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bbhkjiexofics · 3 years ago

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FORGIVENESS IS NOT A GAME - CHAPTER 2

Author: bbhkjiexofics Genre: romance, fluff, angst, slice of life, smut (later chapters), slow burn Au: Idol!Au Warnings: signs of PTSD, domestic abuse, alcohol abuse, strong language, violence, sexual content Pairing: Jongin x Reader (feat. EXO members) Word count: 7.7k

A/N: Hi everyone! Here’s the next chapter of Forgiveness is Not a Game! I hope you continue reading on! I know that it’s a slow burn right now but trust me, it’s all worth it.

Masterlist Series Mini-Masterlist

CHAPTER 2

After you guys finished your lunch, you suddenly felt a bit more comfortable with them. Throughout the meal, all of you started chatting and talking about a lot of things, you and Jongin sneaking glances at each other from time to time but would never actually allow the other to catch them.

It was shocking to think just how much they were opening up to you and it even shocked you more when you were also willing to share a few bits of your life with them.

A few. Not all.

You learned a lot about each member during the lunch. Like how Jongdae actually has a girlfriend who’s not a celebrity and that they’ve been successfully able to hide it from the public eye for a long time now. You beamed at this confession from him because he just looked so proud to be able to talk about his love to someone who was not an EXO member.

You also found out that this is the first vacation that Yixing has been able to join after some time being away in China. He just felt so relieved to be able to find the time in his schedule to be with his brothers and spend some quality time with them. This made you realize just how tight their bond is. That no matter how much they’ve been apart from each other, it’s like they just easily pick up from where they left off. As if no time has passed between them.

You spotted how Minseok always kept everything neat and tidy with the way he eats his meals and gathers everything so precisely between his chopsticks before he takes a bite. He admits that he’s a bit of a clean freak but judging from the way the other guys are, they need Minseok to keep the balance.

Junmyeon and Kyungsoo shared a lot of tour TMIs like how some members pranked Junmyeon in the waiting room after the concert when he fell asleep and woke up to being taped to the chair, leaving him furious but the culprits – Jongin, Chanyeol, and Sehun, couldn’t stop laughing at the story and you were laughing along with them, tears appearing in your eyes and your belly was hurting from just how hard you were laughing. Kyungsoo shared how the members often try to bother him with toys that fans throw on stage for them to play with, he rolls his eyes as he whines about how they try to get him to play with them but you spot him looking warmly at his members as they explain why playing during concerts is the best part of the show. To which, he eventually nods and agrees.

Baekhyun is the most chaotic of them all. Instigating laughs and throwing jokes every chance he gets. He definitely became one of your favorites already with the way he made you feel comfortable and made sure he got a laugh out of you.

Sehun even shared stories about his dog, Vivi, and just how much he loves him and wished he could have brought him to this vacation but he wanted to focus on spending quality time with his brothers after a long tour schedule.

“Well, if you miss Vivi too much, you are always welcome to go down to the stables across the field to pet my horses.” You smile at him.

He looks towards the glass sliding doors to take a peek at the stables, “Hm, n-no. That’s okay.” He flashed you a shy smile.

“Other than dogs, Sehun freaks out at almost every other animal.” Baekhyun snickers as he takes the last bite of his food and Sehun slaps his arm after he revealed that tiny little secret about him.

You giggle, “You’re afraid of horses?” You eye him mockingly and go towards the glass sliding doors to open them. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, they’re all really sweet and it would be nice if they also got to see who these random guys are living with me.”

Chanyeol quickly stands up to follow you to the glass sliding door, “Hyung! They’re so cute! Can we please go? I want to pet them!”

Junmyeon gets up from his seat as well, “Sure, but maybe after we’ve settled in on the room assignments and brought up our luggage.”

Ah, leader vibes indeed.

Everyone starts following Junmyeon to the living room as you shut the glass sliding door to help them with their luggage.

“Okay, uhm, Y/n, how many rooms do you have upstairs? Just so we could settle in on the room situation.” Junmyeon asks.

“There are 5 bedrooms upstairs. The first door on the left of the staircase is mine but the other 4 bedrooms are free.”

“Okay so, Sehun and I will be roommates,” Junmyeon announces and Sehun whines, “Hyung, why do we always have to be roommates?”

Suho sighs before facing the maknae, “Because we all know that you can’t sleep alone and I’m the only one who’s willing to share a bed with your fidgety sleeping habits.”

“It’s true. And Junmyeon hyung is the only one willing to listen to your claims about seeing a ghost every night.” Baekhyun adds in.

Sehun rolls his eyes as the rest of the members laugh, you included.

“Aish! Fine!” Sehun slumps down on the living room couch as Junmyeon continues to announce the rest of the room assignments.

Room assignments: Kyungsoo and Jongin Baekhyun and Chanyeol Yixing, Chen, and Minseok

The 3 who are sharing get the biggest room at the end of the hall, which used to be your parents’ room. It didn’t really bother you as much as you thought it would to have other people occupying that room. Maybe because it’s been so long and having people here in this big house other than aunt Yuna and uncle Jae has been surprisingly comforting.

None of them asked about your parents or where they were. Maybe their manager or uncle Jae have already filled them in with regards to that so you didn’t bother disclaiming that with them. If they wanted to know, they’d ask. But deep down you’re glad that they didn’t, you wouldn’t want your first meeting and conversation to be sad and sappy.

The boys started carrying their suitcases up to their rooms and when Jongin was about to carry his own, Kyungsoo quickly stepped in and took the handle.

“Ah hyung, I can carry it don’t worry.” He flashes Kyungsoo a quick smile, making sure you didn’t see his embarrassment of having his hyung help him with such a simple task.

Kyungsoo ignores Jongin’s words as he doesn’t let go of the handle of his suitcase. “Don’t be stubborn, Jongin. You’re almost healed so there’s no way I’m risking your injury to prolong itself when it’s almost gone.”

Kyungsoo hurriedly follows the rest of the members upstairs with their suitcases before Jongin could argue and you can hear Chanyeol and Baekhyun fighting Sehun and Junmyeon upstairs about which room goes to who.

You giggle at their arguments but your gaze averts to Jongin as he sits down on the living room couch. He looks at his brothers going up the stairs leisurely, not having to worry about any injury.

“Hey,” you start to speak and Jongin snaps up his head to look at you, “you want me to help you go to your room?” You offer but he just looks at you with a blank expression which sends a chill down your spine.

Did I say something wrong?

He quickly stands up and smiles at you although compared to the smiles he’s shown you today, this was a sad and quick one.

“If you’re wondering about the injury, I’m really fine. I was able to dance and perform during the latter dates of the tour so it isn’t as bad. They’re just really protective of me and scared I’m going to get injured again so they don’t even want me to walk on my own, let alone carry my own damn suitcase upstairs.” Jongin looks at the staircase where his brothers are easily climbing and he sighs.

He looks back at you and you just give him a look of understanding. You get it, injuries can make or break someone. You’ve seen that first hand. But the only way for someone to start living normally again without fear is if they make an effort and Jongin seems to be making an effort and you can see that. Him wanting to do things on his own, not wanting to disclose to you first and foremost that he’s injured or recovering from an injury during lunch, just so you don’t pity or coddle him. You can sense that he hated being coddled so you decided that you’re going to help him with what he wants – to actually do something.

“Well, can you help me clean up the dining room then? I have come to the conclusion that all of us in this house are messy eaters, except Minseok, so I’m gonna need a hand with clearing the table.” You offer as you start making your way back to the dining room, you look back at him and gesture for him to follow you as he flashes you a bright smile.

Jongin follows you to the dining room, he helps carry the plates and glasses back to the kitchen and you start washing the dishes. He removes his jacket and places it behind one of the dining room chairs and that’s when you see just how toned and muscular his arms are. Wow. The plain white shirt is indeed doing you favors as you watch him come towards you, grabbing a dish towel on the way, and standing beside you ready to wipe the dishes you’ve washed dry.

“Thank you.” He tells you quietly as he starts wiping the first dish.

You look at him and smile before continuing on with your task.

Breathe, Y/n. Be cool. Be calm. He smells really good but you can do this. You can stand next to him and his amazing arms and be completely normal.

“You know, I don’t know how you can be so comfortable with having nine random guys stay with you in your house.” He says, breaking the silence and snapping you out of your thoughts about his damn arms.

You let out a breathy laugh, “My aunt and uncle say that I’ve been cooped up in this big house alone for too long so they wanted me to ‘break out of my shell’ and actually make an effort to not be a hermit.”

Jongin laughs and you swear it’s the most beautiful sound in the world.

“I didn’t know hermits could be pretty.” Jongin confesses and he suddenly realizes what just came out of his mouth before he looks away from you and clears his throat. “I mean, it’s just strange that you’d be here all by yourself. I’d think you’d have a boyfriend or friends or something to keep you company.” He mutters quickly as he tries to divert away from what he previously said but you heard it. Loud and clear.

Jongin finds you pretty.

You try to keep the blush threatening to come up your face by biting down on your cheeks, “Uhm, nope, no boyfriend..” he looks up at you again in mild shock but you continue, trying to be calm and collected. “All my friends are back in the city and are at university so we don’t really see each other often.”

“Oh, then why aren’t you with them at university?”

Your movements freeze for a moment but you didn’t think he noticed so you clear your throat before answering him, “Just cause.. I don’t know, maybe I found out eventually that university wasn’t for me. Anyways, we call each other from time to time but that’s about it. I mostly like to keep to myself anyways so it hasn’t really been a struggle to be here by myself.”

You tried to speed through your answer about the whole you not being in university topic, hoping that the subject of the conversation would quickly change.

“I guess we have that in common.” Jongin’s eyes now focused on the same plate he’s been wiping ever since the conversation started.

“What do you mean?”

“Keeping to yourself,” he shrugs as he finally moves on from the plate and picks up a spoon to wipe dry, “we’re kinda the same in that aspect because other than being with the members, I mostly like to keep to myself.” He looks at you as you nod and acknowledge his reply.

He continues, “I’m an introvert so it’s not that hard for me to be alone and I’m guessing you are too.” He smiles at you.

You shift your gaze away from him so you could focus on these damn plates that still need to be washed, thinking to yourself that it feels like there’s no end to this chore. But you welcome it anyways as it gives you an excuse to talk to Jongin more.

“Yeah, I think I’ve learned that keeping to yourself is much better than talking to people because even though it sounds a bit sad and cynical, I’d rather keep all the thoughts in my head to myself than bother someone with my thoughts or struggles.” You laugh shakily as you suddenly confess this deep ideal you have to this guy you literally just met a few hours ago.

Kind of ironic to be letting out this thought when you literally just told him that you’d rather keep these types of things to yourself. But for some reason, it feels so easy to talk to this man. To let yourself blurt out these things that you’d normally hide from people because you think that Jongin actually understands and cares. There’s a certain comfort about him that you just can’t figure out, which is both frightening and inviting at the same time.

Jongin nods his head before he hums in agreement, “I get it completely.”

“Like this injury for example, I never want my members to see me struggle or be in pain or be uncomfortable because I don’t want them to feel bothered about having to take care of me when I know I can do things myself. It’s just frustrating to feel like you’re bothering other people with your discomfort. It feels like you’re a burden, and I hate that.” He stops his movements with wiping the glass in his hand as he dwells on the sudden admission.

“But you’re not a burden, Jongin..” You stop washing the dishes as well and turn to face him as he looks at you with his piercing, beautiful eyes.

You don’t know what it was but you felt the need to quickly reassure him – to make him feel like he wasn’t alone. To make sure that he didn’t creep into the same black hole you’ve dug up for yourself all these years.

You needed to spare him from that loneliness.

You swallow before you continue, “Even if I’ve just met you all today, I can tell how much you all care and value each other. I don’t think you’re being a burden to them, I think they just want to care for you and be there for you whenever you may need them because well, they love you.”

He stares at you and looks down at the ground with a sigh, “I know.. It’s just, I never want to feel like I’m holding anyone down. I never want to pass the hassle on to other people because I know I can handle it on my own.”

You sigh not because you feel any pity or sadness for him but because you completely understand how he feels. You come to think to yourself that maybe someone in the world actually gets why you do the things you do, feel the things you feel.

He looks back up as he hears you sigh, “Sorry, this suddenly just turned into such a heavy conversation.”

He tries to go back to his chore and goes to grab the glass that still needs to be wiped but you stop him from looking away and hold his arm gently. You feel a sort of electricity from the touch and you know he felt it too because he looks into your eyes expectantly, searching for anything to grab hold of from his sudden showcase of vulnerability.

You look back into his eyes with sincerity, probably the first time you’ve done so in so long, trying to reassure him that everything you’re about to say is completely genuine and is coming from a place of understanding, “There’s no shame in accepting help, especially from the people who love and care for you the most.”

You suddenly realize that you��re still holding onto his arm and you let go, he looks at the ghost of your touch but you continue on, “I accepted the help from my aunt and uncle by agreeing for you guys to stay with me. It was honestly really scary and I dreaded it, not gonna lie-”

He lets out a small laugh and you laugh along with him before you continue, “but honestly, even with just that lunch, I already feel less alone. I already feel a little better and it makes me think twice about why I waited so long to take the first few steps in trying to open myself up to people again.”

You shock yourself at your sudden confession. You didn’t realize you had these thoughts until you blurted them out just now but having said it to Jongin just made you feel so much lighter, happier even. I stark contrast to how you’ve been over the last 3 years hiding yourself from the rest of the world within the confines of this house.

Jongin looks back up at you and gives you a warm smile, “Well I guess we’re both about to feel a little less lonely these next couple of weeks.”

You feel your cheeks heating up again as you notice that you both are merely a few inches apart, his eyes locking their gaze onto yours and you try your best to let out a few words, “I guess we are.” You say softly as you return his warm smile.

You suddenly hear someone plop into the bar stool just across from you both and it snaps you and Jongin out of your moment, significantly increasing the distance between you.

Whoever this person is, I am about to murder him.

“Whatcha doiiiiiin’?” Baekhyun speaks up as he props his chin onto his hand as his elbow rests on the bar counter.

Jongin looks at him slightly annoyed and with gritted teeth he says, “Nothing hyung, just helping Y/n clean the dishes.”

“Mhmmmmm…” Baekhyun wiggles his eyebrows at you both as you look away from him, finally finding the will to focus on these damn dirty dishes.

How are these still not clean!?

Kyungsoo enters the kitchen and lets Jongin know that he’s done taking a shower and Jongin could go freshen up in their room.

Jongin looks at you and you nod at him telling him that it’s okay, you can handle the dishes by yourself. He flashes you a small smile as he follows Kyungsoo upstairs, but not before he gives Baekhyun one last glare as he passes by him.

You focus your attention back towards the dishes that have finally lessened, only two plates left to wash and you can go to your room, away from these nine boys to have a moment of peace to think about the conversation that just happened between you and Jongin and internally struggle with the fact that just the way he says your name brings chills down your spine.

Baekhyun clears his throat and you look at him nonchalantly, “Yes, Baekhyun? Do you need anything?” You turn your head away from him to finish up your chore.

“So, Y/n.. Jongin, huh?”

You pause your movements and you know that Baekhyun saw your hesitation as you try to answer him calmly, “What do you mean?”

“You know, I’m kinda sad it’s not me but Jongin is a catch!! At least it’s not Jongdae, so there’s no problems there, if ya know what I mean?” His tone is teasing and you know that he’s trying to get something out of you but you’re not gonna fall for it. Nope.

“Listen, Baekhyun, I don’t know what you mean, really..” You give him your best confused and innocent look but he just shrugs as he leans against the back rest of the bar stool with his arms across his chest.

With a raised eyebrow he tries to narrow his eyes at you, trying to catch any lies behind your tone. Luckily you stand your ground because he finally gives up and sighs, “Ugh fine, but just so you know, I will be the first to approve!”

He gets down from his seat and walks to go back upstairs and before you thought you could finally let down your façade of trying to not understand what he meant about you and Jongin, his head pops out of the archway again, eyes still narrowed to make sure you’re still as oblivious as you make it out to be, “Hmmm. Interesting…” he mutters but before he walks out of the kitchen completely he finally looks at you sweetly and says, “The boys are almost done settling in and Chanyeol is adamant about meeting your horses so they’ll be down any minute now.” You nod your head and give him the best smile you could before he’s finally out of view.

You let out a quiet breath and finish up the last of your dishes quickly before you get ready to let the boys meet the horses.

So much for having time to yourself in your room to think about Jongin.

You have finally put away all the dishes into the cupboards and wiped the dining table clean. From greeting the boys, to chatting over lunch, and cleaning up the dining room and kitchen, you were spent.

One would think that you’d be quite annoyed with how the boys left you alone to clean up (except Jongin, who helped quite a lot with the dishes), but you understood as they’re probably exhausted from the trip over here and you also found out that they came straight from the airport, only passing by their dorm to pick up their luggage for this vacation. So you don’t have any annoyance as they help themselves to quick showers and wardrobe changes while you tidy up the kitchen and dining room.

When you’re satisfied with the spotless rooms, you make your way over to go upstairs to check if they were able to settle in well but you saw that Jongin left his jacket on one of the chairs.

You pick it up and chuckle at the cute bear emblem embossed on the front pocket of his denim jacket.

Looks just like him.. adorable.

You make your way up the stairs, Jongin’s jacket in hand, and knock on the first door you see to check if that was Kyungsoo and Jongin’s room.

To your surprise, Jongin opened the door to the bedroom just beside yours, greeting you with a towel to his head, his hair was still slightly damp from his shower and he’s changed his clothes to a cute striped button down and loose beige pants.

“Hey!” Jongin beamed as he saw you holding up his jacket.

“You left this downstairs.” You smiled at him as you handed over his jacket, your hands grazing each other slightly and you have to bite onto your cheek again to refrain from blushing.

You redirected your gaze at Kyungsoo as he folds his clothes on his bed, “I’m just curious as to why you picked the smallest room.” You lean on the doorway and raise an eyebrow at him.

Jongin looks at him in shock, “Hyung! I knew our room was the smallest!” He whined adorably and you let out a small giggle as he smiles up at you upon hearing the sound come out of your mouth.

Kyungsoo looks at both of you before going back to folding his clothes, “Because it’s the room beside yours.” Both your heads turn to Kyungsoo in shock at his casual revelation.

“What?” He looks back at both of you as he rolls his eyes and just shrugs, you look down at your feet to hide the shyness but not before you catch Kyungsoo give a knowing smile to Jongin.

First Baekhyun, and now Kyungsoo?

You clear your throat and Jongin averts his gaze from his hyung back to you. “Are you guys ready? I’m just gonna get a few apples and carrots from the pantry then I can wait for you guys downstairs so you all can meet the horses.”

“Y-yeah, we’ll be down in a minute. I’ll gather up the other members as well and we’ll meet you downstairs.” He smiles back at you and looks at his hyung as Kyungsoo nods his head in acknowledgement.

“Great,” you smile. “see you in a bit.” He nods and you leave their door and as Jongin slowly closes it, still within earshot you hear him say, “Hyung, what was that!?”

You smile to yourself and continue towards the pantry to grab the apples and carrots so the boys can feed the horses if they wanted to.

Okay, Y/n. It’s just a little crush. Don’t get ahead of yourself now.

Just as you come out of the pantry, you see the boys slowly filing in the living room. Sehun, Jongdae, and Junmyeon have already taken a seat on the couch and Baekhyun, Jongin, and Kyungsoo are seated across them on the other couch chatting away.

Yixing and Minseok are heading down the stairs and when you take a look at all of them, you realize Chanyeol’s missing.

Just before you could ask the rest of the members where Chanyeol is, he comes rushing down the stairs, all decked out in ‘riding’ gear, or what he thinks is riding gear. He was sporting a flannel button down, a denim vest on top, jeans that you didn’t know he would have in his wardrobe as they looked like something actors would wear on set of Mid-Western movies, and brown boots.

Oh. And of course, a cowboy hat.

The rest of the guys look at their member in shock until Sehun bursts out laughing, “Hyung! What the fuck are you wearing!?”

The rest of the members start laughing with the youngest and you only spot Yixing and Minseok restraining themselves from partaking in this laugh fest. You try to follow their lead and look away to hide your laugh.

“Why are you laughing!? At least I came prepared!” Chanyeol huffed as he turned in full 360 fashion so he could show off his outfit, as if that would make it all make sense.

“Who are you trying to be? Lone Ranger!?” Baekhyun wheezes as he holds onto his belly from laughing too hard.

“Hyung!” Sehun chimes in, still dying from laughter as he holds onto Junmyeon to keep himself from falling off the couch, “Where do you think we are!? In the wild wild west!?” Sehun wheezes and he wipes away the tears coming out of his eyes.

“Howdy, partner!” Baekhyun says with the best cowboy impression he could muster and that’s what causes you to laugh along with them, unable to restrain yourself any longer because the sight of Chanyeol was inevitably hilarious.

Did he really think that’s what riders wear!? I’m dead.

Chanyeol groans and makes his way towards Baekhyun dying on the floor, slapping his arm to make him stop laughing and that just makes the rest of the members laugh harder, even Yixing and Minseok weren’t spared.

“You are so mean!” Chanyeol hits Baekhyun with his cowboy hat in between each word and Junmyeon tries to break the two up.

“Okay, okay, let’s all just ignore what Chanyeol is wearing,” wiping away his own tears from his eyes, “and let’s go meet some horses so Chanyeol can live his cowboy fantasy.”

Chanyeol forces himself off Baekhyun but before he could try to calm down,

“Isn’t that right, partner?” Junmyeon emphasizes the last word, making the room erupt in laughter once more.

“Yah, hyung! You’re not supposed to join in!” Chanyeol protests.

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry! Let’s go!”

Everyone tries to calm down at their leader’s words and you try to gather yourself up to lead them towards the stables, Chanyeol shooting each member he passes a glare as he trails behind you, the members following behind him still laughing at his outfit.

When you reach the stables, the first horse you introduce to the boys was a grey and white spotted stallion.

“This here is Old-Timer,” you reach into your bag full of apples and carrots and feed Old-Timer a treat.

“Oh. My. God.” Chanyeol says as he turns into a giddy little kid. The rest of the members stand behind him in amazement as they watch you feed the horse in such close proximity, showing no fear as you pet the stallion’s neck and he neighs in delight.

Sehun jumps and clings onto Junmyeon and you chuckle at his reaction. “C’mon, Sehun! He won’t bite!”

Junmyeon and Yixing grab both of Sehun’s arms and tries to push him nearer Old-Timer but he backs away quickly, “No way! I saw his teeth! They’re huge!”

It’s funny how Sehun may have been the most intimidating out of all of them at first but when he actually starts getting comfortable, he just turns into a big baby. Hiding behind his hyungs like the well-loved maknae he is.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby.” Chanyeol tells the youngest as he goes closer to Old-Timer and looks at you before you nod to let him know that it’s okay to go ahead and pet him.

“Eeeep!” Chanyeol exclaims as he starts to pet the beautiful horse.

You move away so that any member who’d like to pet Old-Timer as well could take your spot. Kyungsoo goes nearer the horse and you offer him an apple, which he gladly takes, as he cautiously lifts up the fruit near the horse’s mouth to eat. Old-Timer eats the apple from Kyungsoo’s hand and he beams at the interaction, looking back at his members, “Did you see that!? He ate it!”

You smile at him and nod for him to get another apple from the bag so he could give the horse another treat.

“Old-Timer here is the oldest horse in this stable and he’s also been here the longest.”

They look at you delightedly and then shift their attention back to the other two members petting the beautiful horse.

“Good boy!” You tell Old-Timer, as you reach in your bag to give him his last treat so you can move on to the next horse.

The members follow you to the next stable and Chanyeol and Kyungsoo tell their goodbyes to Old-Timer.

You greet the beautiful red-brown mare with a beautiful white imprint in the middle of her face with a pat on the neck. “This here, is Red Lady.”

You smile at the horse before shifting your attention back to the members to spot their reaction. The boys are giddy at the fact that the horses have been tame so far, except Sehun, who’s still clinging onto Junmyeon’s shirt.

“Who wants to pet Red Lady?” You ask them and you feel like you’re taking school boys to a field trip at some petting zoo. It leaves you beaming with pride as any moment you get to show off your beautiful horses to anyone is just gratifying in itself.

“Me!!” Baekhyun quickly volunteers as you reach your bag out to him so he can pick out a treat for Red Lady.

“Hi, cutie!” He coos as he offers a carrot to the mare and she gratefully eats it from his hand.

“I think I’m in love.” Baekhyun says, his mouth agape and his eyes in awe of the horse in front of him. You giggle at his reaction, “Get in line, buddy.” He shoots you an amused look and moves to Red Lady’s side as he starts to pet her neck, even going as far as to nuzzle his face to hers.

“Oh my God, I wanna do that too!” Chanyeol suddenly comes up to Red Lady’s other side and slowly pets her, eventually following what Baekhyun did but Red Lady moves her head away from Chanyeol and he stares at her then at you in shock.

“Red Lady! That’s not nice!” You laugh and Baekhyun sticks his tongue out at Chanyeol, “Red Lady likes me not youuuu.” he sing-songs his tease and Chanyeol huffs and before he could argue with Baekhyun, Jongdae comes forward and reaches into your bag so he could give her a treat as well.

He offers Red Lady an apple then goes to pet her neck, nuzzling his face just like Baekhyun successfully.

“I think she just wanted a treat before any cuddling,” Jongdae tells Chanyeol before he continues, “I mean you know, from experience, I know the way to a lady’s heart.” He winks at Chanyeol and the other members groan in response. Baekhyun shoves Jongdae away from Red Lady, “Yeah, yeah, we get it lover boy. Now leave my girl alone.”

“AWAAAE!” Jongdae whines and you try to move on to the next stable before Red Lady gets overwhelmed with the sudden swarm of attention.

You continue moving through each stable, introducing your horses to the members and each member grows accustom to different horses. Chanyeol and Kyungsoo formed a bond with Old-Timer, Baekhyun and Jongdae with Red Lady, Yixing, Minseok, and Junmyeon with the new horses that you’re still trying to train. Only Jongin and Sehun haven’t found a horse they’ve grown to be attached to but that’s okay, not everyone can bond with them that quick.

You reach the final horse in your stable, your own personal horse, Blue.

“So this is my horse, Baby Blue or just Blue for short.” The 4 year-old stallion had a coat that was as black as night, shiny and unique and compared to all the horses here, only Blue had one main prominent color to his coat, the rest had different mixtures of browns, whites, grays, and even blonde. Blue was different, he was the brightest one here despite his dark demeanor. Capturing everyone’s attention not just because of the color of his coat, but because of his beautiful blue eyes. Which is the main reason why you named him Baby Blue in the first place.

The minute your parents surprised you with him 4 years ago, you had just gotten home for the Christmas holiday break. It was three days before Christmas but they were so excited to have you back home as you’ve been away at university for a while and they couldn’t keep your gift away from you anymore.

You’ve always dreamed of having your own horse but your parents always said that having your own personal horse only shifts all your attention to that one rather than loving and caring for all the horses in the stables equally. But you were always begging them every year for a horse and they finally gave in and gifted you with a newborn foal from one of the mare’s they were caring for at the time for a client. The client didn’t want to keep the foal so your parents found it to be a perfect opportunity to finally gift you with Blue and grant your wish.

It’s one of your dearest memories -- your favorite and last Christmas with them. It leaves a bittersweet imprint in your head but nonetheless, you believed that your parents gifted you Blue as a protector. They may not have known it then but they left you with a guardian angel.

“Now, compared to other horses, Blue is somewhat of a snob..” You say to the group shyly, “He’s not really as friendly compared to the other horses and only ever really listens to me and uncle Jae but he’s a lovebug and the sweetest when he warms up to you. He just really gets protective of me so he doesn’t really accept touches from other people but it doesn’t hurt to try.” You look up at the members and they seem more weary compared to how they were with the other horses, even Chanyeol isn’t so keen on going near the young stallion.

“Oh, come on! He won’t bite, I promise.” You smile at them, giving them encouraging words so they can come near Blue.

“O-okay, I’ll try…” Chanyeol bravely creeps nearer Blue slowly, you still standing beside your horse and petting his neck to make him more calm as you analyze his reactions as Chanyeol comes closer.

Blue suddenly jerks back and Chanyeol hides behind Kyungsoo funnily enough, even though Kyungsoo is much shorter than him, but even Kyungsoo can’t hide his worried expression.

Come on, Blue.. Please behave.

“Shhh.. It’s okay, boy..” You try to soothe Blue back beside you and he lets you continue to pet him again. You give the bag to Minseok and he stares at his members to see who is willing to give the feisty stallion a treat.

“Y/n… I think we’re good…” Sehun pulls Junmyeon closer, wanting to retreat out of the stables before Blue gets more agitated.

You sigh and just as you’re about to agree, Jongin gets an apple from the bag and slowly walks towards Blue.

You look at him in shock but continue to pet Blue as Jongin comes closer and closer. You see his hands shake a little as he lifts the apple to the stallion’s mouth. You watch his gaze divert from his hands, to Blue, then to you. You offer him a reassuring smile and nod, reaching your free hand and putting it under his trembling hands for support.

Why are his hands so soft?

You notice his trembling diminish as your hand touches his, Blue’s breathing has also steadied, and you look at Blue’s eyes, smiling at him before you look back at Jongin. It seems like everyone is holding their breath, waiting for what your horse’s reaction will be. The members have significantly increased their distance from you, Jongin, and Blue, as they watch the next thing unfold in shock and amazement.

Blue gently eats the apple out of Jongin’s hands and you’re shocked at the interaction, considering that you’ve let go of his hands before Blue took a bite of the apple. Blue doesn’t let anyone feed him but you. Even uncle Jae can’t feed Blue but Jongin, he was able to gain Blue’s trust that quickly?

Blue must sense something I don’t.

And if that wasn’t surprising enough, Blue lowered his head just a bit so that he was at eye level with Jongin. If he was a person, it would look like he was probably scanning this man from head to toe and gauging what he’s thinking – is he scared? Shocked? Happy? Excited? Nervous?

Jongin slowly lifted his arm towards Blue’s neck and Blue remained calm as Jongin starts to pet him. You want to scream out of pure delight. Your horse is actually allowing another human being to get close to him and it’s just a beautiful sight.

Jongin beams at Blue’s reaction and you could tell that he’s starting to get excited, the members now have their eyes glued to Jongin’s hand that’s petting Blue, amazed at the sight as well.

You nuzzle your head to Blue and he leans into you as well before you get another apple from the bag and feed him a treat, as he deserves.

Good boy, Blue!

You smile at Blue and nod at Jongin, signaling that maybe it’s time to head back to the house now.

As soon as you exit the stables, everyone exhales as if they’ve just been holding their breaths the entire time.

“Oh my God, Jongin!! How did you do that!?” Chanyeol looks at Jongin, placing his hands on his shoulders as he scans Jongin’s face and body as if he had some magic spell etched on his skin.

Jongin was still in shock and he couldn’t explain the exchange himself.

“That was really brave, you know?” You cock an eyebrow at Jongin before continuing, “Blue has never accepted a treat from anyone else except me.”

Jongin beams at the new information you just told him, “I-I don’t know either! I was just so mesmerized by how beautiful he was so I wanted to try and get a closer look. I didn’t know that he’d actually accept the apple.”

He looks at you in amazement as Yixing says, “At least all of us got to bond with a horse one way or another. Well, almost all of us.” As he looks towards the maknae who still hasn’t let go of the leader’s hand.

“Aish, where’s Vivi when I need him most..” Sehun whines and everyone giggles as you all walk back to the house.

Everyone starts going back up their rooms, agreeing that everyone should get some rest before dinner. They wanted you to take some rest too so they suggested to just order some pizza so you wouldn’t have to prepare anything.

Thank God.

Just before you go upstairs to take a much-needed shower, Jongin gently grabs your arm, pulling you in front of him.

You’re shocked by the action and how your faces are just merely inches away from each other you could practically hear his breath.

“Uhm.. Thank you for that.” Jongin tells you softly, a warm smile greeting his face.

“Y-you’re welcome,” you stutter, trying to fight the blush creeping up your cheeks, “any excuse to show off my horses is always a pleasure.” You return his smile as he gazes at your lips.

You notice where he’s looking now and try to fight the urge to bite your bottom lip and mutter, “I meant what I said when Blue never accepted any treats from anyone except me before,” Jongin looks up at you curiously.

And when he doesn’t reply you continue and explain further, “Blue doesn’t really trust other people easily so I’m shocked that he took a liking to you straight away. Maybe he just sensed something.” You try not to look at his plush lips and focus on his beautiful eyes.

“What do you think he sensed?” Somehow, Jongin’s face drew nearer and you have to hold your breath before slightly widening the gap so you could speak.

“I don’t know. Let me ask him later.” You shrug and Jongin releases a small laugh. You join him before he lets go of your arm, “Okay, could you let me know what he says? I’m curious.”

You giggle and nod as you continue towards your bedroom, closing the door before he passes by you so he can’t see the heavy blush that has settled in your cheeks.

Why does it feel like my heart is about to explode? His smile, his face, his voice, his everything. UGH. How could a human being be so perfect!?

Stop it, Y/n. You don’t know him.

But he’s so cute!!!

So was the last one..

You shake your head a bit as anxiety starts building inside you at the sudden thought of him.

You make your way to your bathroom, quickly splashing water on your face to rid yourself of the thought – of the person that has caused you countless nightmares and anxiety for the past 3 years.

“You’re okay, Y/n,” you inhale and exhale heavy breaths, trying to calm your heart rate as you splash more water to your face.

“You’re okay…” you look at yourself in the mirror and stare at your reflection, making sure that you’re still conscious and aware of the present. Not allowing yourself to remember.

You look down at your jeans, the bottom part has slowly risen up from when you removed your sneakers awhile ago. You can see it. That scar. A constant reminder of the pain of the past. Of him.

You turn to your reflection once more before repeating to yourself, “You’re okay. You. Are. Okay.”

Am I really?

A/N: I’m uploading 3 chapters at a time, still don’t know how many chapters this series will be in total but the next upload will probably be in a week or so! Hope you all like it! Let me know if you have any comments/feedback with regards to the writing. I’m always open to constructive criticism. :)

Taglist: @cardtak

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frederickthegreat · 4 years ago

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my thoughts on TUA season 2

(spoilers, obviously)

- opened with Klaus and Ben, my kings. Klaus’s hair looks so weird straightened while short

- AWESOME opening soundtrack

- seeing all their powers so controlled makes me wonder how they leveled up to that skill in the alternate timeline. like the only time we saw Klaus use the powers of other ghosts in the correct timeline was when two of them caught him falling out of the sky. however Diego did end up controlling bullets and Allison used her voice to technically kill one of the Swedes

- the homeless man screaming Allison’s name alongside Luther... funny shit

- big teddy bear Hazel

- Elliot was fucking awesome i think he was a great addition as a side character. rip tho :(

- honestly i don’t understand why Diego would WANT to save JFK. like it’s not that big of a deal. does he not understand what messing with the timeline can do??

- Lila... impeccable

- Sissy and Vanya... impeccable <3

- yeah and fuck u Carl

- ugh, Klaus’s beard. disgusting <3

- Ben and Klaus definitely act like they should be, given that they’ve been stuck with each other for over a decade. i’ve seen some people calling Klaus an asshole for not telling his siblings about Ben, which is completely understandable (cause he was an asshole), but I’m guessing it was because he was afraid? that sharing Ben with his siblings would mean that he would lose him to them, or his siblings would find him selfish, or they would ask something of him that he couldn’t give. if that makes sense

- that ghost bitch comment was funny tho

- to the guy who called Klaus pretty boy at the bar: sir you don’t know what you’re getting into

- Raymond!! he’s such a sweetheart, i really liked him in the show. i’m really happy that Allison has found a bit of normalcy (as normal as the 1960s Civil Rights movement could be). it shows how passionate she is about what she believes in: even though she knows the movement is far from over, even back in 2019, she’s not gonna abandon it

- Allison staring at the moon every night: either thinking about Luther or how the moon blows them all up. maybe both

- of course Luther would be working for Jack Ruby

- awesome cinematography during the mental asylum escape

- yeah it makes sense that the Handler would still be alive. she was a cool villain. although it would’ve been awesome to see how evil a fish could be

- Diego’s plan was pretty stupid. that’s my boy

- honestly they revealed how Klaus started a cult really well by having one of his followers find him at jail. Klaus, ever the musical aficionado, of course writes his scripture based off of pop songs

- Raymond and Klaus meeting!! that was cool to see how their paths connected

- Lila painting Elliot’s toenails green. ugh i love that crazy bitch

- i LOVE how they incorporated the umbrella man!! tbh i’ve always believed he was the one behind the assassination. Lee Harvey Oswald was framed

- honestly a bit understandable that Luther was planning on killing Vanya? cause he had no idea who she is now, but them reuniting was actually really sweet. he’s grown up so much

- the Swedes and their cats.

- the Umbrella company building with the nuclear family mannequins... creepy, awesome shit

- baby pogo baby pogo baby pogo baby pogo

- shanked diego shanked diego shanked diego shanked diego

- did anyone else get vibes from Klaus’s episode opening that he was an escort to the old woman? like how he was being shown off at her arm or something and getting out of jail from a call from the governor. idk maybe the lady was just very taken with him, as anyone would be

- Elliot, our helpful king

- Allison and Klaus’s reunion was so sweet!! i’m so glad they got to interact so much more in this season

- Ben getting Raymond out through a haunting... hilarious

- sweet intimate moment between Lila and Diego

- Ray meeting Luther was hilarious, but i do feel for the poor guy. i mean i’m not in love with my adoptive sister but still

- the sit-in was really well done and beautiful while terrible. the ‘riot’ that ensued was very appropriate for today’s setting

- D-Dave

- honestly i was scared that Klaus was gonna be overly attracted to him or whatever, which would be weird cause he’s years younger than Klaus, but honestly, at the core he just wanted to save Dave’s life. even if it means never meeting him in a different timeline. he truly loved Dave. and that ptsd flashback was done so well

- i knew Lila wasn’t trustworthy but i didn’t REALLY expect that!

- Vanya and Luther talking with each other, Luther admitting the apocalypse wasn’t all her fault. beautiful

- the Majestic 12 reminds me of the conspiracy theory that only a few families control basically everything in the world. the Majestic 12 may be based off of that, idk

- idk about everyone else but Klaus’s scorpion and the frog story made total sense to me! frogs ARE bitches

- the diner scene.... ugh. it really shows that the two of them did fall in love and they did stupid in love things, like talking about their family, about why Dave wanted to join, favorite colors, favorite foods, etc. however that’s seen later on when Dave visits the compound

- yes it’s very disheartening when Klaus is attacked, but honestly i think it had to happen, just like the riot had to happen. the 60s weren’t a fun time for lgbt people and poc. it was only going to be a matter of time before the show HAD to acknowledge the consequences of Klaus’s ‘flamboyancy’ in 1963 Texas. it doesn’t make it right or easy to see, but it’s realistic.

- it also makes sense that Klaus fell off the wagon after experiencing something like that. yes we all would’ve liked him to stay sober, but sobriety and recovery aren’t linear.

- Allison is so happy with Ray can we please drop this pseudo-incest plotline let’s MOVE ON

- Texas Grace ! who is not actually Grace rip (i think? i was a bit confused lol)

- the scene with Harlan running off was really upsetting but we got to see those weird light particles that we saw in the first season

- Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo

- Klaus being a dick to Ben again, as brothers do. i do feel bad for Ben though it must be sooo frustrating. that scene with him and Allison was really sweet and funny tho

- i just have to say that Luther and Diego are so fucking funny this season it’s awesome. like there are a LOT of good lines overall by everyone but they’re hilarious. “At least he didn’t shank my ass” “no bro, he shanked your heart”“Dads part of a sinister CABAL that’s plotting on killing the president.” “a caBAL?”“You two still a thing? *leans in* do we need to talk?” “No, she’s married.” “Woah dude... that’s rough.” and countless others

- the sibling reunion!!

- Klaus really does get left out of everything tbh

- Ben :(

- sisters and Klaus!! that was so awesome to see. and Klaus’s hairpins, Vanya saying she’s gonna tell Sissy she loves her, their dance sequence, Klaus calling Allison out on that incest. beautiful

- the fucking Swedish cover of Hello was PERFECT i mean i was sad for the Swedes but it was hilarious. there were a couple beautiful shots of the boat on fire though

- god it must’ve been so traumatizing for Allison to be thrust into such a hostile place with no voice and no way to contact her family

- idk about you guys but long live Team Zero

- calling Ben that he was becoming their father was a bit uncalled for

- the fact that Klaus didn’t help Dave’s chances, and in fact escalated Dave’s own timeline.. his trembling hands... robert sheehan is an amazing actor

- the Black president bit lmaoo loved it

- the way Reginald spoke to Diego.. i’m gonna throw hands with an old man

- Klaus LITERALLY looked like he was having a seizure and they all just... played it off??

- poor, poor Carl. nah fuck him lol

- that bloody opening scene was awesome! and thank god Five got to say fuck. the fact that it was about a candy bar makes too much sense

- Robert Sheehan acting as Ben: amazing showstopping spectacular he’s so talented

- the whole multiple Fives and Luther bit was honestly really funny, and i immensely respect smaller Five over bigger Five.

- yes Klaus, you survived a family of seven. you got this

- not sad about Carl dying one bit!

- Ben... that was such a beautiful scene. not just the content of the scene, but the cinematography. Ben fading away... Vanya hugging him... ugh. the main takeaway i had from that scene is that at the core of it all, Ben and Klaus love each other immensely. they have a weird, dysfunctional, fucked up relationship, where Klaus is an asshole and Ben definitely shouldn’t of possessed him without his consent, but they’re still brothers, and Ben forgives him.

- oof Ben’s funeral was hard. also was it just me or did Klaus’s kid actor sound weird? like it sounded like Robert was dubbing his lines

- all the siblings back together again!!!! Klaus going with Vanya to save Harlan!! Vanya telling him Ben forgives him and that it wasn’t Klaus’s fault Ben got stuck with him!! everyone in the car!!! be still my beating heart

- yeah didn’t see Lila having powers coming tbh. i really feel bad for her she’s had such a rough and traumatic life, especially with the Handler as her only parental figure

- the Swede brother and Five putting down their weapons: “enough.” the Swede wanted revenge for his brothers - an eye for an eye, but there was a mutual understanding between the two of them: they would do anything for their family. if the Swede hurts one of the Hargreeves, Five would never stop coming after him. i thought it was very beautiful

- mmm Reggie’s foreshadowing coming into play. proud of u Five

- the ending was so beautiful. everyone got closure in some type of way. except now Klaus is alone with nothing but his dog tags :(

- EMO BEN HAHAHA WTFFF?? is Lila in the sparrow academy? why was Ben’s portrait over the mantle piece? did Five disappear?? is the sparrow academy just older versions of the siblings who stuck around?? so many questions

FINAL THOUGHTS

- Ellen Page’s acting consistently blows me away. she is amazing

- beautiful cinematography, funny writing, pretty good acting. i didn’t like the soundtrack as much as i did the first season’s, but some of it wasn’t bad.

- i’m glad ben got peace, but i’m also glad justin min isn’t gone for good. his social media presence is too vital for us

- i swear to god if they keep treating klaus as a joke and don’t let him get any actual development like everyone else had (he barely got closure with Dave, he reconciled with Ben through a second party) next season, i’m gonna riot. PLEASE i want to learn more about his powers now that Ben is gone. what happened to seeing tons of ghosts when he’s sober??

- Luther and Diego were probably my favorite duo of the season, I’m so happy that they’ve reconciled and are bonding more.

- just seeing Vanya grow and be happy was amazing

all in all, really wonderful season. i probably liked it better than the first one. now it’s time to consume fanfiction and maybe finish my own (check out “god doesn’t want him and neither does the devil” on ao3!)

#the umbrella academy #tua spoilers #tua season 2 spoilers #the umbrella academy season 2 spoilers #the umbrella academy season 2 #tua season 2 #klaus hargreeves #luther hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #allison hargreeves #raymond chestnut #dave katz #diego hargreeves #reginald hargreeves

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houndsharkk · 4 years ago

Text

alright alright, do yall want my dreamSMP headcanons?? keep in mind that i only watch a few of them

/dsmp

Possible TW's: trauma, manipulation, death, suicide, overdose; the basic dreamSMP stuff, unfortunately.

ok here we go:

Dream - a separate entity from DreamXD, though they are related; perhaps XD is from another universe? anyways, Dream was possessed by a 'Dreamon' at a young age, making him think that things like manipulation are ok simply because he didn't know any better. he says he's trying to get better, but is he? no. this is just another trick to make Tommy think he can change. Jacob Sheep horns are slowly growing (sheep-hybrid thanks to his mother, Cpt. Puffy). Him becoming family with George and Sapnap made him realize that he can make his own family, an idea which he twisted and turned into manipulation. In his words, paraphrased, he "did a bad thing but for good reasons" which were "bringing the server together"; he wanted to be a family with him in control, a dictatorship, a hivemind.

Drista - Dream's sister, more related to XD than Dream is. somewhat OP but has morals unlike her brother.

George - Mooshroom hybrid!! Has a little mushroom crown and cape because he thinks of himself as royalty (he isn't) - has little horns and a little tail. Misses Dream the most out of the Dream Team, but somewhat afraid of him. Wants 'the old dream' back, which was partly a persona and partly Dream learning about found family. He tries not to get involved with politics or the server after the events of the first wars, because he's scared. Sleeps through things as an excuse. Awesamdude's kid - doesn't tell anyone.

Sapnap - Dragon hybrid - has small horns and a tail, with burn marks at the base of them. His hands and feet are clawed and burnt. He also wants their Dream back, but understands that he was always corrupt and has mostly gotten over it. Wants to help with the Egg but, like George, doesn't like getting involved with big things on the server. He's ashamed of his dragon heritage, covering up his head burns with a headband and covering his horns with his hair; he hides his tail under a cape and wears gloves as well. Sapnap has unnaturally orange eyes, which he would change with contacts, if they didn't melt anytime he tried. Battle-scarred and hungry to start fights and sever friendships out of boredom. Badboyhalo's child.

Callahan - Cervitaur (deer-centaur). Distantly related to Puffy, Captain Sparklez, and Schlatt. I will admit, I have never watched him, and I don't think he's ever been too involved in server politics? Just a simple deer man trying to live his life.

Awesamdude - Creeper centaur thing (he and Callahan are... cousins? i guess?). Incredibly insecure about his morality and the fact that George doesn't talk to him much. Thinks he's a bad person. He becomes a father figure to Tommy through his Sam Nook persona - slowly gaining his confidence back through his real estate and his (illegal) adoption of the gremlin. Badass. Runs the prison by himself because he feels the need to prove himself, and he doesn't know anyone that would be up to the job.

Alyssa - inactive :[ probably human

Ponk - Human!! One of the few humans on this server, actually! He quite likes building and terraforming; he makes very aesthetic builds (see; war campsite). He and Sam are close friends. Ponk is also a parental figure to Tommy, but is closer to the fun uncle. The three of them steal together and then Ponk and Sam cover for Tommy because who could accuse them of lying?? Hesitant to join in with politics.

BadBoyHalo - Demon. Very, very tall demon. Large. Pretty wholesome. I honestly don't know what else to say about him lmao I haven't been paying attention to the Egg much. He and Skeppy are a thing though. Wishes his son would stop killing people's pets to start wars.

TommyInnit - He doesn't know what kind of hybrid he his, but he isn't human. His eyes change color with mood, going from a light grey to an extremely vibrant cobalt blue. He believes he may be part raccoon, or part bird(?) on Philza's side. Phil wasn't around during his childhood; Tommy only knew him as the hero from the strories that his older brother Wilbur told him. Philza killing Villain!Bur cemented his heroship, which is why Tommy sees him as a father figure. Wilbur never told him that he (Phil) was their father. Tommy is actually part siren, but his gills and fins haven't appeared yet. His PTSD is triggered by Dream, blackstone, tnt, people asking for his armor, and a few other things. An extremely traumatized kid. Best friends with Tubbo.

Tubbo - Sheep hybrid. His horns started coming in during Schlatt's presidentship, making him think he was a goat and following in his footsteps. In reality, he's Captain Sparklez's son; related to Schlatt yes, but not at all like him. He likes headbutting the people he loves, including his best friend Tommy. Wholesome, but still a chaotic being of destruction. He and Ranboo are also very good friends!

Fundy - Fox shifter; unlike most of the other hybrids on this server (other than Techno), he can turn into an anthro fox. Canonically transgender! Son to WilburSoot and Sally the Salmon (another shifter). Wilbur was an amazing father while Fundy was small, but started neglecting him during the Presidency, when he really needed a father. The two grew apart further during Pogtopia, and Fundy still tries to refuse his father's attempts at redemption. Despite this, Fundy and Ghostbur, even though they've had arguments, have a better relationship. Fundy is even one of the people who are attempting to bring back Wilbur. He sees Phil as a somewhat father figure despite him trying to be bitter towards him. Very involved with L'manburg and DreamSMP poilitics, but has taken a step back since his dad's death. Fundy also canonically misses Schlatt and wants him to be proud of him. He picked up smoking from him.

Punz - gonna be honest, I have never watched Punz.

Purpled - Enderdragon hybrid. Like Sapnap, but purple lol. Use to have a healthy rivalry with Technoblade, but doesn't talk to him anymore. A bit reserved. I don't watch him either idk if you could tell.

Wilbur - Bird hybrid, like Philza; his wings were clipped by Dream when he first began fighting for independence. Good friends with Technoblade. Wilbur was an idealistic person, and he was probably the most loyal member of L'manburg. He was so upset about the betrayals, he thought of them not as betrayals to the country, but to himself. When Schlatt took over, he began to panic. His perfect nation was being ruined, his nation, HIS nation. He thought of it as his and his alone; all those other people? They were side characters. L'manburg his unfinished symphony wasn't his anymore. It scared him. He began planning to take the country out because, well, if he can't have him, then no one can. He manipulated Tommy, making him go along with his plan, slowly becoming more insane and destructive. Deep down, Wil still loved his family, and his country, and his lost lover, but that didn't matter to him anymore. After blowing up L'manburg (the first explosion), Wilbur broke down. He realized what he had done, he'd become a bad guy; he'd worked with Dream. He asked his father to kill him. And so Philza did.

Ghostbur - Wings work again. Ghostbur pretends not to remember, he pretends that he's changed in death, but he remembers all of it. The bad memories hurt him now, more than ever, and he just can't deal with it; so he doesn't. Water makes him melt, and that includes tears. He's trying so hard to be a good person, he's trying so hard to be a good father, a good brother, a good friend. But it isn't working. He's still, though unintentionally, hurting people, and he feels so bad about it.

Schlatt - Ram hybrid. Brother to Puffy and Jordan (Sparklez). Schlatt is a smoker and an alcoholic, and a power hungry dictator. Or well, that's the persona he puts on. Schlatt, in reality (still /dsmp) genuinely does not give a fuck. He didn't care what happened, because he knew that people disliked him. He knew for a fact that he would be killed. This is why I believe he offed himself. He planned his stroke, or heart attack, the fandom doesn't seem to know which. He probably ingested some bad protein powder or poison or something, maybe he drank himself to death, maybe he OD'd and then drank, we don't know. But it seems unlikely that someone like him would let his body give out like that without a reason. Oh yeah, and he and Quackity were married at some point, but it was too short to really mean anything.

Ghlatt - Ghlatt, though still addicted to alcohol and various drugs, feels bad about being a bad person in his life. He thinks that it's a good thing he died, that the server benefited from his death, and that he shouldn't have become a ghost. He's right, of course, but I like to think that he's regained morality. Maybe now, in the afterlife, he can work on himself. Ghlatt isn't strong enough to take a physical form, so he borrows Ghostbur's occasionally.

Skeppy - Some sort of Diamond Ore man?? I think he's human. He and BBH have a thing. I don't think I've ever watched a Skeppy DreamSMP stream. Uhh Egg?? Egg. Badlands boys woo.

Eret - Herobrine is his cousin. Like. Yeah. That Herobrine. Anyways, they're a king, and they're more of an Awesomedude morally grey type character. Her only interest is survival, and I respect that. I haven't really paid much attention to him though. Their crown has bi flag colored gems on it :]

Jack Manifold - Jack Manifol! Jack Manifall~~ Jack Manifall.. off bridge!! Jack Manidrown :} OH SHIT- (i dont watch him)

Niki - Human. Wears Wilbur's old coat. Though she did go through a tough spot after Wilbur's death, she now runs a flower shop with Puffy. Dyes her hair often. I don't watch her either.

Quackity - Duck hybrid; wings were clipped upon his joining the server. His face scar was canonized :] Alex genuinely liked Schlatt, but realized he was being mistreated so he joined Pogtopia. He felt bad about it though. I don't have many headcanons for him to be honest.

Mexican Dream - ok am i the only one that wasn't into this arc?? i didn't even watch any of it. i saw him like once and was like "oh this is just a bit" and left wtf. was he important???

Karl Jacobs - Time Traveler man; human. Karl is slowly losing his memory due to his travel between timelines. The more he does it, the more he loses. I look forward to seeing this progress. Are he, Sapnap, and uhhh someone else actually engaged?? I like that headcanons :] I don't remember who the other person is though.

HBomb - Cat maid.

Technoblade - Piglin shifter. Techno is softer than he seems, and he genuinely enjoys the company of Ranboo and his friend Philza. Technoblade met Phil after saving him from wither skeletons in the Nether, making short visits to the Overworld until he built up an immunity. He likes the cold because it's the opposite of his terrible home dimension. Techno really did want to help Tommy, but their ideals clashed too much for it to work out. Very destructive anarchist. Though, he is pretty chill nowadays.

Antfrost - Cat shifter. So I lied, there are three. Uhh wizard!! I like that HC!! Wizard catboy go brrrr. In reality, I don't watch the Badland Boys often and I haven't seen any of the Egg plot so idk what's up with him lol. I like to think that before the Egg, he and Fundy were friends.

Philza - Wings were beat up during the explosion; he tried to protect Wilbur with them, but still ended up failing. He's the father to Wilbur and Tommy, with Techno being an old friend of his. He canonically really likes cobblestone. Phil tries his best to be the dad, but his morals are all over the place. Lately, he's unofficially adopted Ranboo, helping him with his uh. Issues.

Connor - Human in a Sonic onesie idk i dont watch him

Puffy - Sheep Hybrid. Sister to Schlatt and Jordan, mother to Dream. I really don't know tbh; she's everyone's adoptive mom. She's what Philza and Awesamdude wish they could be.

Vikkstar - Human. Has he?? Done anything?? Ever??

Lazarbeam - Isn't he a gingerbread man or something.

Ranboo - Half Enderman Half [REDACTED]. I dont have headcanons for him tbh I just accept his canon. May be related to XD?

Foolish Gamers - A literal god. He can revive people, but it takes one of his lives. Uhhh he's really good at building what.

Hannahxxrose - I don't watch her :[ I should though

Slimecicle - CHARLIE SLIMECICLE. Slime hybrid obviously. New to the server, very scared [/j] and confused. Doesn't know what's going on and that's ok because he's funny I like him

I got really tired of this towards the end oops

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inkykeiji · 4 years ago

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I just want a whole like tattooed dabi thing, I’m just gonna gush real quick- don’t mind me.

Dabi probably has a very calm motherly s/o, honestly. Someone who can take his attitude and mood swings with a grain of salt. No matter how angry and loud he is no matter the threats he yells at he she still talks very very soft and careful to him like:

“Dabi, you’re okay. I understand you are upset but yelling at me won’t solve this issue, all it’s going to do is give yourself a headache or make your throat sore, okay? How about we sit down and just talk things out, yeah?”

He low key (high key) really enjoys being babied sometimes and won’t admit it. I feel like he has PTSD or something around those lines and when he’s coming down from an episode his sweet girlfriend will hold his head to her chest and let him listen to her soft calm heart beat while she runs her hand through his soft hair and trace his tattoos. He would be hiding his face deep in her chest as broken ugly sobs shake out of him and those boney large hand would be gripping onto her like a life line.

I feel like he will trigger his episodes from like him yelling at her and she will make a face that reminds him of his mother. Like she will have like a shocked kind of upset face and it reminds him of how his father use to yell at his mother and treat her so horribly and he’s like “oh fuck, I’m turning into him” and it would just make him more upset. There’s definitely been times she’s had to restrain him from breaking something or leaving. Just her holding his wrist together in one hand and bringing him close to her. No matter how much he pulls at her hair like some spoiled child or screams at her she would keep holding him until he just- let’s it out and curls his Long lanky body around her smaller one 🥺

I feel like a girl he would go after- or this “s/o” would be keigos younger sister. She is use to being the motherly type with him even though she’s the youngest. He had a tendency of just losing himself at times and she would take care of him. Keigo is 100% not okay nor happy with his little sister going with his dangerous “friend”/drug dealer! It’s also that selfish side to him where he doesn’t want to share his little sister or want her taking care of anyone but him. She’s just so lovely and motherly, he just doesn’t want her to be used by anyone even though technically he’s using her?

Dabi is 100000000000% overprotective. If one person stares at her too long he takes it as a personal threat and she’s constantly trying to keep him at bay as if she’s pulling a wild angry dog by its leash.

“Honey enough, he didn’t mean no harm. It’s a busy street, he didn’t mean-“

“He KnOcKeD yOu dOwN-“

“Todoroki Touya, e n o u g h”

They would probably break up at some point because he got busted with drugs and murder charges and when he had to go to prison she knows she needs to move on. Keigo won’t stop complaining for her to move on but she can’t. She’s never loved anyone like how she’s loves Dabi. Maybe they had a kid together right before he gets locked up so when he gets bailed early and shows up at her door and she opens it he’s greeted to a whiny little toddler that looks oddly just like him in her arms.

She tells him that he got her knocked up and if he wants to be in their life he has to go to rehab and stop all this mess. Of course he goes radio silent for months and it breaks the now ex s/o heart because she really thought dabi loved her and would do anything for her. Fast forward a few more months and.. dabi’s at her door step???! She would be so shocked and was about to lecture him but he’s standing there awkwardly holding a few papers and she reads it. He’s been sober and clean for the past few months and even went to rehab like she said! Now they can be a little family! He still smokes cigarettes and what not but it’s a start.

She was glad he was getting his life somewhat together. He was still a asshole at times and seemed like he always had a cigarette or blunt in between his lips but she can tell he’s trying. He even gained a little weight from not doing any hard core stuff anymore! Not too much but now he has a cute little plush belly. He’s still very boney and lanky but now just with a little plush belly! How sweet! She’s so proud of him, she really is.

There’s times he has withdraws and she’s there to comfort him. Hold him closely like she use to and gently sing to him while rocking him back and forth to get his mind off of it.

Don’t tell him he’s gone soft some, he’ll still murder you. That asshole-y scary vibe is still in him and he’ll still beat anyone who fucks with him to a pulp but he just has a soft spot now for his little family 🥺😔

Okay I’m done gushing. I just hate it seems like he never has a happy ending with like any fic I read and this has been plaguing my mind ever since I read your little sister keigo fic where he was on the track team and I was so upset that there wasn’t more to it so i just thought of that. He’s still an asshole, don’t get me wrong and the sister should still totally dump him and never speak to him or keigo because they are hella toxic, but she still loves her brother and her boyfriend and just can’t get herself to do it! I’m sorry, I’m just gonna be on my way now. 🥺😌💓

anon babie 🥺🥺 this was so beautiful and cute thank you so very much for sharing it with me!!! i agree with most of your headcanons for him here 🥺 also, just a tiny lil side note, there WILL be more of little bit of poison in me (the fic you’re talking about!!); a part two and a part three!!! <3

#this was so sweet aaaah!!!!#again thank you for sharing it with me 🥺🥺🥺#unfortunately the ending for the lil bit of poison in me isn’t exactly happy but it’s bittersweet!!!#more sweet for dabi and butter for keigo tbh #but yes for the most part i agree!!!#i think this is extremely obvious since he’s literally always with a sweet soft S/O in all of my work but i love dabi with a soft s/o!!!!!!!#so much!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#he needs someone who would be endlessly patient with him #and yeah exactly those toxic traits will never fully go away #but he’d try 🥺#waaah i’m soft now ._.#you’re so lovely thank you for this <33 #have an amazing day bb ily lots!!!!! pls stay safe n hydrated!!!#sweet anon 🥺#clari gets mail

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fandom-puff · 4 years ago

Text

Arthur Shelby Fluff Alphabet

as requested by @beautifulfigment !

Arthur is my absolute fave, and I’ve had a few requests to do the smut alphabet for him too :)))

Warnings: some mention of arthur’s issues (PTSD, alcholism) mentions of suicide attempt

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

Arthur adores your laugh, the way your whole face lights up and your eyes twinkle. He especially loves it when you’re trying to hold back laughter, rocking silently with the giggles at the most inappropriate moments (normally when Tommy’s doing one of his lectures)

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

He wants children. Aside from Finn, he’s the last of his siblings to have kids, even though he’s the oldest. there’s always the worry in the back of his mind, however, that he would be a terrible father, just like his own. You tell him, firmly, that that is utter bullshit, and he’d make a brilliant dad.

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

He is a GANGLY man, all long limbs. So long as he’s close to you, he doesn't really mind how you cuddle. His favourite way to cuddle is with his face buried in your chest and his arms wrapped around your waist.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

He very rarely takes you to posh nightclubs or restaurants. They’re loud and busy, and he hates feeling like everyone is staring. Instead, he’ll take you on drives through the country, spread out a picnic blanket in a field and have a proper little picnic (thank God for Aunt Pol).

E = Everything (You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…))

You are his little angel.

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

He knew he was head over heels in love with you when you kicked some bloke in the balls in the Garrison. He was behind the bar, pouring drinks, noticing the man bothering you. Until then, he had all of these feelings for you that he couldn’t put into words. But when the man tried to grab your waist, his anger flared and he was about to shout and jump over the counter when your foot made contact. You walked away as the man fell to the floor, brushing your hair out of your face, and ordered yourself a drink. Arthur simply stood staring, mouth slightly agape. Tommy grinned. “Oi, Arthur. Get the lady her drink and invite her to the pictures,”

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

He is so gentle. He knows how much damage he can cause with his bare hands, so he makes every touch as light at possible. You have to tell him off eventually, saying that you’re not made of porcelain and would very much like him to hold your waist in public, as well as other public displays of affection. He also speaks much quieter with you as opposed to his normally booming voice- it often seems as though you two are in your own personal bubble as you talk

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

Arthur ALWAYS grabs your hand when you walk by him, unashamed to hold it in front of everyone. You’re his girl and he loves you, so of course, he’s gonna hold your bloody hand (fuck off John, go see to your own woman). When he starts getting angry, you tend to slip your small hand into his, and it mellows him out fairly quickly. You both have a system of squeezing one another’s hands for encouragement, reassurance or a code for ‘shall we go home?’

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

That you didn’t belong in Small Heath. It was too industrial, too dangerous, too dirty for you. You seemed to innocent for the drunks and the whorehouses and the dodgy bookies like him.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

Yes. If he’s sober, he’s more likely to close up and become distant as his brain goes into overdrive; what if you leave him? what if he’s simply not good enough for him?

When he’s drunk, he’s more likely to speak up, though he doesn’t throw fists straight away, unless you’re clearly uncomfortable. More often than not, the situation defuses to him holding you proudly to his side saying (rather loudly) “That’s my girl! My YN!”

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

You initiated the first kiss. he was walking you home after your second date as an official couple, and it was clear he was apprehensive about something. He eventually admitted his true feelings, how he had loved you for a long time, yet he was nervous and didn’t want to wreck it.

You cupped his cheeks in both your hands, forcing him to look at you. “You can’t wreck it, Arthur,” you had murmured. “Because I feel the same way about you,” the first kiss had been sweet, no tongue, and you stroked his cheek gently.

In general, his kisses are tender, even the chastest ones filled with passion and longing. Often, he’ll be in a rush and press hurried kisses to your cheek or forehead while you’re in the middle of getting ready.

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)

Arthur. He’s hungover and you get him water and aspirin, before settling next to him. He grabs your waist and snuggles close, kissing you (but missing your mouth slightly) and mumbling “I bloody love you,”

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?)

When he asked you to marry him. It was by no means a perfect proposal, and it took him ages to pluck up the courage but seeing realisation and happiness spreading across your face as he got on one knee was worth every second of apprehension

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

Arthur loves to spoil you... the only problem is he’s useless at picking stuff out, always worrying whether or not you’d like it. He often ends up getting Ada and Polly to help him pick something out, though he always makes sure he goes with them.

“What about that frock? She likes them pretty patterns,”

“Arthur, that’s a maternity gown,”

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?)

sky blue. It was the colour of the dress you wore on one of your first proper dates. He was speechless when he saw you, unable to believe how lucky he is

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

Love, darling, my angel

Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?)

He loves when you send him letters when he’s off for work- you never send telegrams, or use the typewriter for the notes. He keeps them in his breast pocket, and when he’s stressed, he holds the paper close to his heart, inhaling the wafts of your perfume to calm down

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

Stay in bed with you, slipping in and out of sleep, All spft caresses and gentle kisses, huddled up under the blankets

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

Whiskey and snow used to be his go to. But with you, he has other ways.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Anything and everything with you. He’ll ask questions, genuinely curious about all sorts, cooking, your family etc... one evening you ended up showing him how to crimp the pastry at the edge of your steak pie because he asked how you got it so pretty.

He talks about work, often glossing over the worst of it. Even with the glossing over, he feels much better, like he has someone who understands how the war and the business effect him, especially as his closest brother never seems to listen

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

Laying in your arms, holding your hand... generally just being close to you makes him feel calm

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

You. You’re his girl, and he wants everyone to know it. If you tell someone to piss off, he’ll grin like mad, leaning to his brothers and saying ‘that’s my girl’.

He’s also proud of how far he’s come with you, how much more mellow he is as well

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

He proposes a while after you start dating, once he is certain you’re the one. He proposes on your birthday (read this!!) and you have a quiet wedding, just close friends and family, in a quaint little church. Tommy let’s you use Arrow House for the reception, and Arthur stays sober the whole night

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?)

‘In the Bleak Midwinter’ is every Shelby’s song.

But his song with you is Moonlight Serenade by glen miller (I know the dates don’t quite match up). He remembers being the last two in the garrison, slow dancing with you, your head on his chest as he swayed with you

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

Once he is sure you’re the one, he knows he wants to marry you, and he wants to do it properly. Nothing arranged like John and esme, not because you’re pregnant like Tommy and Grace and Lizzie. He wants it to be because you love eachother deeply, wholly, truly.

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

Arthur wants a great big dozy dog who’ll just trot behind you and nearly knock him over when he comes through the door. He’d give it a human name too, like Dave. This makes you giggle like mad.

Tag list: @the-makingsofgreatness @peakyswritings @haphazardhufflepuff @diksy1112 @zodiyack @theunderlier @soleil-dor @hiddensapphic @fckingpeakyblinders @snugleo @alittlebirds @satanxklaus @glamsaturn @thegirlwithoutaname87 @queenofmankind

#arthur shelby fluff #arthur shelby x reader #arthur shelby x you #peaky blinders #fluff #arthur shelby headcanon #request

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nestacorvere · 4 years ago

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acosf rant review

i finished acosf a while ago and i just can´t stop thinking about it so this is an attempt to get it all off my chest cause i have a lot of thoughts.

spoilers below the cut

i read the first 6 chapters when they were “leaked” and honestly that just set the bar really low. all these years that i´ve waited for the book i always thought nesta was going to illyria and that she would be away from the inner circle (except for cassian and azriel). but then came those chapters and i realized the ic would actually be in the book and i was pissed.

the first few chapters were hard to get through. what mor said about sending nesta to the court of nightmares (and cassian not saying anything about it), what amren said about putting her in the dungeons in hewn city made me want to through my phone across the room. sure, send a depressed person dealing with ptsd, which is something they have all gone through before, to a place where she´ll feel more tortured. yay that´s so smart. it will certainly make her feel better (/irony).

also this thing feyre says and sjm apparently forgets about it throughout the book to make us believe feyre acted solely on nesta´s wellbeing. (i dont´t hate feyre yall it was just clear to me she had ulterior motives to send nesta away and that quote proves it)

“It is about how it reflects upon me, upon Rhys, and upon my court when my damned sister spends our money on wine and gambling and does nothing to contribute to this city! If my sister cannot be controlled, then why should we have the right to rule over anyone else?”

but then the part where nesta calls rhysand “an arrogant, preening asshole” got me laughing so much. this whole scene is a fucking disaster but that part was funny af.

i only began to really like the book after the scene where nesta helps gwyn by trading the books in merrill´s office. when nesta trully smiled for the first time i literally teared up.

also nesta´s friendship with the House was amazing. one of the best things in this book. and the whole “the house likes romance books” made me laugh all the time.

“The book,” Nesta said, a bit breatlessly, “is about...” Her nostrils flared and her eyes went a bit unfocused. “A book”.

“Interesting”, Cassian murmured, “Sounds great.”

and this dialogue... pure gold. i’m also like that when i’m reading smut and someone asks me what the book is about hahaha.

now another thing that bothered me:

“Because illyrians are backward and horrible”

why is sjm constantly depicting the only POC in acotar as monsters? wht tf did she make them to be abusers? it´s a rhetorical question btw. i think we all know the answer. i´m a firm believer that even though this is a fantasy book, stereotypes like this are still damning and wrong.

the fighting scene between cassian and azriel and nesta fantasizing about a threesome was funny and weird. i understand sjm wanted to show us who the threesome would be with if she hadn´t deleted it and it actually made me glad she did. it would not have fit the narrative at all.

the sex scenes were great in the beginning but then i got tired of them. i always get tired when there´s that much sex scenes and ik sjm warned us. but it was nessian so i made myself read and care about them.

nesta´s power damn i was shook. i loved it. all the scenes that showed her power were absolutely amazing.

now moving on to the worst part of the book. nesta Made the weapons. with her power. therefore they are her weapons. they happened to end in rhysands hands but that doesn´t give him, or feyre, or the ic the right to choose not to tell her about her weapons. the whole high king thing sjm threw out there just to make us see that hey rhysand is not bad yall he doesnt want to usurp power even though he has the weapons for it and his friends actually suggested it. amren could go to fucking hell for all i care after this. also for the things she say when nesta confronts her about it.

when rhysand and all them found out the baby could kill feyre and didn´t tell her i was already pissed. who the fuck they think they are to deny her the information that she might die and that her son would likely die with her? nothing and no one has that right. not even her fucking mate. no one. i think it was wrong of nesta to tell her the way she did and to only do it out of anger. but i was actually fucking glad someone told her at all. and rhysand threatening to kill nesta only makes me more angry. even feyre can see it was because of the parallel she saw between them not telling her about the weapons and she isn´t even angry at nesta. but rhysand thinks he has the right to be angry after not telling his mate she could die? oh fuck off.

i actually enjoyed the major plot of this book. the dread trove thing, the queen and koschei was actually pretty interesting to me and i wasn´t bored. it actually made me more interested to read the next books. i had promised myself i would be done with sjm after acosf cause all i ever cared about was nesta but i might keep reading cause i enjoyed this plot.

since i´ve talked about the worst part (to me) let´s talk about the best parts now. nesta´s, emerie´s and gwyn´s friendship was absolutely everything to me. i love them all so much. i was just so happy to see nesta happy and i fell in love with emerie and gwyn as well. i also love nessian and although some things they said to each other and the way cassian behaved toward nesta in some scenes didn´t really make me happy, i will always love this couple. i just like the version in my mind and fanfics better. and nesta´s whole healing arc was amazing to me. it made me so so proud of her.

azriel´s present to nesta made me soft. i love them so much omg i wished they had interacted more.

the scene where it´s revealed nessian are mated is so heartcrushing. it made me sad to see cassian say he was “shackled” to her because she had already admited she felt unworthy of his love and by saying that he just made her feel it all over again. sad sad sad sad sad. i actually cried.

the whole blood rite thing to me was only to prove to us readers that nesta was strong even without her powers and it was preparing us for what would come. that being said i actually liked it. i think the bond the girls created there and nesta realizing how strong she was made it worth it.

now to the ending. i unfortunately read spoilers of the ending before i finished the book. so throughout it was already preparing myself for that scene. i think that was part of the reason that i wasn´t pissed by the end of the book. i don´t think power means strenght and i also believe nesta is strong regardless of her power. but i just loved her power, you know. i don´t think she´s any less strong now because everything she learned makes her strong in a different way. but i was just sad. it made me think sjm just didn´t want anyone more powerful than rhysand.

also sjm really made nesta think of rhysand as her brother, seriously. out of nowhere. he never did one good thing toward her. never. and he also didn´t apologize for the bad things he did. no one apologized actually. nesta and feyre were the only one´s that actually said they were sorry and that realized they were wrong. sjm made nesta apologize to everyone. but only one person apologized to her. disappointed but not surprised.

i think that´s all i have to say. this book was truly a rollercoast of emotions to me. i was angry, sad, i laughed, i cried (of sadness and of happiness) and in the end i was just happy. all the things i wrote here were because i couldn´t stop thinking about the book after i finished it and i started realizing some stuff. but i still loved it. nesta is my favorite character and in the end i´m just happy she´s happy.

#nesta #nessian #acosf #acosf spoilers #this is a mess im sorry

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heyhihellowhatsup0 · 5 years ago

Text

Tangled Webs - Chapter Three (Peter Parker x Reader)

Dark Webs Masterlist | Tangled Webs Masterlist

Warnings: Angst, language, Smut (smut in this chapter!), Topics of death and depression, PTSD, more angst, violence, a bit more fluff and smut than the last series? Somewhat ignoring the MCU timeline due to mature content

Word Count: 5520

Summary: When the truth begins to unfold about whats happening to you, you decide to turn to Peter for help

A/N: Cleaning up my taglist so if you haven’t put your name on the form please do so. I can’t wait to hear your feed back on this chapter! I know with everything going on right now, we can use more distractions so I really hope this helps. FEEDBACK PLZZZ (Also I found this .gif on google, so if you made it, or know who did, let me know and I will credit!) Thank you xx -N

“Every time I look at that picture of my brother, I really just want to use again so badly,” one of Peter’s grief members confessed as he stared down into his coffee cup, “Been clean for two years but his death has been something I don’t think I can get through,” he admitted as he looked up to Peter for advice.

Peter nodded his head solemnly, relating to each and every story he heard, as he always did. Coming to these meetings was always hard and Peter knew how hard it was to talk about your own story. Listening was the easy part; just nod your head and ask questions, try his best to offer advice and talk things out until hopefully the feeling of wanting to use again would disintegrate.

It was the telling that was always hard. Sharing what was happening, admitting there was a problem. Releasing the anger that made everything inside convince you that the only escape or solution was at the bottom of a bottle. Accepting the reality of the situation by admitting there was only one person responsible for those actions. That was the hardest part of all.

And Peter still struggled with it. Every time when it was his turn to talk, he’d stumbled over his words; sometimes afraid to fully admit the truth. If he had a bad day, he would talk more, hoping that if he kept talking that unnerving feeling would suddenly vanish.

He’d talk about the things that made him happy instead. The things that pushed him forward and made him realize the value of his life. Most of those things had to do with you; the way you made Peter feel and how lucky and grateful he was that you were so supportive of him. How every time he felt like he was going to lose his mind, you’d pull him back up in the simplest of ways; always making him see there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

“My dad has been coming up a lot again ever since I went back to work and it’s been making a lot of old feelings resurface that I wasn’t ready for. And like you, I wasn’t sure if I could push through that pain,” Peter responded as he looked at him knowingly, “But we came here today. And we’re here for each other to get through that. And we have to remind ourselves that tomorrow is a new day, you know?” Peter answered as best as he could. Giving simple advice was usually the best way to go.

He absolutely hated when others would preach certain ideas or beliefs and shove them down Peter’s throat. He knew what did and didn’t work for him and he just hoped those things might help somebody else in the process.

Peter thanked everyone for coming and ended the meeting, shaking everyone’s hand and telling all the participants how proud he was of them and he listened to how proud they were of him. He headed over to the coffee pot, pouring himself a cup before he headed back home for the day.

“Hey,” one of Peter’s confidants came up to him by the coffee machine, “Still no Y/N?” they asked casually as they grabbed a cup from the table to make them self a cup.

Shaking his head no, Peter let out a shrug, “I don’t want to force it too much. But she’s been pulling back a lot lately. I don’t know, I feel like I’m only making matters worse for her. It’s been a bit like walking on eggshells lately but I’m sure it will pass,” Peter admitted as he blew on his coffee.

He hated that he was telling somebody else his problems instead of confronting you. It wasn’t fair to you and he knew it. But he had nobody to turn to anymore. You were suffering and you weren’t telling him what was bothering you.

And even though Peter assumed it had a lot to do with you and Harry, he needed you to be the one to say that first. But in the meantime, all it had been doing was causing an enormous elephant in the room with you hiding things. And he was now at a standstill, unsure of where to turn.

“She uh...came home drunk the other night,” Peter revealed as he looked down vacantly at the black liquid in his cup, “We haven’t really spoken much since,” he cringed at the thought. Peter couldn’t stand not speaking to you, especially when you needed him.

“I know you probably don’t want to do this. But when this happened to me, I had to take a break. Take some time for myself and let them come to their own terms in their own time to cut off the toxicity in my life to grow. I know it isn’t ideal but-”

“Thanks,” Peter answered back curtly, cutting them off as he felt his nerves bundling up again. He couldn’t imagine his life right now without you in it. A break? It sounded absolutely absurd and not to mention, unnecessary. You needed time, yes. But you didn’t need to be isolated. That would be the last thing you needed.

Peter’s mental health was important, yes. And he’d come such a long way from then to now. If something or someone were that bad for Peter and he thought he would use again, he would do what he had to in order to make sure that wouldn’t happen. Especially since the city needed him to be on top of things, it was another reason for him to keep going.

But you weren’t toxic to his life, not even in the slightest. And just hearing somebody say that to him, who didn’t even know you, only made him more annoyed. You were sick and all he wanted you to do was just reach that point of acknowledgement sooner rather than later. Unlike Peter, who didn’t do something until much, much later.

Peter would never want that for you. You just needed time, which is why he was so goddamn persistent about it. But he didn’t care. If that’s what it would take, then so be it. He cared way too much about you to let anything else bad happen to you. He’d take the hit first with no hesitation before it even went to you.

--------

You stood still in the machine, waiting for the scan to complete as the lights swirled and swiveled around your head. Your head felt like it weighed a million pounds and the feeling that you got hit by a truck wasn’t going away. This wasn’t a hangover, you knew this had something to do with the other day.

Deciding to figure it out on your own before calling Dr. Octavious, you started your morning by doing a full body and brain scan of yourself up in the lab while Peter was out for counseling. Of course, if you had told him what you were doing, this would have been a lot easier since Peter had EDITH and KAREN; but you didn’t want him to freak out about what you had done. And Peter would freak out.

You robbed someone and someone got stabbed because of you. If you hadn’t been there, none of that would have happened. It felt like you weren’t in control of yourself anymore. And whatever was going on, was only getting stronger.

The only good thing so far was that you hadn’t heard any voices, or experienced any paralysis like you had since that night. But you couldn’t take any chances with this. You had a gut feeling they would be back at some point, whatever they were. You wanted to be ready when they did and perhaps create a countermeasure for it and prepare yourself properly when it did happen.

Stepping out of the machine once the scan concluded, you practically ran for the computer to check on the results. Waiting anxiously for them to finish calculating and uploading, you glanced to the other side of the lab where your stash of bottles were hidden away along with your mask and the pile of cash you had stolen.

“Don’t,” you told yourself through your teeth. Remember Peter’s face, you reminded yourself as you stared at the hiding spot. Remember what had happened to him. Distract yourself while you wait, you suggested to yourself.

You grabbed your phone and you called Peter like you always would when you needed someone. He was the only one you really trusted being around, your best friend. And even though the two of you really weren’t talking, you knew he would be there for you for anything no matter how upset he was.

But it went to voicemail, making you frown. His phone seemed to be off, so you assumed he was still in his meeting. Waiting for the voicemail to beep, you cleared your throat as you turned your head away from your stash, trying not to look at it.

“Hey, it’s me,” you told Peter into your phone as you felt yourself get quiet. Your voice was so off and you knew Peter was going to worry when he heard this. But you really just needed a distraction, “I just...wanted to say I really miss you. And I am sorry about the other night. I’m…”

You took a breath, feeling yourself get weak as you apologized. Apologized for coming home drunk in his face and hiding everything from him. It was a burden you began to despise more and more each and every day. You couldn’t take much more of it.

“I think it’s just a weird day, so just delete this when you get it. I just really miss you,” you sucked in another breath as your eyes fluttered to the computer screen, noticing the scan had officially been uploaded, “I love you, Peter,” you breathed out before you hung up the phone.

Tapping on the screen, you opened up the brain scan. Examining it carefully, turning it around in every which way. You felt your head already pounding like a migraine beginning but you tried your best to ignore it. Whatever the problem was in this scan.

Your eyes widened when you noticed a small white particle in your brain scan. What the hell was that? It didn’t look like it was meant to be there and it stuck out like a sore thumb. Zooming in on it, you couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Karen, can you please figure out what this thing is, please?” you finally asked out loud as you slid Peter’s mask over your head. You didn’t really want to because even with the protocols you created to prevent KAREN from sharing your history with her to Peter, you still knew Peter had authority to override anything. It was risky but you couldn’t make heads or tails with this scan.

Karen lit up, the computers moving around rapidly as she searched, “I’m having a hard time accessing the files in the microchip located inside of your brain, Y/N,” she answered.

“Wait, did you say microchip?!” you screeched, your heart beating even faster now. You stared at the computer in front of your eyes as Karen showed you a closer look, “Can you tell me what the chip is used for?” you asked again, getting more and more nervous.

“Ahem. She can’t. But I most certainly can,” another voice came through. A male voice. And it was crystal clear. You couldn’t tell if it was in your head or through KAREN’s system. But there was something about that voice that sounded eerily familiar.

It couldn’t be, you thought to yourself. Beginning to realize how badly you had screwed up. You did this. You trusted someone too much because you were desperate for answers and now you were paying for that in the worst way possible. You only wished that none of it were true.

“What the fuck did you put inside of me?” you finally asked as you tried to compose yourself but you could feel yourself breaking the more you spoke.

“Nothing that wasn’t already there. I just helped move it along a bit more,” Doctor Octavious replied in a menacing tone that sent shivers down your spine, “The others didn’t have what you had. You can go farther than any of them,” he continued, which didn’t make you feel any less at ease.

You swallowed harshly, the lump in your throat only getting bigger and bigger as you felt your body tense up. This couldn’t be happening. How could you have done something so stupid? So careless? You didn’t even know what was going on but you could already tell just how severe it was going to be.

“What. The. Fuck. Did. You. Do?!” you asked again through your teeth. Feeling the anger and stress build up more and more, only you weren’t blacking out like you were used to. Everything felt different right now and you were completely lost.

You heard Doctor Octavious laugh and it only made your stomach continue to churn hearing he was actually laughing at your misery, “Consider it an implant with some oversight from our lab. Making sure you do better than the other experiments.”

“So it’s a mind control chip,” you scoffed out a laugh as you shook your head, feeling the tears streaming down your cheeks, “Please just let me go. I can’t even control what I have, I’m no use to whatever you’re thinking I can do,” you pleaded.

The vibrating through your body stopped suddenly as you heard a sound from outside of the room. Opening your eyes, you looked around and noticed that one of the computer monitors were now cracked. No doubt from you and whatever the hell you can call this sixth sense that was only getting worse now.

“Oh, I beg to differ. And we can help you control it and get better, Miss Y/L/N…” Doctor Octavious added with another laugh. He was laughing at you. And now you realized what you needed to do.

You already hid this for too long. Bottling it up, lying about it, trying to make excuses for it when it was only getting worse. You went to go see Doctor Octavious to help but now you really were in way over your head. And doing this on your own was only getting you into more trouble. Not to mention, you hated going through all of this by yourself.

“KAREN, call Peter,” you whispered through your tears as you looked over in the corner where your stash from the other night was hidden. Running over to it as quickly as you could, you threw the cabinets wide open as the phone began to dial with KAREN’s confirmation.

The phone rang once more before it abruptly disconnected and you froze in place. Of course, not by choice. You were right in front of your stash, your confession to Peter, and now you couldn’t move again, which was only making you more upset and beginning to cry harder. You were officially in hell.

“Please…” you cried out through your mask as you whimpered. You stared at the cash, the gun, and everything else you had stowed away inside of there. Wanting to come clean so badly but knowing you couldn’t.

“If you tell him. I will have you kill him. I refuse to have you fuck this up for me, girl,” he demanded of you as you began to feel your heart beating in your throat, “I’ll summon you when I need you next in a week. Until then, enjoy the silence as a thank you in advance,” he said.

And then you could move again. And the echo was all gone.

Collapsing to the floor, you let out a loud scream as you removed Peter’s mask from your head. All of your worst nightmares coming true. Not being in control of yourself, hurting Peter while the whole reason you went to Doctor Octavious in the first place was so you wouldn’t, commiting crimes, everything just too horrible to be true.

“KAREN, wipe memory of that phone call and everything from the last hour,” you said to the AI through your tears as you put everything back where you found it, shutting down the computers and scans. Peter couldn’t find any of this out.

You closed the cabinets and locked them again. If what he said was true, and he would make you kill Peter, then you had to do whatever you possibly could within your own will to keep him safe. You had to protect him in whatever way he would. And when Doctor Octavious came back as he said, you had to be ready.

--------

The rest of the day you stayed in the apartment, doing your best not to interact with too many people. You waited impatiently for Peter to come back, even though you weren’t speaking at the moment, you needed him by your side right now; even though you really couldn’t explain to him what was happening right now. You were hoping that he would eventually forgive you for that if it meant you were keeping him safe.

Luckily, Morgan came upstairs to visit after school with a stack of homework. Helping and spending time with her was the best distraction to keep you from freaking out and going off the deep end. And you were more than happy to be sitting with her at the kitchen table to keep busy.

“There’s no way you were given this as homework, Morg,” you looked at the sheet and how complicated it was for a six year old to complete, “This is a fifth grade level math. Did your teacher give you this?” you asked her curiously as you handed her back the sheet.

Morgan shrugged as she picked her pencil up, “I may have offered a few older kids my service if they buy me french fries for lunch for the week,” she answered as she answered the first equation on the sheet. Correctly, at that.

It was nice having Morgan around for the afternoon. You were actually beginning to feel normal again. Coming down from the shock you had earlier and trying to push it aside for right now. It was the distraction you wanted, even though you knew you really shouldn’t have one right now, you didn’t care.

“Your service? Meaning you’re doing their homework in exchange for french fries?” you asked for clarification, trying your best not to laugh. But the truth was, you needed that little laugh right now. And you were glad it was Morgan making you feel better. Like an actual human being with no problems to deal with.

Focusing on the math equation, Morgan nodded her head, “I think I can turn a profit if I make it until May,” she told you, knowing perfectly well exactly how smart she was. She was her father’s daughter, after all.

“Well then if you do, I’m requesting 10% equity for your company since you’re using my table as your office space,” you teased as you smiled at her, watching her solve the next problem. She didn’t even need your help.

“Four percent,” Morgan countered as she put her pencil down to give you a proud grin, “But only you get four percent, not Peter. Otherwise it’s 8% and I don’t trust him with my company,” she told you sternly.

You laughed harder as you extended your hand out to her, “Deal. But first, make sure your own homework is done, please,” you told her as she shook your hand firmly before both of your heads turned as you heard the door beginning to open.

Morgan pulled her hand away and brought her index finger up to her lips, shushing you to keep your secret as you placed your palm in front of your chest, promising her silently that you would as Peter came in with a bag filled of groceries. He smiled a bit when he saw you at the table with Morgan while he trotted his way inside.

Peter’s eyes fixed on you as he greeted the both of you with a warm smile. But you could tell he was looking at you because he heard your voicemail and you most likely panicked him. Especially since you turned your phone off after the incident in the lab, probably worrying Peter further when he assumably attempted to call you back to see if you were alright.

“Long time no see, Morg,” Peter said to her cheerfully, trying to keep his voice level. He didn’t want to worry her but Peter really needed to check on you and see what was going on. The silence between the two of you over the last few days was deafening and now he really needed to break it.

“Not long enough,” Morgan rolled her eyes as she answered Peter in her snarky little tone that always made him laugh. Only he really couldn’t laugh right now because he was only concerned about you, “We’re busy,” she sang at Peter, sticking her tongue out at him playfully.

Peter laughed to himself a bit as he stuck some of the groceries in the refrigerator, “Hey, Morgan? I need to talk to Y/N about something right now. But if you come back later, I will tell you what the password is to Happy’s snack cabinet where he keeps the good candy under lock and key,” he offered her with a playful smile.

Morgan gave Peter and you a look before she collected her things and slid them into her folder, “Bribing a six year old with snacks, real nice,” she told Peter, but you couldn’t help but laugh at the irony as you waved goodbye to her.

“Enjoy your grown up couple crap!” Morgan called out from the door as she grabbed the doorknob and started to pull it closed behind her.

“Don’t say crap!” Peter called out to her but the door was already closed, leaving the two of you alone, not sure of what to say to the other.

You knew you had to say something as you stood up and followed him into the kitchen. Trying to force a smile, but you couldn’t pretend with Peter. Especially when he knew perfectly well that something was going on with you based off of your phone call.

Sucking in a breath, you met Peter’s gaze as you stood against the counter, “I-I’m sorry about the voicemail I left you. I didn’t mean to freak you out or worry you,” you finally said as you felt your chin beginning to quiver.

“I already am plenty worried, Y/N,” Peter told you as he rested his hand against your hip to try and steady you, “I miss you,” he admitted, knowing how horrible it had been the last few days not speaking to you. Especially when he needed to every day since.

“I missed you too,” you told him as you wrapped your arms around him. Taking in his scent as if he had been gone for months. You felt yourself beginning to tear up, whimpering against his chest, “I f-fucked up, Peter. I’m sorry. I'll-stop drinking, okay?” you apologized for the other night, coming home drunk, amongst other things. But you were genuinely sorry for doing that to him, he certainly didn’t deserve it.

And with everything going on, you really didn’t intend on drinking like that again. You knew you needed a fresh mindset and that didn’t involve your clouded judgment from the other night. Not to mention, surrounding Peter with something extremely triggering for him. It wouldn’t be good for either one of you.

Peter shushed you as he brought his lips to the top of your head. Not wanting to say anything because he wanted you to get it all out. Release everything that built up inside of you as he held you in his arms, wanting you to so badly find your way to the surface as quickly as you possibly could.

“I let you down and I’m sorry,” you cried out against his chest as you pulled away, wiping your tears in hopes that he couldn’t see but you knew that he could. You were always so open with Peter, even when you didn’t want to be.

“I’m just worried, that's all. I’m sorry for shouting like that the other day. I-I just...” he trailed off thinking about it. Thinking about what he went through and seeing you go down a similar path. How he tried seeking some advice from earlier and hated the answer he got because he didn’t want to do that at all.

You cupped Peter’s face as you pulled him closer, “Am I going to be okay?” you asked him as you rested your head up against his, your lips both inches apart from each other as your eyes closed. Finally feeling a sense of calm knowing you had Peter again.

“You’re going to be more than okay. I know it,” Peter told you without skipping a beat. And he meant that. You were trying, he could see that. And maybe you weren’t ready to go to grief therapy like Peter, everyone worked in different ways. But you were taking small strides. And for that, Peter was glad.

“I love you, Peter Parker,” you told him as you swept your lips gently against his bottom lip. Capturing a small and gentle kiss, your first kiss in days in what had felt like an eternity without them, reminding you both how much you missed the other.

Peter’s lips began to trace yours slowly in return as he lifted you effortlessly, wrapping your legs around his waist, “I love more than anything, Y/N,” he whispered against your lips as he carried you into the bedroom.

Laying you onto the bed, your neediness for each other grew and grew as Peter discarded your t-shirt and jeans along with his, tossing them towards the wall. Cussing underneath his breath when he saw you in your lace bra with the necklace he gave to you underneath.

His fingers went to the necklace as he hovered over you, pressing small, soft kisses to your chest, “I never want to lose you again,” he muttered against your skin as he laced his free hand into yours. Beginning to think about the time last year when he had lost you and how empty he felt inside without that missing piece.

“And you never will,” you reassured him as you arched your back while Peter pushed himself into you. Letting out a whimper against his lips as he began to roll his hips slowly against yours as the two of you began to find your rhythm.

Locking your fingers together, Peter rutted his hips faster into you, whispering your name softly as your leg wrapped around his hip to pull him closer. You both craved each other so badly and even though you both knew you still had so much to talk about, this was all that mattered right now.

Peter’s lips found yours again as the hairs began to stick up on the back of his neck as his senses heightened with every touch. Moaning into another kiss, your tongues wildly began searching for each other’s. His hands running down to your breast, kneading you gently as he heard your soft moans wanting more from him.

Using all of your force, which wasn’t much at all since you were getting stronger these days, you rolled Peter onto his back, letting out a giggle as you did so, “I want to make you feel better too,” you whispered as your lips went to his neck, sucking a small bruise against his skin.

“Jesus, I’ll say,” Peter chuckled as his hands flooded down to your waist to guide you, “Nearly knocked the wind out of me there,” he laughed into another kiss as he pulled you down on top of him. The two of you laughing and being playful with each other was a simple reminder to the both of you of how much you both still loved the other and that feeling wasn’t ever going away no matter what was going on.

Your hand splayed against Peter’s bare stomach as you motioned your hips deeper into his. Letting out a soft moan as you felt him push himself deeper into you and his fingers beginning to circle you slowly while your eyes began fluttering opened and closed. The combination of his touch and your senses going as wild as his making it all the more incredible for you as you threw your head back with a loud moan, moving your hips faster for him. You knew everything always felt good with Peter, but this time was...different.

It was even better.

Peter bit his lip as he circled you faster, “Ungh...k-keep going like that, Y/N,” he cried out to you as he was trying to make you feel just as good as you were for him.

Pressing your palm into his stomach, you began to ride Peter faster. Feeling the coil in your stomach building up as you continued, Peter’s eyes kept watching you. Beginning to let all of your concerns from earlier go. The past was in the past and your present and future was Peter. That was all that mattered.

What once was tension from the last few days, now was turning into lust and love building up between the two of you as Peter arched his hips higher towards you. Your desperate gasps whimpering his name and breathy, ‘I love yous’ were beginning to send him over his edge as he continued to rub harsh circles against you.

Digging your nails into Peter’s sides, you bit your bottom lip as you began to unravel. Peter held onto your hips with his spider-like grip as he began to follow your lead. The two of you coming undone together as you collapsed into his chest, muffling your moans against him as you cried out one another’s name in ecstasy. The sensitivity from both of your capabilities magnifying it even more now than it ever did for you. Maybe it was because you were becoming more in control of it, but this was one of the few beneficial things of what was going on with you.

Peter took a few breaths as he came down from his high with you, smiling to himself as he picked your face up to look at you. Cupping your face lightly, he frowned at you when he saw there were tears in your eyes.

“What’s wrong? Please don’t do that because you know I’ll start crying too,” Peter smiled, trying to make light of it in hopes that he would make you laugh. Which only made him smile bigger when you let out a tiny giggle, rolling your teary eye at him, “That’s my girl,” Peter told you as he wiped a tear away.

“I just really missed you,” you told him as you smiled at him, resting your chin against his chest, “Missed this with you...” you mumbled as your finger began to trace circles against his bare stomach.

Pressing his lips together, Peter nodded his head, “It’s never a good day for me when I can’t speak to you,” he admitted as he felt his nerves coming back the moment he told you that. He hated not speaking to you and he hated admitting his stubbornness was one of the reasons why he didn’t.

His hands went back to your necklace as his thumb brushed over the spiderweb charm in the center of it. The fact that you wore it every day meant so much to him, “We’ll start fresh tomorrow, right?” he asked you.

“I’d like that a lot,” you agreed as you rolled off of Peter and nestled yourself against him.

That hope for a fresh start sparked a sense of calm within you. A feeling you hadn’t experienced in a long time ever since you developed these powers. You almost felt a pang of pain in your chest thinking about how this must have really been for Peter when it all happened for him.

But that serene feeling was beginning to become overshadowed by that prickling fear and anticipation of Doctor Octavious returning. And what that return would bring for you and Peter…

@captainemrys @geniousparker @fallingforfics @coni-martina @osterfield-holland-andcompany @mikalaka @beiroviski @missmulti @lonikje, @hazmyheart @averyfosterthoughts @detroitbydark @astoldbydanid @dee-rosemary @wherewecomealive @ninjalex1d @jillanaholland @mcuassemble @mannien @unicorn-princess-1999 @blahhhhhhhaaa @lauras-collection@ruefulposts @lilostif16 @thwip-it-real-good @parker-holland-osterfield @lightmelikeacigarette @when-marvellous-things-happen @farfromhaz @rebekkah4766 @kayla-m1996, @underoosmarvel @shirukitsune @mktravelbuggie @iamapersonwholikesunicorns @desir-ae @asmilinghopelessromantic @itsjusttor, @hollandfanficlove @msmarvel-19 @thevelvetseries @whatdafricklefrackle @missleahlin @000nova000 @sarahkatexoxo @adayasgeorgia @belleknows @itjustkindahappenedreally @spidermanffh3000 @pluckypete @whatareyouhidingpeter @baby-unidorn @bitteral @tnu-ree @heavenspidey @imsuperawkward @spideyyeet @morbiddanvers @tomhollandseverything @the-crazy-fanfictionist @lulueliott24 @fangirlingisajob @imfreefallinall @stilessarcasmqueen @parkeret @quacksonhq @the-professional-procastinator @tomhollandthing @madon566 @tom-holland-is-spiderman @peruvian-bae @molkel @giuls-394 @theolwebshooter @tori719 @quackson-love @rebekkah4766 @whiskeywinter89 @gathania93 @peterspideysense @skymoonandstardust @hoforhaz @spideylovin @greenarrowhead @holland-aisesauce @imagine-lovebug @thenerdiverse @hollandergirl @tom-hollands-blog @paaaam97 @ifntelyinspirit @thinkoutsidethebex @the-nargles-made-me-do-it @tomholland-mcu @u-rrose @hihiweezing @hollands-osterfield @violet-lilyy @phluffyphantom @spider-manholland @clarissahunter @dorbiksbitch @marvelbarbie @sophietsbastard @carol-danvers-wife @bellanotte24 @estate-euphoric @lulueliott24 @asonofpeter @sltwins @worldoftom @roosterteethgirl @harrysbbby @rororo06 @thewinchesterchronicles @aussie-holland @minetticatinwonderland , @spideyyypeter, @oswald-1998, @danicarosaline @wonders-of-the-multiverse @xapham @cxxl-gall @lowkey-holland @zabdisamor @lookalivefrosty @emmmmszy @babebenhardy @sondheim-stephen @angelicshinigami @ddaeing @demonsintheair @fangirl-trash-things @spideylovin @darktwistydiamond @th0ttie4tommy @just4muggles @good-vibes-and-glitter @muade-mua-de

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #peter parker

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echo-bleu · 4 years ago

Text

map out a world

I fell in love with Alec and my brain had decided that he's autistic by 1x02, and this is the result. It's basically just 6.7k of Alec finding his inner autistic and Magnus being supportive. Huge thanks to @moonlight-breeze-44 for checking it over and being amazingly supportive.

CWs: there's more than a bit of internalized ableism on Alec's part in this, and some self-injurious stims.

By now, Alec is fairly sure Magnus is trying to tell him something.

It's all about the books. It was sweet to discover, early on in their relationship, that Magnus absolutely loves reading Mundane fiction. It's partly because there's no such thing as Shadow World fiction, Alec knows. There are books of history, of legends and tales, but no modern fiction. Shadowhunters are too busy raising soldiers to care for anything cultural that isn't related to being obsessed over their heritage, and most Downworlders are either integrated enough into mundane society to adopt most of their culture, or not human enough to care for something as simple as books.

Magnus also grew up at a time were books were exceedingly rare and entirely out of his reach − he didn’t learn to read before he was over fifty years old − so discovering the imaginary worlds of the Mundanes was all the sweetest to him. He has a habit of opening the door of almost every bookshop he passes by, just to look and smell the books, and almost always comes out with a couple of new novels. He also reads at lightning speed, so he often immediately donates the books he doesn't want to keep to the closest refugee charity.

Alec loves learning about his quirks, and he's followed Magnus into more than one unassuming bookshop around the world during their dates. For some reason, Magnus especially loves crime books and the soapiest romances. But it's not something that they share.

Walking into the loft, Alec eyes the new pile of books on the coffee table, that he knows for a fact wasn’t there this morning when he left for work. He kicks off his shoes and drops beside Magnus on the couch, just shy of touching him. Magnus looks up from his paperback and extends an inviting arm, so Alec ducks under it to rest against his side.

Magnus knows to squeeze him just tight enough, making Alec sigh softly. The sun is barely rising, and it's been a long night at the Institute. Alec is glad to be home, finally. “What are you reading?” he asks when he feels steady enough to speak.

Magnus wordlessly shows him the cover. Neurotribes, Alec reads. The legacy of autism− that's not Magnus' usual reading material. It's been happening more and more, lately, Magnus switching from terrible romances to non-fiction. He started with LGBT history books, a few months ago. Pride flags started to make random appearances around the loft, and there's now a whole shelf of books, most of them rainbow-colored in some way, behind Magnus' desk. He told Alec about the parts of that history that he lived, and the ones that no book ever talked about, the lovers he had that would never be remembered, the people who'd fought for their rights from the shadows.

Then he switched to books about therapy. About trauma, PTSD, child abuse. Alec frowned at that, but he figures that Magnus has plenty of bad childhood memories. He still thinks about how rattled Magnus was, that time the agony rune brought his mother's death back up. If books can help him process that, then good for him, right?

This is new. There are half a dozen new books beside Magnus' glass, and they’re all about autism. It doesn't seem like something Magnus would research for himself−or is it? No. “Why?” Alec asks.

Magnus shrugs. “It's enlightening,” he says.

“Autism?”

“I think it could explain some things. And these ideas, about neurology being as diverse as sexuality, or skin color? I like it.”

Alec nods at the second part − it does seem like an interesting concept. Maybe he'll ask about it more, when he's not so tired. “Explain what?” he still asks.

“You should try reading them.”

“Magnus, I don't−”

Magnus stops him by squeezing his shoulder tighter. “I know. It's fine. I'll just keep reading, and share thoughts, maybe.”

“Okay,” Alex says softly. He still doesn't get it, but if it's something Magnus is interested in, then he's willing to listen. Always. He puts his hand over Magnus' on his shoulder, running his fingers over the warm silver rings.

Like a great many of their hobbies, it isn’t something they share. Alec doesn't read for fun. He reads action reports and Clave memos and equipment order forms, but he doesn't read books. It's not something he enjoys.

Or maybe that's not true, not exactly. He used to love reading, as a child in Idris. He'd get his hands on every history book he could find, heavy volumes bound in dusty leather, and devour his way through them. That is, until Jace came along.

Jace who didn't like books. He and Izzy got right along, wanting nothing more than to spar in the training room or run outside every chance they got. Alec knows now that it's not true, that Jace enjoyed reading before Valentine made even that into a lesson, a punishment, but back then he turned it on Alec, mocking him cruelly in the way only a child can every time he caught him with his nose inside a book. Alec never cared too much about the other children's taunts, but from Jace, who was better than him at everything, including at pleasing Alec's parents, it was different. So he stopped. He started following Jace and Izzy everywhere they went, and in the little time he had free, he perfected the one thing that was still his own: archery.

He hasn't read a book cover to cover since he was eleven. Magnus tried to get him to read at bedtime, but he'll just pull up work papers. Fiction is an escape he doesn't need (doesn't deserve).

“Are you tired?” Magnus asks when Alex sighs softly at where his thoughts are going.

“A little,” Alec admits.

“How about you go rest for a bit while I get breakfast ready?”

Alec nods. As much as he'd love to stay in Magnus' arms, he's been interacting with people all night, and more than just his siblings, now that he has to coordinate all the Shadowhunter teams going out. He probably needs some time to sort himself out.

Magnus initiates the move his brain is struggling with, hoisting them both up off the couch. He gives Alec one last squeeze − his hold lower on Alec's back, now that they're standing, and it gives Alec goose bumps − and wanders off toward the kitchen, his book abandoned on the couch. Alec shakes himself and makes his way to their bedroom. Without letting himself think too much about it, he grabs the first book of the pile on the coffee table as he goes.

He stays immobile in front of the bed for a full minute, trying to decide if he can curl up under the blanket even though he's still dressed. Undressing doesn't seem worth it. He compromises by only removing his pants, since his jacket is already off, and keeping his shirt on. He takes his stele out of his pocket before getting into bed and keeps it in his hand, mindlessly running his fingers up and down the textured metal handle. He sets the paperback by his head and stares at it, thinking.

He's not always good at reading between the lines, but he's not obtuse, either. He's seen the pattern. Magnus' reading choices and his gentle encouragements to look at the books have coincided directly, and a part of Alec knows that Magnus wasn't looking up PTSD in child soldiers for himself, however much he doesn't want to acknowledge it. It's him reaching out, trying to understand, even though Alec doesn't believe it's quite the right way of going at it.

He's not traumatized. Sure, he was raised a soldier, but Mundane categories don't apply. Mundanes are more fragile, aren't they? They don't heal as easily as Shadowhunters, even physically. Beside, Jace had it so much worse than Alec growing up, and he's fine. Mostly.

This new phase, though, it's more of a surprise. Sure, they've acknowledged, together, that neither of them is quite normal. Their queerness took a back seat, in Downworlder and Shadowhunter eyes alike, to the mixed nature of their couple, but they stand out like a sore thumb everywhere they go, even in the Mundane world. Magnus stands out largely by choice, by his fashion choices, but Alec has come to realize that those are an armor as much as they're a statement. He envies Magnus, sometimes, for how easy it is to him to reject the norm, to refuse to conform.

Alec stands out by default. It's just who he is, the one who never quite fits. His size makes him visible when he wishes he could disappear into the background, and his constant awkwardness attracts attention he doesn't want. He's tried so hard to obey all the rules, to be perfect, the son his parents tried to mold him into, the brother his siblings could be proud of, but he failed, again and again. Something in him is just...not right.

Broken.

Different, not broken, the book's subtitle jumps out at him, on the spine. Alec almost rolls his eyes at the truism. Yes, sure, different. Different enough that he can never be what's expected of him, that it interferes with his duty. Dating Magnus is one thing, a violation of the norm he will allow himself, because he can see that the norm is the one that's wrong there. Downworlders aren't less than Shadowhunters, so why should their relationship be frowned upon? And Alec knows plenty of queer people, by now. He knows they're not broken. Magnus' beautiful soul certainly isn't broken.

But Alec is. Not because he’s gay, but because he’s a b normal.

“Alexander?”

Alec starts at the noise and recoils, just a little. Magnus is standing close, though Alec hasn't heard him approach. The concern in his eyes tells Alec that it's not the first time Magnus has called his name. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“Breakfast can wait, if you'd rather sleep.”

“No, I'm coming.” Alec doesn't think he can sleep, now that his mind has slid down this path.

He leaves the paperback on his bedside table.

The subject doesn't come up again for another few weeks. The book remains on Alec's nightstand, and he actually finds himself skimming it. Magnus doesn't push once. He leaves the pile of other books on the coffee table, and more join them when he stops at a bookstore on one of their walks, but he doesn't insist on Alec reading them.

But something changes. It's in the little things, barely perceptible unless Alec pays attention. Magnus' behavior toward him changes slightly. He asks for permission before touching him. He seems to recognize when Alec is stuck, and manages to gently steer him into action. He stops himself mid-sentence to reword his questions in a clearer way.

The first time Alec notices, really sees what Magnus is trying to do, he panics. He's pretty sure that isn't at all what Magnus intended when he pulled out a fidget toy and offered it to Alec, for him to lock himself in the bathroom and have a panic attack.

“Darling, please let me in,” Magnus says through the door. He could just use his magic and ignore the lock, but he doesn't. Alec is relieved, confusedly, through the buzzing in his ears, and yet a little disappointed. He clasps his hands over his ears, even though the loft is nearly silent and the noise he's hearing comes from inside.

“Alexander!” Magnus calls again, still softly but with an edge. Alec freezes, his breathing suddenly going from erratic to perfectly controlled, even though the pounding in his ears intensifies. Magnus is angry with him. He should be. By all rights, he should have already broken in, or be long gone.

“Let me in, Alec.” Magnus is not soft anymore, but commanding. The change in address isn't lost on Alec, either. Magnus only drops his habit of using his full name when something's really wrong.

Alec swallows. He picks himself up and takes two steps toward the door. He keeps his face angled away from the brightness of the bathroom window, but he checks his posture before he sticks out his hand to undo the lock. He hurriedly steps back, close to the wall, hands clasped behind his back.

Magnus pushes the door in, taking in the bathroom quickly until he settles on Alec. Alec keeps his eyes trained straight forward, just above Magnus' head.

“Oh, Alexander,” Magnus breathes.

Alec itches to wring his hands, but he's long learned to stay still. He waits, instead. Waits for Magnus to tell him that it's over, that this is too much.

He thought things were going fairly well. Magnus let him be as close to honest as Alec dares to be, these days. Before he knew it, Alec found himself relaxing around him, not bothering to watch his every move. He thought maybe it was because they come from such different cultures. Magnus doesn't know what's expected of a Shadowhunter, just like Alec knows very little about Warlocks, so maybe his eccentricities passed for cultural difference. But he was wrong, wasn't he?

Magnus knows, and he's trying to figure out what's wrong with Alec. That's the reason for the books. He's trying to fix him, and soon enough he's going to realize that there's no fixing this.

Or maybe he already has.

Magnus approaches him slowly, telegraphing his moves.

“I really messed this up, didn't I?” he murmurs.

Alec frowns. This is unexpected. “What?” is the only thing he manages to get past his lips, though. He wants to apologize, to beg maybe, but the words won't even come.

“I only meant to help. I didn't want to scare you.”

“I'm not scared,” Alec replies immediately, almost automatically. He is.

Magnus' hands are open in front of him, in full view, the fidget toy gone. Not that it matters. It's just a catalyst, not the actual problem.

“Tell me what you need,” Magnus offers. His voice is soft again, sad like his eyes. Alec wants to step back, but he's backed himself into the wall. He shakes his head without a word.

“Okay, okay, you don't have to tell me. Do you want space? Do you want me to go?”

Alec should say yes. He should hide far away from Magnus until he's fully in control again and then pretend nothing happened, until the next time he messes up, and the next time, the day Magnus can't deal with him anymore.

He can't.

He shakes his head again, looking away. His left hand is gripping his right so hard at his back that he can barely feel his fingers.

Magnus stays still. “I'm not leaving,” he says. “You can relax. I'm not going to try anything, Alexander.”

Alec hates that he needs this reassurance. He hates acting like this, like a child, like an abnormality, and yet he can't help it. He hates that even the thought of Magnus touching him makes his skin crawl and yet the idea of him leaving makes him want to reach out so bad. The conflict is enough to leave him immobile, incapable of choosing a course of action.

He doesn't know how long it's been, since he bolted into the bathroom. Magnus' face holds infinite patience, and that's why Alec can't look at it.

He knows that by ‘relax’ Magnus means for him to drop the parade stance he still takes without thinking about it, that always puts Magnus on edge. It is a relaxed stance, theoretically − but it's not the same, to someone who wasn't raised a Shadowhunter, is it? Alec forces himself to untangle his hands and let them fall to his sides, but then he doesn't know what to do with them. It feels wrong, to have them hanging there, touching nothing. The sudden blood flow in his fingers hurts.

“I'm sorry,” Magnus says in a low voice, and he sounds unsure, more hesitant than he's been so far. That makes Alec look at him−or at least somewhere on his face, close to the eyebrows.

“For what?” Alec frowns. He's the one who should be apologizing.

“I don't know exactly what I did wrong, but something I did made you panic. I'm sorry.”

Alec shakes his head in frustration. “You−No, you−You know,” he blurts out. “You know I'm...and you want to fix me.”

Magnus freezes. “No, no, Alexander. You've got it backward. Yes, I know you're different. I always knew.”

Alec blinks. “You did?”

“Yes, of course. But I don't want to fix you. I love you the way you are.”

Alec frowns. He tried so hard to be a version of himself that could be loved − he does believe Magnus. It's just that Magnus hasn't seen the ugly parts yet. He will bail, when he does.

Except− I never wanted you to see this terrible, ugly side of me. Maybe Magnus does know. Maybe…

“You are beautiful, Alexander.” Magnus takes a small step closer, still out of reach, but just inside Alec's space. Not intruding. Just...knocking on the door. “Everything about you is beautiful.”

The compliment glides over Alec, not really reaching him, but his own words mirrored back to him do. Magnus briefly drops his glamour, exposing his cat eyes, confirming silently that they're talking about the same thing.

“It's not−it's not the same,” Alec stammers.

“Is it not? You've seen the parts of me that are different, that I am ashamed of, and you looked me in the eyes and told me you loved me even then. Can I not do the same for you?”

Alec closes his eyes. “I'm not−” he starts, but the words aren't right. “Why are you reading all those books, then?” he asks instead. “If it's not to fix me?”

“Because I want to understand,” Magnus explains. He looks around him briefly, at the wall behind Alec, the open door, the sink. Then he seems to make a decision, and he plops down to the floor, crossing his legs under him.

Looking so far down at him, when they're so close, is quickly untenable, so Alec follows suit. He kneels first out of habit, but the position is just uncomfortable on the tiled floor, so he brings one of his legs up to rest his chin on his knee. Magnus gives him a smile.

“We're so different, you and I,” he says slowly. “We have very different life experiences. At first I thought that we'd just bridge that gap slowly as we got to know each other, but−”

“You think we're too different?” Alec hates how weak his voice sounds, how whiny.

“No,” Magnus stops him immediately. “But I...I started to get comfortable around you, and you amazed me every time you showed me that I didn't have anything to be ashamed of. You're incredible, Alexander. You make me feel...loved, even the parts of me that I could never love myself.” His eyes shine, and Alec dares a small grin, losing himself in that glow.

“You deserve all of it,” he murmurs.

“But so do you,” Magnus whispers. “And I realized that even as I lowered all my defenses, you never did.”

“I did,” Alec frowns.

“Yes, I think you did, as much as you can. But never all the way.”

The tiled plinth digs into the small of Alec's back uncomfortably. He leans into it.

“What do you mean?”

“It took me a while to realize that you don't do it consciously. Hide who you are, I mean. It's just your default. The books, they call it 'masking'.”

“I'm not hiding,” Alec frowns. Is he? He's not lying.

Magnus leans in toward him. “You don't let yourself be. You're always controlling how you move and how you speak, so that you look more normal. Aren't you?”

Alec stares for a moment, trying to make sense of the moves Magnus' lips make as his brain struggles to process the words. “I don't−I don't know,” he admits. Is he not supposed to do that? Self-control is the first lesson Shadowhunters learn, and it's deeply ingrained in him.

He looks down at his hand. He's unconsciously stuck it in the fold of his leg, under his knee, and it's now red and bears the mark of his pants' seams. He tucks it behind his back in shame.

“You shouldn't have to do that,” Magnus says softly. “I'm not asking you to change. I just want to understand so I can...meet you in the middle. You go out of your way to accommodate me and my idiosyncracies, all the time. I want to be able to do that for you too.”

Alec stares at him, speechless. Magnus stares back, avoiding his eyes as if he knows direct eye contact makes him uncomfortable. “Will you let me try?”

Magnus tries. Alec tries to let him. It doesn't go particularly smoothly.

Letting go of decades worth of strict conditioning isn't that easy, especially when you're not sure at all that you want to. When maybe it's the only thing holding you together.

If it really is a mask, then who is Alec once it is taken off? How does he own up to the parts of him he doesn't allow to pierce through, even behind closed doors?

Is there anything left of him that wasn't ripped away by training?

He's better off going on like he always has, he decides the third time a casual gesture from Magnus makes him panic. It doesn't send him gasping into a tight corner of the bathroom this time, because fuck, Alec has better control of himself than that. He just freezes in place until Magnus hurriedly backs off. He just thinks about nothing else for the rest of the day.

He just hates himself a little more.

“Alexander,” Magnus says softly that night, as Alec slides into bed with him. Dread pools in Alec’s stomach, a sharp contrast with the softness of the satin sheets around him. He pulls the weighted blanket over himself, even though a part of him want to deny himself this comfort.

Magnus noticed his slip-up earlier, because how could he not? Alec feels awful about hurting him every time he shies away from a kind and thoughtful gesture.

“I can’t be what you want me to be,” he makes the first move. It’s easier than staring at his hands and waiting for the blow.

At the edge of his vision, Magnus’ eyes widen. “What do you mean?”

“I tried to stop. I tried to be more...natural, or something, like you said. But I can’t.”

Magnus tilts his head slightly, but doesn’t say anything. Alex can’t bring himself to look up at him, and he doesn’t know anymore if it’s because he’s ashamed, or simply because sometimes looking at Magnus, at his beauty and his shine and his compassion, is too much.

“I don't know how to do it,” he sighs. “This is who I am, Magnus. I need this...control, this grip on myself to function, otherwise I just fall apart. I don't know how to be anything else.”

“Alexander, I'm not asking you to be.”

Alex looks up in surprise, briefly meeting glamoured brown eyes. But Magnus’ eyes, real shape or not, are not where he gets his cues – they’re too intense, too confusing. No, it’s in the slight tilt of his mouth, the way his hand plays with the golden sheet, the furrow in his brow. Alec relaxes minutely.

“You’re not?”

“It would be rather hypocritical of me, wouldn’t it?” Magnus smiles softly, dropping his glamour. “All I want is for you to be comfortable, to be happy.”

Alec gently slips his arm under Magnus’ head in place of his pillow, feeling the weight of his boyfriend settle in the crook of his elbow. There’s a measure of relief there, the part of himself that always waits for the other shoe to drop, for the moment Magnus will tire of him, contented for now. “I am comfortable,” he murmurs. “Happier than I’ve ever been. There’s always going to be days that are harder than others.”

“Of course,” Magnus smiles. “But I want to do everything in my power to make even those a little less bad for you. I actually had a thought.”

“Um?” Now that his tension is fading a little, Alec feels like he could fall asleep. He shakes himself a little to stay attentive to Magnus’ words.

“What if it’s not about you changing something, dropping some kind of mask, but about adding something?”

“What do you mean?” Alex frowns, struggling to follow.

Magnus shifts a little against his arm, and grabs his hand. Rather than caress it with the tips of his fingers, like he sometimes likes to do, he squeezes it between his own hands.

“The things you do to...regulate yourself, your emotions, your...overloads,” Magnus starts. Alec can tell that he’s hesitating because he’s afraid of freaking him out, not because he doesn’t know how to word it. “They’re important. Necessary.”

Alec opens his mouth to argue, but no words come. He can’t actually deny that. He might hate himself for needing it, for needing the finger biting or the rocking or the myriad other little things he does that are frowned upon, but it gets so much worse when he tried to forbid himself that comfort. That’s what gets him to the gym or up on the roof, training until his hands are dripping blood. It’s how he ends up screaming himself raw in his pillow, hitting his head against the headboard of his bed until he’s too lightheaded to continue.

“From what I understand,” Magnus says slowly, squeezing Alec’s hand tighter, probably to check that he’s still listening, “there’s much more to that than the impulses your parents tried to train you out of. It’s about regulating sensory inputs, but also about...interacting with your environment. And I thought that it’s something we could explore together. Try to find new things that help and comfort you, rather than change what you already do.”

Alec closes his eyes, trying to process the sentence. The shine of the golden satin sheets against the light, their mixed scents in the bed, Magnus’ skin against his, he wants to get rid of it all so he can understand what Magnus is saying. Instead, he turns his hand around until he’s the one holding Magnus’. Magnus hasn’t removed his rings before bed like he usually does, he notices absently as he starts playing with them.

Magnus gives him a tiny smile. “What are you thinking?” he asks.

“You’re not like me,” Alec says. “How can we do this together? I don’t want everything to be about me.”

“Of course not,” Magnus fake-scoffs. “You know I’d never let that happen.”

Alec rolls his eyes. “Right. Seriously, though.”

“I meant it, when I said I want to meet you in the middle. Right now, you do most of the work of coming in my direction and I let you, because I don’t understand or because this translation is second nature to you by now. But I want to move in your direction too. Learn about how you experience the world. And maybe take some of that pressure off of you.”

“Magnus–” Alec starts. He doesn’t know what he wants to say. He’s not sure he knows what Magnus’ words mean, but he knows that this is a gift he never expected. He’s never even entertained the idea of someone else wanting to know him to that extent.

“I don’t know what it’s like, to be different the way you are,” Magnus says, stroking his arm with the hand Alec isn’t playing with. “But as a Downworlder, and a South Asian man in America, and an openly bi man who wears makeup, I do know what it’s like to live in a world that isn’t built for you, that doesn’t welcome someone like you. And I know that it can be very lonely. But you’re not alone, Alexander. Not anymore.”

Alec doesn’t feel the tears running from his eyes until his vision starts blurring, but he sees them mirrored in Magnus’ eyes. “I don’t know what it’s like to be any of those things,” he murmurs. “But you’re not alone either.”

And that’s the greatest gift they can offer each other.

“I think you might enjoy this,” Magnus says in the morning, over breakfast, holding out a little box. It’s Alec’s day off, so they have plenty of time to enjoy the morning – and to talk things through. Last night’s conversation went a long way toward making Alec feel better, but there’s still plenty to discuss.

He takes the box Magnus just conjured and opens it. Inside is a toy shaped a little like a spring, with alternating segments of black and white steel. Alec takes it out and it comes apart like an endless serpent, the segments articulated with each other. “What is it?”

“It’s a fidget toy,” Magnus answers. “I believe it’s called a tangle. I tried to make it visually pleasing, they’re usually made of brightly colored plastic.”

Alex smiles. “What is it for, though?” he asks, but his hands have already figured it out. Unconsciously, he’s started to tangle it around his fingers, spinning the curved segments around to change its shape.

“Having something to do with your hands?” Magnus offers hesitantly. “Please tell me if it’s making you uncomfortable. I don’t want to-”

“No, it’s okay,” Alec interrupts him. “I like it.” Given the sheer amount of time he spends wringing his hands or worrying at his nails, it might even be useful, though he doesn’t think he can get away with carrying it around at the Institute. “What?” he asks when Magnus keeps staring at him.

“Nothing,” Magnus shakes his head. “I honestly wasn’t expecting this to go so smoothly.”

Alec hangs his head in shame. He’s been making Magnus’ life hard, with his stupid panic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you think that I didn’t appreciate your efforts.”

“No, no. I kept springing it on you with no warning. I was wrong to try to do this without talking it through with you the whole way.” Magnus gestures toward the couch area, where the pile of books is still growing. “After reading all this stuff, I think I forgot that we weren’t on the same wavelength, that just because I thought I’d figured something out, it didn’t mean you were ready for me to act on it. I tried to make gestures to show you that I understand you but...well, the truth is that I don’t. I’ll never understand some of you, and some will take time for me figure out.”

Alec opens his mouth to protest, but Magnus holds out a hand. “But this isn’t about understanding,” he continues. “It’s about accepting. It’s about standing by you and supporting you no matter how little I understand what’s happening in your head. I was still trying to force these things on you because I thought that, since I’ve read those books, I knew something of what you might need, but I don’t. You do. I should have asked you.”

Alec stares and works his jaw, a little stunned. His hands have figured out how to restore the tangle to its original shape of a spring, and he swirls it around one finger. “Thank you,” he says eventually, at a loss for words. It’s a lot. Magnus’ openness, his apology, is far from anything he braced himself for, and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“Can I ask you one thing?” Magnus asks softly.

“Of course.” They still haven’t touched the breakfast they sat at the table for, but the beauty of magic is that they don’t need to worry about it getting cold.

“You didn’t react when I first got the books. Did you know what I was doing?”

Alec squeezes the tangle toy around his fingers, until it hurts a little. The pain helps him focus. “I’m not sure,” he says. “I never…I never had a word. For it. I've heard of autism, but I didn't...I don't know, make the connection? Not really. But then you...suddenly it was like...you were doing everything right. Things you shouldn't have known to do. Things that no one has ever done.”

He pauses, but Magnus doesn't try to speak, just lets him gather his thoughts.

“Like right now,” Alec chuckles. “Like you know that I struggle with talking sometimes. But you're not supposed to know that.”

“I'm not?” Magnus asks. “Because I knew, long before I read anything. I just didn't know what to do.”

Alec tilts his head. “You did?” They're going a little off track here, and he's lost the thread. But his surprise is real.

“Of course. You thought I never noticed?”

“People mostly don't. Except Izzy, she picks up on it more easily.”

“Then why is it so strange for me to pick up on it?” Magnus asks.

Alec shrugs. “I don’t know. I didn’t have a lot of expectations, coming into this relationship. I don’t have much to compare it to, you know?”

Magnus smiles. “Ah, right. Well, a life the length of mine gives you plenty of time to better understand the human psyche. And yet, you still surprise me every day.”

“Because I’m...autistic?” Alec feels his cheeks heat up. He’s never said the word before, never applied it to himself. It’s a strange feeling. It doesn’t roll quite right on his tongue, and yet it feels right, in a way. He’s autistic, and the implications of that are overwhelming.

“Because you’re autistic,” Magnus repeats pensively. “Because you’re selfless and beautiful and funny. Because you’re sarcastic and you say things I don’t expect, and you stand your own ground when by all rights you should be falling apart, and you fluster adorably when I try to flirt. Because you’re you, Alexander. And yes, your autism is a part of it.”

The changes are subtle, and they don’t make a huge impact on their relationship. Alec is incredibly relieved by that. Bit by bit, he stops expecting Magnus to realize that he’s too much to handle and get tired of him.

“I’m the one who’s usually too much,” Magnus tells him darkly, when Alec opens up about that particular fear.

There’s a well of emotions in his eyes when he says that that they’ll need to explore, at some point. Magnus has a lot of baggage, too, a long history of sticking out. Of being different. On days like this, Alec can’t remember how he ever thought that Magnus wouldn’t understand.

“It’s a good thing I can never get enough of you, then,” he offers simply, for now. Magnus isn’t ready to talk about it yet, about the people who’ve hurt him.

Magnus’ face softens immediately. “You really are a delight,” he smiles.

Alec beams at him and goes back to the book he’s holding. He’s very slowly making his way through the pile of books Magnus bought. Most of them aren’t meant to be read cover to cover anyway, and he’s currently picking through an anthology of texts by autistic writers.

He’s learning a lot. So much more than he expected, going in. He figured, he may not have had a word for it before, but he already knows himself, right? But there’s new words to put on things he’s never even thought about, new ideas to try, a whole new understanding of the world around him. Sure, he knows himself, but it turns out that he knows everyone else a lot less well than he thought he did.

And there is the new, incredible feeling of being understood. That there’s someone out there, a whole community of someones, who resemble him in the ways he always thought he was alone. For that alone, the books are worth everything. It’s akin to the feeling he had the first times he snuck away from the Institute, as a teenager, to go read gay romances in a secluded corner of the local library.

Magnus’ understanding is just as precious. He doesn’t push for anything, only supports Alec quietly. Even now, as they sit together on the couch reading, he’s attentive to the way Alec reacts to his touch, tightening his loose hold on Alec’s thigh as soon as Alec starts squirming in discomfort. He redirects Alec’s restless hand from tapping a pattern on his thigh toward his own beaded bracelets, offering them as a stim toy without even seeming to think about it.

Alec tries to focus on his book. The text is about flapping, and special education forbidding it. It’s poignant, but it’s not something Alec can really relate to. And yet, he’s been stuck on it for ten minutes, trying to pinpoint why his brain just won’t move on.

It finally comes in the form of memories. Stop moving your hands around and pay attention! Can’t you just stay still for once? It’s in Mom and Dad’s voices, in Hodge’s, every instructor Alec had before he successfully trained himself out of stimming and perfected his parade rest. He even heard it, full of annoyance, from Izzy – Jace came into their lives later, when Alex was already a good little soldier. But even know, his hands itch to clasp behind his back, and he unconsciously straightens his posture.

No.

“What’s wrong?” Magnus asks, seemingly casual, but Alec can tell that he’s paying close attention.

Alec shrugs, words failing him. How can he explain the storm of emotions inside him? His fingers twitch again and he stares at them, and behind them, at the book.

Flapping is the new terrorist-fist-bump, he reads.

Shadowhunters are always in full control of their movements, echoes in his head. A long-learned lesson. But no one ever asked of Izzy and Jace to stop laughing or joking or brooding or crying, not when they’re off the clock. That was only required of Alec. Because the way Alec behaves isn’t normal.

Because the way Alec communicates makes them uncomfortable.

Alec feels nausea gripping his stomach. He wants to cry, to scream – to move. “Alexander,” Magnus starts, sensing the change.

Alec shakes his head to stop him and he closes the book, firmly. “I want to try something,” he announces, like saying it aloud will unclench the part of him that’s rearing in terror right now.

“Go ahead, darling,” Magnus drawls, and maybe it’s the permission Alec needs.

He stares at his hand for a moment, and carefully, purposefully makes it flutter. It's like he doesn't know how, like something his body has forgotten how to do. He thinks of his bow, of the sting of the string against his fingers and flexes them, hitting the tips against his palm. The memory isn't quite there, but there's something, something right about it. His fingers find his other palm, his left hand, tapping softly there. He closes his right hand into a fist, and taps his knuckles against his left palm, listening to the soft noise it makes.

“How does it feel?” Magnus asks, his voice low like he doesn't want to interrupt the moment.

Alec shakes his head. “I don't know. It's like...I don't know how to do this. It doesn't feel natural.”

“You don't have to flap your hands to be autistic, you know. Or to be yourself.”

“I know, but...I think I could? I don't know if that makes sense.” He taps his hands some more, palm against palm, harder.

“It doesn't have to make sense,” Magnus smiles. “Just to feel right.”

Does it feel right? It feels ridiculous, childish, not suitable for a grown man. It feels like a rebellion, a fuck you to all the times he’s been told to sit still, to stop moving. It feels artificial and yet like it comes from deep inside at the same time. Something repressed and almost gone, an echo of a feeling long forgotten. Something he can learn again, and maybe learn himself in the process.

It feels forbidden. Terrifying.

It feels right.

#shadowhunters #alec lightwood #magnus bane #malec #malec fic #alec lightwood fic #magnus bane fic #shadowhunters fic #mine #echo's fanfiction

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nobloodneeded · 4 years ago

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Please please PLEASE tell us more about Lara Shepard!!!! 🙏 like her personality, backstory, disposition... Favorite food? Idk I think I'm in love with her

Hi!!! I’m on mobile more than the computer and it did not alert me to this message, so sorry if this is late, but I could talk about any of my bioware ocs 5ever - so THANK you.

Ok, so official canon backstory: Lara Shepard is a Colonist, Sole Survivor, Engineer - Paragon.

Now the fun personal headcanons:

Lara grew up as a tomboy; she always liked her hair cropped short and was often mistaken for a boy, though she never really minded. She was almost always covered in bruises and dirt; because of this her parents called her “spud.” She was spunky and outgoing in her youth, some might have called her combative, but only in defense of others. She once defended a smaller friend from bullies who were three years older and, though she came out with a number of scrapes and a black eye, she ultimately bested them and they never bothered her friend again.

Her personality did change after the trauma of losing her family, friends, and later her entire unit. She became more reticent and withdrawn, her toothy grin replaced with tighter features, however her eyes still give her away as they are very expressive. While the rest of her face was trained to be impassive, her eyes tend to either sparkle or flare with emotion depending on the situation.

Overall, Lara is like a crab: hard exterior, gushy interior. She is generally rational and level-headed, but has to work very hard to be that way because she still leads with her heart.

She cares VERY deeply for her comrades and is fiercely loyal. She does have difficulty letting people in after witnessing the slaughter of her family AND unit, but once they’re in - they are in for life.

She has PTSD and anxiety. Art, “squeezies (incredibly strong, crushing, hugs)”, and long hot showers help when medication can’t.

Lara is a dead-pan snarker and enjoys witty banter. Humor and deflection are the coping mechanisms she uses the most; levity helps lift the burden of her responsibilities, if only for that moment. She likes being around Joker and Garrus the most for this reason.

She has a respect for the chain of command, though at times it’s begrudging (so much so that she’ll need to ball her fists to diffuse her emotions before she gets censured). That being said, she has definitely made fun of the Council privately in her quarters or with Joker, after ensuring the comms were offline.

Lara is decisive, whether it’s the right or wrong decision, once she’s made up her mind that’s it. Outwardly, she says she prefers to move forward than look back. Privately, she reflects on things to death and it keeps her up a lot more nights than she’d admit. While her strength and stoicism is no facade, she has had many shower-breakdowns over the burdens placed on her. To her own detriment, she would rather shoulder every problem than have someone else deal with those consequences.

Her favorite musicians would be: Joan Jett, Pat Benatar, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Green Day, Rob Zombie, and Linkin Park.

Given her more reserved outward demeanor, it’s a shock to most that when she’s comfortable around a person she will cut loose and ABSOLTELY belt along uninhibited, and her voice is quite lovely. She especially loves to dance, though she is...not lovely at it. She’s all elbows and knees, but that doesn’t stop her.

Lara is bisexual and while she currently only holds a flame for Garrus, she does harmlessly flirt with Kelly often.

Her favorite food would be anything spicy and her favorite guilty pleasure program would be Elcor soap operas. She wishes more people were as candid with their emotions as the Elcor.

Her closest relationships so far are with Anderson, Joker, Garrus, Wrex, and Tali. These are all people who see a very different, more personal, side to her than anyone else.

Lara has an extreme admiration and respect for Anderson. She strives to make him proud and thinks on his advice over the years before she continues with most aspects of her life, especially tactically. She would do almost anything for him. When she saved the Council, she made sure they put him in the available human seat. She detested Udina and trusted Anderson with her life, it was the easiest decision she had ever made.

Joker is like the brother she never had and she wouldn’t make it if anything were to happen to him. She relies on Joker not only as her pilot, but emotional compass sometimes. He has a knack for figuring out which situation calls for levity and which calls for sympathy and she finds his presence alone an aid to her weary heart. They have a running game where they pull faces at each other as inconspicuously as they can and whoever gets caught by another crewmate loses. So far it’s 27 to 19, Joker in the lead.

Lara fell for Garrus instantaneously. She likes a person with their own moral code and a staunch will to serve and protect. She also has a weakness for seemingly-imposing men with hearts of gold and his dorky charm cut through her defenses like a hot knife through butter. She knew it was impolite to stare, but despite how many humans felt, Turians especially fascinated her and having one so close gave her plenty of opportunity to study their features. This backfired as she found him more and more intriguing - even handsome with those rugged planes and angular features - rather than a curious case study.

Garrus was passionate, driven, and endearing and though it is hard for her to make emotional connections, she is a romantic at heart and craves companionship and his personality compliments hers perfectly. After every mission, Lara would touch base with her comrades on the Normandy and she noticed her feet moved quicker and her heart beat faster the closer she got to Garrus, but she forced herself to bury that feeling. There were more pressing matters to attend to with her new status as a Spectre, commanding the Normandy, and the Saren/Reaper invasion.

When she saw Garrus on Omega, though, those feelings came flooding back with such a force, she nearly reeled. She had to force herself not to crash into him in an embrace, but she did cheer upon seeing him. When he was felled by Tarak, her mind went into a frenzy and she could scarcely think or speak coherently until he was stabilized. When he walked in, the ache in her heart at his condition was muted by the immense relief and wash of emotion that came over her. His joke about scars made her smile for the first time in a long time; and she knew at that point it was too late to quell these feelings and she would have to do something about them.

Similar to Anderson, Lara has a staunch respect and admiration for Wrex. She appreciated his input on missions and he was a constant companion for his battle prowess. She for sure used him as a shield a few times with his larger frame and tougher skin. He provided unique perspectives on Krogan life and it helped her overcome societal prejudices she unknowingly harbored; even going so far as being a major defender of him and his people. She was delighted every time he said her name in greeting and she would mimic his voice with his name in kind. He found it amusing and they were endeared to each other pretty quickly.

Where Joker was the brother Lara never had, Tali was the sister she always wanted. Lara could listen to Tali talk for days. Her voice was entrancing, her stories were fascinating, and her personality was adorable. Lara was fiercely protective and proud of Tali and went above and beyond to make sure she felt like the Normandy was a home away from home. Tali was the only crewmate allowed in Lara’s quarters and the two would talk late into the night sometimes. Lara even taught Tali some card games to bring back to the Floatilla and her joy brought a light to Lara’s heart.

This was way more information than you asked for, but I love her ;A;

#kj plays me #laniardraws

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cartoonfangirl1218 · 4 years ago

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BTS Inspiration of Winner’s Curse

I know not many people read my descendants fic, but hey it’s my Bday tomorrow and I feel like revealing some of the inspiration for it. This world building was actually what inspired me to start writing it down. Originally it was going to be from the POV of a Vk, and explore all the dynamics of the “new” Isle under the Coven of 13, and get into the motivations of each but as you can see that did not happen. I was intrigued by the idea of exploring a “sidekick” trying to be the hero and all that. Other notes are

Circe was originally going to be the mother of Malik, after having a fling with Mozonroth when she got sent to the Isle. Decided it was too much drama and discarded that.

There was going to be more focus on the power struggles between the mercenaries, the Coven and the authority figures. Was going to reveal Uma and Freddie to be siblings. Ended up sidelining Freddie.

Gaston’s daughter, Cosette, was going to have a role, becoming closer with Gil.

Atlantis characters were going to be part of the main group. As well as Black Cauldron characters. Also discarded.

Was going to redeem Drizella because I heard the original plans for Cinderella III was going to be Drizella redemption but they changed so they could give more development to Anastasia. So I decided I was going to do it. Dizzy would have been given more of a role.

Hans was going to be revealed as the cruelest villain. (Yeah I was going to make him a twist villain again. Be glad I did not).

Nasira and Mozonroth were going to be lovers before I decided on mother and son.

Diego and Ivy De’Vil would have had more a role.

Hercules characters would have had more a role. Including the Muses.

Ben would have had more a role somehow.

And that‘s about it.

But some things I am proud of in Winner’s Curse. Passing the Bedchel test.

A POC majority cast (This was completely unintentional but now I see it and counting it out, there’s four Agrabians, two WOC, and three European. Though I’ll admit I have not given Harry, Calix and Gil as much spotlight as I should. So my bad. But does Greek count as a white Euro? Idk, point is, unintentional diversity. Woo)

There‘s only two romances. Both are interracial. Also unintentional. Uma and Harry are totally together. And Aziz and Lala’s burgeoning crushes that will not end in a kiss after the final battle because it’s not important. Oh well. Attempts to explore PTSD, abuse, sexual assault and poverty.

The emphasis on family and friendship between characters.

Exploring the negative side of Auradon including it’s classist system, the Magic Ban, and the Euro-countries getting more resources and riches compared to the likes of Kuzcotopia and Atlantis and Atlantica,

Psychological studies(ish) and more character exploration.

Jay faces his dad!

Hook siblings!

Getting to mention tie ins to the Aladdin animated series, Legend of Tarzan animated series, Hercules animated series, Ariel‘s Beginning and soon Disney fairies books. And adding those characters.

That I finished 20 chapters! This is my longest fic ever! And just ten more chapters to go! I’ll get there.

Coven of 13: Villains dedicated to using their old magic to take over Auradon and be restored to their glory days once more. However they all have conflicting wishes with what the final plan should be.

Maleficent: Since being “overthrown” as queen of the Isle. Maleficent had to settle herself with working with others until she can be mistress of all evil again. Is in a constant battle for dominance with Queen Nerissa, Ursula, Mozenrath and Jafar.

(Evil) Queen Grimhilde: Though she may be pre-occupied by her looks and seem to be passive, Grimhilde is secretly gunning for complete control of the Isle and Auradon when they invade. She feels there should be a new queen that doesn’t get into such petty tantrums as Maleficent. Queen Nerissa: Queen Nerissa is the unofficial leader of the coven since it was her idea but it is impossible to convince the others of that. She wishes to get her ultimate revenge on Giselle, Edgar and the rest of Auradon by becoming the tyrant.

Ursula: Ursula is smartly setting her sights on just ruling Atlantica. Unless she gets bored. Then she might expande her pool of options. She mainly just wants to stick it to King Triton and when it comes to execution time. She isn’t going to make the mistake of keeping his soul, she wants to destroy it. Mother of Uma.

Circe: Very bitter about ending up on the Isle even after Helen of Troy vouched for her to stay in Auradon. So to say that she wants to crush Adam to the bone is understatement. She wants him to grovel. And if she can find that one good man while she’s at it, that would be a plus. Mother of Calix.

Mother Gothel: Though she has an intense rivalry with Grimhilde since day one about hoarding the scarce beauty products available on the Isle, she is her closest supporter now when it comes to finding magic for revenge and curing wrinkly skin. She is the mother of Ginny who she doesn’t dote on nearly as much as she did with Rapunzel.

Yzma: She wants Kuzcotopia and she will do anything and everything to get it even if it means teaming up with a bunch of “old hags” (yes pot calling kettle). Still remains overdramatic and delusional. Has a semi-dependent abusive relationship with her children Zevon and Yzla.

Morgaine Le Fey: Morgaine Le Fey, like Grimhilde, is quiet when it comes to group work but she is always observing for everyone else’s weaknesses and flaws that she will undoubtedly exploit when she becomes Queen of Camelot. Mother of Morrían.

Nasira: Sister to Jafar and mother of Jade and Mozonroth. She isn't nearly as enthusiastic about ruling Agrabah as her brother and Mozonroth are but she is just in it to get revenge on the stinking alley rat, Aladdin.

Queen La: Without her staff, her kingdom or leopard-man army, La has resorted to her Atlantean priestess magic again in hopes of getting off the Isle and reclaiming her staff. Still delusional, still lustful and hates having to depend on the rest of these people. Mother of Ranavalalona.

Jafar: Wishes to rule Agrabah and execute the royal family that “mistreated’ and “disrespected” him so much. Is in a constant battle with Mozonroth on the fact that he is the best sorcerer and will be ruler of Agrabah when they take over. Mozonroth: Finds Jafar to be a blowhard and believes that since he already took over the Black Sands and overthrew his former mentor that he should be doing far better plots. But with the Isle’s Magic Ban, he has to go with what he has. Besides that he would like to give his half-brother, Aladdin, a taste of “brotherly love” when he puts him in a headlock to crack his skull. Father to Malik and Imran Abbas.

Dr. Facilier: Like Ursula, Dr. Facilier smartly works on the fringes, setting his sights small on the Bayou before ruling the rest of Auradon. Father of Freddie and Celia.

All-Powerful Quartet: Generally speaking, if any villain was going to be taking over Auradon, it would be these 4. But due to their all-powerful status, they’d rather not exert themselves to do such menial tasks when they have other things to do.

Mirage: Evil Incarnate. So she does get to go off-Isle to maintain some balance of good and evil in the universe but generally enjoys the place. There is just so much evil and chaos everywhere and she glories in it. Mother of Illusion and Chimera.

Chernabog: Since being put on the Isle, Chernabog remains asleep on the mountain, waiting for his day to rise again.

Horned King: Without his deathless army, the Horned King remains in his cave, slowly wasting away. Mainly convenes with Hades.

Hades: God of the Underworld. So yeah, he has a full time job to do.

Mercenaries: The muscle behind the Coven, these are people who can’t adjust to domestic life, more 20th century living and miss the thrill of a fight. They deal with the dirtier deeds of murder and treason. The big boss (literal mob boss) is Sykes who rents their services out.

Sykes: Mob boss. Basically owner of the unofficially named, “Mercenary for Hire.” He never gets his own hands dirty but he has plenty of people who will do it for him. He keeps his people in line with his files of blackmail he has stocked up.

Clayton: Desperately misses the thrill of the hunt and more modern conveniences like a well-polish gun with enough ammo to shoot all these thieves to hell. Has a coworkers- with-benefits relationship with Helga. Father of Clay.

Rourke: Since being screwed over by magic, Rourke has kept a very rigid condition that he will only deal with non-magical situations. Still maintains his treasure-seeking ways and often pilfers from Jafar’s shop.

Helga Sinclair: One of the most intimidating humans on the Isle and of the mercenaries in general. She is known for her efficiency in work, stoic demeanor and same condition to her jobs as Rourke, no magic.

Muviro: Finds mercenary life to be very suitable since being exiled from his tribe. He does it less so for the money but for the glory and bloodlust. Father of Renavalalona.

Lady Caine: Self-proclaimed, “Queen of Thieves” and pirate extradonier. She is Captain Hook’s only real competition on the piracy front leaving a lot of punch-punch kiss tension between them. Many suspect that she is CJ’s bio mom since they share the same manipulativeness, “devil may care” attitude and self-centeredness. However she has no time for any child-rearing, and leaves James to do whatever neglectful work.

Gaston: Another mercenary that does it for the glory rather than the money. He needs something to do since his hunting days are over. Unfortunately he has not won a lot of admirers on the Isle for his chauvinistic attitude (Bad move considering that many of the women have actual powers). Father of Gaston Jr. Gaston the Second, Gil, Gaston (IV) the Great and Cosette.

Shan Yu: Finds himself very low being part of a mercenary gang instead of invading foreign countries. But it does provide some thrill that he can work on his own and make his homicides as bloody as he wants them to be.

Sa’Luk: Former “King of the Thieves,” Sa’Luk uses his mercenary work to get rid of his excess energy and anger towards his enemies. He joins Rourke in pilfering from Jafar’s shops and has a penchant for shiny gold trinkets.

Lt. Col. Jean Staquait: Former French officer and best to hire when you need someone to torture prisoners.

Authority Figures: Villains who are used to have some amount of power in more domestic/civilian pursuits. Pretty much like big corporations that constantly drain the other villains of cash, small trinkets, food and whatever other valuables are on the Isle.

Queen Saleen: One of the most malevolent mermaid, well only mermaid on the Isle. She spends most of her time in the Isle’s waters, avoiding the annoying two legged people. She is often in some sort of feud with Ursula.

Lady Tremaine: Guardian to Anthony Tremaine. Lady is getting on with her years and remains more or less infirmed in her house with a dozen grandchildren. She runs her house with an iron fist and is the most vocal on the Isle in support of child labor. She misses her days of richness and convenes with other elder women about how low they have fallen.

Medusa: Just like she did before the Isle, Medusa owns a pawn shop that is on a constant losing streak to Jafar’s so she has opened a small casino next to it too. She rather delusionally considers herself to be an entrepreneur and tries to work with those higher up in the social ladder to get more money herself.

Cruella De’Vil: While she spends most of her time tending to her furs and car and drinking, when she is sober she tries her hand at fashion design as in the olden days. She works closely with Lady Tremaine and Medusa.

Prince Hans: More or less the least-adjusted to the Isle with his loss of kingdom, servants and anyone gullible enough to believe his lies or manipulations. He is in close cahoots with Mozenrath and bought Drizella as his mistress. Father to Lars, his only son and heir since Stalyan refuses to ruin her figure again.

Sheriff of Nottingham: Serves as the Isle’s one man police force and a sucky job at that as he lets his henchmen squad do most of the work while he serves as trial judge and executioner with the Queen of Hearts: She works a bit on the judicial system, mainly the one who suggests the executions. She can also be found bringing most of the cases to court against henchmen who have wronged her or disobeyed her Tea Shop’s rules.

Captain Hook: The sole owner and commander of the coasts of the Isle while Ursula controls its seas. He is still as obsessive as ever about Peter Pan, his hand and crocodiles and can be found frequenting bars and other brawling areas on the Isle where his hook serves as a nasty weapon. Father of Harriet, Harry and CJ.

Gov. Ratcliff: The only one on the Isle that deals with paperwork. Sort of a treasurer of sorts. Not so much in organizing it but guarding it with his life and spends his time staring longingly at the piles wishing it were genuine gold than copper coins. Claude Frollo: Father of Claudine. Maintains his strict preaching and inflaming others against sin and towards prejudice. But he also tends to lose his inhibitions more and is a regular at the brothels of the Isle late at night. No woman has replaced his lust for Esmeralda though. Claudette seems to becoming close to that though.

Stalyan: Hans’ wife and Lady Caine’s part-time lover which drives Prince Hans crazy. She has her eyes on one thing and one thing only, money and bad boys that make her look good. She has no real ambitions of her own and depends on her father, the Baron, to give her what she wants. Mother of Lars.

Regular Citizens: Citizens that hold no sort of power and are pretty much everyone’s punching bags.

Morgana: Morgana would have been put part of the coven, but her sister, Ursula forbade it. Besides everyone knows that Ursula is far more powerful and talented than her sister. Instead Morgana is blackballed from any real position of respect and takes care of Ursula’s restaurant when she is away.

Marina Del Ray: Since losing her job to Sebastian she has become the Madam of the Isle’s seaside brothels, using the money to spiffy up her gaudy wardrobe.

The Bimbettes: Claudette (red dress) used to be Gaston’s gf but left him after he tried to “throw away” their daughter, Cosette, to try for a boy. She has since then been seen with the likes of Prince Hans, Mozenrath and Frollo. Laurette (yellow dress), the mother of Gastons 1-3 is Gaston’s favorite. Paulette (green dress), Gaston’s official wife is more or less his servant/punching bag and mother to Gil.

Drizella Tremaine: Since she couldn’t be married to Prince Hans, she has settled for being his mistress whenever he and Stalyan have a fight. A thankless position since she regularly bends over (literally and metaphorically) to his will and gets discarded like trash every time.

Lefou and Smee: Live together and own a kinda profitable gun and fishing shack. By far the best parents on the Isle due to their goofy more sympathetic natures.

Jasper and Horace: Still devoted henchmen of Cruella, they serve as secretaries, gophers and all manner of assistance to her. Fathers to Jace and Harold.

Ivy De’Vil: Mother of Diego, is the brains behind Cruella’s beauty designs since she isn’t drunk all the time. Can be considered one of the better mothers on the Isle.

Animals: No explanation needed

Scar, Zira, Shere Khan, Sabor, Benzai, Ed and Shenzi, Tublat, Hista

Couples: Captain Hook and Lady Caine (fight-hate sex rivalry. Child- CJ)

Lady Caine and Stalyan (with-benefits)

Stalyan and Prince Hans (Married. Child- Lars)

Prince Hans and Drizella (affair, possibly Dizzy?)

Mozenrath and Hans (Hans swears it was an accident. Or he was too drunk. Or it was magic)

Lady Caine and Hans (Revenge against Stalyan)

Queen Grimhilde and Prince Hans (One night stand)

Ursula and Dr. Facilier (fling, potentially Freddie and Uma)

Frollo and Claudette (with-benefits)

Gaston and Laurette (Affair/borderline married. Children- Gaston Jr. Gaston the Second, Gaston (IV) the Great)

Gaston and Paulette (Married. Child- Gil)

Lefou and Paulette (Lefou deux, drunken night of pity sex because Gaston’s treatment of them)

Smee and Lefou (Couple. Adopted Sammy)

Ivy De’Vil and Frollo (One night stand. Child-Diego)

Mozonroth and Morgaine Le Fey (Fling)

Clayton and Helga Sinclair (co-workers with benefits)

Queen La and Muviro (Married and dumped. Children- Ranavalalona. Musala, Taytu Betuvira, and unnamed, deceased)

Queen La and Clayton (Fling- Leopold, deceased)

Queen La and Gaston (Fling. Children-Amina and Shaka, deceased)

Queen La and Rourke (Fling. Child- Euware, deceased)

Queen La and Mozonroth (Fling. Child-Sarounia, deceased)

Shan Yu and Sa’Luk (Once- There’s no straight men in the trenches)

#disney descendants #disney villains #winner’s curse #bts #inspiration #my fanfic #world building

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lachlann-macnab · 4 years ago

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BDRP 2020 QUESTIONNAIRE

Your Name: Jean

Characters: Lachlann “Launchpad” MacNab

Pick one of your characters and talk about their growth. What about their story has surprised you? What are you proud of? How have they changed from their original inception to now?

Well, Launchpad is relatively new so he’s still pretty much the same as I envisioned him from the start-

-though I’ll admit that the idea of him having an enormous crush on Seamus/Scrooge was a surprise. I think it only took a couple of little chats with Sav and familiarizing myself with Seamus’ story for him to go “yes!! that’s the one I love!! let me at him!!”.

The funny thing is that it just kind of happened but also has a degree of canonicity to it; Granted, Ducktales ‘17 (the canon that got me into the Duckverse) didn’t delve a whole lot on the relationship those two have...but Ducktales ‘87 does and it’s fucking beautiful.

But I didn’t know that! I was just familiar with the newest canon -exploring the relationship led me to the older canon and I absolutely love it! I love the way the older version of LP is equal parts silly and capable and I try my best to express that nice balance on my interpretation.

And I wouldn’t have found that sweet spot if it hadn’t been for Sav and Seamus!

Pick another character (or the same character if you only have one) and talk a little about where you WANT them to go. What are your plans for them going into the new year?

Oooh man, this is probably going to sound rude of me, but I want someone to call Launchpad out on his shit.

He is a happy-go-lucky man, he is positive, he does think the best of everyone right from the start, he is honest with that, but there’s also a degree of performativity to the way he interacts with people: he is a people pleaser and he’s also someone who avoids problems/confrotation when possible.

That leads to him having a hard time actually voicing what he thinks when things were serious. Launchpad will default to what he thinks is the most noble/the best option even if he actually hates it. He tries his best to be a reliable dude, but that pushes him to his limits every now and then -and he hates it, but will do it anyways.

I’d love for someone to notice that and point out his marthyr complex to him, or how hypocritical he can actually be when noone is looking.

Jun did an amazing job at that, with the whole Moon Market incident and that is part of why I love his characterization and- I could rant about how Jun and LP are actually similar, yet different, but I won’t.

Someone please bitchslap my idiot son and tell him to be honest with his feelings, maybe get him to confront his feelings of inadequacy, maybe get him to actually face his problems instead of running away from them, kthanxs.

Pick a thread or a plot that you’re proud of and talk about why you loved it.

I have three threads I absolutely love, each for different reasons:

*Cleanliness is next to... with Jun: Jun called my idiot son out on his ‘noble man’ act. Jun was not impressed with his efforts and pushed him to an actual mini-meltdown because Launchpad didn’t know what to do or say to try and make things better: Launchpad is so used to having his way around people that the moment someone was inmune to all his tricks he...lost it. Big time. And I loved it.

*Untitled with Eilonwy: Both of them clicked instantly and- oh, man, I can’t really express what I feel about it, but:

Launchpad feels an actual, honest, connection to Eilonwy in various ways: both of them are a little bit weird, both of them are learning, both of them were kind of kicked out their comfort zones, both of them love adventure, both of them are fearless (in different ways), but there’s also a curious father-daughter dynamic to them. Eilonwy lacked not only a father figure but also a general actual caring adult one and I guess that’s part of what draws her to LP, while LP is a naturally caring man who also, (betweem the two of us), loves feeling like a good-ish role model instead of the dude people tell you to avoid because he’s an idiot, he loves looking out for people, he loves being understood -and Eilonwy, surprisingly, understands him without even trying.

They are so very sweet, they just clicked and both of them learn new things with the other: both about themselves and the world. And I love it.

*Dressed to the nines with Seamus: a.k.a “the one in which Sav let me go absolutely fucking ham”: It began with a chat about the need of gratious fanservice involving Seamus wearing (and getting out of) a suit -but soon became something else thanks to the Halloween task.

We soon got the ball rolling and Black Annis happened in a stupidly organic way (her very modus operandi, I discovered kind of late during the creation, ties way too well with the thread’s title itself and I’ll never get over it), and the mix of terror and action just naturally pushed the rest of the plot into the catharsis Seamus needed after all the stuff he’s been through.

The thread gave us the opportunity to write some mindless comedy, some yearning, some tenderness, plenty of gore, blood, trauma, legit PTSD, then back to tenderness and silliness -while also mentioning and showing a good deal of the things that have made Seamus the man he currently is, with the pretty and the ugly of it.

I just think it was an amazing character exploration for both Seamus and Lachlann, and I enjoyed every bit of it. I love Sav’s writing, I love Seamus’ characterization, I love how naturally it all evolved, I love how Sav can casually bring something up while plotting and the thing just clicks into place, I love how we just kind of understand where things are going or where we want them to go. Sav’s just amazing at brainstorming and general writing and I feel really, really lucky to have the chance to write with her.

I have no choice but to stan, really.

And I could go on and on about how the thread pushed both Seamus and Lachlann towards some big character development, but I really don’t want to rant -so I’ll leave it like this.

In terms of your own writing, identify 1-3 strengths and talk about why you think it’s one of your strengths.

Gee, that’s a difficult one. I guess my strongest suit as of now would be Launchpad’s voice as a character -and I’m not only talking about dialogue.

I think everyone that has read any of my threads has noticed by now that the flow of the narration is an extension of how Launchpad himself feels and thinks: it’s chaotic and emotional, it can get self-conscious and snarky when he, himself, can’t, it brings some exposition while not breaking the simple, chaotic rythm of Launchpad per-se.

In terms of your own writing, identify 1-3 areas of improvement.

This is way easier for me to pinpoint, hah! I definitely need to work on the length of my posts: I know seeing paragraphs upon paragraphs upon paragraphs can make people tired or make them feel intimidated to interact.

I also need to work on organizing Launchpad’s chaotic thoughts. The narration does get long-winded and sometimes the progression from point A to point B is way too chaotic -so much so that actually erasing it all would make no impact on the overall narration.

Pick one of your plots, or even just a character, and come up with a list of 3-5 “mentor texts” where you can look for inspiration or research, then write a short (2-4 sentences) why you picked those texts.

Not texts per-se, but I think a good way to get a feel of Launchpad’s general vibe is to watch “Top Duck” from Ducktales ‘87 and/or “The Duck Knight Returns” and “Double-o-duck in: You only crash twice”; Those episodes do an amazing job in expressing his insecurities and passions.

Now, leaving the source material behind, I think a book he resonates with is “Oh, the Places You'll Go!” by Dr. Seuss -it’s fun, it’s simple and it has an overall heartwarming message: It kind of captures that sense of wonder, discovery and positivity Launchpad both has and wishes to offer other people.

Another inspiration of sorts for Launchpad is Ferry’s “Parties are for losers” series: First of all, I’ll admit I’m a sucker for the Strugatsky brothers and СТАЛКЕР, so it’s no surprise I’m in love with Ferry’s interpretation of the story; I see a little bit of LP in KT’s story, but also in Yura’s and, surprisingly, in Olga’s.

PAFL’s setting is different, yet similar, to the Soviet sci-fi original: it deals with some disenchantment, it’s far from idealistic, it’s rough, but it’s also full of wonder and adventure: there’s big risks, but there’s also a good deal of things that make things, if not better, a little bit less miserable for the characters -and sometimes that something that keeps them going is other’s presence. PAFL is, for me, the inspiration for adventures that aren’t always glamourous, simple, or happy, taken by characters that are far from perfect, that have the odds against them, that carry a whole lot of baggage and, yet, prevail.

And, finally, a last inspiration for Launchpad, my lovable idiot son, comes from probably the place one would expect the least: God of War (2018).

I’m also a sucker for God of War, sue me.

I know it may seem bizare, but the message of the game just clicks with LP -and before you start wondering how in hell Kratos could possibly inspire Launchpad just let me tell you: he doesn’t. Because it’s not about Kratos I’m refering to when I talk about that story! I’m actually thinking of Mimir!

I love him so much.

Mimir’s role on the game is multifacetic: he brings exposition and ocasional comedic relief, sure, but I see him as the heart of the interactions between Kratos and Atreus (Kratos’ son, for those who may not know). Kratos is emotionally repressed and keeps to himself a lot while Atreus is a bundle of joy, energy, curiosity and someone that doesn’t think ‘because I say so’ is a valid answer to things; Kratos and Atreus clash during the first part of the game even when they love one another in their very particular ways.

In comes Mimir.

Mimir(’s head) joins the party and takes upon himself to act as a bridge between emotional distant father and young naive fearless son and...things start working for the three of them! Kratos starts understanding Atreus! Atreus slowly understands his father’s worries and needs! They begin the story as (almost) complete strangers but by the end they have an actual bond thanks to Mimir’s constant pushing and interventions: Mimir is soft with Atreus but bold with Kratos, the man knows when to joke and throw some riské comments for the chaos of it, but he’s also the first to offer words of comfort and understanding.

The man becomes part of the family even when he isn’t related to them by blood, even going so far as to give a ‘no, take me instead!’ when presented with the opportunity by a pair of enemies, even when his whole story tells us that he thinks of the idea of dealing with those people (won’t say who, because spoilers) as worse than death -the man hates the mere idea of going back but doesn’t hesitate a second to offer himself as a sacrifice for his new family.

And, damn, that’s what I base my interpretation of Launchpad on. He’s not a part of the family per-se but he constantly acts as a bridge between the youngest and more idealistic parts of it and the jaded, older, tired one; He’s happy to be comedic relief but will also sit and give anyone a pep talk when absolutely necessary -he knows his limitations but keeps trying and offering his best for those he cares about. He tries to be the heart.

I’m emotional about a disembodied head, don’t touch me. Play God of War (2018), it’s fucking amazing.

And now, a wishlist!:

I’m...actually up for everything and anything, really. I’d love some adventures, but I also love the more mundane interactions, I love the heavier topics but also the silly moments.

I guess, as I said before, the one thing I’d really love is for someone to push Launchpad to be honest about his feelings. Also a plot about him either considering to or actually flying again -those, however, will happen in due time and I have no rush to make ‘em.

Why do you RP?

Short explanation?: I love writing and reading.

Longer explanation?: I love writing and reading, I love complex characterizations, I love exploring new ideas and seeing how little plot bunnies become full fledged plots and/or character explorations or bring some character development, I love how that creates a domino effect with the rest of the cast. I love to see things happen: I love watching from afar as other’s characters learn lessons, create and conect-

-also, I write and read all day, everyday: that’s my job. I do script revisionism and organizational comunication. During work hours I have to check the flow of words, tones, and overall intentions; I have to do my best to make sure someone’s idea fits the box, but RPing gives me the opportunity to take the box and toss it out of the window. RPing gives me the chance to write freely, to write silly, to be imperfect and not worry about going from A to B or dealing with a checklist or tones, intentions or other’s ideas.

It’s just freeing. And that’s why I do (and love) it.

#bdrptask #/warning: long read ahead #/80% of this is me fanboying about other's writing; tbh

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factoffictionwriter · 4 years ago

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Tiva Fic Amnesty #10

This is the entire epilogue I wrote for that multi-chapter fic I keep talking about. A bit of a different take on what the DiNozzo family might have gotten up to after Tony eventually turned in his badge.

“Is he sleeping?”

Tony looked down at his daughter as she tugged lightly on his jeans, “Not yet.”

“Can I hold him?”

He looked at the sleeping baby in his arms. His little eyes were fluttering open every few seconds, as if trying to keep himself awake out of fear of missing any of the action. His fists clenched every time they closed like he was angry at his own exhaustion.

Tony knew he wanted his mother. He wanted her to hum a sweet song to him as he drifted off to sleep pressed against her chest, surrounded by her warmth and scent.

The kid sure was head over heels for his mother.

Definitely my son, He thought to himself. What he wouldn’t give to fall asleep against Ziva’s chest right about now.

He looked back down at Tali, her hands clasped behind her back as she swung her hips back and forth and hit him with some intense puppy dog eyes. She was laying it on a little thick in his opinion, but who was he to deny his little girl.

Besides, Tali was a mini Ziva in every conceivable way. Maybe she would pass as a reasonable substitute in her mother’s absence.

“Okay, Booger. But you have to be careful. He’s very sleepy.”

She nodded quickly, her curls flying into her face.

“Okay, go sit on the naptime chair and I’ll give him to you.”

She ran across the room and climbed onto the cushy chair, named for Ziva’s tendency to fall asleep in it while she was nursing her youngest child. He slowly walked over to it, adjusting the blanket wrapped around his son as he leaned over to place him gently in his sisters arms.

He let out a cranky cry, not appreciating being passed about, but quickly settled down when he felt the tiny kiss Tali placed right between his eyes.

“It okay, Eban. I’m here.”

Tony smiled. She sure loved her little brother.

“I’m going to check on Sarah and your mom. I’m taking the monitor with me, so if you need anything, just yell, okay?”

“Okay, Abba.”

Tony nodded as he grabbed the parent unit of the baby monitor and turned up the volume before hooking it into his front pocket. He walked out of the nursery and made his way down their narrow hallway and toward what had been the guest bedroom until quite recently. He gently opened the door, peeking inside to make sure he wasn’t interrupting anything.

His wife was laying in the tiny twin bed with her back to the door. He didn’t have to see her to know that Sarah was curled up beside her. The two had barely spent more than a moment apart in the two months they’ve lived together.

He was starting to find his empty bed every night to be a little depressing, but it was worth it.

He had to admit, he wasn’t completely on board with the whole adoption thing at first. He had barely settled into his new job and she hadn’t even finished nursing Zach. Then there was Tali, still not three years old. They had enough on their plate. Were they really in a position to be taking in another child? Not to mention one who was struggling with so much.

“She has PTSD, Ziva. It’s not like we’re talking about taking in a normal 6 year old.”

Her eyes lit up with burning rage so quickly he almost took a step back.

“A normal 6 year old? She’s just a child, Tony.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Do I? Because, I seem to remember you being much more understanding when I was just starting to get treatment for my own PTSD.”

“That was different.”

“How? Because you loved me?”

“Well, yeah.”

“I love her.”

“You just met her, Zi.”

“But I love her, Tony. I understand her. I can’t explain it, but I just… get her.”

He groaned in frustration, partly at how unreasonable she was being, and partly because he knew she was right. He had seen them interact. Ziva loved that little girl. And he was pretty sure the little girl loved her back.

“Look, Ziva. I know you care about her. I know you care about what happens to her. I care, too. But she is a witness in an ongoing investigation. Hell, she’s the victim. She needs to be in protective custody until her father goes on trial.”

“Don’t call him that. The man doesn’t deserve the title.”

The fire was back again. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he gave her a reason to bring out those Krav Maga moves she had just started practicing again since her second birth.

“Okay. I’m sorry. But she has to be kept in the system if we want them to put that bastard in prison. She can give them answers that they need.”

“And what about after the trial? Where will the system put her then?”

“I’m sure they will try to find her a good home. A happy family.”

“We have a good home. We are a happy family. Look at us, Tony. We’ve made a life for ourselves that we never would have even dreamed of having 5 years ago. We’ve fought tooth and foot for our family. We’ve managed to capture so much joy between these walls. We have so much love in our lives. And we have so much more to give.”

He had to swallow back the bubble of emotion threatening to pour out as she talked about the life they had built together. She was right, of course. They could have never have had this while they still worked at NCIS. They never could have even imagined that they would purchase a little house in Virginia with a huge yard and trees made perfectly for climbing. They never would have seen themselves with not one child but two. They wouldn’t have been able to see themselves married and settled and happy. So incredibly happy.

“It’s tooth and nail, babe.”

Her eyes softened at his tone, the clear resignation in it as he found it so hard to fight with her anymore. She had been right, after all. And she knew he was a good man. He would do the right thing.

“So we’re going to do it?”

He sighed, “We’re going to… look into it. They’re not just going to hand her over to us. We’ll have to do things the right way. They’ll have to make sure we’re a good fit.”

“We are.”

“I know that, Ziva, but they have to make sure. And I’m sure they’re going to spend a lot of time looking into me specifically. They will have to make sure that I will not hurt her the way her fa-” he stopped himself when he saw her shoulders rising in anger, “The way that bastard hurt her.”

“You would never do that. You’re a good man.”

“And they’ll see that. But it will probably take time. Not to mention how long it might take for her to be comfortable around me.”

Ziva nodded sadly at that. The poor girl had been so terrified to be in the same house as a man she didn’t know that he had been staying at a hotel while Ziva took care of the girl for the bossman. He had claimed that they shouldn’t watch the girl if she was so uncomfortable, since he should really be around to help Ziva with the baby, but she had insisted she would be fine. And it turned out that Tali was getting to be a great little helper, and an even better big sister.

Sarah had fit into their little family perfectly while she stayed with them. Well, perfectly aside from her aversion to him. But he knew he could earn the girl’s trust.

“But we are going to do this, right? We are going to adopt her?”

Her eyes were screaming with so many emotions as she looked at him, waiting for a final answer. There was fear and hesitancy, but there was also hope and excitement. And love. And pride.

And he wanted to make her proud of him. Proud to call him her husband. He wanted her to look at him like that forever.

“Yes. We are going to do everything in our power to make sure that little girl comes home with us. As soon as possible.”

Tears threatened to fall as she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed so tight he almost yelped.

“Thank you, Tony. This means so much to me.”

“I know it does, Ziva. I know it does.”

It hadn’t taken nearly as long as he had thought, seeing as the government already had extensive background records on both of them and they wanted to get Sarah settled into a home before she was set to start school in the fall. Kindergarten. They had a kindergartner now.

And Sarah had even come around to liking him a lot faster than he expected. Or at least tolerating him. Once she heard that he wanted to be her father and that he was willing to open his home to her, she had decided to give him a chance. Then once Ziva explained to her that Tony was willing to continue living at the hotel down the street for as long as she wanted him to, she had insisted he move home immediately.

“I don’t want to break the family just because I’m broken.”

Tony had held Ziva while she cried over such heartbreaking words coming out of such a small child.

In the past few weeks since all the paperwork was signed and Sarah moved into their home officially, the little girl had made many brave steps towards building a relationship with the man who was now her father, but she still was not able to sleep in their house without Ziva laying in bed beside her.

And then there were the fits. At first he had thought that they were flashbacks like Ziva still got every once and a while, but Ducky had insisted that they were different.

“She experiences these dreams, or she had these memories playing through her mind, and all of these emotions well up inside her. It is like filling a balloon with water. She starts swelling with all these feelings that she can’t process and doesn’t know how to deal with, and she feels like she’s going to burst. So she lashes out in the one way she knows will get her the attention she needs: with anger. And frustration. She screams and she cries and she kicks because she doesn’t know what else to do.”

“How do we help her, Ducky?” Ziva was squeezing Tony’s hand as they listened to what their lives were about to turn in to.

“You can stay with her. Wait it out. Listen to her when she decides to speak. Distract her if you can, but always make sure that you give her an opportunity to explain what she is feeling before you consider the episode to be over and you walk away. She might not always have the words to explain it, but allowing her to practice expressing herself to you guys will greatly help her when she goes to therapy.”

Ziva had taken her new responsibility as Sarah’s mother very seriously, always being the first to recognize the start of a fit and finding the best ways to corral the young girl into her new bedroom as quickly as possible in order to protect her other two children from the wrath. At first, Tony found bruises along Ziva’s arms, and he tried to take over as the official fit-squasher. But that had made things much worse, as he should have expected, and soon he resigned himself to letting his wife take a few punches for the sake of Sarah’s healing. But he hadn’t noticed any bruises since Sarah moved in officially, and the screaming was starting to die down much faster than it had before. He oftentimes opened the door after one of the fits to find the two curled in bed together, much like they were now, sleeping off the frustration and sadness from their tense encounters.

Tony took a step inside the room, and Ziva stirred. She moved slightly to look over her shoulder at him and held up a finger to tell him to wait. He paused. She slowly slid her body out from around their daughter, being careful to completely untangle their limbs so as to not wake the child. Once she was free, she stood carefully and crossed the room, grabbing him by the arm and tugging him out the door. She closed it gently behind her and seemed to let out a deep breath.

“Everything okay?” he whispered.

She nodded, “She needs to learn to sleep without me at some point. This shall be our first trial. We will see what she does when she wakes up and I am not there.”

He nodded and pointed down the hall toward the nursery, “Tali is holding Evan, but he really wants you.”

She nodded again and turned to join the two in the nursery.

“Ima! Eban is sleeping!” Tali yelled when she saw her mother.

Whether the baby had actually been asleep or not, the burst of excitement from his sister had been more than enough to wake him up. Steady cries filled the room and Tali’s face fell immediately.

“I’m sorry, Ima. I didn’t mean to…”

“It is fine, Yakiri. You did nothing wrong. Let me take him.”

She slowly lifted her 9 month old out of her 2 year old’s arms and hugged him to her chest.

“Shhhh, Matok. It’s okay. I’m right here.”

She started bouncing him gently against her shoulder as she looked down at her daughter, “Thank you for helping Abba take care of your brother.”

“Is Sarah feeling better?”

Ziva nodded, “She is sleeping right now, but you should ask her when she wakes up. She’ll be happy to know you care..”

Tali nodded. Tony was always amazed that Ziva seemed to know exactly what to do to integrate Sarah into the family. While the two little girls had gotten along great at the start, there had been a bit of tension lately as Tali felt that this new girl was taking her mother away from her. They hadn’t gotten into any arguments or anything, but the disconnect was pretty obvious. Ziva had been working on getting both of them to talk it out and build a better relationship now so that there would be no lingering resentment later. Tony couldn’t help but wonder if she was doing all these things out of experience, since she did have a half brother who had been thrown into their home when she was really young. Either way, he was so thankful that she seemed to know what she was doing, because he would have been completely lost.

Tali slid off the naptime chair and looked up at her father.

“Can we watch Moana?”

Tony smiled, “Sure thing, booger. But only if I get to wear the grass skirt this time.”

Ziva smiled at them. Tony had certainly been successful in getting his first daughter to share his love of movies. He came home almost every week with a new DVD to share with her, and some form of silly outfit for each of them to wear while they watched. Moana involved a grass skirt and large green stone attached to a hemp string meant to look like the stone from the movie. Frozen had required a blue princess dress for her and reindeer antlers for him. He had made a point to go back and purchase additional pieces to add to their collection in case Sarah ever wanted to watch with them, but she had yet to take him up on the offer.

Tony was doing his best with Sarah. They both knew it. But that didn’t stop the flash of hurt in his eyes every time the blonde girl turned down his offer to spend more time with her.

If only he knew that she called him her father for the first time today.

It had been during their post-fit talk. She had been going on and on about something coming up at school called career day.

“Markus said his dad had the coolest job because he gets to work with tools. I told him that was nothing, because my dad works with guns.”

To say that Tony worked with guns was a bit of an overstatement, but she hadn’t bothered to correct her. Technically his job was to design training simulations for agents and cops to work on their weapons proficiency. But not all the courses were designed for target practice, and none of the weapons used in their facility were real or even dangerous. Still, the first time Sarah had met Tony, he had one of the training guns strapped to his waist, and it was hard to override that first impression.

She watched as her three year old took off running for the living room and her husband leaned over to give Ziva a quick kiss before following.

Ziva smiled down at her son, who was sucking happily on his thumb. Her second pregnancy had not been nearly as smooth as her first, leaving her on bed rest for almost 2 months only to go into labor too early anyway and have an emergency c-section in order to save the life of their child. The surgery had been every bit as risky as it would have been the first time, and as a result they had been told that she could not have any more biological children.

Tony had taken the news admittedly well. He told her time and time again that he didn’t need any more children. That their little family was perfect just the way it was.

But she had wanted more. Being pregnant had its ups and downs, but at the end of the day it was an indescribably beautiful experience. Not to mention how much she loved being a mother, and with her continued career as an independent personal trainer giving her the freedom to pick her own hours and even bring her children along with her if she needed to, she thought that the more kids the merrier. Three was her ultimate goal. And it devastated her to think she would never get there.

But then she met Sarah. Abby had asked her to stop by NCIS one day to translate some emails linked to a cold case she was reworking (and to bring by her ‘two little babies’ as she always called the DiNozzo kids). When she walked into the lab, one kid in the stroller and the other walking alongside it with her fingers gripping the side tightly, she was met with a small blonde girl, not too much older than Tali, sitting on Abby’s lab table with her hands tucked underneath her bottom.

Abby had been swabbing the girl’s clothes and cataloging her injuries. Ziva hadn’t asked what had happened - she could tell by the tunneled look in the girl’s eyes that her father had hurt her somehow (it was a look she was very familiar with given she had a sister who also had to live with a disappointing parent) and by the bruises that it was horrible. When Abby pushed Evan into the back part of the lab and Tali followed, Ziva stepped up to the girl and tried to get her to talk. It was a very one-sided conversation, but by the end of it Ziva was reaching into her back pocket and calling her husband, telling him to get his ass over there now and take their kids home. She wasn’t about to leave this girl’s side.

The girl had been made to be a part of their family, even if it didn’t always seem like it. Sure, she had pale skin and straight blonde hair, but she pronounced Tali’s name perfectly on the first try, which was something Tony still failed to do at times. And she may not have spent the first 5 years of her life living in a half Jewish home where they spoke a fluid mixture of a couple of different languages, but she was picking up on the different words so quickly. And sure, her eyes were starkly grey, like the sky before a lightning storm, which were certainly not mimicked by any of her adopted siblings, but she was so clearly as strong willed as Ziva and had a sense of humor that mirrored Tony’s.

She was always meant to be their daughter. She was meant to be the fifth DiNozzo. And now she was.

Tali Elizabeth DiNozzo. Evan Shai DiNozzo. And Sarah Mailyn DiNozzo.

Their little family.

She couldn’t imagine her life without any of them. To think she had tried to run away from everything that DC and Tony offered after her hunt for Bodnar. To think she had once sat alone in a small farmhouse, stewing in her own self hatred, convinced the world was so much worse for her being in it.

A tear slid down her cheek and her fussy baby was not happy to see his mother sad. He stuck his arms out as if to reach for her, and she lifted him up above her head so she should blow a raspberry into his stomach while he tugged on her hair.

She heard footsteps in the hallway and looked over to see a sleepy Sarah standing there, rubbing her still red eyes.

“You weren’t there,” She whispered, but she didn’t seem too shaken by the memory.

“I knew you would be okay if I left you to sleep alone,” Ziva responded, resting her son back against her chest.

Sarah nodded a little bit, “I was okay. I thought I wasn’t at first but… I was okay.”

“That is good. I believe Dr. Mallard would call that progress.”

Sarah smiled a little. Loud laughter, mostly from Tali, came from the living room. She looked down the hall toward it longingly.

“They are watching Moana. Would you like to join them?”

The little girl shrugged, but she hadn’t said no like she usually would.

Seeing an opportunity, Ziva reached over for a burping cloth and slid the blanket off of her son as she adjusted him in her arms.

Sarah considered this for a moment before finally nodding just as Ziva stepped out into the hallway. The girls walked quietly toward the commotion, stopping by the kitchen for just a moment to warm up a bottle of formula (breastfeeding hadn’t gone as well the second time) and then settling themselves on the couch.

Tony was in fact wearing the grass skirt as he lay on the floor next to his daughter. A few minutes into the movie, Tali got up and walked up to Sarah on the couch.

She held out the green stone necklace, “You can wear this if you want. Or Abba can give you the other grass skirt.”

The blonde girl reached out and wrapped her fingers around the stone, “Thank you, Tali.”

The brunette smiled wide before jumping on her father, “We can match, Abba! Where is the other skirt?”

Tony got up slowly and ducked into the kitchen. He returned seconds later with a matching grass skirt.

Sarah watched as he helped Tali get it on and they both went back to laying on the floor.

Tali looked over her shoulder again and started patting the empty space beside her, “Lay with us, Akhot.”

Sarah glanced sideways at their mother, who mouthed the word sister as a translation.

A slow smile spread across the girl's face as she slid off the couch and onto the floor, tugging the stone necklace over her head as she went.

Tony leaned back, looking up at his wife who was gently feeding their son. She looked down at him, and they both smiled. This was family. This was peace.

And the only way I got it was by coming back after Israel.

Thank god I did that.

#tiva #tivali #tivali+evan+sarah?#that seems complicated #but their family is finally complete #amnesty #tiva fanfiction #factoffiction #factoffictionwriter #factoffiction amnesty week #mine

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xoxoemynn · 5 years ago

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A Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven

Life gave me a literal and metaphorical beating recently, and I decided if I couldn’t have Aziraphale hugs, then Crowley definitely should. Discussion of triggers and PTSD, but mostly just gentle tenderness. Thank you to @lizardkingeliot for holding my hand as I literally cried through this one and then making me laugh with her beta comments. You can also read on AO3.

Crowley hates the sound of whistling.

Although hate is probably the wrong word.

Hate generally implies some level of conscious thought. One hates the smell of the fish market, or irritatingly dense customers who are evidently incapable of taking a hint and realizing they are not wanted in the bookshop, not now, not ever.

No, hate isn’t the right word.

Frightened by?

That’s not quite it either, although it’s closer. He’s not scared the way someone may be scared of thunderstorms or a particularly long-toothed rat. Rather, he’s scared as that rat would be of a hawk soaring overhead. It’s a fear that comes from deep inside, woven between his cells with a damp, sticky thread. From the moment that rat sets one tiny pink paw outside, he knows to fear the shadow the hawk casts.

It doesn’t matter that he’s never seen the hawk up close.

It doesn’t matter that he’s never seen the hawk swoop down and snatch up his mother or brother or cousin.

The shadow is enough.

The shadow is the threat.

The shadow awakens that primal instinct to run, to escape, to seek safety anywhere but here. And as the shadow grows rapidly denser, that instinct builds upon itself, layer by layer, crushing the rat with the weight of it, so that by the time he feels talons pierce through his soft chest, he doesn’t know which he fell victim to: the hawk itself, or the terror that preceded it.

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter.

The end result is the same.

Once, as a snake, Crowley had been cast in the role as the predator, tempting Adam and Eve to eat from the Tree of Knowledge, dooming the world to sin.

But now, in his human body, he is the prey. And it’s not celestial harmonies that threaten the demon’s existence, but a simple jaunty whistled tune.

Not that Crowley would ever admit to such a thing. In fact, if Aziraphale were to hazard a guess, he’d say Crowley would be quite proud of himself, thinking he had never let on to the fact. And, granted, it may have taken Aziraphale a few thousand years to figure it out, and he highly doubted anyone else would have noticed. But when your closest friend is a fellow immortal being and you’ve spent the past six thousand years performing miracles, tempting humans, and preventing the would-be Armageddon, you tend to pick up on a few things.

The first time Aziraphale thought something might be amiss was in 1787, in a small pub in Galway. Crowley was there on assignment tempting some farmer or shepherd or the other, and Aziraphale had been craving a hearty mutton stew. They sat together, Aziraphale enjoying his meal, Crowley enjoying watching Aziraphale enjoying his meal as he regaled him with tales of his temptations for an hour or so. Then the barmaid returned.

“How about another?” she asked, taking their empty glasses.

They both nodded, and she headed back to the bar, whistling as she went.

Aziraphale turned back to Crowley. “What were you saying about the Fitzgerald brothers?”

Crowley shook his head, as if startling himself out of a daze. “Hmm?”

“The Fitzgeralds. How ever did they get the cow off their roof?”

“Oh, well they… some sort of contraption, with a whosit and a whathickey and it’s…” His voice trailed off.

“Crowley?”

“Sorry.” Crowley coughed. “Just remembered. Urgent temptation in Beijing. Really better be off. I’ll pay next time.” And with that, he was gone.

It is a memory Aziraphale keeps safely tucked away, the same as he does with his first edition of Les Misérables written in its original French. Not at the forefront where it might taunt him, incessantly begging him to reveal its secrets, but in a protected place so he might revisit it when he has mastered enough of the elusive language to properly appreciate it. Every so often, on a whim, he comes back to it, thinking that perhaps this time, if he applies the scraps of knowledge and experience he’s gathered since his last attempt, he’d finally be able to make sense of what’s hidden before him in plain sight. Ultimately, though, these attempts only lead him to frustration, and he puts it away again until the next urge strikes.

It takes nearly a century before Aziraphale gathers enough new evidence to break new ground in decoding Crowley’s cryptograph. They were at a small nursery in Soho; Crowley wanted to purchase some new plants, and Aziraphale always enjoyed joining him on these journeys; the scent of the flowers and herbs mingling in the air was beyond heavenly.

“I have to say,” Aziraphale said, “this is a rather delightful hobby you’ve taken up, Crowley. Some of God’s greatest works are the vibrant plants She created. They bring about such a sense of peace and tranquility, reminding us of the profound partnership we share with the beautiful earth we were given.”

“They remind us of something, all right.” Crowley held up a small green plant, inspecting it rather like a farmer would a prize steer at a livestock show. “This one will do.”

He brought it over to the cash register, which was currently unattended.

“Oh, one moment, sir!” came a voice from around the corner. “I just need to wash my hands, spilled a bit of soil back here.”

Then came the sound of running water, and then the sound of whistling.

And then the sound of the ceramic pot cracking in Crowley’s hand and smashing to the floor, followed a moment later by the soft thud of the plant as it joined the broken shards.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale gasped. “Are you all right?”

Crowley’s face was pinched, a vein throbbing near his temple. He was breathing very hard, and Aziraphale had the impression that while he may have been a mere arm’s length away from him, he might as well have been on an entirely different planet.

“Crowley!” he repeated, louder this time.

Crowley coughed. “Pot was obviously defective,” he muttered. “Quality’s utter shite these days.”

“Is everything all right, gentlemen?”

With one eye on the approaching shopgirl, and the other on Crowley still evidently frozen on the spot, Aziraphale snapped his fingers. Instantaneously, the pot re-formed, the soil hopped back into its home, and the plant was safe and secure once more.

“Here,” Aziraphale said, handing it to Crowley, “it’s as good as new.”

Crowley looked down at the plant. It was the strangest thing; he didn’t even move like himself. He was tense, uncomfortable, as if he wasn’t even sure what he was doing in his own body. “I don’t want it.”

“But, Crowley!”

“I changed my mind.” Crowley shook his head once more. “I changed my mind.” And then, without another word, he turned on his heel and walked out of the shop.

“Sorry about that,” said the shopgirl as she wiped her still-wet hands on her apron. “Would you like to purchase the plant?”

Aziraphale looked out the window, where Crowley was already disappearing into the crowd of people running their Saturday errands. “Yes,” he said.

The plant stays on Aziraphale’s desk. Every now and then he catches Crowley looking at it, and he knows he realizes it’s the same one from that failed shopping excursion, but neither of them ever make mention of it.

But if once makes for an oddity, and twice for a coincidence, it is the third time Aziraphale witnesses Crowley’s reaction to whistling that he realizes this is an ingrained pattern.

And this time it’s Aziraphale’s own fault.

He’d woken up in a grand mood, and decided to keep the bookshop open a full two hours that day so he could share his love of books with the world. There was a fairly steady stream of customers in and out of the shop, and for once, it didn’t irritate Aziraphale; he was content to let them in to wander the shelves (although, of course, he’d taken the precaution of setting the price of each book to four times higher than what they had originally been marked, as to discourage any actual sales).

Because the bell over the door announcing each customer’s entrance was going off so regularly, Aziraphale didn’t bother looking up when he heard the familiar chime. Instead he continued organizing his latest shipment of books. He wasn’t even aware he’d been whistling until he caught sight of Crowley -- pale, stiff, and entirely unlike himself -- out of the corner of his eye.

“Crowley,” he said.

Crowley offered a tight, shaky smile. “Hello, Aziraphale.”

More loudly, Aziraphale said, “shop’s closed, I’m afraid! Everybody out. We’ll be open again bright and early on Thursday. Or perhaps Monday around three. Out, out!”

When the shoppers had left, Aziraphale turned his attention back to Crowley. He was holding a tin so tightly his knuckles were turning white, and his lips were moving, as though he were reciting something under his breath.

It felt ridiculous to not acknowledge what had just happened. Crowley had to realize that Aziraphale was aware of his odd reaction. But he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. Where would he even begin? Hello, my dear, it seems you become petrified by the sound of whistling. Would you care to discuss it over a nice cup of cocoa?

No, he couldn’t do that. Crowley, even this strange, nearly catatonic Crowley, would immediately go on the defensive. He’d laugh it off, deny it, tell Aziraphale he’s imagining things, because why on earth would a demon be afraid of whistling?

“Aziraphaleaziraphaleaziraphaleaziraphaleazira--”

Aziraphale blinked. “Sorry?”

Crowley gave his head a firm shake and looked up with a broad, false smile. “Aziraphale! How are you?” He held out the tin. “Picked up some biscuits, thought you might be feeling a bit peckish after opening your shop after two weeks off.”

Aziraphale took the tin, noticing with some concern that while Crowley seemed more like his usual self, his hands were still shaking. “Thank you,” he said. He paused. “You know, these would go wonderfully with some cocoa. Won’t you stay for a cup?”

They hadn’t discussed it then, and they still haven’t discussed it now. Fortunately, it’s actually a fairly rare occurrence to hear someone whistling. It’s a sign of casual cheerfulness, which is not an emotion that many humans possess these days. Every so often these memories would pop into Aziraphale’s mind, and he’d wrack his brain to consider all the new things he’d learned about Crowley over the passing millennia, wondering if somewhere he’d dropped a clue that would allow this to all make sense. Alas, Crowley revealed nothing, and Aziraphale was forced to once again tuck this perplexing idiosyncrasy away with all the other details he did not quite understand about him.

Until today.

They are curled up together on the couch in Aziraphale’s bookshop, Aziraphale reading, Crowley trolling some poor hapless fools on the world wide web via his mobile. It is a perfectly lovely afternoon, and Aziraphale is enjoying the cozy domesticity of it all, when the sound of a bell ringing interrupts their interlude.

Crowley frowns. “I thought the shop was closed.”

“It most certainly is,” Aziraphale said. “I don’t know how anyone could have gotten through the lock.”

And then they hear it.

Whistling.

Crowley’s eyes widen, and he reaches for his sunglasses and hastily shoves them on his face. Aziraphale bites the inside of his cheeks. Crowley never wears his sunglasses in the bookshop anymore, and the fact he feels vulnerable enough to have to take steps to protect himself in this place where they’ve built some of the loveliest memories of their lives makes Aziraphale’s heart clench.

“Wait here,” Aziraphale says, squeezing Crowley’s hand. At first Crowley doesn’t react, but a moment later he grips it tight, so tight Aziraphale is afraid he might break bones.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley says, his voice hoarse.

“I’m right here, my love,” Aziraphale says. “I just want to get rid of our visitor.”

Crowley nods. His lips are moving, but while no words are coming out, Aziraphale can tell they are forming his name, over and over and over again. It is at that moment Aziraphale realizes Crowley has adopted his name as his own personal mantra, a prayer to protect him in his hour of greatest need.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

Is this how God feels when the mortals cry out to Her? Does She feel this same sense of urgency, the same primal need to protect, to wipe away all the wrongs of the world that torment those who do not deserve it? Does She feel the weight of the almighty power entrusted to her? Does it Humble her? Does it make Her stronger? Does She feel rage at those who dare hurt her children? Does She ache to comfort them?

If no, shouldn’t She?

And if yes, how does She bear it?

So many questions that only one could answer. The All-knowing, the All-wise, the All-powerful, the Author of All Things, the Alpha and the Omega, the Infinite Spirit who is in the very air that fills his lungs as he attempts to tamp down his rage and his fear and his sadness.

And even within him, She is, once again, silent.

Aziraphale understands with devastating clarity just how Crowley fell.

“I’ll be right back,” Aziraphale repeats. He kisses Crowley’s hand, releases his fingers, and then kisses him lightly on the lips. “I’ll be right back.”

He pulls on his his coat and heads to the front of the shop. “I’m afraid we are most definitely closed,” he says, “and I don’t appreciate you violating the sign and the locked door that clearly indicated as such.”

“I’ll only be a minute, then I’ll be out of your hair for another millennia.”

“Gabriel.” Aziraphale reaches inside of himself to draw upon the confident, aloof disdain he images Crowley displayed when he went to Heaven to take his punishment for him. “I thought we had come to an agreement.”

“We did, but you know Heaven,” Gabriel says. He opens up his briefcase. “Always paperwork involved.”

Aziraphale takes the pile of papers from him and skims through them. “A contract?”

“Simply putting in writing what you requested.” Gabriel removes a fountain pen from his coat pocket and hands it to Aziraphale. “You are hereby removed of all responsibilities as a Principality, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, and, as such, will be stripped of all rights and privileges associated with the position, for the duration of 1,000 years, when terms may be renegotiated with the consent of both parties.”

“I don’t recall agreeing to a term limit,” Aziraphale says.

Gabriel shrugs. “Standard Celestial Resources policy. All heavenly contracts have to have term limits.”

“You’ll excuse me as I read this closely, then,” Aziraphale says, “as I don’t believe there’s anything remotely standard about this situation.”

“Suit yourself,” Gabriel says. “Although I’m sure you’ll find the contract more than fair.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand why there needs to be a contract at all,” Aziraphale says, “and, frankly, I’m surprised you appeared to deliver it, what with how you nearly discorporated when I merely blew a bit of fire in your general direction.”

Something flickers in Gabriel’s violet eyes, and Aziraphale is pleased to note it rather resembles fear. “I oversee all changes in angelic status.”

Aziraphale frowns. “Am I to take it then that you require all fallen angels to sign such a contract?”

“Of course not,” Gabriel scoffs. “They have no say in the matter. Once an angel is fallen, they’ve fallen. A standard proclamation banning them from the Kingdom of Heaven is more than sufficient to fulfill all the CR requirements.”

“So you damn them to eternal hellfire without even presenting them the opportunity to please their case?”

Gabriel heaves a great sigh and rolls his eyes. “I should have known you’d turn into some demon’s rights activist.”

Aziraphale draws himself to his full height. He no longer has his flaming sword, but in his mind, he is holding it, preparing to charge into battle. “Answer the question, Gabriel.”

“Technically there is an appeals process where the accused would present their case, but generally speaking, the fallen aren’t especially eager to reclaim their seat in Heaven.”

“But some have.”

“Some is probably an exaggeration.”

“One?” Aziraphale asks. He knows the answer, but he wants to hear Gabriel say it.

Gabriel, too, finally seems to understand where the conversation is leading. “Listen, Aziraphale, if this is some bargaining ploy to get your buddy Crowley back into Heaven, it won’t work. Not after all the two of you have done.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Aziraphale says. “Crowley deserves better.”

It takes a moment for Gabriel to process Aziraphale’s words, and when he does, he begins sputtering indignantly. Aziraphale holds up a hand.

“And, for the record, or, I suppose, CR’s records, Crowley is not my buddy. He’s my partner.”

Gabriel’s eyes grow wide. “Being on earth for so long has ruined you, Aziraphale. I don’t even know who you are anymore. Or what you are.”

“Well, whatever I am, I’m afraid this contract simply won’t work for me,” Aziraphale says. He blows a long puff of air onto the papers, and they disintegrate into a pile of ash that slips through his fingers and onto the floor. “But I’m happy to provide a signed proclamation for Celestial Resources. Just to keep everything in order, of course.”

He finds a piece of paper and takes his time writing out what he is willing to give. He wants to drag it out even longer, because he’s enjoying how with each second Gabriel grows more uncomfortable, but he is also aware he is keeping Crowley waiting. Finally, with a flourish, he hands the paper to Gabriel.

“I, Aziraphale, Principality and Guardian of the Eastern Gate, shall retain all of my powers, and live a free life entirely of my choosing, and Heaven shall leave me and my loved ones in peace, in perpetuity,” Gabriel reads aloud. “Aziraphale, come on. You have to give us something.”

“I believe I’ve given you quite enough,” Aziraphale says. “Now leave.”

“CR will never accept this. It’s unheard of.”

“As are, I’m sure, most things written about me in my file,” says Aziraphale. “Would you care to test me? See what other things might be unheard of?”

Gabriel tucks the paper into his briefcase. “Goodbye, Aziraphale.”

“Do let CR know if they have any follow up questions, they should send them by way of a dove message,” Aziraphale says. “I won’t have any other angels stepping into this bookshop again.”

Gabriel says nothing, just closes his briefcase and turns toward the door.

“Oh, and Gabriel? You really should stop with that dreadful whistling habit. Terribly uncouth. One might think you were a human child.”

Gabriel freezes for a moment, then quickly exits the shop.

Aziraphale closes his eyes, breathing a heavy sigh of relief. “Crowley,” he calls out as he miracles the door locked, “all is well.”

He heads to the back of the shop, expecting to see Crowley right where he left him, sitting frozen on the couch. When he doesn’t see him, he briefly panics, until he realizes Crowley is just around the corner, intently examining the books on a bookshelf, running a long finger across their spines.

“Crowley,” he repeats, “our visitor is gone.”

“Is he now?” Crowley asks absently.

“And he won’t be back.”

“Hmmm.”

“Crowley.”

“You know, Aziraphale, you really ought to start organizing your books better,” says Crowley. “You have Austen right next to Fitzgerald, and then this gigantic section by Wilde, including some duplicates, might I add. I can’t tell if they’re supposed to be arranged alphabetically by author, or chronologically by the date published, or written, perhaps year written. Or if they’re just by color. Should we move all the blues to be together? Make a rainbow of books, wouldn’t that be stunning?”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale says, and places a soft hand on top of Crowley’s. “Let’s leave the books for a moment.”

Crowley exhales, and when he does, his shoulders stay fallen. Slowly, he nods.

“Good, that’s a good dear,” Aziraphale says, and leads him back to the couch.

They are in the same position as they were before Gabriel arrived, in their usual spots on the couch. Their bodies are touching, and Aziraphale is holding Crowley’s hand. But there is something heavy between them, and Aziraphale doesn’t know how to break through to reach the one who has so thoroughly captured his heart and soul.

He doesn’t particularly want to have this conversation. He doesn’t know how. Six thousand years knowing each other, of being together through great floods and world wars and even a would-be Armageddon, and they’d never quite been in a situation like this. He can’t imagine Crowley being comfortable with anything he wants to say. He might shout, or storm out. He might threaten to never return. And he very well might not.

But this has gone on long enough. And now that Aziraphale has some knowledge as to the cause of Crowley’s suffering, to leave him to do so alone feels colossally unkind.

And if Crowley can be brave enough to face this every day, on his own, then Aziraphale can be brave enough to begin a conversation.

“That was Gabriel,” he begins. It’s a statement, a fact. A natural place to start. “He had some paperwork he wanted me to sign related to, ah, our agreement.”

Crowley snorts. “Just like Heaven.”

“Indeed.” Aziraphale pauses. “Crowley, was Gabriel the one who cast you out of Heaven?”

Crowley stiffens. “In a manner of speaking, yes, I suppose.”

“They banished all of you during the Great War, and you filed an appeal,” Aziraphale says. “You told them that all you ever did was ask questions, that you’d done nothing wrong. And Gabriel --”

“Denied my appeal, yes.” He adopts a mocking tone. “On account that if I didn’t see I had done anything wrong, I clearly proved their point that I did not belong in Heaven.”

Crowley abruptly stands. His entire body is trembling, and he doesn’t look at Aziraphale. “I had a day. One day, to gather evidence that I did not deserve to fall. They said God Herself would serve as judge. And when I got there, there’s no God. There’s not even the bloody Metatron. It’s just Gabriel. Smiling. And he lets me speak for hours and hours, makes a huge show of reviewing my piles of evidence, then disappears to ‘deliberate.’”

He shakes his head and turns to face Aziraphale. He takes off his sunglasses and wipes his hands down his face, and when he’s done, Aziraphale can see that his eyes are watery and red-rimmed. “I stood there, waiting, and waiting, and waiting, and the entire time I could hear him whistling. Whistling, Aziraphale, like a bloody canary. And I knew, I knew the entire thing was a farce, but they wanted to toy with me. To play with me for their own amusement before damning me.”

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale breathes.

“I didn’t -- I wasn’t -- I can still hear -- Aziraphale.” Crowley’s voice breaks, and he crumbles, falling to his knees in front of Aziraphale.

Aziraphale draws him in close, one arm around his back, the other running through Crowley’s hair in a way he knows he finds soothing. “Shhh, Crowley, my love. It’s all right. I understand. Shhh.”

Crowley’s sobs are loud, and wrenching, violently born out of the rawest parts of his soul. He clings to Aziraphale, buries his face in his neck, releasing six thousand years’ worth of anger, devastation, fear, and betrayal into the arms of the one who loves him.

Aziraphale drops down off the couch to the floor and spreads his legs so he can pull Crowley closer to him. He rocks him gently, like a child, murmuring soft words of comfort into his ear. They stay in this position for so long that his back starts to ache, but he would gladly stay here, just like this, for all eternity, if it might ease some of the pain Crowley has been harboring.

A long time later, when Aziraphale’s coat is drenched at the shoulder and neck wet with snot and tears, Crowley sniffs and looks up. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Nonsense, my dear,” Aziraphale says. He takes his handkerchief out of his coat pocket and gently dabs the tears off Crowley’s face. “It’s not good to keep all that inside of you for so long. You were overdue for a release.”

Crowley smiles weakly and takes the handkerchief from him. “Made a right mess of you,” he says, wiping Aziraphale’s neck. “Do you want me to miracle away the stains on your coat?”

“It’ll be fine.” Aziraphale takes Crowley’s hand. “How are you feeling, love?”

“Right pathetic, for one,” Crowley says. “Bit humiliating to have a meltdown over some bloody whistling. Especially brought on by that stuffed shirt of an archangel.”

“That so called archangel was deliberately, unforgivably cruel to you at an intensely vulnerable moment,” Aziraphale says. “He caused you indescribable pain and openly took pleasure in it. It’s no small wonder that reminders of it would cause such a visceral reaction in you.”

“Even after six thousand years? A year, sure. A decade, maybe, if you’re soft. Six thousand years?” Crowley scoffs.

“Six thousand years of having to live with the consequences of that day. Six thousand years of reliving that moment. And with no one else in the universe who truly understands. No one to share the burden.” Aziraphale takes Crowley’s face in his hands. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, especially in front of me, do you understand?”

Crowley looks down. “You do help, you know.”

“Is that so?”

“Sometimes, if I focus on something that… that makes me feel… the opposite, it helps steady me.”

“Like saying my name?” Aziraphale asks softly.

Crowley nods. “Or reminding myself where I am… I try to memorize every detail of this shop, every trinket, every book, so if I… lose myself, I can instead imagine I’m here, in a place where I am…” His voice trails off.

Aziraphale kisses one hand. “A place where you are safe.” A kiss to the other. “A place where you are loved.” And a kiss on his brow. “And a place where you are always, always wanted.”

Tears fill Crowley’s eyes once more but don’t quite fall. “I know this is the part where I’m supposed to say something meaningful and profound, but I’m still feeling a bit shaky. I know there was never any real danger and there’s nothing more they can do, it’s just… once it starts, I have to ride it out. And now it’s rather like the aftershock of an earthquake. Still just rippling through.”

“That’s all right.” Aziraphale draws Crowley in so he’s nearly sitting on his lap and returns to stroking his hair. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Crowley rests his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Aziraphale,” he murmurs as he cuddles closer.

It’s one word, a simple declaration of his name, one that’s been directed at him hundreds of thousands of time. And yet now in it Aziraphale hears so much more. A plea for mercy, for understanding, for shelter. A desire to be safe and loved and needed, exactly how he is. A need to grow.

A prayer to Aziraphale, in his name, and in his name alone.

God may not have been able to provide Crowley with all these things he so desperately wanted, but Aziraphale can offer them in droves. Freely, without hesitation or regret. In a way that only he, Aziraphale, the only one whom Crowley believes in, can provide.

And he, who has found all these things and more in loving Crowley, knows all he gives will be returned to him tenfold.

A ray of soft light streams in through the window.

Aziraphale presses a kiss to the top of Crowley’s head.

They shall not want.

#Good Omens #Aziraphale x Crowley #ineffable husbands #lizardkingeliot #my fic #anyway this fic was basically my therapy before I get into therapy so #I know the content may be heavy but I promise overall emotion is just gentle tenderness

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