (This is not helped by my ever-increasing pile of wips and ideas lol.)

17) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I patently refuse to do it, because I hate the idea of butchering a language I don't know, and because I tend to try to draw as little attention to the fact that a thing is written as possible, and if a language has to be translated via a glossary or something, it's drawing more attention to that, and even if it's something I'm leaving untranslated, someone who speaks that language will know that I have butchered it. That being said, I don't dislike it when I'm reading!

18) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Percy Jackson! I wrote so much PJO fic in middle school.

19) What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

what luminous worlds await, if only for the sheer enormity of that project and my delight that it actually came together. Though I cannot mention that without mentioning Icarus to your certainty, without which I probably would not have even written the former.

Tagging (and please feel free to ignore if you so choose) @the-littlest-goblin @mithrilwren @sky-scribbles!

#hello I am being perceived #dating myself with the use of the word 'flames'#I'm sorry for my strengths/weaknesses responses I hate evaluating my own qualities and love talking about writing process lmao #and now that I have managed to waste half an hour time to go back to writing lol #just! very! passionate! about! writing process!

18 notes · View notes

spaceoperajay · 4 years ago

Text

I Bet on Losing Dogs

Maxwell dies of old age.

Read below the cut or on ao3.

A/N: this takes place in an AU (its not really alternate? it doesnt conflict with canon at time of writing) where wilson does magicscience and figures out a way to free charlie, bonding w/ her in the process's many trials and errors listening recs: I Bet on Losing Dogs (thank u inky for the rec!) The Never Ending Why and thank you to to all my pals who helped give me the confidence to post the damn thing

This was by far the weirdest death he had ever had.

He'd gone out in blazes of glory, striking his dark sword into the heart of the Bearger. Most of his violent deaths had been considerably less distinguished however, having all his organs tumble out after he tripped and let his tallbird egg prize crack open. Even more deaths had been caused by poor planning, his or others. He still resented Willow for the time the arsonist asked him to get honey without mentioning the dozens of homeless furious bees awaiting nearby.

He'd never died surrounded by loved ones before, well by loved ones who weren't furiously scrambling for their own lives. Someone, usually Wilson, would just patch him up with the magically quick healing they had at their disposal. Now, all Wilson could do was inject morphine in him to numb the pain and to hold his hand. Charlie sat right beside him on their bed, slowly petting the last wisps of hair he had left.

"You always liked my hair," he croaked to her, leaning his head into her hand.

"I still like it," she said smiling, her chubby face making even more wrinkles. It gave him joy over the years every time he noticed a new one on her face. He had grown old with her.

"You're a fool."

"I'll decide that. Now rest Maxy," she told him, putting a bit more pressure in her strokes.

"Seriously Max," chided Wilson. He put on a brave face, but Maxwell knew internally he was broken at how he couldn't out-science old age. Maxwell was glad that Wilson and Charlie were much closer in age, he wouldn't leave either alone and cold. Like he'd left them both on the throne. He was the one to bring them all home, They’d told him they forgave him. But as he felt his mind fading being wrapped in oily darkness he felt just felt some primal fear that they didn't.

"Bah, I'm resting, I'm resting," he said bringing his hand back down.

On the opposite side sat his daughters. "Papa," said his daughter Eunice. Well, being biologically his was unlikely, but that conversation had been had with his children long ago. "Can't believe you're actually listening to someone for once," she joked with tears in her eyes.

"That's one miracle, now another would be for you to actually do the same."

She snorted, tears cascading down her face, "With that many miracles we'd get your stupid ticker working again."

"Appreciate the little miracles. They're far enough and few in between in this cruel world," he said sincerely.

"Yes, I will," she told him grasping his boney arm, it was nice. He couldn't feel it very well though.

"You're going to continue working at the university?"

"Yes Papa."

"Good. Invent something that puts Dad to shame."

She chuckled harshly, "I'll try my best Papa."

"Oh, you know she will," reassured Wilson.

"And Christine," his younger daughter looked up nervous, "You're doing a much better at being a parent than I ever did."

"Papa, don't say that," she almost squeaked.

"Benefit of dying, I can say what I like."

As he said that Maxwell heard a child's voice announce, "He's awake, he's awake!" and the door opened to his son Oliver and nieces entering, with the grandchildren following.

"Uncle!" shouted Abigail, she knelt beside Christine with a flourish. Oliver sat beside Wilson, with a calm brave face on.

"If you had died without me here, I would have wept Maxwell," spoke Wendy, standing at his feet, her long blond hair greying.

"Oh? How come?" he asked with a dry smile that she returned.

"So many cursed souls having prayed for it, it would be shame to miss such an exodus."

If Maxwell had the ability to chuckle, he would have, it was only made funnier by Christine's harsh admonition of Wendy. Maxwell spoke, "I hope I will not disappoint you."

"You won't, Uncle," she said, with that barely noticeable touch of sadness to her voice. But he knew it well.

It felt so easy to close his eyes and sleep and imagine a world far away. He knew this feeling, but he had some things to say before he gave in. "Oliver, you've done me proud. A man of the community and industry."

Oliver nodded, crying.

"I wish I had been half the person any three of you grew to be," he looked at Oliver saying this, it took energy to turn his head. He was so weak.

His eyes moved to his sweethearts. "Charlie...Wilson...I could not have asked for better partners in life, but I still have something to ask-"

"Max if you would just rest," Wilson started nervously, "you could get better."

Keeping her gaze on Maxwell and hand in his hair, Charlie wrapped an arm around Wilson tightly, "Maxy, I forgave you, that night behind Pete's. And I haven't regretted it yet.

"Even though I made it hard?"

"Yes, even though you did," Charlie replied softly.

Wilson spoke sadly, “Max, do you really think we haven’t forgiven you?” and then almost a whisper he said more calmly, "I forgave you a long time ago, before you even realized."

And he found himself fading before he even finished his sentence, his last recollection was him sensing Wilson squeeze his hand tighter.

---

He looked up to see a high sun, yet his bones felt frozen to the ground. He stood; driven by a fighting instinct he hadn't felt in quite some time. He examined the snowy landscape around him. Uniform pines, irregularly spread-out high tufts of grass, and a carefully-made but primitive firepit with a chest next it.

He wasn't surprised to be in hell. He just didn't think it was going to be so personalized.

He bent down to open the chest, and saw he was wearing that old pinstripe suit. He'd thrown it out years ago. But here it was. And his joints didn't ache. Inside the chest was the basic resources to start a fire and he robotically set to it. He felt no grief for being here. In a way, it was comforting.

So cold. Starting a fire from scratch took time and the gloves had on were cheaper than he was used to. He took them off for the added dexterity, he had no reason to hide his claws here. He shivered; he knew the Buddhist hell was cold. Christianity got demons right, perhaps the Buddhists had gotten hell, right? He tried to recall the variances of the different frozen hells. But his mind wandered to their travels to Siam. Charlie with her keen skill at communication had picked up some Thai and regaled them from the knowledge she'd learned from the locals. Wilson had compared with her what he'd seen in the temples he'd studied. He smiled thinking about the warm conversations by the fireside. Well, he almost had fire at least, he felt sparks on his hands as he worked.

They'd traveled the world on Higgsbury money. Wilson showed them his pretty "fiancé" Charlie to his parents who were delighted to see normalcy in Wilson, and Maxwell had been a "friend" who had just happened to tag along. Truthfully not long after Wilson regained his memories of The Constant the already married couple had a private ceremony with Wilson. Not knowing that, the Higgsbury patriarch was happy to give them money to travel the world before settling down. The scheme had worked wonderfully, he had to say. Better than most of the ones Maxwell had had in life. Wilson had many anxieties about the plan, but he forgot about all of them when they first set out on that boat, adventure and new knowledge awaiting them. Charlie had been hesitant too, but her worries fell away earlier when she saw firsthand how every awful thing Wilson had said about his family was true. Then she took part in the plan with glee. Beautiful woman had even manipulated Madame Higgsbury into arranging their stay in Japan as well.

Maxwell startled and fell to his side as a flare went off beside him. Blinking and recovering, the string leading to a flare hook on the back of the was quite obvious now that he focused. It was equally obvious that someone else was here and they wanted to know about newcomers. He should have been more aware of his surroundings. He'd gone soft. He would need backup, someone ready to help him fight, someone to keep an eye on this spot as he hid.

He reached in his pocket and felt the cold slick oil he had expected. It felt both like yesterday and a lifetime ago he'd used the stuff. Maybe it was yesterday. Had he hallucinated growing old with two people he held closest in his heart? Hallucinated his children, Wendy, and Abigail growing up? Similar cruel jokes had been tried by Them before, though it hadn't been as nearly detailed. He'd disobeyed Them, used his knowledge to free Their pawns and Their Queen. It was a possibility. But could They really imitate human emotions so well? Imitate the tender way morning light fell on Wilson's face as his eyes slowly flickered awake. Imitate the way they traded sleepy insults in their code language that meant love. Imitate how Charlie would wake up giggling at them before rolling onto Wilson and pulling Maxwell close, even when he resisted out of some need to prove she'd keep pulling him.

He had to survive to figure it out. He took the fuel into his hands and molded it like Taffy, a Taffy that stretched and grew. The oil soon saturated his talons and perhaps instantaneously, he couldn't quite tell, he felt the fuel coat his mind. He promised Charlie he wouldn't use this again, hadn't he? He put it back in his pockets. Whoever left that flare couldn't torture him anymore than he had been already. And if they could kill him?

Maxwell laughed.

He might as well wait.

---

Some hours later deep into the night, as Maxwell roasted the rabbit he had trapped, Wickerbottom and Woodie had found him. The two other survivors who had died before him.

Wickerbottom greeted him with maternal hug and a gentle smile, and he returned the warmth.

"It's about time you got here," Woodie simply said.

"A kingdom is nothing without its king, now," Maxwell replied, amazed at how young his voice sounded. And arrogant, but he was having fun being his old pinstripe suit with his old voice and his old mobility.

"Haven't changed at all, not surprised," Woodie said gruffly.

"Can't fix what is already perfect," Maxwell shrugged with flair.

Woody just grunted in response, "Well him showing up coincides with your theory."

"It seems so," Wickerbottom replied, "Maxwell, have you died on Earth?"

"Yes, and to my knowledge only we three have." He didn't have to guess what Wickerbottom's theory was.

"Were you brought straight here?"

"Yes, where else would I have gone? The-" 'devil can't have competition and God is jealous' is what he would have said had the librarian not interrupted him.

"That does put hole in my theory."

"How?" he demanded.

"I hypothesized you would be put back on the throne, from the writings Woodie found." That did beg a certain question.

"Who is on the throne? What writings?" Maxwell asked, Someone had to be on the throne, else the entire Constant would never regenerate.

"No one," answered the Canadian. "I think uhm, They wrote it." Writing from Them?

"Impossible. They are unintelligent without a sentient being to channel Their will through." Maxwell replied.

"I saw it too Max," spoke up Lucy, "dunno what to tell ya."

"What did this writing look like?" he nearly barked.

"I have it in here," Wickerbottom said unperturbed, pulling a book out of her sack.

As she searched Maxwell asked, "Do you have notes on the magical field to keep Charlie safe?" He had lost all recollection how to build it, as one did.

"No. It is impossible to build without Moonstone, so there is no point in spending resources."

"What?"

The librarian looked up, looking pained. "I am sorry, but we do not have access to any of the resources from Charlie's reign as they never were created here."

"What?" Maxwell shouted. "Why haven't you started looking at substitutes? The thulecite is made of nearly the same material, it's just attuned differently!"

"Calm it hoser, we're just trying to survive. Maybe you can use some of that dark magic to 'fix' everything again, eh?"

Maxwell had no response but a huff. He'd spent the last few hours processing his failure. He had thought himself some big damn hero. They would all get some happy years but end up right back here ultimately.

Wickerbottom handed him the open book. Glued in was a rough sketch of the nightmare language. He felt that oily darkness of Them circling his mind as he read it, immediately recognizing what it meant. He created the symbols, and he created the thing. It was how he filled this world. He'd also needed to create glyphs to represent a soul bond to this world. This was Wilson's symbol. Right under it was a collection of symbols that roughly translated to 'second king of the humans'. Just some redundancy to be safe, huh?

With this knowledge in hand, he knew They were very intentional in not giving them the resources to free Charlie. Perhaps some residual intelligence in the Grue before it and Charlie had truly separated? It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

This was Their payback. Let him have his few kind decades, let him think Charlie safe from the Grue and warm in his arms, let him fall in love with Wilson and be one of the few people the scientist could look in the eyes. Then take it away. He knew he was an idiot for hoping things could be changed.

"Maxwell," Wickerbottom spoke, "We should be getting back to camp." Maxwell said few words as they headed there.

---

He dropped his pack before the throne. He took a moment to catch his breath, the journey from the ruins to the throne room was a steep slog. Although, he was getting quite used to it with all his trips down here.

He pulled out drapes he'd sewn from Beefalo fur and dyed. He'd done his best to imitate the ones they'd had at home. They were ugly, garish, and the height of pretentious modern aesthetic, but Charlie adored them. He had let her put them up with limited snark. Their guests, either fellow artists or friends of artists, adored them as well. Charlie was better at actually relating to others than him, that was for certain. They were both better than Wilson, Maxwell snickered at the memory. Guests had come over early and Charlie had gone up to Wilson's lab in her red little flapper dress, only to rush down and whisper to Maxwell she couldn't find him anywhere. Maxwell's suspicion had gone to strange movement of the drapes, and hilariously confirmed. By some strange rationalization, Wilson had ended up hiding behind the drapes, too awkward to interact with the others. There were too many trembles in the scientist's voice as he explained for Maxwell to reveal Wilson callously. So, Maxwell distracted the guests with charm and slights of hand as Charlie slyly handed Wilson glasses of liquid courage, until Wilson found the confidence to reveal himself.

They laughed about the 'drapes debacle' for a long time after Wilson got over that depressive episode. There weren't windows for a drape here. Maybe one of the boulders would work.

Wilson wasn't going to get over depressive episodes anymore. The throne didn't let you. It only let you slide from one end from the other. The exhilaration of your dreams coming true, even though some part of you knows those aren't your dreams but you don't care, to crawling in the dirtiest pits a soul can reach.

He didn't know what to do for Wilson, who would be able to have any whim he wanted but freedom. His best idea was to keep Wilson company as king. But all it would be is honey for a sore throat when the real issue was that nightmare shadows would be suffocating him to every little alveoli (that's what Wilson said they were called right? he didn't want to forget a single thing from the world before). What to do for Charlie was a little more obvious, painful as it was to recall what she told him it was like. As the Grue she spent the day in the darkness surrounding the throne room. The rituals of civilization, from holidays, to decor, to clothes, let her remember what it was to be human as the Grue. She had little splotches of lucidity from seeing the twins celebrate their birthday or when Wolfgang celebrated Yom Kippur. So, he figured he would decorate there. For what it’s worth.

His hands trembled. He knew none of this would fix things. The mistake he'd made of trusting the Codex was a permanent one. Failure after failure. Every time Maxwell thought he a great achievement, he always reverted to failure. His natural state of being. Equilibrium, as Wilson would say. Every time he'd put his heart and soul into something, it didn't matter at all. Every time, every time. He was just damned; he had long known. He'd just let himself think he wasn't. He did wonder why despite knowing that the game was already lost, why he did this? Some baubles weren't going to be any sort of real alleviation for the pain of being tied to the darkness like Wilson and Charlie would be. Wilson's relentlessness had rubbed off on him, it seemed. He didn't deserve for it to. To be influenced by such a man to pick up a positive trait was an undeserved miracle.

If only, if only, he hadn't been so desperate and used that forsaken book. In all likelihood he would have never met Wilson or Charlie, but that didn't matter if they were happy. They taught him what love meant and for that'd he would give everything.

At first, he thought the crowd was love. The praise of the claps gave his heart warmth. When it didn't work out, his heart was as cold as the empty seats. But, when he started getting more popular, he thought he understood love, he thought he was known. Then once he got to know his beautiful assistant a little better, he was convinced he really really knew love. It was love to a degree, but infatuation to a bigger one, truthfully. Finally, when the shadows enraptured his mind, he had been surer than ever that that was true love. To be held tenderly for every thought, every impulse, and be so completed. What he knew They knew, he was known, they were known. He was on top of the universe, controlling it hand and hand with Them. What more could love be, he'd thought then. Truthfully, part of him still loved Them.

He hadn't ever real known love, the kind you give and return fully, until he had lived long past the age most people had. He mused that if it had taken him long enough to turn to dust, it must be a fact in the cruelty of the world, that some people do not ever know love. But he was lucky. When Wilson stood in front of him and said, quite plainly, "I'm going to free you." It wasn't a romantic love then, that didn't come until much later, but a love for humanity that Maxwell had never seen exist genuinely. Later was when he and Wilson had been sitting on a small cliff, feeling the light sprays of salt from the waves and Maxwell put his head on Wilson's shoulder. Wilson had loved him for a long time, he realized then. And it was in that moment that the ocean had eroded enough of his walls and pain for Maxwell to love him back.

The next time he experienced true love was back home. He'd been leaving through the back door of a sleazy bar. After performing, for chump change most likely, he'd sauntered out drunk. Then, in that dingy alley, with the full moon like a halo he saw Charlie for the first time in seven months and thirteen days. They'd stayed together after they returned, first to just try and cope with the earthquake's aftermath. But neither of them really knew what to do. Until one day he'd found a note saying "I'm leaving. I can't stay. I'm sorry. I don't know what I regret and don't." He didn't think he would see her again. But then in that alleyway she said, "I'm back Maxy. I'll stay for now. I'm going to try and forgive you Maxy, don't make me regret it." He'd sobbed to that beautiful clever charming and supremely dramatic woman that he would do whatever he could.

The last love he'd been taught was perhaps the silver lining in it all. His children would have happy lives free of the Constant. When he held Eunice in his arms for the first time, he had been overjoyed. He had been afraid, afraid to be in charge of the care of such a pure creature. Right before her birth he'd almost messed things up again, but seeing her, made him promise to never touch Their magic again. The midwives had locked out Maxwell and Wilson (although thankfully let in Winona and his nieces), so the two men were left to their own imagination. Wilson had that, the medical knowledge of everything that could go wrong, and his neuroticism, all in spades. Had it not been for all of that, Maxwell would have been perfectly calm. But it was enough for him to get out the Codex again. He'd almost used it to burst down those walls, but Wilson stopped him. And later that night, sitting with the people he loved, he tossed it into their bedroom hearth.

But now the Codex was in his jacket pocket.

He could burn it.

But he'd die.

And it would just come back. With him.

Maxwell lit a torch. He walked with the drapes to two gold boulders close to each other. Yes, that would be the perfect place to put the drapes.

#ds #don't starve #dont starve #macharlson #macharwil?#there is no good word for my ot3 #don't starve together #my work

10 notes · View notes

duhragonball · 4 years ago

Note

Bulma

Give me a character and I will answer:

Why I like them: Somewhere around 1998, Kurt Busiek took over as the writer for the Iron Man comic. This was back when Iron Man wasn’t particularly popular and the last two attempts to reboot the guy had failed. I read an interview in Wizard Magazine where Kurt promoted his upcoming run, and he explained the character this way: Tony Stark is a superhero, an inventor, a ladies’ man, and a billionaire. You could have a blast writing a comic book about any one of those four things, but he’s all four. I may have gotten those four items wrong, partly because it’s been 22 years, and partly because it was more famous when Robert Downey Junior echoed that pitch in 2012. Take away the armor, and what is he? A billionaire genius philanthropist.

My point is that this is the appeal to Bulma as well. When we first meet her, she’s an adventurer, but then we find out she invented the device that lets her locate the Dragon Balls. And her mission is a romantic quest, so she’s like the heroine in a romance story. Then we meet her parents, and it turns out she’s a wealthy heiress. Well, I’m assuming Dr. Brief doesn’t plan on leaving his fortune to all of his pets, but you get the idea.

There’s a lot of versatility to the character. Some arcs barely make use of her, but others take full advantage. You can plop her in almost any scenario and it works. You want to write her at a fancy charity dinner? She’d fit right in. You want her teaching shop class in your high school AU? No problem at all. You want her to seduce a bad guy? You want her to shoot a bad guy? You want her to be the bad guy? It all works.

The main thing people dislike about Bulma is the way she treated Yamcha when they were together, and she’s kind of a jerk a lot of the time. Fair point, but I think this adds to the character. If she were sweet as could be and a rich, attractive polymath, she’d be downright insufferable. Also, her attitude plays off of the compassion she shows through the series. I can’t explain her behavior around Yamcha, but she did offer free room and board to the entire population of Namek, so I feel like that needs to be taken into consideration.

Why I don’t: In the first... hundred or so episodes of DBZ, Bulma doesn’t get a lot of chances to shine, despite all the screentime they gave her. Early into my DBZ-watching experience, I found her to be something like a shriller version of TMNT’s April O’Neil, a sidekick whose job was to look cute and get into danger so the good guys could save her. She really doesn’t get back into her groove until she returns to Earth, and once I saw those episodes, and her time in the original Dragon Ball, the character began to make a lot more sense. Really, the Bulma in DBZ #1 through 108 was probably intended to demonstrate how out-of-hand the situation was. She fixed the scouter and then it exploded. She fixed Nappa’s spaceship and it exploded. She fixed Kami’s spaceship and then Namek exploded. She just couldn’t keep up with the crisis.

Favorite episode (scene if movie):

Not exactly any one episode, but one of my favorite bits in the Red Ribbon Army Sagas is that the RRA has their own Dragon Radar, but it’s not portable, or anywhere near as precise as the one Bulma invented. It’s Goku’s biggest advantage during that conflict, and when it breaks, there’s literally no one else who can fix it. Those magic babies from Arale could make a new one, but I’m pretty sure they only did that by copying the design or something. And the RRA assumes that Goku must have an entire team of scientists providing him with logistical support, and that Master Roshi must be their leader, since he’s so old.

Also, near the end of the arc, Bulma needs to call Yamcha on the phone, but Roshi doesn’t have one, and then Turtle suggests that Bulma should just build one from scratch, since she had just finished building a robot drone a few episodes earlier. And she’s like “Oh, yeah, I forgot I knew how to do that.”

Favorite season/movie: The Androids/Cell arc is a big deal because it has two Bulmas, and her son is in it too.

And this is what I mean when I talk about versatility. That Super Dragon Ball Heroes series has two Gokus and two Vegetas, and I have no idea why, because they’re exactly the same, except one pair does SSJ4 and the other does Super Saiyan Blue. Bulma’s got more layers, so in a story like this, you can have 30-something Bulma care for an infant son and tackle logistical problems while she figures out her relationship with Vegeta, while the 50-something Bulma in the future can be this strong-yet-gentle post-apocalyptic survivalist, who hopes for a better tomorrow as she longs for her fallen friends.

Favorite line: I’m gonna stray from the canon for a minute, because I’m having trouble coming up with something, but in DBZ Abridged, when she’s arguing with Vegeta during his training session, they just start shouting “Fuck you!” at each other. Then she stops and says: “My room. Ten minutes.”

And holy shit, the delivery on that line was incredible. I knew they’d try to do something to set up their relationship, but there’s no footage to do that with, so they did it all with one line and some killer VA work.

Favorite outfit: This is a big, big wardrobe to choose from, but I’m partial to the one she wore in the Imperfect Cell Saga.

I can’t really explain the appeal, but I like this hairstyle and the clothing looks like authentic stuff you could actually buy at a store, which just makes it feel more real, even though it’s not any more detailed than her other outfits. I’m not sure that makes any sense. The trucker hat looks cute on her, let’s leave it there.

OTP: You know, there’s a lot of chemistry between Bulma and Yajirobe, and even though it’s kind of a rarepair, I can’t help but-- Okay, it’s her and Vegeta. I’ll stop messing around.

Brotp: Definitely her and Goku. I’m imagining the set up to the DBS Broly movie going like this.

“Hey, I’m gonna invite Goku along on our trip. That way you can fight him when you get bored.”

“Why do you keep asking him to tag along I can’t stand him.”

“Yeah, but I like him and I paid for the resort, so I guess you gotta deal with it.”

“...”

Then he shows up and she sends him on some ridiculous mission to search the ocean floor for sunken treasure or something.

Head Canon: Future Bulma does tech support in Toki Toki/Conton City, because Xenoverse is canon and the Goku Black Saga can just bugger right off because it never happened.

She shows up from time to time to check on all the Capsule Corp tech in the city, and she drops by just to say hi to her boy, and also she has coffee with my Mary Sue OC, because Future Bulma appreciates how tough and cool my writing is.

Unpopular opinion: The Vegebul ship probably gets way too much attention. Not that it’s a bad ship or that it doesn’t deserve the attention, but it feels like a buffet where all anyone gets is ranch dressing. They just ignore the rest of the spread and fill an entire bowl with ranch and head back to the table to drink it. Then they come right back and line up for another helping.

I’m not knocking it. I have a Vegebul calendar in my kitchen. But it reminds me of how the “comics fandom” in the late 90′s was really just an X-Men fandom that acknowledged that other comic books hypothetically existed.

They’re gonna come after me now, aren’t they?

A wish: A lifetime supply of strawberries does sound kind of nice...

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: I hope we’re done with Bulma’s Resurrection F outfit for good. The cowboy boots, no, we’re done with that.

5 words to best describe them: Five would never be enough.

My nickname for them: Don’t have one. Vegeta calls her “woman”, but I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t go over well if I started doing that.

#ask duhragonball #dragon ball #bulma #2d3dlover

21 notes · View notes

vynnyal · 5 years ago

Text

Throwing random thoughts, headcanons, and a variety of pasta at the wall (but only those having to do with vessels and/or their biology this time): The Thrilling Third Installment™

...aka pretending i can be dark and dramatic jskhdfd

Thk's larger form is not the standard, but the exception. Thk was cited as being "raised and trained to prime form", which people take to mean pk assisted in the vessel's natural growth. However, that conclusion leaves a lot of unanswered questions, most important of which being “then what about Ghost?” In short, I think that train of thought is backwards. Vessels can't grow- they are ageless, and immortal. We know this due to Ghost, despite living as long if not longer than thk, being completely unchanged over the years. The only thing pk trained into "prime form" was thk’s mind and fighting prowess. Their body... well, I think it was mutated. Most likely either directly by pk, or ordered by him- and with the shenanigans happening over in the sanctum, I wouldn't be surprised if Soul was involved, too. In any case, it was in no means natural. Vessels are corpses reanimated by void; neither corpses nor void tend to make drastic changes on their own all that often. Whether pk predicted the vessel’s “issues” and intended to manually “upgrade” them from the beginning, it's hard to say. But... yeah. Unless Ghost goes out of their way to make themselves grow- if its even possible, now that pk is gone- its fairly safe to say, they never will.

...with that in mind, we are promptly gonna ignore that for the rest of this post lmaooo

Grown-up vessels wouldn't look like thk; while they are described as being raised into "prime form"... prime form, to whom? Rather than looking like an idealized pk soldier, it sounds much more fitting that they’d have an entirely different, natural adult form. Consider: their cloaks being longer and fuller, perhaps filling out into something with a more practical use to their “species”. Better yet, they could even grow up to be more beast-like. Feral vessels, YEhaW

The black egg temple is cited as being "built to sustain [vessels]", yet it can't be their lifespan that is sustained. Rather, it seems the egg is specifically designed to keep the radiance from tearing thk apart, physically and/or mentally. Ngl its p obvious, but worth noting.

Sorta-au where Ghost’s shade has 8 eyes, and/or is generally all-around more cryptid-looking.

@ the sharpshadow charm and the strange, 6-eyed creature their shade turns into: kudos to this post, they bring up something super interesting- the creature not only resembles the Shade Lord, but the lord outright becomes it during the Embrace the Void cutscene.

makes me respect the ol’ civilization a whole lot more if a single charm can turn a baby shade into a baby lord.

The concept of finding ghosts unconscious body, laying next to a corpse, while they battle in their dreams. Alt: when ghost enters the dream realm, their shade leaves their shell... And protects their body from harm.

If steel soul mode is taken as canon, just how did ghost and the shade meet? Alt: Ghost may never have “met” it at all, as it technically doesn’t exist in that mode- instead, its more of a metaphor than an actual entity.

What the vessels looked like- or were supposed to look like- before the void. Alt: a story following a child, alive and untouched, that somehow managed to be spared. They could even have a gender. Alt alt: the void intentionally spared them for some purpose, or even out of simple kindness- or at least, something that resembles kindness.

Re: the shade inexplicably having a nail: all the vessel's swords are crafted from “will-bearing rock”- of which i’ve come to lovingly call living stone- and as such, are of void themselves. That's how the shade seems to conjure up its own copy; it merely shapes it, from the ground, using void. And, while more of a stretch, Ghost’s nail being some sort of living stone/pale ore alloy could explain just how Ghost can do seemingly pretty crazy things with an otherwise ordinary nail. Better, while 100% a baseless hc, its material might actually enable Ghost to build it up and modify it to suite their size as they grow older. finally, a logical reason adult Ghost has an adult-sized nail-claymore. hdsfghjfghdsjf

On that same thought: Ghost outright invented the "art" of manipulating- or creating- living stone to make their nail. ...gimme a sec. The other escaped vessels have nails, too, right? Either meaning they also discovered this ability... or that theres some legitimate ground for the “vessel gang” hc. Or, yanno, i’m reading too much into Ari’s sprites but sHHhh

How did all the vessels know to race to the top? They seemed to be falling merely because they had just been born and had literal, actual baby strength; yet not only did they inexplicably risk everything competing to the top, they somehow knew death was waiting if they lost. Alt: pk just, bringing a fucking megaphone and telling them like a sports announcer.

What if Ghost made it, and instead of falling, they managed to joined thk at the lip? What would pk do? Push them off the edge??? Or just adopt them both?? Oh fuck au where they're raised as twin sacrifices. Or worse yet, they’re raised unequally, and one is trained only as an afterthought. As a backup.

Alternatively, pk keeps all the vessels au, only a few years later when they're grown. Pk now has a literal army of pure knights. Radiance is fucked.

Hm. If vessels were fully coherent entities from the moment of birth, why was there a crib in the white palace? Did... did they use it? I have a feeling team cherry made that asset before the abyss scene lmaooo alt: they did, uh, use the crib. Cue a very awkward scene of thk, clearly not a normal baby, staring at wl with like... idk, the poofy baby hat and pacifier. I can’t tell if the image is more funny or more sad rn shdfgfjsdgg

The og notes that inspired this post, in case my rambling makes more sense (and w/o the awful comic hjsfgjsdfhj): Oh oh OH i GET it now. The void is all about "will" and whatnot, right? And shades are "fragments of a lingering will"- will, like the one you leave after your death, but instead of inheritance its the vessels' desires...last regrets.... DAMN team cherry, that symbolism is clever as heck. That took me a while. Kinda funny how a will is, technically, a person's last regrets Like I knew they were last regrets but I didn't understand WHY. Duh, it's because they're literally Made Of Will. They are the vessel's "wills". I'm so stupid.

Ghost, walking thru the abyss, getting increasingly fed up / freaked out, ducking into a crack in the wall. They follow the crack into the Scream Chamber, pause, then exhale in relief that this was EXACTLY what they needed.

Ghost's shade rolling up its void-sleeves like “fuck it, ima defeat thk myself”

Why was thk's sword there? Was its pedestal decayed? Did it fall from their body? Was it place there as an afterthought, or hurriedly? alt: taking thk's sword before freeing them, but doing the mom thing like you're grounding them hdhfjchjch

I can’t believe it just occured to me now, but... as objectivley stupid as the vessel’s test was, Ghost... technically came in second place. What if that whole scene was a metaphor? Because really, it’s just too silly to take seriously. To do so isn’t too far fetched, either; many other elements in the game’s story are better taken as symbolic or metaphorical, anyways. Take the PoP cutscene- while it could’ve been a literal moment, where they just happened to find themselves standing around and took the moment to appreciate each other... imo it makes much more sense to read it as the concept of their faint ~forbidden love~ and parental pride itself. Or, better yet, the scene at the end of the 4th pantheon. Sorry, but I severely doubt that was an actual event. What I’m trying to get at is the significance of “second place” in the cutscene. My brain is too fried to chase down any other possible connections to this theme rn (if thats even what the theme is), but even without proof, the theory smooths out a few interesting tidbits related to just how Ghost could tough it out when all others failed. All except for #1, anyway. Either way I’m just happy to take this as an excuse to pretend that cutscene didn’t literally happen because like, l m a o

The story of a small group of vessels as they work together to escape hallownest. (aka the aforementioned vessel gang hc... im sure theres a more formal name but you get the idea). Its impossible to tell how long it took them to discover that near-invisible hole, the last exit remaining after the king ordered the abyss to be sealed up. Once they did, however, the remaining vessels were quick to make a desperate scramble to escape- only for the entrance to suddenly crumble shut, far, far too soon. The remaining 8 slowly made their way through deepnest, their numbers quickly dwindling as the jouney started to take its toll. The group was nearly wiped out by those terrible, spiney-legged creatures that used their own kinship against them. Only three finally escaped the deep, yet only two made it through the basin- the third, largest sibling, left to fight alone againt a hopeless battle, just to buy the others time. It was in greenpath, so close yet so far to their goal, that the second succumbed to the infection. It was a mercy killing, that nail through the heart. The last, after all of that, finally made their way to the very precipice of howling cliffs, hesitating for just a moment to gaze out upon the still-fresh ruins of hallownest. But only for a moment, before Ghost jumps down to begin their journey beyond this wretched place.

A vessel running from its shade as it tirelessly pursues them, the vessel refusing to put it to rest.

tw: suicide, + personal on main

Ugh ugh ugh ugh Either thk was fully conscious and in terrible pain for all those years... or they couldn’t feel anything at all. The former is horrible, but imagining thk waking up, chained, unable to do anything but wait for Ghost to heed their call? Did they turn their nail on themselves to help Ghost, end the pain, or some awful mix of both? For someone who has personally dealt with close friends and family that struggled with suicide themselves, hollowknight is one of the worst horror stories I've ever seen. And the fact that the story is so personal, so open to interpretation? The fact that each character is so genuine yet vague enough to be read completely differently to someone else’s biases? Its why hollow knight- the game, and the character- will forever be one of the most powerful stories to me.

in short, good LORD THIS GAME IS SO FUCKING SAD

#hollow knight #Thonking abt hollowknight #blabbing.txt #i should probably proof-read this.... uuuaaaah #anyways #@ that last one: i had to take a week-long break after tiso died. so like. you can imagine my reaction to thk #other than that some of these are VERY OLD #and dsfhhfdj the test one literally just occurred to me #sweet catharsis.... fuck you pk....#also.... yeah. vessels have a p bad time all considered #ghost is like 'i know i look 7 but im actually 1000 years old!'#then hornet punts them into the sun #OH WHAUFHDFKJ

105 notes · View notes

knightofameris · 5 years ago

Text

different worlds - peter parker (stark!reader)

Setting: AU (earth-3490 based on MCU) Gender: Female Contains: Angst + fluff = flangst, established character deaths, curse words, anxiety attacks, very vague description of gore, mentions of alcohol, slight spoilers for FFH, in regards to it being 3490 it has Stony in it but also pepperony !!! so Word Count: 9k (oops)

Summary: Peter Parker has to learn how to cope with his mentor and his daughter being gone from the world. He holds a lot of regrets now because of how he never took his chance with (Y/n). But what does he do when he’s given the chance to tell her exactly how he feels? Except the only thing is she’s from another universe and she’s accompanied by someone he didn’t even recognize.

a/n: fuck canon because in this story steve doesn’t go back in time at the end of Endgame. Based on earth-3490 with elements of the MCU. Earth-3490 is a universe in which Tony was born identifying as a female (imo, can be interpreted in many different ways) and is named Natasha Stark. She ends up marrying Steve Rogers so it prevents the entirety of Civil war. In this MCU-3490, they’re just dating then marry after the snap in IW Natasha ‘Toni’ now goes by Tasha as she becomes more comfortable with her name instead of Toni from the headcanon that her name is Natasha Antonia Stark.

Let me know if there are any mistakes, regarding the gender of reader, grammar, spelling, or with the story. c: [repost from my old account]

Enjoy!

☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆

❝ in any universe, i’ll always love you ❞

☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆

When walking into a field of flowers, which flowers do you pick? The prettiest ones, right? The ones that look the healthiest, the brightest colored, and most beautiful one. You pick the ones that smell sweet and make you feel at peace. And then you put them in a bouquet to give to a loved one. Or you make them into a flower crown to wear on your head.

Flower corpses. That’s what flower crowns were made of, in a more dark way of describing it.

And it makes sense, doesn’t it? You only really want to keep the best ones, even if they die sooner.

But God, is it unfair.

It’s so unfair that the universe decided to pick both Tony and (Y/n) Stark, the prettiest ones of the bunch. Even though they were still blooming, even though they still had yet to show all their petals, the universe decided to pick them. Tony Stark, the one who started it all, and (Y/n) Stark, the one who was too young.

They both had so much to offer to the world, so much to give. Whether it be new inventions or just flat out love. Both Starks had so much love to give to the world. And for one of them, she never got the chance to give that love to the one she loved most.

Peter Parker sat down at the edge of the lake, watching the two bouquets of flowers holding Tony’s first arc reactor and (Y/n)’s first stuffed animal. His eyes were red and swollen. Even with his regenerative powers, Peter cried so much that it couldn’t heal. But for once, in the past few days since the battle, both battles for him, he finally stopped.

His mouth was dry and his nose was clogged with snot but he couldn’t help but continue to watch two people he grew to love and cherish over the past few years drift farther away from him.

Peter didn’t even notice Steve walk up to him from behind. Steve cleared his throat, jolting Peter out of his thoughts. He looked up at the older man. In a different circumstance, Peter would have geeked out there and then. But instead, he turned his head back towards the two bouquets.

“Peter, right?” Steve asked, following his gaze. Peter didn’t reply. “I… I never got to see your relationship with Tony. But I know he was proud of you. He always was and always will be. And (Y/n), I’ve watched her grow up. I’ve seen her with her all her partners but I’ve never seen her happier than when she talked about you. What I’m trying to say here is that their love for you didn’t leave with them. It’ll always be a part of you and I know that both of them would rather have you up and about than crying over them.”

Peter pursed his lips then scoffed, shaking his head. He didn’t even know how to respond to the Star-Spangled Man. He just wanted to be left alone.

He was angry and sad and feeling too many things at once. But he was mostly mad at himself. Mad that he never told (Y/n) his feelings for her and mad that he couldn’t save her.

So yeah, he wanted to be left alone.

Steve shuffled his feet, glancing down then letting out a breath, “If you need anything, I’ll be inside. You should also have my number on your phone, I’ll still be around.”

Peter waited till he heard Steve walk into the house and closed the door behind him to start crying again. He pulled his knees up to his chest, hugging it and started sobbing. His crying causing his entire body to shake as he cried into his suit once more.

Steve watched Peter cry alone from the lake house. It was quiet, save for the small murmurings amongst friends, the quiet sobbing from Pepper and a few others. He wished he could have done more, maybe it could have been him and at least one of the Starks could have been alive.

“You ready?”

Steve turned to face Bruce who was holding a case most likely holding the Infinity Stones.

He nodded and turned his head back towards Peter. If there was one thing he could do for Tony after everything, it could be looking after Peter and his family. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

***

(Y/n) cheered, raising her glass with everyone beside her as her mom said a toast.

“To the future of the universe, and the future of the Avengers,” Tasha smirked while staring straight at her daughter. “Oh come on, I know I can’t give as great of a speech as winghead over here but let’s celebrate! To the future!” She raised her glass with her robotic arm, the drink inside splashing out.

“To the future!” Thor’s voice boomed and everyone else followed suit, clinking glasses and causing splashes to go all around. Nebula had even accidentally slammed her cup into Scott’s too hard breaking both of their cups.

(Y/n) grinned as she drank the Shirley Temple and everyone else began the road down drunkenness. She kept one hand on her little sister’s shoulder, Maria, pulling her in as she drank her own juice and the two watched their mom jump off the table she stood on. Peter’s arm wrapped around (Y/n)’s, giving her a kiss on her temple.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better,” Steve’s eyes glanced between (Y/n), Maria, and Peter, “I would have thought you guys were just a very young family.”

Peter’s grip on (Y/n)’s shoulder tightened then he let go, stammering with his face red. (Y/n) rolled her eyes and let go of Maria who promptly ran up to Steve. Steve set his cup down, then bent down to pick up Maria with a grunt.

“Oh please, dad,” (Y/n) said, intertwining her fingers with Peter’s. Steve raised his eyebrows, his mouth slightly parted and (Y/n) just took another sip from her drink. “What? I mean, you are my dad now.” She eyed the red and gold banded ring on his left ring finger.

“No, I just thought—”

“I’m still upset we weren’t invited to the wedding, right Peter?”

Peter glanced back and forth between his girlfriend and Steve. (Y/n) held a slight smirk on her face while Steve was clearly exasperated. Maria just sat in her father’s arms, playing with her hair.

“Uhhhh,” Peter rubbed the back of his head, his eyes traveling elsewhere in the room

Steve shook his head, “Come on, your mom wants to see you.” (Y/n) tilted her head, cocking an eyebrow. Her hand parted from Peter’s as she told him she’d be right back.

Steve weaved through the crowd of people. (Y/n) could barely keep up with him, despite her smaller stature compared to Steve’s. But as long as her eyes laid on the back of his head, that’s all that mattered.

Finally, Steve stopped, handing Maria off to Tasha and (Y/n) finally caught up.

“Geez, for an old man you’re fast,” (Y/n) bent over, exaggerating how out of breath she was. She yelped as her leg gave out and she fell forward. Steve caught her quickly and Tasha gasped, reaching down for her as well.

Eyes landed on the four of them, watching as Steve brought her back up.

“I’m okay,” (Y/n) waved an arm, standing back up. “I’ll be fine.” She grinned up at Steve and her mom and then lightly banged on her prosthetic leg.

“Kid, what the fuck?” Tasha scrunched up her face.

“Toni.” Steve glared at her then looked quickly at Maria who sat in her arms. Maria giggled and Tasha twisted her mouth, shutting her eyes and hoping for the best. Meaning, hoping Maria wouldn’t repeat what she just said. She opened up one eye looking at Maria who was playing with Tasha’s hair, about to let out a sigh of relief.

“Fuck!” She repeated.

“A-bup-bup-bup!” Tasha used her free hand and pointed at her. “Remember, Daddy trademarked that word, we can’t use it. Don’t say it again or Dad’s gonna sue as both, and then we’d both be in big trouble.” Maria pursed her lips with a smile still evident on her round face. She pretended to zip it. (Y/n) watched quizzically at her younger sister but then shook her head right after.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes at her mom. “You’re terrible.”

“Says you.” Tasha pointed down at her leg. “Let’s go get that fixed up.”

“But,” (Y/n) pointed back to the party, “the party.”

“The party can wait, let’s go.” Tasha handed Maria back to Steve and then wrapped an arm around (Y/n). “Also, winghead, why’re we using Toni again? Tasha’s fine. I guess Toni’s fine too, but please—”

“Okay, okay,” Steve shook his head, lightly pushing the two of you towards the elevators. “Go get (Y/n)’s leg checked up on, shellhead.” (Y/n) gagged, sticking out her tongue and called the two of them gross. Tasha ruffled her hair, messing it up.

“What kind of pet names are those?” asked (Y/n) once they got in the elevator. Tasha arched her brow and looked down at her daughter who was pretending to gag.

“Webhead and shockhead,” she coughed into her hand loudly. “Oh man, sorry, must have a horrible flu coming down.” (Y/n) felt a rush of blood rise to her cheeks as she began protesting those nicknames. Tasha laughed, ruffling her hair again once the elevator dinged, signaling that they were finally at the labs of the facility.

“Don’t worry, you’re more of a Stark now with those kinds of nicknames,” Tasha smirked, walking out of the elevator doors and into the lab.

“Do I have to change my last name to Stark-Rogers or something? Rogers-Stark? How’s that even working? What’s Maria’s last name?” (Y/n) walked carefully to one of the chairs, her mom already opening up holographic display to figure out the problem on her leg.

Tasha hummed, widening the diagnosis, “We both changed to Stark-Rogers. Mine first ‘cause it flows more smoothly. So’s Maria’s. You can do whatever, sooner or later-” Tasha wiggled her eyebrows at (Y/n) “-it’s gonna be Stark-Parker. Maybe Stark-Rogers-Parker, no that’s excessive.”

Once again, (Y/n)’s face grew warm and she looked away, crossing her arms. “Whatever mom, just fix my leg.”

“No ‘please’? Ouch, my heart.” Tasha feigned pain on her chest and (Y/n) brought her hand up to her face in disappointment.

Her mom began to mutter to herself, grabbing a few tools and bending down in front of (Y/n) and slowly pulling the prosthetic off to properly fix it. (Y/n) watched her mother curiously as sparks began to fly from the tools and as she walked around grabbing new materials to put in. FRIDAY occasionally giving her pointers that she might have missed.

(Y/n) glanced down at the stub of her leg, her stomach beginning to become uneasy. She bit her lip, flashes of the previous battle coming back. She shut her eyes, trying to control her breathing and a shiver rushed over her. More flashes of fighting Thanos, watching her mom hold Peter as he disappeared in her hands, waking up five years later on the deserted planet Titan after turning to dust, losing her leg in a one-on-one fight with the mad Titan, almost losing her mom to her snapping.

(Y/n) vaguely heard her mom scramble to her, trying to get her to breath and to calm down. She worked herself into a cold sweat and her eyes slammed open, meeting Tasha’s brown eyes.

Tasha looked up at her, her eyes glancing back and forth between both of (Y/n)’s and her hands resting on both sides of her.

“It’s okay,” she reassured, running her hand through (Y/n)’s hair. “We’re safe, I’m okay. You’re okay. Pete’s okay.” (Y/n) nodded her head, trying to bring herself back to reality. “Count five red things in the room, for me, can you do that for me sweetheart?”

(Y/n) nodded her head again, her eyes moving to her mom’s arm, then her mom’s lipstick, the Iron suits, the red labels on beakers, then a red flashing light. (Y/n) frowned even with a sense of tranquility coming back. She raised her slightly shaking hand and pointed at it.

“What’s—What’s—Why’s that flashing red?”

Tasha turned her head around then promptly stood up. “That’s strange.” She glanced back at (Y/n) then walked towards the red flashing light, opening up holographic screens, the red light flashed quickly only to stopped. “Huh, I’ll have to talk to Banner and Shuri about this.”

“What is it?” (Y/n) asked.

“Well,” Tasha shut the holographic screens off then walked back to where (Y/n)’s prosthetic laid, grabbing it, “after discovering time travel, I’ve been looking into interdimensional travel.”

(Y/n) raised her eyebrows, “Like, alternate universes?”

“Yeah.” Tasha bent down in front of (Y/n), clicking her prosthetic back into place. (Y/n) slowly stood up, testing it. A few whirs came from the robotic leg before it finally quieted down.

“Does dad know about it?”

“About that,” Tasha scrunched her nose then paused. “Wait, hold on, dad? You’re already calling him dad?”

(Y/n) walked around in circles, squatting here and there too. “I mean, you guys are married now, right? By the way, you should have another wedding, I didn’t get to make it to your first one.”

“Yeah yeah, only if you’re the ring bearer, I don’t trust Peter with the rings.”

“Wait!” (Y/n) ran up to Tasha, her eyes widened. “Really?! You really mean it?”

“Maybe not about the ring bearer, but the wedding, sure. Huh, I could ask more people to be my bridesmaid. Probably would ask Pepper, Natasha and Nebula again. But,” she began pushing (Y/n) along to the elevator. “Let’s deal with that later, you have a party to go back to.”

(Y/n) frowned, getting into the elevator and turning around. “What about you mom?”

She raised her robotic arm in the air, “Gonna try fixing this up, feeling a bit of phantom pain. I’ll see you back up there. And no drinking.”

The elevator doors shut and (Y/n) waved her off. Not like she would drink with all the Avengers watching her. And that includes the original and the ‘honorary’ ones. They’ve all watched her grow up, afterall. Nat was the one to push her to confess to Peter, Clint embarrassing the two of them when they finally got together, and the really weird double dates with Vision and Wanda. Uncle Bucky would terrify Peter in the beginning with his piercing glare until he finally warmed up to him.

(Y/n) laughed, remembering the pranks Bucky and Sam pulled on Peter immediately after Steve and her mom talked things out; about the Accords, about Bucky murdering her parents and Steve not telling her (that one left their relationship broken for a while), and then their relationship and where it was going to go. It worked out in the end, the Avengers stayed together.

It’s what gave them the upper hand against Thanos the first time around, but he still snapped his fingers. The five years after the snap (or blip as the rest of the world calls it) still happened, but damn was everyone filled with rage against the mad titan.

The elevator doors opened with a ding, and (Y/n) narrowed her eyes with a tilt of her head. The floor was unlit and very very empty. No music played and there were no drinks scattered about, it was just clean.

Her hands stayed by her side, electricity dancing between her fingers as she slowly stepped out into the empty floor. Her eyes scanned the room back and forth and she glanced over her shoulder to make sure there was nobody there.

(Y/n)’s steps were deathly silent (thanks Nat) and her breathing in full control as she walked forwards.

Clink!

Her head shot towards the direction of the dining table. The corner of the wall covered the person sitting there, eating what looked like a bowl of cereal. She took another step and saw the back of Peter’s head, his suit was more apparent underneath his clothes. Namely on his feet.

(Y/n) sighed with relief, all her muscles in her body relaxing.

“Peter! What’s going on? Where’s the party?” She walked up to the boy. Peter turned around quickly, the whites of his eyes showing and he shot his hand out.

(Y/n) maneuvered to the side, dodging the web and watching it get stuck onto the floor. She looked back at Peter with a frown.

“Babe, what the fuck?”

“FRIDAY, lock the facility down, and contact whoever’s available,” Peter stated, quickly grabbing the glasses set on the table behind him and putting them on.

“Pete, what are you doing?” (Y/n) approached him slowly. The room began flashing red, a silent alarm was probably going off.

“You’re not real,” he stated. “Mysterio’s gone. He’s—He’s dead. So whoever-” he began to raise his voice despite it cracking “-whoever this is, just stop. (Y/n) is dead and you can’t trick me anymore.”

(Y/n) tilted her head and Peter choked on a sob, recognizing that head tilt she would always do but he backed up again when she got closer.

“Who’s Mysterio?” (Y/n) asked softly. “Peter, I’m me. (Y/n) Stark. We’ve been together for a year and a half, not counting the five years we were gone, obviously. Remember? You told me you first realized you liked me when I jumped into the Hudson river after my hair got all frizzy from my powers on our first night of patrol together.”

“We—We never got together,” Peter stammered. “But I never told anyone about when I first—when I first realized I liked you. How do—How do you know that?”

The elevator doors dinged, and the two teenagers looked over at whoever was on it. A furious Tasha Stark came stumbling out in her suit of armor.

“(Y/n)! Are you okay? Wha—Where’s the party?”

A red, white, and blue blur appeared in front of (Y/n)’s face, causing her to go wide-eyed when it slammed into Tasha’s helmet, knocking her back. (Y/n)’s head shot towards the perpetrator and saw Steve standing there.

“Sorry I didn’t come sooner, everyone else is out,” Steve said to Peter. The shield came flying back to him. Peter ran up to him, raising his arms up to him.

“Wait, wait, Mr. Rogers,” Peter glanced over at (Y/n) who ran over to her mom, picking her back up. “They’re legit.”

Steve shifted his weight, looking uneasily at the young boy to the other two. Tasha stood up, her helmet coming off and her jaw was clenched, hard.

“Of course we’re fucking legit, what the hell was that winghead?” Tasha nearly growled. Steve and Peter just exchanged glances with one another as the two women waited patiently for their response.

“I am so confused.”

***

Steve’s eyes lingered on the blue and gold wedding band on Tasha’s left ring finger longer than he’d like to admit. To be honest, he felt his chest flutter at the fact that Natasha ‘Toni’ Stark (Stark-Rogers now) married him in another universe. He never really thought about Tony in that way, mostly because of the man’s relationship with Pepper. He never even thought he had a chance after their falling out, so he never gave it another thought. Besides, even if modern times was more accepting of it, he came from a time where same-sex relationships were frowned upon. It took him a while back then to accept himself and it’d only take longer for him to feel comfortable if he entered one of those relationships.

He sighed, glancing over at Peter. The young teenager was uneasy as his eyes stayed on (Y/n). Understandably so, his long time crush is standing in front of him and apparently, they were in a relationship.

Peter’s heart was racing. It almost felt like he was about to have a panic attack but for some reason, standing in the same room as (Y/n) was calming, even with Tasha explaining everything about her universe, the similarities and differences.

(Y/n) turned her head at him, catching him red-handed that he was staring. He never thought he’d be able to see her (e/c) eyes again and all he wanted to do was stare at her. Then she smiled, a sad smile as Tasha compared the Battle of Earth against Thanos, going over his versions of (Y/n) and Tasha Stark’s death, or, well, (Y/n) and Tony.

Peter smiled back but then quickly looked away, remembering how it felt to hold her in his arms as she began drifting away wearing the same exact smile she had right there and then.

He fiddled with his fingers, zoning out from the conversation. It wasn’t until a hand entered his field of vision, grabbing his, that he finally looked up.

“Come on webhead,” (Y/n) murmured, looking between both of his eyes, using the same nickname that his (Y/n) used for him. “Let’s get some fresh air, I think mom and your Steve need to talk about some adult stuff that we aren’t a part of.”

“Uhm,” his gaze glanced over at Tasha who gave him a very familiar nod of approval, “sure.”

“Cool, rooftop then?” she asked, already pulling him away. “I mean, I’m assuming you still hung out with me on the rooftop?”

Peter stared down at their intertwined fingers, not realizing she asked him a question.

“Peter?”

“Oh, yeah, we always hung out on the rooftop.”

She smiled, squeezing his hand and feeling a jolt of electricity flow through him. Peter couldn’t help but think, is this what her Peter always had? A part of him felt like he was betraying his own (Y/n) but she was alive again.

She was here with him.

***

The stars twinkled in the night sky, and as cliche as this phrase is, a little bit brighter that evening since the universe picked the two most beautiful flowers from the garden.

At least, that’s what Peter noticed.

The moonlight shone on (Y/n)’s hair, causing a bit of a glint, and her eyes glimmered with the same intensity as the stars above them. He took this time to memorize every curve of her face, every little twitch she made, any and all of the perfect imperfections. Peter wish he took this time when she was alive, and this was his second chance.

“The stars are the same,” she told him, finally looking back down at him.

“What?”

“The stars, they’re the same where I’m from.”

Peter’s heart ached, remembering that this still wasn’t his (Y/n).

“Oh, right. That’s cool.” He looked up at the night sky, feeling (Y/n)’s eyes burn into the side of his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shift to sit facing towards him.

“I… I’m sorry,” she murmured, looking down at her lap.

“Wh-Why?” Peter turned to face her. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“Well, I just—” (Y/n) tucked a piece of hair behind her ear “—It probably hurts to see me again, right? And it’s probably weird seeing your mentor figure still alive, but identifies as a woman and, I don’t know. You don’t deserve any of this.”

Peter didn’t know how to respond. He’s sure that her Peter would have been more comfortable and would have grabbed her hand and hugged her there and then. But instead he played with his hands, stammering, and trying to find the words to tell her that they weren’t together.

(Y/n) placed her hand on his. Something that was probably a thing she did a lot to comfort him in her world. Something Peter wished could still happen for him in his world.

“We weren’t together, were we?” (Y/n)’s eyes searched his brown eyes for an answer.

He shook his head, looking down and away from her gaze. “No, we-uh, no.”

(Y/n) pursed her lips, deep in thought. “Well, I know in any universe, I��ll always love you. Whether it be in a universe where it’s platonic love or romantic love. And I know ‘love’ is a big word but it’s true.”

Peter felt his chest clench up and his sobs trying to make it’s way through his throat. His mouth twisted with the corner of his lips turning downwards and his eyes began to water.

(Y/n) wrapped her arm around his shoulder and her other around his head, bringing him into her chest as she rested her chin on top of his head. She continually ran her hand through his hair, attempting to calm him down. He slowly placed his arms around her. His fingers grabbed onto her clothes, his knuckles turning white. He was terrified. Terrified that she’d leave from his arms again. So he held her tighter.

“I’m so—I’m so sorry, (Y/n),” Peter’s voice cracked. (Y/n) opened her mouth to say something only to stop. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you or—or your dad. I’m sorry I—I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how I felt. I’m sorry.”

(Y/n) held him a little bit tighter, knowing that he’s telling her everything he wished he could tell his version of herself. So she did exactly what she would do, being the same person as the other her (most likely).

She kissed the top of his head and said softly, “You have nothing to be sorry for Peter. You did everything you could, I’m sure of it. Sometimes we lose people and the best you can do is to move on. I’m sure I would-” (Y/n) stuttered, pausing for a moment “-other me would want you to be happy.”

Peter gripped her a little bit tighter, a little bit closer. He didn’t respond with words. Besides, he just wanted to be in her comfort for a little bit longer.

A few minutes had passed and Peter’s crying had settled down. It was his first breakdown in a while, but it was a much needed cry. He was thankful for that.

“Parker! (Y/n)!” Tasha called out. “Need you back down in the lab!”

The two teenagers pulled apart. Peter wiped away any stray tears and then apologized to (Y/n) about the tear stains on her.

“Eh,” she waved him off, standing up, “it’s fine, don’t be sorry.” (Y/n) held out her hand for Peter and he tenderly took it, bringing himself back up a bit. A jolt of electricity shot through his hand and he almost flinched until his hand was lightly squeezed.

(Y/n) smiled at him and then began walking back down, letting go of his hand. He watched her with a small smile making its way onto his face.

***

(Y/n) lightly jogged into the lab, Peter trailing behind her. She saw her mom standing in the middle surrounded by a series of holograms and Steve standing off to the side.

“What’s going on?” (Y/n) asked. Both adults turned their heads to face the two teenagers.

“We’re planning on figuring out a way to get back home,” Tasha walked through the holograms towards (Y/n). The holograms promptly turned off after she left. “It’s going to take a while and in the meantime, you’re going to need to lay low for a while, stay off the radar.”

“Me? What about you, you’re Natasha Stark.”

“She exists as Tony Stark, remember?” Steve brought up. (Y/n) nodded her head and pursed her lips.

“So I just stay here? Don’t people outside the Avengers still work here too though? They’ll see me.”

“Right,” Tasha pointed at (Y/n), wiggling her finger, “we talked about that. Remember the cabin Steve and I—our Steve—built? By the lake?”

“Yeah, the one you raised Maria in.”

“You’ll be staying there. With Pepper.”

“We already talked to her and she’s fine with you staying.” Steve said.

“Pepper? Why’s Pep there?”

Tasha raised her brows and pulled her mouth into a tight line. “Tony, other me, he married Pep. Had a kid, her name’s Morgan.”

“Oh shit, is Morgan going to—will she…” (Y/n) trailed off, looking back and forth from her mom, Steve, and Peter.

“She knows of you, but she never met you,” Peter told her. “She’s still really young.”

“Another little sister, okay, sure.”

***

The cabin was exactly how it was from her universe. The lake in the distance, glistening from the early morning sun. The little port extending into the water. The bit of light peeking through the branches. It was home.

But not hers.

Steve drove (Y/n) to the cabin, leaving Tasha to continue working on a new device alongside Bruce Banner and Shuri. Both of them were taken aback when seeing Tony alive again, but as a presenting woman. Bruce definitely had his fair share of emotions to see his friend alive again, even if they weren’t exactly how he remembered them. It didn’t matter how his friend presented themself as, as long as Tony, or Tasha really, was alive.

Peter was situated in the back of the car, he was going to help (Y/n) out on situating herself in a somewhat different world. And to help Pepper and even Morgan, who had shed a few tears after learning she’d never get to meet her older sister, see (Y/n) again.

“So, Steve,” (Y/n) asked, turning her head towards her. “Since you’re obviously not with my mom, or dad I guess, who are you with?”

Steve eyed her from the corner of his eye and chuckled. “You know, you and Natasha were always trying to set me up with someone. After my relationship with Sharon went south and all.”

“Sharon?!” (Y/n) nearly slammed her hand down on the armrest when turning her entire body to face Steve. “As in the former Agent 13?” Steve raised a brow at her, almost worried. She maneuvered her body back front as he came to stop in front of the house. “That’s crazy.”

“Yeah, and believe it or not, I was about to go back in time and stay with Peggy.” Steve turned off the car and the three occupants got out of the car. Peter went to grab his belongings and (Y/n) stood there staring at the cabin.

“That’s weird Steve.” she frowned, after putting some thought into it. “What made you stay?”

Steve took in a breath, his brows furrowed ever so slightly. His eyes went towards Peter, who was still grabbing things from the trunk, and then back towards the cabin where he could see Pepper cooking and Morgan with Happy on the couch through the windows.

“I don’t know,” Steve finally replied, letting out his breath. But (Y/n) knew better. From his gaze at Tasha, to even the memorials they’ve passed of Tony Stark, to how Steve’s been taking care of her, Peter, and clearly even Tony’s family here and there.

(Y/n) walked to the back of the car, wondering why Peter was taking so long. He shut the trunk with a slam before she could get there and she jumped.

“Oh, sorry,” he murmured, rearranging the bags he carried.

She rushed over to him, grabbing one of his bags. “It’s fine, let’s go in then?” (Y/n) looked over at Steve who stood there. “You coming in?”

Steve shook his head. “No, I’ll probably head back to the facility, see how your mom’s doing.”

“Sure, do you mind passing on a message for me then?” Steve shook his head in response. “Tell her if she told Steve—our Steve—about this, this wouldn’t have happened. Or at least, he’d know where we’d maybe be.”

Steve arched a brow but before he could say anything (Y/n)’s attention went back to Peter who still seemed weary around her. He watched them go up the porch and knock on the door.

(Y/n) could tell Peter was still nervous. Or rather, he was unsettled by her presence. He didn’t know she knew, but he should have expected much. If this (Y/n) was in a relationship with him in another universe, surely she knew him like the back of her hand.

And she did.

“You don’t have to be so nervous, ya webhead.” (Y/n) lightly nudged the side of his head with her free hand. Peter noticeably relaxed, his muscles loosening and the grip he had on his bags didn’t make his knuckles as white. He stared at her. His gaze jumping back and forth between both of her eyes as if he was searching for something.

“Yeah, sorry, I just—I’m still getting used to this situation we’re in,” Peter said.

(Y/n) chuckled, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, what are the odds this happens to me and to my mom and to your universe.”

The two teenagers exchanged glances, a small smirk on (Y/n)’s face. “One in fourteen million?” They both said at the same time, laughing lightly.

“God, remember waking up and I was like, ‘Strange if this isn’t the—’”

“‘—future we win, I’m killing you.’” Peter finished for (Y/n). The two laughed, reminiscing on a shared memory across their universes.

“Man, what’s taking Pep so long?” (Y/n) wondered, knocking once more. The door flushed open to an exhausted Pepper Potts-Stark with a young girl behind her legs, Happy standing behind the two of them. Pepper stared at (Y/n) who smiled and did a small wave at her.

To (Y/n), Pepper was Aunt Pepper.

But to this Pepper, (Y/n) was her daughter.

So she clasped a hand on her mouth, walking slowly towards (Y/n) with one hand reaching for her. Her face was pained as she choked out on saying (Y/n)’s name.

Pepper set a hand on (Y/n)’s cheek. The younger girl placed her hand on top.

“Hi, uhm,” (Y/n) stuttered out, about to call her Aunt Pepper but remembering what Steve mentioned earlier. Pepper was her mother figure in this universe. “I called you mom a lot, didn’t I?”

Pepper pulled her hand back quickly, realizing this wasn’t her (Y/n). “I’m sorry you’re—I’m not, uh, come in, come in.” She stepped off to the side, letting the two teenagers in. Morgan watched and Happy stood there not saying anything.

(Y/n) dropped Peter’s bag to the side. As Pepper shut the door (Y/n) walked over towards her and enveloped her into a hug.

“I’m sorry I’m not exactly your (Y/n), but I’m still (Y/n),” she murmured in the hug. “I can still call you mom if you want.”

Pepper pulled back, keeping her within arm’s reach with her hands on her shoulders. “No, it’s fine.” She wiped away a few of her tears. “It’s just, wow. I thought my life wouldn’t be as crazy now that Tony’s gone. But it’s as if it’s just getting crazier. Who am I to you? In your universe?”

“Aunt Pepper,” (Y/n) said. “And we’d go out all the time because my mom, uhm Natasha Stark, she’d get too crazy or overwhelming for the two of us. You and Happy-” she gestured towards the man who was grabbing Peter’s things (that was a surprise to her) to put into a guest room “-took care of me when she was kidnapped. And when my mom built you your suit ‘Just in case’ and you wore it to the battle, we fought side-by-side with my mom and we were like a dynamic trio of women in tin cans. Uncle Rhodey, of course, got offended he wasn’t invited to the party.”

Pepper laughed, remembering Rhodey making a few remarks that eventful battle. Morgan pulled on Pepper’s leg, asking to be carried and (Y/n) watched her pick the small girl up. She reminded her a lot of Maria but (Y/n) knew this was a different sister of hers. Maria Stark-Rogers didn’t exist in this universe.

“Hi, Morgan right?” (Y/n) asked, recalling what Steve informed her on. “I have a little sister I think you would have gotten along with very well.” (Y/n) waited for her to respond only to purse her lips when Morgan held onto Pepper a bit tighter.

“She’s been more quiet since Tony died,” Pepper informed her.

(Y/n) nodded, “That makes sense. I was pretty quiet and upset when my mom was kidnapped.”

Pepper chuckled, “I remember that.”

The two of them continued their small talk as Peter went off to find Happy. He walked up the stairs to where he saw the older man go up to but found him leaning against the doorframe to what was (Y/n)’s room.

The floor beneath Peter’s foot creaked and Happy turned around, wiping away the tears in his eyes.

“Oh, it’s just you,” Happy said.

“You okay Happy?” Peter asked. Happy opened his mouth, then closed it, thinking about what he wanted to say to the young boy.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? I mean, seeing her again, after everything that’s happened…” Happy trailed off, remembering the nights Peter would sometimes call him after the trip to Europe about the hallucinations Quentin had put him through.

“Yeah, I mean…” Peter bit his lip, playing with his hands again. “No, I don’t know. It’s weird to see her again, alive. And Hap, in her universe we’re, we’re dating.”

If it was possible, Happy’s face softened even more. The two of them were in this together. But Happy knew that he needed to be the one to be there for Peter.

“Well, then maybe this is the universe giving you a chance to tell her everything and to give you a few more moments with her.”

“But,” he frowned, “isn’t that weird? Would that mean she’s cheating on me… with me?”

Happy sighed, rubbing his face with his hand. “That’s not what I meant.”

***

It took a lot of time for adjustment for everyone to see people who used to be dead to be alive and for one of them to look different but act the same. It took Pepper a lot of time to come to terms that in another universe, she isn’t Tony’s wife. Rather, she was actually more of an ex-girlfriend and it made her wonder if her Tony would have done something different if he could.

That is, until Tasha reassured her that the reason for these alternate universes were small little changes, and that she, or he, married Pep for a reason.

(Y/n) spent a lot of time with Peter and Morgan. Of course, she’d go out with Pepper, Happy, Rhodey, and anyone she was close to in this universe that was willing to spend time with her before she had to go back. But they all made sure Peter got the most of it, along with Morgan.

For the first time in a long time, Peter looked happy and Morgan finally got to meet her older sister.

Peter laughed, holding Morgan on his shoulders with his hands clasped on her ankles, running behind a tree. (Y/n) pretended to look in the distance with her eyes squinting. She raised her hand to her forehead mock-searching for the two.

Morgan giggled and Peter peeked over the side of the tree for Morgan to see (Y/n).

“Now where did they go?” she mused. “Maybe I should take a break by that tree over there.” She slowly trekked over towards the tree Peter and Morgan hid, pretending to look under rocks.

Peter burst into a sprint past (Y/n). Morgan’s laughter filled the air and (Y/n) stood there for a second watching them run away. She started into a jog after them, calling their names, when she felt a jolt run up her prosthetic leg and she collapsed onto the ground.

Peter turned around, mid-laughter, when he saw her on the ground, clutching her leg.

“(Y/n)!” He quickly put Morgan down on the ground and ran towards her. He fell to his knees beside her, hands hovering over her leg trying to see what was going on.

“It’s my leg,” (Y/n) hissed. “Malfunctioning, I think. Ah, fuck!”

“Okay, okay, uh, let’s get you to the lab first.” Peter slowly picked her up bridal style, careful not to hurt her. (Y/n) wrapped her arms around his neck, her teeth clenching as she felt the phantom pain and the malfunctioning of the synthetic nerves in her prosthetic.

Peter dashed to the house, Morgan already keeping the door open for them.

“Thanks Mo,” (Y/n) said, trying not to show her pain. She gave her a smile and a wink before Pepper came into view.

“Oh my God, (Y/n)! Are you okay?” Pepper’s words came out in a flurry and Peter rushed down the stairs into the basement of the cabin where the lab was.

“Yeah, I’m fine! I just—ow, fucking shit!” (Y/n) threw her head back and began to bite on her lower lip. She began to taste iron in her mouth as Peter set her down on one of the tables. “FRIDAY, contact Tasha Stark to come by. Peter, you’re gonna need to take off my leg.”

“Yeah, easy, this is fine.” Peter ran around the lab, grabbing the necessary tools and FRIDAY put up the holographic diagnosis of malfunctions for Peter to read.

(Y/n) lay there in pain, gripping the flesh part of her leg. Lucky her, she was wearing shorts that day.

Peter was quickly by her side, tapping on the holograms in front of him then looking back down and immediately getting the leg off of her. In an instant, the pain subsided and (Y/n) let out a breath of relief. She closed her eyes.

Her muscles relaxed as she set her head back down on the table and letting her hands rest on her stomach. Pepper stood at the head of the table and pushed (Y/n)’s hair out of her face. Sweat gathered at the sides of her forehead from all the pain.

“You feeling better (Y/n)?” Peter asked. (Y/n) nodded, not having enough energy to say anything. “Good, I’ll see what I can do with your leg and leave the rest to Ms. Stark.”

Pepper’s hands stroked her hair slowly, (Y/n)’s eyebrows relaxed and the lines on her forehead disappeared. Unbeknownst to Pepper, in (Y/n)’s world, Pepper had done this for her a lot especially when Tasha had been kidnapped.

Morgan’s head peeped from the edge of the table and her hand reached out to touch (Y/n)’s shoulder.

“She’s resting, Morgan,” Pepper said softly to her. Her mouth went into the shape of an ‘o’ as she murmured an apology and then set her hands on the edge of the table.

(Y/n) turned her head, opening her eyes and looked over at Morgan.

“Hey, Morguna, sorry we had to stop playing,” (Y/n) grunted as she sat up and maneuvered towards the girl. She ignored Pepper’s protests and went to grab Morgan and set her on her other leg.

“It’s okay,” Morgan replied, staring at the stub. “It’s not your fault.” (Y/n) looked down at what she was staring at.

“Do you want to know what happened?” Morgan nodded her head. “Well-” she shifted the girl on her leg “-you know what happened with the big bad Titan, Thanos, right? It was after half the universe came back and mom—I mean—our dad, was fighting Thanos. And I saved him. He got really mad but lucky for me, we won the fight and was able to get me help. I lost my leg but I’m here now!”

Peter had stopped working by the end of the story, remembering that day but knowing it didn’t go exactly like how (Y/n) said it did. Not in this universe. He never had the heart to tell her how she died in this universe.

“But, you’re not from here, are you?” Morgan asked. (Y/n) exchanged a worried glance with Pepper until Peter saved the day.

“Okay!” Peter held (Y/n)’s prosthetic leg and all heads turned to him. “Your leg should be fixed up but we’ll need to test it out a bit.”

Pepper reached over to pick up Morgan, “Alright, we should get out of your guys’ hairs.”

(Y/n) watched them leave and then looked over at Peter. “That was a close one.” She laughed lightly and Peter chuckled.

“Yeah, she’s smart for her age.” Peter walked over towards her with her leg. (Y/n) sat on the edge of the table and Peter knelt down, slowly placing her leg back on. With a click and a hiss, Peter smiled. He stood back up and looked at (Y/n) who was way closer to her than he thought. Her eyes soft, staring at him.

“Thank you, Peter.”

His eyes flickered down to her lips and she was about to lean in when she pulled back fast. Her lips were pursed and she looked down. Tasha came rushing in and down the stairs, frantic.

“(Y/n), holy shit, you’re okay.”

Peter took a few steps back and away from (Y/n), crossing his arms and glancing at the stairs. He saw Steve enter the room as Tasha was examining her daughter’s leg.

Steve gave him a smile and a nod. Peter waved at him. His eyes moved from (Y/n) then back to Steve, finally deciding to talk to the older man.

(Y/n)’s eyes stayed on Peter as he walked over to Steve. The two exchanged a few words and then went up the stairs looking like they wanted to talk in private.

“Was something going on between the two of you?” Tasha asked, staring at the empty space where the other two stood. Her eyes then met (Y/n)’s who sucked in a breath through her teeth.

“I mean, technically,” she raised her brows. Tasha narrowed her eyes at her. “Okay, I know, I know. Yes, there was, kinda, but I mean he’s also still Peter. But I know, I won’t do anything. It’s just, I don’t know. It’s weird.”

Tasha scoffed, “Yeah, it is weird. Trust me. But also, it’s a good thing nothing’s going on between you two. Not ‘cause of the weird, philosophical thing of is there any difference in our Peter, but because Bruce, Shuri, and I figured it out. We’re going home.”

(Y/n) stared at her wide-eyed. “What?!”

“Yeah, Steve and I were on our way here when FRIDAY called me.”

“Damn.” There was a beat. “And we found how to get to our exact universe?”

“Yup,” Tasha said, popping the ‘p’. “We should say bye to everyone.”

“Already?”

Tasha nodded. “Our universe only aligns with this universe to allow travel every month or so, and we’ve been here for a month already.”

(Y/n) sighed, hopping off the table. “Okay, let me just say bye to Morgan and Pep then.”

Tasha wrapped an arm around her and the two walked up. Steve was talking to Peter and Pepper and their heads turned to the two Starks.

Pepper wore a sad smile on her face, “So you’re leaving?”

“Yeah.” (Y/n)’s face reflected hers. She rushed forward, hugging the older woman and Pepper held her tight. She felt tears fall on her face and (Y/n) pulled back, Pepper wiping her eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m a mess,” Pepper laughed.

“It’s okay, I’ll miss you a lot, tell Happy I said bye and that everything’ll be fine, I’m sure.”

“Of course, and don’t give other-me too much trouble,” she warned.

“No promises.” Tasha walked from behind (Y/n), going to say her goodbyes to Pepper as well. So (Y/n) went off to find Morgan who was sitting in her room on the small table, playing with a tea set and stuffed animals.

(Y/n) sat beside her. “I’ll be going now, I just want to say goodbye.”

“Will you be coming back?”

(Y/n)’s heart broke and she reached over to Morgan, stroking her cheek with the back of her fingers. “No, I don’t think I will be. But I can try, maybe?”

“If you try, then I guess I’ll let you go.”

(Y/n) raised a brow then laughed. “So I wouldn’t be able to leave without your permission?”

“Nope, daddy didn’t leave with mine and now mommy says he’s with you but that’s not true either.”

“Well, it’s kinda true.”

(Y/n) sighed and Morgan got out of her chair to hug her. Despite her small figure, her hug was tight. (Y/n) hugged back, nuzzling her face into Morgan’s hair.

“I love you lots, okay?”

“I love you three thousand,” Morgan mumbled into (Y/n)’s shoulder.

A knock on the door frame grabbed (Y/n)’s attention and there stood Peter. He motioned that it was time to go and then Morgan pulled away.

“Be good, okay?” (Y/n) kissed her cheek and stood up to leave. “You coming with?” She gestured towards the bags in the hall.

“Oh, yeah, May wants me back plus I can just say bye to you back at HQ.”

“Solid.”

(Y/n) grabbed one of his bags, much to his protests, and began walking back towards the others.

***

(Y/n) stood in front of the device, Bruce and Shuri standing by the controls flipping switches and typing in coordinates. Tasha was talking to Steve, saying a few goodbyes (among other things) and (Y/n) figured this would be a good time, the only time, to say one last thing to Peter.

She turned to Peter who was also staring at the device.

“Um,” she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “About earlier, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Oh, no, no, it’s fine that was… also my fault.” Peter rubbed the back of his neck.

“So—” They both said at the same time, then laughing.

“You first.” Peter motioned towards her.

“Thank you… For spending time with me even though you didn’t have to. I know it probably triggered some memories for you but you still did it anyways. I don’t think I would’ve survived this past month without you.” (Y/n) grabbed one of his hands, stroking the back of it with her thumbs. Something of comfort that she had done with him long before they dated, in her world.

“It was nothing. I-um. If anything, it helped me a lot,” he gripped his hand on hers. “Closure and all. I—I know you’re not my (Y/n)? But, I feel like I need to get this off my chest, like I should have before—before…” His gaze turned downward and (Y/n) squeezed his hand, reassuring him. His head snapped back up to her and she smiled.

“It’s okay.”

“I—uh—I really like you. A lot. You make me smile a lot, and you’re like a ball of sunshine. Ray of sunshine, I mean. Ball? What.”

“Pete,” (Y/n) giggled.

“Right,” he laughed nervously. “You’re an amazing hero and person who works hard. Your laughter is like music and I just—I really like you. And I wish I told you all of this sooner and there’s so much more I have to say but I can’t remember and I just. I really like you.”

Out of the corner of their eyes, they saw the interdimensional device begin to work and Tasha motioning towards them that they had to get going. (Y/n) nodded to her mom before turning back to Peter.

“I like you a lot too, webhead. I know the me in this universe did too. And I know the me in this universe will want you to move on and to be happy. So let yourself be happy. It’s okay to be selfish sometimes.” (Y/n) stood on her toes and kissed him on his cheek. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

Peter nodded, swallowing as he held back his tears. “You too. Try to visit, if you can.”

(Y/n) nodded and hugged him. Peter relished her embrace and held on tight before Tasha came up to them. (Y/n) pulled away and smiled at Peter then took a few steps back.

Tasha set a hand on his shoulder. “Look, kid, I know I’m not your Tony but I’m still, Toni. You’re doing a good job, and I know he’s proud of you. If you can, keep being the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, capiche?”

“Yeah, got it.”

Tasha smiled, pulling him in for a hug then pulling back.

“Since when were we there?” Peter joked.

Tasha smirked, shaking her head. “Always were, kid.”

With that being said, Tasha walked over towards the device besides (Y/n). Bruce gave them the ‘okay’ and before they headed through they both gave everyone one last glance, then taking a step in.

***

Tasha and (Y/n) was met with a messy lab, an exhausted Steve Stark-Rogers with his hand on his face, a sleeping Peter Parker with Maria in his arms, a Bruce slumped over a desk, and Shuri who walked in with her cup of coffee.

“Oh, shit!” Shuri dropped the coffee on the ground, splashing it everywhere. Steve jumped in his seat, knocking everything around him. Bruce fell out of his seat and Peter groaned, waking up while Maria rubbed her eyes.

“Tasha.”

“(Y/n)!”

The two boys got up abruptly, Peter holding Maria in his arms still, and ran towards them, hugging them. (Y/n) and Tasha laughed as they hugged them back. Maria stayed in Peter’s arm, looking between (Y/n) and Tasha.

“Group hug!” she yelled. The four of them looked at each other then at the small girl.

“Group hug?” (Y/n) asked. Steve laughed, wrapping an arm around Peter then pulling him, which in turn pulled her into a hug. Maria stayed in the middle of it as they all stayed there hugging, like a small happy family.

Shuri and Bruce watched, exchanging glances with each other.

Bruce cleared his throat, taking off his glasses. “Where were you guys?”

Tasha poked her head out, looking over at Bruce. “Alternate dimension.”

“What?” Peter asked, excitement flowing through him. “Another universe?! Does this mean in one universe Star Wars could be real? Or instead, (Y/n) had spider powers instead of me?” He continued to ramble and (Y/n) and Tasha could only laugh.

Steve stared down at all of them, a smile very apparent on his face. In due time they’d tell everything but for right now, he just wanted to keep them all safe in his arms.

a/n: So Tasha and Steve named their kid Maria after Tasha’s mom. Just an fyi. If enough people like this, I might make this a mini series. The mini-series would just explore the 3490 universe on (Y/n)’s relationship with Peter, Tasha, Steve, and the other members of the Iron Family. I’m thinking about writing the civil war version along with a Homecoming/IW/Endgame version. And maybe I’ll write the other universe where both (Y/n) and Tony die.

#peter parker x stark!reader #tony stark x stark!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x oc #peter parker imagine #steve rogers x platonic!reader #earth 3490 #earth-3490 #natasha stark #toni star #two worlds one path to happiness series #a.writes

68 notes · View notes