#also needless to say NO SPOILERS PLEASE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kamaluhkhan · 4 months ago

Text

LONG HOT SUMMER NIGHT

pairing: luke castellan x fem!poseidon!reader word count: 8.4k chapter summary: it's the summer solstice and olympus is throwing a party! thalia notices the tension between you and luke, poseidon gives you some relationship advice and you punch the god of desire in the face. warnings: angst! jealous reader. lots of drinking. complicated relationships. reader dealing with ptsd + survivor's guilt (post-titan war). mention of injuries + blood. creepy guy pushing reader to hook up. ending is a bit steamy but no actual smut. spoilers for the entire pjo (book) series. no betrayal (au where chris was the one who sided w kronos and led the titan army) so slightly ooc luke <3 also reader is in a band called the midnight sirens and is born on the summer solstice! author's note: thank you so much for all the love for part 1!! summer is almost over and this is very much a summer series BUT summer's not over yet !!! hope y'all enjoy this one too and thanks 4 reading 💙

part 1 | series masterlist

♪: long hot summer night by jimi hendrix

mail to:

Luke Castellan Camp Half-Blood, Half-Blood Hill 3.141 Farm Road Long Island, New York 11954

LUKE!

I’m sitting in my kitchen right now, watching Percy make us blue blueberry pancakes and hoping he doesn’t burn down my kitchen while doing so. I caved and agreed to take him to Disneyland while he’s here and breakfast was part of the deal, but I think I might regret it later.

We went surfing yesterday. It was Percy’s first time, but he was (unsurprisingly) amazing at it. I still can’t get over how beautiful the beaches are and the waves — gods, the waves are unreal. You’d seriously love it here. It’s like every day is summer. You have to come visit. PLEASE come visit!!!!

- [your initial]

P.S. The band and I are working on some new music, which means I won’t make it to camp again this summer. I’m sorry ;( Fingers crossed I’ll make it next year.

P.P.S. hi luke! happy to report that i did not burn down my sister’s kitchen. anyways, can’t wait to kick your ass in sword-fighting this summer. xoxo, percy

THREE YEARS LATER

the first time you visited olympus, you had been sent on a quest to retrieve zeus’ stolen lightning bolt, bringing luke and charles beckendorf along with you. you had missed the summer solstice deadline, but still tried to reason with the king of the gods when presenting the symbol of power, maybe calling him out once or twice along the way. before zeus could strike you down for your boldness, poseidon stepped in. the war between them was averted in fear of a much larger, looming threat; an ominous introduction for what was to come in the next chapter of your life.

another time, the gods debated whether or not they should kill you, some seeing you as a threat to their future. that was the day you accepted your destiny, not wanting your brother percy or your cousin nico to deal with the weight of the great prophecy.

your last visit to olympus was on your 18th birthday, after helping to defeat kronos and his army. you made the gods swear to stop neglecting their kids and to allow all demigods, regardless of whether their parent was an olympian or not, to have a home at camp half-blood; to treat their children as children rather than heroes as pawns in their twisted games.

needless to say, it’s quite strange, being back here under very, very different circumstances, where the gods invited camp half-blood’s senior counsellors and staff to join in their summer solstice festivities.

it’s not every day you’ll be invited to a party on olympus; you’re determined to have a good time, to have fun. there’s already an abundance of music, dancing, food, or alcohol, and the night is just getting started.

you’re happy to be there with new and old friends, but you’re ecstatic when you see that thalia grace is there, too.

“immortality looks good on you, t!” you compliment, raising your voice slightly over the music.

thalia preens, and you bask in her silver glow.

“bet you wish you took the gods up on their offer, huh,” she teases. then, her eyes widen. “oh - shit! it’s your birthday! happy birthday!”

thalia tackles you with another hug; even after all these years, she still smells like pine trees. she grabs two goblets of honeyed wine and hands one to you as you catch up. you eagerly gulp the sweet drink, until you’re reaching for another while listening to her stories about adventures she’d been on with the hunters of artemis.

about halfway through her story about fighting off a manticore during a snow storm, a nymph appears with a platter of the ripest of fruit – sweet plums and fresh figs, tantalising pomegranates, succulent grapes and crisp apples.

“oh my gods, this is the best apple i’ve had in my entire life!” thalia exclaims after indulging in a taste, herself giddy from a few goblets of wine. “where’s luke? he’s gotta try this — he’s always reminding us to eat more fruit. luke!”

you hadn’t kept track of luke, at least not on purpose. you assumed he’d been off partying with van or his siblings, and, probably, avoiding you. wherever he was, thalia calls his name twice more and, like a ghost, luke appears.

“i’m here, t.” luke’s voice is a deep, steady rumble floating above the music. his cheeks are slightly flushed, either from the heat or the drinks. likely both. “what’s up?”

“you need to try this.” thalia shoves the apple in his mouth before luke can respond.

luke takes a bite, and some juice drips down his chin. you, in a honey-soaked haze, think about running your tongue over to catch it, but he beats you to it, wiping it away with the back of his hand.

probably for the best.

“holy shit. yeah, it’s good.”

thalia, a sparkle in her eyes, urges you to try it as well. from across the makeshift triangle the three of you had formed, luke tosses the apple your way. you catch it effortlessly, and sink your teeth into it.

you’ve almost overwhelmed by the burst of flavor. the fruit is just the right amount of tart to balance out the sweetness, and it’s damn near the best crunch you’ve ever experienced.

“good is an understatement,” you say after another bite. a distant memory crosses your mind. “i wonder if these are the same ones we almost got killed by a hellhound for.”

thalia shakes her head, laughing in disbelief. “all because luke said we needed more vitamin c.”

“i was just looking out for us!” luke guffaws. “how was i supposed to know that persephone owned an apple orchard in connecticut?”

you pat his shoulder, the three of you smiling at the memory. “let’s call it an honest mistake.”

“well if annabeth had been with us by then, i’m sure that she wouldn’t have made that same honest mistake.”

“okay, but she’s the daughter of athena —”

you let luke and thalia slip back into their playful bickering as if no time has passed. you listen and continue eating that glorious apple, enjoying how the golden glow of your shared past fills whatever distance might have grown between the three of you.

somewhere down memory lane, luke’s amber eyes flick towards you.

“hey, you’ve got some….” without another word, luke suddenly reaches over to brush away a trail of juice with his thumb before sticking the finger in his mouth to savour the taste. he holds your gaze as he does so, and you feel a familiar kind of heat rush through your body — not from alcohol or summer sun, but from luke.

it’s such an intimate gesture that you almost forget that you’re at some extravagant party on mount olympus, where gods and half-bloods and a whole bunch of other mythological creatures are celebrating the start of summer by essentially getting drunk together, until thalia clears her throat.

“okay, well, seems like the two of you might want some alone time.”

luke’s cheeks grow more flushed than before, and his eyes widen as if realizing what he’d done.

“oh, we don’t need —”

“we’re not —”

you and luke both stumble over your words; thalia just smiles knowingly.

“i’m gonna go flirt with that nymph,” she announces, pointing across the grand marble pavilion.

“i thought — doesn’t artemis sort of frown upon that sort of thing?” you ask.

“she makes exceptions on holidays. besides, i’m her favourite. you guys have fun.” thalia winks at you and walks away.

you glance at luke and, gods, there’s so much history between you.

the time you jumped into an ocean full of sirens to save luke from drowning? you have a scar running down your forearm where one of them scratched you as you struggled to get luke towards the surface.

or when you took turns holding up the sky while on a quest to save lady artemis and defeat the titan atlas? it’s evident in the matching streaks of grey that you each have running through your hair. whenever you see your reflection in the mirror, you remember how you couldn’t save your cousin bianca di angelo earlier that day, and how nico has had to grow up without a sister because of a promise you broke.

how about when you, luke, and one of your best friends were sent on a mission to destroy the princess andromeda, the headquarters of kronos’ army? only the two of you survived, and sometimes you can still feel luke squeezing your hand pike he did during charles beckendorf’s burial shroud ceremony while you both cried.

or when luke took a sword between the ribs for you because he, somehow, knew the one spot the curse of achilles left you vulnerable? he can only slouch for so long before the bones there start to ache.

so, yeah. there’s way too much history, and so many tangled threads, and now really isn’t an ideal time to unravel it all.

“i’m gonna go find my dad,” you blurt out and disappear into the crowd with no real intention of finding your father.

the once sweet apple now tastes rotten on your tongue; you rid yourself of it in exchange for some more wine. you’re determined to have fun — no pain or heartache or grief.

you’ve all had enough of that for three lifetimes.

summer — age 14

“sorry your birthday was ruined.”

luke exhaled sharply when you pressed a disinfectant-soaked cloth to the wound on his leg.

“hold still,” was all you mumbled in response, brows knitted together as you wrapped the cut in gauze.

once you were done with his leg, you moved on to luke’s hands, burned by poisonous acid. the four of you had run into a hydra earlier that night. you managed to wound it enough so you could all get away, but not before a few injuries were sustained.

you were uncharacteristically quiet as you worked. you only met luke’s gaze to warn him before pouring some nectar on his wounds. you let luke hold your hand, tightly, as the liquid dripped through his fingers and down to yours, first right, then left. the pain was instant, seering almost as much as the hydra acid, but it was over quickly. the last thing you did was bandage each hand before getting up.

“i’m…i’m gonna check on thalia and annabeth. i’ll take first watch.”

luke caught your hand before you got away.

“wait. you’re bleeding.” he pointed to the cut on your brow. you had been so preoccupied in making sure everyone else was safe that you let crimson liquid drip down your face. it probably stung, too, based on your grimace.

luke wiped away the blood with his sleeve, used nectar to disinfect the wound, and dressed it with a fresh bandage, working silently as you did.

“it’s still your birthday,” luke finally said once he was done. “you get some rest; i’ll take first watch.”

you gave him a small, strained smile before checking on the others.

later that night, you stayed up with luke anyways.

seemingly out of nowhere, you handed him your portable cassette player. luke stared at it for a moment, unwilling to comprehend just what you were offering and, more importantly, why.

you and luke had grown accustomed to sharing things: flannels, socks, makeshift beds and scavenged food. but this —

it was your aunt’s.

you never met your mother, who’d left you as a baby, and of course, poseidon was too busy tending to his underwater kingdom to step in as a parent. your aunt raised you as her own. and then you lost her, too.

you kept her cassette player buried deep in your bag with some mixtapes she had made and ones you’d stolen throughout the years. when it wasn’t your turn to keep watch, luke would sometimes catch you with headphones on, looking up at the stars.

luke liked to think he knew you well; all those subtle elements that made you — the crack of your knuckles, the cadence of your voice, the slope of your nose, the dreams of your childhood. engraved in his own personhood. bones and all.

and, still: he didn’t know you, not entirely.

you’d only allowed luke to listen with you once, maybe twice. he’d never forget what it was like: knees pressed together and heads just as close to keep the wires from stretching too far; you gushing about the magic of jimi hendrix, recounting memories that echoed through gentle guitar riffs; luke yearning for one more song to play, for another a wistful smile of yours to appear. luke, wishing to linger in your private oasis a beat longer before you pushed him out again and closed the door behind him.

the one lock luke couldn’t crack: your grief, and how you carried on so buoyantly despite its weight.

well, there you were, presenting the key to luke as an offering. a sacrifice for something luke would never ask of you.

“this….” luke swallowed the lump in his throat, refusing to look at you. he turned the device over in his bandaged hands, the metal smooth, though well-worn. “you can’t just —”

leave. you can’t just leave. you can’t just —

“hey.”

your hand over his, forcing him to stop spiralling and look at you.

right away, luke regretted it. a small sliver of him, however delusional, had hoped that you were joking.

you weren’t. behind you, there was an empty space where you had previously wedged your sleeping bag. your backpack was already strapped around your shoulders, fully packed.

“i need to leave, luke. we can’t stay together. it’s too dangerous.”

“you don’t need to —”

“there’s more of us, now,” you interrupted, pulling your hand away to rest on your thigh. “four demigods together isn’t ideal. we’ve been attracting more monsters. more deadly monsters.”

“that would happen, anyways. it always has whether it’s the four of us, the two of us, or….”

luke stopped his sentence short, not even wanting to give you the idea to go out on your own, even though you’d probably been thinking about leaving for some time.

you made reckless decisions sometimes, but this didn’t seem to be one of them.

“well, it’s happening more.” your voice was steady, too steady. luke imagined you rehearsing just what to say to counter the inevitable backlash.

luke shook his head. “i’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”

“you almost died because of me,” you clipped. you lifted a hand to touch the bruise on luke’s jaw, but let it drop just as quickly. “you know that children of the big three cause more trouble. maybe we managed it when it was the two of us, but now, there’s more to consider. a child of poseidon and a child of zeus, travelling together. it’s like we’re asking to be killed. it’s too dangerous.”

“that’s our life,” luke snapped. “you can’t just run from it.” from us.

you faltered, looking back to where annabeth and thalia were sleeping peacefully.

oh. he must have said that last part out loud, too.

“you know i’m right,” is all you said.

luke could only shake his head again. because, fine, you weren’t entirely wrong. it was more dangerous — but it was danger luke hoped you’d all face, together.

“i’ve made up my mind,” you added, an anchor in the sand.

“don’t leave.” luke’s words came out as a prayer. if he offered something, maybe you’d stay.

you paused to take a shaky breath. “this isn’t goodbye, luke. i swear to poseidon…fuck, i swear to all the gods that this isn’t goodbye.”

luke couldn’t speak. there were tears bubbling in his throat, threatening to spill.

“so, keep this for me,” you whispered, once again placing your hand on top of luke’s. his fingers gripped your cassette player tightly, like it was the only piece of driftwood leftover from a shipwreck, keeping him from sinking into the cold, dark nothing. “you’ll give it back when we see each other again.”

a promise.

“fine,” luke conceded, though he wanted to scream at you. he wanted to argue like little kids — petty, loud, meaningless, back and forth until tears streamed down cheeks and throats were raw.

but, you were leaving, one way or another. luke didn’t want this shared memory to be tainted if it might be your last.

“you have to take this, then. give it back when we see each other again.”

luke removed the chain from around his neck, the one that held the key to his childhood home. he placed it around yours, instead.

he didn’t need the key now, but his mother had given it to him when he was six. before he knew what it meant to be the son of hermes, god of thieves.

call him sentimental, but luke had kept it. just in case he ever got lost.

“if you’re ever back in connecticut, you have a home.”

“yeah, okay.” you smiled softly.

it fell just as quickly.

“take care of them,” you told him. “of yourself, too. i’ll see you again when it’s safe.”

luke didn’t ask when it would be safe, because the truth is that it might never be.

“because you want your cassette player back?” luke joked, instead trying to lighten the mood, to capture one last moment of brightness.

you laughed softly to not wake the others.

“yeah. that too.”

you pressed your forehead to his, something you hadn’t done since you were kids.

“i’ll see you again,” you repeated.

without another word, you got up and jogged away. luke shut his eyes, refusing to see you become nothing but a shadow.

(you looked back several times, but he couldn’t see through the darkness.)

now

call the gods out on their bullshit (you encourage it), but if they have one thing going for them, it’s that the olympians know how to throw a party.

the night grows darker, yet somehow becomes more lively. demeter and persephone had supplied a generous amount of fresh, decadent fruit, and dionysus an even more generous amount of wine. apollo starts a karaoke corner and you’re just tipsy enough to agree to sing a duet with him in order to break the ice. apparently, he’s a big midnight sirens fan and had seen your band when you headlined at glastonbury festival. you smile to yourself, imagining your bandmates’ faces if you told them that the god of music had watched you perform.

as you hand the microphone to a giggling dryad, the sound of your name washes over like gentle waves on a shore.

“if it isn’t my sweet, summer child!” your father brings you in for a hug and an ocean breeze engulfs you — salt and sand and sun.

“hi dad,” you exhale as you pull away.

you hadn’t seen each other in a while, but poseidon looks the same. he’s dressed in a turquoise hawaiian shirt and birkenstocks with a crown of seashells on his head. there’s a cocktail umbrella in his glass, a slice of pineapple wedged onto the rim. you’re about to ask him how he managed to secure a pina colada and where you might find one, too.

“that was quite the performance!” poseidon takes an eager sip of his drink, green eyes sparkling like sea glass in the sun. “i must tell you: your newest album is all the rage in atlantis. the nereids and merpeople can’t seem to get enough of it and, truthfully, i find myself playing it on repeat as well. you’re quite talented.”

you try not to let your shock slip through, instead smiling and asking how things are in his underwater kingdom, but you’re….touched at your father’s unexpected praise.

the gods aren’t perfect, and your father is no exception. they’re divine beings who have time to conceive children, but not to raise them. there’s a long history of them abandoning, mistreating, and manipulating their own offspring. of course, being the prophecy child, it became practically impossible for your father to ignore you; you’re sure that being dubbed the saviour of olympus gives him bragging rights with his immortal family. even with their sworn promise to change, it’s impossible not to resent the gods in some ways.

still, you feel comforted by your father's presence at times — when you catch the perfect wave on your surfboard, for example, or when you sit on your fire escape during a storm after a bad day. it’s been like that pretty much all your life: poseidon there in spirit, not in practice. despite everything, he’s watched over you, and percy, throughout the years.

and here poseidon is now, grinning at you like you’re his pride and joy.

“enough about aquatic politics.” he pats your shoulder enthusiastically after telling you about the struggles of keeping humans from overfishing. “i came over to wish you a happy birthday. and to give you this.”

poseidon reaches into the pocket of his shirt and hands you something you’d long thought gone: a leather cord with several clay beads and a silver key.

“i found it off the california coast,” he explains. “i kept meaning to get it to you, but i suppose time has a way of getting away from us, immortal or not.”

a warmth grows in your chest as you run your thumb over your old camp necklace, bright and full. it had fallen off one day when you’d gone surfing, and you assumed it was lost to the ocean. you'd been given a fresh leather cord when you arrived at camp earlier this summer, but it felt empty. hollow.

“thanks, dad.”

you smile at him as you put on the necklace; it feels like coming home. your father then asks you about your summer so far.

you tell him all about your life as of late, until you catch a glimpse of luke with van on a marble bench at the other end of the pavilion. van is sitting in luke’s lap, and they lean over to whisper something in his ear before kissing his cheek.

you freeze mid-way through your sentence.

sensing the shift in mood, poseidon frowns. he turns his head to follow your gaze.

“ah.” poseidon turns back to you and clears his throat. “now, i don’t mean to pry, but i saw you earlier with the castellan boy.”

you flush at the fact that your moment with luke was witnessed by your own father. “dad —”

“did you know in ancient greece, throwing someone an apple and having them catch it is considered a marriage proposal?”

“i’m pretty sure that was disproven,” you scoff.

poseidon raises an eyebrow at you, clearly amused. “which one of us was actually there, hm?” and though you roll your eyes, you can’t argue with that. “i just wanted to know if there was a wedding happening in the near future.”

you almost choke on the last remnants of your wine. “dad.”

“i’m kidding. i’m kidding! mr. castellan seems otherwise occupied.”

“yeah, it does seem that way,” you grumble.

poseidon puts a hand on your shoulder, firm but reassuring. “regardless: if you find someone who would go to tartarus and back with you, someone who would fight alongside you every step of the way, you hold on to them. there’s only so much time you mortals have on this earth.”

you sigh — easier said than done — but your father is trying, so you manage a nod.

“i’ll keep that in mind.”

“now, i better go — ” poseidon looks over your shoulder, where the air behind you starts to feel staticky. “it seems a disagreement is brewing between zeus and hades. they always get into it whenever dionysus makes the wine a bit too strong. brother, put away the lightning bolt —” and he rushes away to prevent another divine conflict from arising.

left to your own devices, you venture over to the food table, finding an array of fresh and dried fruit, breads, cured meat, fresh oysters and, of course, more wine. you grab a goblet and a few dried figs.

“careful, i heard dionysus made the wine extra strong tonight,” someone warns, creeping up beside you. the voice is soft and alluring, and you feel something tug at your heart.��

you do a double take when you turn to them; the person is devilishly handsome, a golden aura paired with a golden smile.

(you will soon find out that the god flirting with you is the son of ares and aphrodite, the latter of which takes the appearance of whoever the onlooker loves. as it turns out, her son appears in the same way.

all this to say: it doesn’t mean anything that this god looks like luke castellan to you.

it doesn’t mean anything at all.)

“i’m eros.”

“hey. i’m —”

“i know who you are, savior of olympus.” eros winks at you. “i just never realized you were so beautiful.”

your cheeks heat up as you take a sip of your drink.

oh, shit.

okay. the literal god of desire and pleasure is flirting with you.

you’re flattered, really, and maybe the wine has gotten to your head, but you’re not eager to turn him away.

“well, i’ve definitely heard about you, and the rumors do not do you justice,” you quip, painting on a flirtatious smile.

eros puffs out his chest, clearly pleased.

over the next few minutes, you decide that eros can hold a decent conversation, asking you the classic first date questions about your likes and dislikes, and he’s cute enough that you wouldn’t mind things going further.

(he might be a god, but he’s no luke. you push that thought away, and force yourself to flirt with helios. eros. right, eros.)

eros leans in close, pretends to listen to you, lets his gaze drop every so often to the deep v-neck of your shirt.

“no way! 13 going on 30 is a classic,” you argue. you nudge your shoulder into eros’s playfully, and let the contact between you linger. eros, the inspiration for cupid himself, has angel wings, and you feel them brush softly against your burning skin.

“it’s totally overrated!” eros exclaims. “also, the childhood friends to lovers trope gives people false hope.”

“it’s not false hope. it’s about the buildup to their happily ever after,” you reason, swallowing some wine to dislodge the lump in your throat.

eros shakes his head. “trust me, baby, it’s all about the instant attraction. that’s where the excitement is.”

he’s so close now, you can smell the sharp alcohol on his breath. not wine, but something stronger.

“oh? what do you mean by that?” you lean impossibly closer, trailing a finger down his chest.

eros smirks, placing a hand on your thigh. “want me to demonstrate?”

not even a second after you whisper a yes, eros crashes his lips onto yours, and you will yourself to kiss back. he slides his tongue in your mouth, runs his hands over your body.

you’re making out with the god of desire and passion, so, objectively, it’s a good first kiss: soft around the edges and firm where it needs to be.

sure — you feel nothing, no real spark, but it’s almost enough to fill the hole in your heart in the shape of a certain son of hermes.

the son of hermes who has moved on and is in a loving relationship with a perfect emotionally available partner.

so, it’s fine.

this, this thing with eros, is fine.

you’re fine.

eros pulls away first, but keeps a hand on your cheek.

“let's get out of here.”

he grabs your wrist before you have a chance to answer. you stand up, let him weave you through the crowd towards the stairs of the pavilion. apparently, his room is just through the garden.

as he tugs you along, he looks back at you, smiling. under the glow of the stars, eros looks just like luke, except it’s becoming harder to ignore that he isn’t luke and that makes you feel all sorts of nauseous. your camp necklace weighs on your chest and, in particular, the silver key that you’d kept for all those years burns through your skin.

lightheaded, you pull away from eros’ grip just as you reach the top of the stairs and place a hand on the column next to you to steady yourself.

eros turns around sharply. “what is it?”

“i changed my mind, actually. let’s just…keep talking here.”

eros grabs your wrist again, his grip tighter than before. “don’t be a tease.” his tone is ever-so-gentle, but there’s an edge behind his words.

this time, your voice comes out more assertive. “i just changed my mind. that doesn’t make me a tease.”

“come on, baby, don’t you wanna experience what real passion is? this is a once in a lifetime opportunity that a million girls would kill for. you’d be an idiot to pass it up.” he brags, and you’re this close to breaking this guy’s nose, god or not.

“i don’t care,” you snap, struggling to break free from his grip. “and i’m not your baby.”

“okay, whatever,” eros rolls his eyes, but quickly plasters on an arrogant grin. “we’ll go somewhere private and i’ll call you whatever you want.”

he manages to drag you down two steps as you strain against his iron grip, now almost cutting off your circulation. your heartbeat quickens and you feel dizzy. finally, you grab onto the railing for leverage and use your strength to rip out of his grip, forcing eros to stop in his tracks.

“what is it now?” he snaps, whipping his head around once more.

he looks nothing like luke, now.

“just stop, eros.”

“listen,” he starts, speaking to you almost mockingly, like you’re a naive little kid. so much for being the savior of olympus. “trust me, i know what people want, so you don’t have to be shy. i promise to be the best you’ve ever had —”

“eros, is it?” the rest of the party is in full motion, but here’s percy, giving eros one of the most intense death stares you’ve ever seen. percy, your little brother who talks to lonely fish at the aquarium; who, if you cut open, would bleed blue m&m’s; who would never let anyone, god or otherwise, hurt someone he loves. “i’m gonna have to ask you to let go of my sister.”

“mind your own business, kid,” eros hisses. “we’re kinda in the middle of something.” he tries to move you down another step, but you stand your ground.

annabeth, no longer the scared little seven year old you, luke, and thalia found behind a dumpster, is also glaring at liam from the top of the stairs. one of her hands rests firmly on her belt, where she keeps her dagger.

“i’d back off, if i were you,” she warns. “wouldn’t want to cause a scene.”

“just mind your own business,” eros snarls.

“they said leave her alone,” thalia asserts, walking over once she sees what’s happening. “and you don’t wanna mess with us, trust me.” she clenches her hand into a fist.

“who the fuck are you? her bodyguards?”

“just let her go,” percy orders. “my sister can do a lot better than a minor god with a major god complex.”

eros growls, baring his teeth at percy. “you impertinent little shit.”

as soon as eros lunges for your brother, you tug one of his wings towards you, hard. he whips around and you take the opportunity to punch him in the face. he doubles over, golden ichor gushing from his nose.

“i’d be careful if i were you, baby,” you seethe. “you wouldn’t want to go up against the demigods who led an army against kronos and won. unless, of course, humiliation is a kink of yours.” you laugh humorlessly at the way eros scowls at your words. “to each their own,” you continue. “but i’m not in the mood to fuck an entitled creep with angel wings to compensate for his tiny dick. you better fucking respect that, and leave us alone while you’re at it.”

eros’ flirtatious smile is long gone, replaced with the kind of anger only entitled, self-important jerks have when they don’t get what they want and they’ve taken a few blows to their ego.

call it stupidity or arrogance, but his only response is a punch delivered right back to your face.

you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you stumble, but percy manages to reach out and catch you before you fall down the stairs. he holds you as thalia and annabeth create a barrier between you and eros. you hear them shouting at eros over the music, but their exact words don’t register.

you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and everything is suddenly all fuzzy. percy tries his best, but you slump your body weight into his and he almost topples over.

“i’ve got her.” luke’s calm and measured voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist to steady you. “from what i remember, you were too much of a coward to even step foot on the battlefield, so i’d listen to her if you know what’s good for you.” in a haze, you guess that luke is directing his sharp words towards eros, before turning to the others and instructing: “you guys take care of this — find clarisse if you need back up.”

somehow, you find yourself over in a small secluded temple, sitting on a window bench overlooking the clouds as luke sits next to you.

like most of olympus, the building is made of marble with gold accents; this one has roses engraved on the walls, and the space smells like flowery perfume. it’s much quieter than the pavilion, though you can hear laughter and music in the distance. it’s cooler, too, but not by much; even without all the body heat, you're left with sticky summer air, and luke’s breath on yours, sweet with wine and ripe fruit, as he carefully examines your injury.

you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the alcohol, or the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while — probably a dangerous mix of all three.

you know (from trying not to but ultimately not being able to pull your attention away from him after all) that he’s had a few drinks as well; it seems like the two of you ignore each other best when you’re sober.

“thought the curse of achilles would protect you from nosebleeds.”

“guess it doesn’t protect against —” what did percy call eros? “ — minor gods who have major god complexes,” you recite.

luke looks slightly amused. “that’s a shame,” he hums. “would have been nice to get one birthday without being injured.”

a smile creeps onto your face, despite the dull ache from your nose.

“you remembered.”

“of course i remember,” luke almost scoffs like the mere suggestion of forgetting what day you were born is an insult to his very character. he meets your gaze, and you could melt when he offers you that lopsided smile of his, painfully familiar. “happy birthday, aquagirl,” and it’s the softest he’s spoken to you in a while. just like old times.

he remembers.

somewhere within him, luke holds on to fragments of you.

he wipes the blood off your face, the sleeve of his silk white button-down now stained crimson. “how’s your hand?” he asks.

you flex your fingers. “it’s been better,” you answer, your knuckles slightly aching. “totally worth it.”

“i guess all those years away didn’t change anything. still willing to put a god in their place, huh?”

all those years away.

the reminder feels like a stab to the heart, and you’re worried that it might burst the comfortable bubble you and luke had drunkenly stumbled into.

thankfully, luke continues:

“the kids really take after you.”

he says as a joke, mostly, but there’s a sincerity in those deep brown eyes of his, too. something you also hadn’t seen from him in a while.

the kids, who you’d in some ways raised together when monsters were trying to kill you and the gods didn’t care enough to stop it.

the family you and luke had built together despite being born into the world of greek tragedies.

“as if annabeth wasn’t threatening to pull the dagger you gave her, skywalker,” the nickname rolling off your tongue with ease. “besides, they’re not kids anymore.”

“yeah.” he pauses. “neither are we.”

luke’s fingers trace your camp necklace, brush against your collarbone. the breath hitches in your throat.

here you are again, at the edge of something real and very scary, and you fear luke is going to push the two of you over.

but he doesn’t. instead, luke suggests, jokingly: “maybe we should start a fight club at camp.”

you take that as a good sign: like you, he’s hoping to preserve the playfulness between you before everything else seeps in and ruins it. before you’re brought back to the present, where you’re practically ignoring each other.

where you’re fine, but really.

you snort. “chiron and mr. d would love that.”

“like they’d ever find out!” luke explains. “you know the first rule of fight club —”

“don’t talk about fight club,” you finish together.

luke laughs, even though it’s not that funny. you laugh, too.

and that’s the thing that really, truly gets you.

try as you might to ignore it, some days it’s hard to forget the pain and heartache and grief.

you still feel like your life is a battlefield; you still see the ghosts of everyone you couldn’t save even though people call you a savior; you still have those scars, inside and out, that seemed healed but ache every once and a while.

but that isn’t all.

sometimes it hurts more thinking back to the good times and knowing, deep down, you can never go back.

summer — age 13

“ugh — you think with all their power, the gods could help stop global warming,” you groaned, swatting away a mosquito that tried to land on you. “do you think they have air conditioning on olympus?”

“oh, for sure,” luke quipped. he gave you a lopsided smile, his curls sticking to his forehead, drenched in sweat.

it was the summer solstice, the longest and the hottest day of the year so far. the two of you had found a perfectly good hideout, but luke insisted that this place would be worth the move.

he’d been leading you down side streets for what felt like forever. the sun had already set, and you were very close to passing out from the heat, until luke finally stopped at a door behind an alley, with a sign reading CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS.

luke knelt down to do whatever son-of-hermes lock magic he had to do to get the door open. he flipped a switch, and you winced at the sudden overwhelming brightness.

the destination was different than the hideouts you usually sprung for: those small, hole-in-the-wall type places. instead, this space was big and bright, filled with arcade games and fun posters and neon colours. the type of place a kid might have a party or where a group of normal teenagers might spend their friday night.

“what…what is this?”

“you thought i forgot, didn’t you?” luke smirked at you. he sat down on the colourful carpet, taking out some snacks, a small plastic bag with coins, a wrapped box, and a plastic blue crown, and gestured for you to join.

you did, in fact, think that luke had forgotten your birthday.

birthdays were bittersweet for children of gods, who were constantly reminded that any year could be their last, their youth cut short by monsters or prophecies or a fatal flaw. all the two of you usually did on either birthday was split any sweet treat you could get your hands on.

it wasn’t a big deal, really, to skip that tradition of yours. there were much more urgent things to worry about, like finding food and water and shelter, and not being devoured by monsters.

you did think it was strange that luke hadn’t so much as said happy birthday to you all day, but you knew that he loved you.

(like a friend loves a friend. nothing else, no matter how much your stomach fluttered at the thought of him.)

“i wanted to surprise you,” luke explained once you claimed your spot next to him. he reached over to place the crown on your head. “i found this place a few days ago during a food run. it reminds me of where we had your —”

“eighth birthday party, yeah.” you smiled at the memory of running around and feeding quarters to every machine and trying every game, of your classmates singing happy birthday to you off-key before you all stuffed your faces with sickly sweet confetti cake.

truthfully, you never thought about having another celebration like that again.

but, it was five years from that faded childhood memory, and luke was presenting you with something you didn’t even realize you had needed: the chance to be a kid again.

“so,” luke got up, a wide smile on his face. he held the plastic bag in one hand, extending the other to you. “which do you wanna play first?”

you started with space invaders, then moved on to dragon’s lair and pac-man. you took a break before street fighter ii so that luke could ceremoniously light a candle and present a cupcake that had been tossed around in his bag (but you were still very, very grateful for), along with fresh batteries for your portable cassette player. he had made you a mixtape too, though you couldn’t figure out how.

your last stop was a photobooth. you vowed to keep those pictures — a collection of you and luke together, smiling bright and colourful, goofing off and laughing — for the rest of your life.

now

those moments from past summers are like popsicles melting in the sun: tangible for a limited time before leaving you with a sickly sweet mess of what once was.

you think about what happened earlier, how percy, annabeth, and thalia stepped in to protect you, still the brave kids you had once known so well. how luke is here with you now, taking care of you so tenderly even after you’ve silently agreed to give each other the cold shoulder.

maybe luke is right. maybe all those years away didn’t change anything.

except — once you leave this temple and the alcohol leaves your system, it won’t be the same.

none of you are kids anymore, if you ever even were.

“why’d you go for eros, anyway?” luke asks, breaking you away from your thoughts. he removes his sleeve from your nose since the bleeding seems to have finally stopped.

“you really wanna know?”

“yeah. most gods are assholes. and you’re…” luke places a hand close to your leg, pinky finger brushing your thigh. “you.”

“i went for eros because….well, honestly, i don’t think i cared who it was, as long as they made me forget you,” you admit, because what did you have to lose. you probably have a broken nose, you definitely have blood on your shirt, and your time with luke is running out.

luke’s eyes darken. his fingers start to play with the hem of your shorts.

“did it work?” his voice is a whisper, but he’s close enough that he’s crystal clear.

“no.”

it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on luke’s — messy and urgent. noses bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. he cradles your face in his hands, and you move to straddle his waist. you taste wine on his tongue, and maybe a hint of sweet pears, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. when you run out of air, you pull away. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the alcohol or adrenaline, but dizzy from him. luke’s gaze is heavy on yours as he traces your top lip with his thumb.

“luke,” you whimper, itching to kiss him again.

“you’re still bleeding.”

luke wipes away the blood with his thumb. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s an echo of footsteps on the marble floor. a flower nymph, there to leave an offering and let you know that, while aphrodite encourages acts of love, she prefers it doesn’t happen in her place of worship.

you realize that aphrodite also might not look so fondly at you kissing someone else in her place of worship after publicly rebuking her own son.

luke untangles himself from you, and you know that he’s been jolted back to reality, too.

and, just like that, another moment has melted away.

your father was right. time has a way of slipping away for us, immortal or not.

summer — age 18

“hey, you awake?”

“yeah,” you replied softly. sleep hadn’t been easy, in the days and weeks and months leading up to that final battle with kronos and his army.

and once it was all over?

you rested your head on luke’s shoulder, sword discarded at your feet and armour half-removed, as argus, the hundred-eyed security guard of olympus, drove a school bus with a dozen or so demigods back to camp.

“why’d you turn down their offer?” luke whispered.

oh.

"why...why do you ask?"

"i don't know." luke paused. "just curious, i guess."

you closed your eyes and replayed that moment on olympus when you refused the gift of immortality. the look of shock written on the gods’ faces. and on luke’s.

“i don’t care about living forever,” you told him bluntly.

forever seemed too long, especially for someone who was prophesied to die at 18.

you tilted your head up to meet luke’s gaze, and his messy curls brushed against your forehead. evidence of the battle was clear on his face: caked-on dirt and blossoming bruises and dried blood.

behind him, outside the bus window, the world was flying by. a child who had fallen off their bike being comforted by a friend. two people sharing an mp3 player and a pair of earbuds. an elderly couple walking their dog.

“you once told me that this was our life,” you continued, gesturing towards the weapons and battle-worn kids, some quiet, others crying, many injured. “what if it didn’t have to be?”

luke furrowed his brow. “do you mean….are you talking about leaving?”

you shrugged. running from monsters for your entire childhood then being the child of the great prophecy was a lot.

a break might be nice.

there was so much about the world, the one you’d fought and bled to protect, that you wanted to experience.

maybe something closer to a normal life.

“would you ever leave camp?” you wondered, not really answering luke's question.

“no,” luke replied instantly. his fingers started fiddling with the beads on his necklace. “i can’t just walk away, not after everything.”

“yeah, i get that.” and you did; you really, truly, did. the guilt of wanting to leave camp curled in your stomach like a venomous snake. you took a shaky breath. “let’s talk about this later, yeah? i’m tired, and we have the rest of — ”

the rest of the summer slipped away in the blink of an eye. gone, before you even had a real chance to say goodbye.

you closed your eyes and held on to luke, as if gripping his arm would anchor you to something you weren't ready to let go of, but in some ways needed to move on from.

it was no use, though.

by the end of august, you’d be gone too.

now

you learned early on that the curse of achilles doesn’t protect you from hangovers.

you wake up the morning after the celebration on olympus with a deep, throbbing pain lodged in your temple and an uncomfortable swirling in your gut. parties and late nights at bars are common on tour, which means migraines are, too, so you have a routine to make sure you’re not out of commission for too long.

except this time, the aspirin and blue gatorade and dry toast don’t work. the sting in your brain and uneasiness in your stomach doesn’t go away, even after a few days. you haven’t been able to sleep, either.

desperate for a cure, you consult lou ellen, head counsellor of the hecate cabin, who you’d unexpectedly grown close to in the past few weeks. she mixes something for you, while asking if there’s something that’s been weighing on you.

you couldn't keep it in anymore; you tell her about the summer solstice and luke.

later, with nothing but your thoughts and percy’s snoring occupying your time post-curfew, you grab your phone and flip it open, deciding to finally reach out to luke, when you get a text from him.

luke is already on the beach when you arrive, looking out onto the water.

“hey,” you greet as you sit next to him on the sand, but not too close. “i was actually about to text you —”

“did you tell anyone that we kissed?” he interrupts. you can’t quite read his expression as he waits for you to answer.

“no, i didn’t,” you lie. “would it matter if i did?”

“well, i mean, word travels fast around camp, and i don’t want van finding out. it’s not like it meant anything.”

the throbbing in your brain becomes a sharper sting, the uneasiness in your stomach a tidal wave of nausea.

“it didn’t?” you hate how fragile your voice sounds, compared to luke’s stoic demeanor.

luke shrugs. “i mean, we were both drunk and the thing with eros happened…we just got caught up in the heat of the moment.”

“you’re saying there’s nothing between us, then? nothing?” the word tastes bitter in your mouth.

luke turns away before he answers. “no. nothing.”

“then what about last summer?” you demand. you force yourself to keep it together, your tone firmer than before. “i guess that didn’t mean anything, either.”

“y/n…” he sighs. “i don’t know what you want me to say. we’re barely even friends anymore. you come back here, after all this time, after so much shit happened, and expect us all to drop everything to fit you back into our lives. but, you don't. whatever you came here for, it's not here for you. there's nothing to go back to. we moved on. i moved on, and i can’t deal with you —"

“got it,” you snap, already turning to walk away. “loud and fucking clear, luke.”

it’s not like it meant anything. we’re barely even friends anymore.

you replay luke’s words as you crawl into bed, holding back tears so as to not disturb percy. finally, you swallow a generous amount of whatever concoction lou ellen had brewed up for you.

drifting off into your own sleep, you decide that you don’t love luke anymore. not as a friend, not as a.....

nope.

according to luke, there's not even anything to go back to.

nothing.

#feel free to comment + reblog <3 #saf writes #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #percy jackson #pjo fanfic #pjo series #pjo x reader #luke castellan angst

530 notes · View notes

fandomrose · 8 months ago

Text

Sunday - Love Hypnosis

Sunday hypnotises you (consensually) to relax you.

No spoilers.

No description of reader or readers troubles so project what you are personally struggling with as you see fit.

No angst just fluff. I thought this concept would be cute. I've seen many a yandere Sunday hypnotises you, and that's great but consider - consent and fluff.

(This isn't a jab, I too enjoy a yandere fic from time to time but I also want to see fluff and I haven't seen this done in a fluffy way yet.)

I don't know why I'm mildly obsessed with this man but I am. (Cough Cough, I read maximum ride as a kid and now I automatically fall in love with winged characters. Cough Cough.) I need him to hypnotise me please and thank you.

(I have a few fics in the works that I need to finish but I'm struggling.)

As usual enjoy. Love ya 💙

"Darling?" Came the light and airy tone of your beloved. Though there was a hint of worry in his voice as he took in your face down, slumped form. "Are you alright?"

He could tell very well that you were not alright. But he would coax an answer out of you one way or another. Though the only answer he received was a groan.

"Darling." He sighs but chuckles at your obviously aggravated self. "Allow me to help you."

Your body goes limp as you let him move you from a sofa to your shared bed. "My darling. Tell me what's gotten into you."

He chuckles as you groan out a single word relating to your issues. "Life."

"Oh, my darling. You'll let me soothe you for the night won't you?" He only felt it was right after the many nights you had soothed him.

Patient, kind, understanding. Three words that when asked by others what you think about each other, you'd both say about each other. A pure give and take without a scoreboard, that's how you operated. You were both busy or stressed for one reason or another so that's how things had to be.

The simple love you shared was enough most days but sometimes things went wrong.

Sunday had performed hypnosis on you before so he knew it worked but he'd never engage unless you agreed. You knew the question he asked meant he wanted to soothe you via hypnosis, and with the state of your mind you would happily agree.

"Please do."

He wouldn't offer if he didn't have the energy you knew this, a rather large argument took care of that when he'd overworked himself then passed out after hypnotising you once and a medic had to be rushed in. Needless to say, you weren't happy with his carelessness. And seeing how upset you were he agreed to be more careful with his health.

You didn't want to think anymore so as you lay there looking up at him with your tired eyes and weary mind, he smiles. He caresses your face and hair before taking a deep breath and reciting that familiar chant.

"Oh triple faced soul, allow me to take hold of this one's mind and soothe them of all worries and burdens. The word Beloved will be the catalyst for control."

With that simple incantation your mind belonged to Sunday for a short while. Your mind felt fuzzy and slow but not unpleasantly, the way it would when you achieved complete relaxation.

Like he had done before, he would take you through your nightly routine with this hypnosis.

"Beloved, follow me to to the bathroom." He helped you up while your body automatically followed his words and stood up.

Walking was about the most complex task you could complete, he wasn't Xipe Themself, so his power only went so far.

"Beloved, lift your arms."

You do as told and he aids in stripping you, ready to be cleaned.

"Beloved, sit on this stool and close your eyes."

You again do as told his voice muffled through the layers of hypnosis, but soothing nonetheless. "I am going to wash your face first darling." He always narrates what he does before doing it as not to startle you.

You felt a cool, wet, cloth glide over your face and you can't help but sigh with satisfaction. You feel it gently caress your cheeks and softly rub your eyes tickle behind your ears. You hear the cloth being rinsed and wrung, the muffled sounds of the water soothing you further.

"I am going to wash your upper body now darling." And, as before, you feel the damp cloth glide over your neck and upper body, letting him move you has he sees fit. Soft humming coming from him lulls you deeper into his hypnosis. The cloth glides down and caresses your chest before moving to wash your back. You'd make sounds of relaxed satisfaction if you could but your exhausted body coupled with the hypnosis has made your brain devoid of any thought or control. Just how you want it.

He moves back to the front of you with a new cloth. "Beloved, spread your legs, I need to clean you."

Your body complies without hesitation and that's what he does, making sure to be extra gentle around this sensitive area. He is thorough but doesn't linger long this time, not wanting to spark anything in you this evening.

Standing to switch the cloth again, "I'm going to wash your legs and feet now darling." Still being as gentle as ever his hands and the cloth slowly makes their way down your legs massaging them as they go. A light massage is given to your feet as well before he finishes and pats you dry with a towel before he deems your body clean.

"Beloved, open your mouth wide."

He orders next, your mind too fuzzy to think of what else could be doing. You hear more water then feel a hand on your chin. "I'm going to brush your teeth darling." Then light scrubbing of your teeth and tongue can be felt, he is thorough with this area too. Not wanting to be the reason you have cavities he takes his time. Not too long later he finishes with you. You can hear things being put away and muffled sounds of him walking around you, maybe inspecting you. Before he stops in front and,

"Beloved, open your eyes and stand up. Its time to go to bed."

You're led back into the bedroom now that he is satisfied that you are clean. "Beloved, are you ready to sleep?"

Compelled to answer, you do. "yes"

"Beloved, do you want to sleep with me?"

"Yes"

"Good, let's get to sleep then shall we."

The sounds of fabric and draws is all you hear for a moment before he guides you into bed with him.

"Beloved, lay down."

When he's satisfied you are comfortable You feel his soft skin against yours, the wings on his head lightly brushing your face in reverence before he pulls them back. It isn't often he blesses you with his naked body, the vulnerability gets to him at times.

Once you've laid down and he's pulled you close he asked one more question.

"Beloved, are you ready to be released from hypnosis?"

"Yes"

As the words leave your lips he begins the incantation to remove his influence on your mind.

"Oh triple faced soul, this one has completed this ones tasks and can now be freed from the shackles of my control with no burden."

Everything goes still as your senses return slowly, reacclimating you to reality. A few minutes pass of him softly stroking your head and neck while you come back to him.

"Thank you Sunday" a soft whisper conveying how grateful you are before you promptly pass out the exhaustion and relaxation hitting you full force as you melt into the bed and his arms.

"Oh my beloved, I'd do anything to see you happy and relaxed like this more often. I am grateful for all you do for me so it's only natural. I love you, so much my beloved."

He whispers to your sleeping self, pressing small kisses to your forehead, cheeks and nose. Watching the small twitches at the contact makes his evening and he feels like he too can finally relax.

#hsr x reader #hsr sunday #hsr sunday x reader #sunday x reader #honkai star rail x reader #i needed fluffy hypnosis so i wrote it myself yay #i headcanon him as someone who would excessively use pet names because he finds them cute #and a sense of ownership but shush #but hes really just a tired dude whose life is spiralling out of control and i just want to hug him and stroke his wings #maybe reverse comfort for him next #i have a Neuvillette amd a clive rosfield fic in the works #i want to write for Aventurine but im a bit scared #also ratio #i love him more than i did when he was introduced thanks 2.1 #anyway excited for patch 2.2 Sunday. wanna see him go even crazier but also see him nice and relaxed you know?#the duality of man #this isnt my best work ever but im happy ish with it and just want to get it out.#if you do have constructive criticism thats fine please and thank you #they could never make me hate you sunday #i love him even more after 2.2

375 notes · View notes

empressgeekt · 1 year ago

Text

batfam meets the justice league fic idea, where Nightwing convinces the JL that the batfam is the last of the race Gotham bat demons...

made on moble so sorry in advance.

Okay so it starts with Batwoman and Nightwing hanging around the watchtower. Eventually someone (most likely either hal or barry) asks how they are related to batman. Batwoman claims to be his sister, and Nightwing obviously says he's his son. When the question of who Nightwing's mom comes up (along with some of the league thinking that Nightwing was an accident, cause they can't see bats settling down), Batwoman simply says, "he doesn't have one."

The convo sudden shifts to the topic of the 'history' and 'biology' of the bat demon race. How they were nearly eradicated by a war with the Amazon's, and Atlantis, only a few really surviving and finding refuge in the caves below Gotham. Hwo they used ancient forgotten magic to remove all memories of this 'war' to keep themselves save. And finally how they reproduce asexually, by reviving the souls of children who were wrongfully killed. Taking the weak dead spirit and carrying them in their own soul until it could put itself back together.

When asked if this was how Nightwing was born, they confirm it.

BW: oh yeah. Actually 'wing was kind of a surprise you could say.

Hal: surprise?

N: YEP! You see I was kinda of dad's first so he really didn't know what he was doing...

BW: and it ended with bossy big brother screaming his head off in an emergence of a batling that he didn't know he was carrying.

Barry: screaming his head off?

N: oh...well the process of soul splitting, emergence, rebirth, whatever you want to call it, includes the host's soul breaking down enough to allow the younger newly revived soul to detach. It's very painful, So I've heard.

BW; so you've heard? Kid please I know you've heard your father when it came to your siblings rebirth.

Needless to say everyone (especially hal and barry), look at Batman the same way for the next few days.

when Bruce confronts his son and cousin, he honestly can't say he hates the idea. UT would throw off any suspicions sound hus true identity. Not mention give him a new way to mess with hal.

The rest of the batfam (let's say standard webcomic cast, with Terry and Matty McGinnis [time traveled/dimensionhopped], along with flashpoint!batman, because they deserve to be in the safe place rhay is the batfam too, for funies), also find this cover story hilarious, and spend all of dinner adding to the bat-demon mythos.

Thomas would've been the last surviving member of the demon army, who retreated and sought refuge in Gotham, along with his human turned immortal companion of Alfred. Bruce, Kate, and Luke (batwing) would his 'children'.

The normal children would all still be Bruce's. Inculding spoiler, as why she claims she isn't Bruce's daughter, she isn't passing up the chance to mess with the JL.

Eventually the idea gets suggested that they should trick the JL into believing that Batman is pregnant with a new batling. The prank idea slowly snowballs from there and Bruce is unable to stop it. So he agrees to join in, ans rhe prank planninf begins. Matty immediately volunteers to be the new batling, because he technically the youngest and doesn't have a vigilante alter ego yet.

The prank starts out slow. Batwoman and Nightwing increase their visits to the watchtower? Specially when batman is there and they are usually in the same room as him.

Bruce pretends to be more tired often, even pretending to take a nap, where the JL can find him. He also fakes head aches.

Eventually Clark asks him if he's alright. And Nightwing responds with

N: of course he's not. He's working too hard.

B: Nightwing...

N: there's a reason me and aunt BW following you, and it's so you don't over do it!

B: nightwing...

N: even grandfather is worried.

B: Nightwing. I have been through this 8 times already. I think I know my limits. Besides your grandfather has always been worried over the thought of a new spawn in the house.

Clark: !!!!

Once more things around batman grow awkward for the next few weeks.

The end of the fic would be the JL visiting the "bat domain" to meet Matty dressed up in a mask and brightly colored suit. And finding out about the literal small army that batman's been building. Not to mention cameo of Thomas in his bat suit scaring the living crap out if the justice league, and having the time of his life.

Edit: Alright its official, this is going to be my holiday special for this year. So, around Christmas time I'll post a link so yall can read this.

Edit 2: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51963331/chapters/131402920

Happy holidays! hears and early present!

#justice league #batfamily #humor #crack fic #Justice league meets batfamily #batfam #batdad #batkids #I don't know why my brain came up with this #thomas wayne #terry mcginnis #matt mcginnis #flashpoint batman #Let these guys be a happy family that enjoys screwing with their dads coworkers

582 notes · View notes

helloyellowsunflower · 27 days ago

Text

♤⊰•˚₊‧. 𝔻𝕖𝕦𝕔𝕖 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤.‧₊˚•⊱♠︎

!!Possible Spoilers for White Rabbit Fest!!!

Confession:

It takes a while before he gathers the courage to confess. You are a very dear friend of his and he doesn’t want to lose you. However, he can’t stand having to pretend that he doesn’t have any feelings for you either.

And so, fueled by his determination (and eager to prove Ace that he is not, in fact, a chicken),he decides to ask you out.

Needless to say, it doesn’t go as planned.

At first it looks like he wants to run away, but he reminds himself that he has to do this. And so, he starts talking:

At first it looks like he’s reciting a text by heart while he’s looking straight into your eyes, which, let’s face it; is a bit awkward! But by the half of it, he’s lost all of his bravado and begins stuttering and tumbling over his words only to finish bowing and saying: “...So please go out with me!”

Poor man is a tomato, standing there fidgeting while he waits for your answer. Oh Sevens, please say yes

When you agree to go out with him it’s like someone told him he wouldn’t need to go to Crewel’s classes anymore. My god he looks so happy. If the look of sheer adoration in his eyes is anything to go by, I’d say you just made him the happiest man in all Twisted Wonderland.

First date:

You know Deuce strives to be a model student, a better version of himself; so he wants your first date to be perfect. Or as perfect as it’s going to get.

Since his budget is limited, you’ll probably go to the town’s library or to a free access art exhibition; or if you prefer to do something outdoors, you’ll probably go for a picnic in a nice park (with food made with the help of Trey and Cater, who did not trust Deuce around the kitchen or Ace and Riddle to help) or walk around town window shopping.

If you do end up in town, he’ll probably use this as an opportunity to show you to his favourite blastcycle shop, showing off his knowledge of the various models and characteristics. If only his ability for memorising history events and dates was as good as this.

He’s sorry he can’t take you anywhere fancy, but he swears that when he’s saved up enough he’ll take you to the cinema or to a nice restaurant; and if you’d like to, he’ll give you flowers.

Anniversary + Love languages:

Cater told him that forgetting your anniversary was the equivalent of saying you wanted to break up, so Deuce made sure he marked down in his calendar the day of your first date to celebrate the following year. It gives him something to look forward to, celebrating one year together. Plus, having it written down acts like a little reminder of why he’s improving himself (along with this mother’s birthday and the day he was told he was accepted at Night Raven College).

He takes your anniversary very seriously, and he’ll spend weeks saving up so he can get something nice for you; even if you tell him he doesn’t need to give you anything.

Deuce strikes me as someone who expresses his affection with acts of service and gifts because he finds it easier to show his appreciation for others that way since words evade him sometimes. He might not be very good at giving others compliments, but if you need a helping hand, he’ll always be there for you; and if he knows you want something, he’ll do his best so that you can have it.

As for him, I think he would enjoy quality time and words of affirmation over anything else. He won’t say no to a hug or a small present, but he values greatly when others set some time aside for him since he knows that most around him are very busy people. He also knows that he’s not perfect,that he makes a lot of mistakes, so when someone tells him he’s doing great or even good he feels all fuzzy inside. Please keep complimenting him when he gets something right, he loves feeling like he’s made progress from how he was before.

Arguments

Unfortunately, your views and personality can clash sometimes, leading to disagreements that have escalated once or twice.

Arguments between you two are not very common though since you do your best to communicate your feelings and your reasons for doing things a certain way so even if you don’t always end up agreeing on what you’re doing you both learn to compromise. However, due to Deuce’s hot headed nature and impulsiveness, things can get a bit out of control.

On those rare occasions, you both decide to spend some time apart to cool off and try to think things rationally. Deuce spends that time reflecting on his actions and what has caused him to act the way he has. Again, he is trying his best to be better, so he has done a bit of research on how to de-escalate arguments as well as keeping his anger under control, finding better outlets you know?

It is possible that during that time you see him venting his anger by aggressively painting all Heartstabyul roses red.

Going to the White Rabbit fest

You’ve already gone together when you went with Silver and Epel to visit Deuce’s hometown to help out his mom, but this year’s the first you’ll be going together. Which, come to think of it, doesn’t make that much of a difference, oh well.

I mean, the only difference will be that Deuce’s mom will tease the hell out of his son (she loves him to bits) and use this as an opportunity to dig out every photo album she has to show you; Deuce’s first White Rabbit fest, his looks when he still had his hair dyed…

She insists on taking your picture, wanting to commemorate the moment and while she won’t refuse you helping her out at her stall like last year, she wants you to have fun and enjoy your time at the festival; maybe get a nice clock or a watch or something if you didn’t get to last year.

58 notes · View notes

cheapshrimpysheep · 2 years ago

Text

First Date - Octavinelle

SUMMARY: What would your first date with him be like? I know first dates might not go so well, but let's pretend these are different. ;)

CHARACTERS: Azul Ashengrotto; Jade Leech & Floyd Leech

TAGS: Fluf; GN Reader; Flirting; Kissing

WARNING: Spoilers from Book 3

WORD COUNT: An average of 650 words per character.

Heartslabyul / Savanaclaw / Octavinelle / Scarabia / Pomefiore / Ignihyde / Diasomnia

COMMENTS: I got a little block a little bit with Floyd's part. There were so many crazy and not so crazy possibilities. Azul's was the "easiest" because he's one of my favourites.

I hope you enjoy ;)

Your date would be dinner at Mostro Lounge. Why? What better place to show off and be in control than the place where you are literally the boss? Azul is in complete control of the situation there. And he can even create a new menu just for you to make sure it's perfect and everything goes smoothly.

As for Jade and Floyd, he'll find a way to get rid of them that day. Even if it has to be through bribery.

Needless to say, you'll feel like a real VIP. I mean, you're the boss's date. You would be at the best table, right next to the large window overlooking the beautiful seabed. The menu of the day is full of your favourite dishes, drinks and desserts. Some of them you never even mentioned to him...

You can choose whatever you like, all on the house. And if you need anything, Azul will simply snap his fingers and an Octavinelle student will appear. In summary: Azul will completely spoil you!

Azul likes to talk. And he loves talking to you. Before, you would be more careful about what you tell him. But now that you know he likes you, and you yourself know more about Azul than most other people, you know he'll still try to make deals with you, but this time they won't be “evil” deals. Maybe the next deal is another date?

You know the Azul behind that charismatic smile. The sensitive boy who was once a "Crybaby". But whenever you approach that side of him, he will deflect the conversation and change the subject, smoothly. That side of him is not for the public.

At the end of the pleasant dinner, he will invite you to the VIP Room. He doesn't hide the fact that it's because he wants to be alone with you for a while. He'll open the door for you and close it behind him after you both enter. He asks you to sit on one of the sofas and he sits next to you. He could put his arm on the back of the couch behind you, but that's not really his style. Tho, he's very close to you.

“Did you enjoy your dinner, my pearl?” Azul asks you with his charismatic smile.

“Of course I did. How could it not be a wonderful dinner after all your work? And that's why I want to know if you enjoyed it. Weren't you too busy trying to please me, to please yourself?”

“Of course not. I was overjoyed to have dinner with you.” No one but those close to him could have known that he wasn't telling the whole truth. And you’re extremely close to him.

You caress his cheek. “I don't doubt you. But I also know you. At times, weren't you too concerned about maintaining your confident boss image?” His shoulders sag a little. “I understand you doing this in front of other students. But you don't have to go through with it when it's just the two of us.” You smile. He sighs, his charismatic smile relaxes and his eyes soften.

He takes off his hat, puts his arms around your waist and hugs you as he lays his head on your shoulder. You feel him relaxing. “Why don't you let me keep my best side for you?” He whispers close to your neck.

“I love all your sides, Azul. Especially this one, to be honest.” You say, stroking his hair and kissing his forehead. He lifted his head, your noses practically touching.

“That makes me wonder if there is any side of you I still don't know about.” He lifts your chin a little with his index finger and thumb. “And that can make me love you even more.” Will you allow him to kiss you tenderly?

Are you surprised that Jade tucked this opportunity to make you go Mountain Hiking with him? If you already like hiking in the mountains, perfect for both of you. If not, don't worry, he’ll go at your pace. And if you get really tired, chances are he'll be cheeky enough to ask if you want him to carry you in his arms.

He will stop from time to time to observe and pick mushrooms. And if you allow him to, he will tell you all the facts and curiosities he knows, not only about mushrooms but also about other types of flora in the region. As you two are alone, and to ask you on a date is because he trusts you, he’ll allow himself to show you his enthusiastic side. It can be slightly scary.

When he sees berries he will tell you about them and pick some to give you to taste. When you look at him suspiciously, he will laugh and eat him first to prove to you that they are safe. He respects your distrust, you are no longer innocent enough to fall for the deceptions of others and that's good. Octavinelle taught you well.

If it's the first time you're tasting a berry he has given you. Maybe some type of berry that doesn't exist in your world, for example. He'll watch you as you eat with a smile, waiting to see your reaction. It is possible that you feel like a lab rat. Even after watching him eat the same type of berry. He is amused by your reactions, good or bad.

If you have to cross a river, something like walking over a log, he'll help you cross. Although... balancing on a log is a bit difficult, especially for someone who's only had legs for a year or two. So, even though he gave you confidence, the truth is that he didn't even know if he himself would be able to walk over the log. And there are great chances that you two will lose your balance and fall into the river. Fortunately, it's not very deep. Jade will laugh a lot and comment that even you, who have had legs since birth, couldn't balance. He'll help you out of the water and use fire magic to dry you both out.

He wants to take you to a specific place he knows. When you are getting closer, he will slow down and suggest that you walk the rest of the way hand in hand so that you can lean on him. He takes you to a beautiful point where you can see the rest of the mountain. A beautiful expanse of green under a blue sky. He'll let go of your hand without you noticing, leaving you to enjoy the view for a moment. When he asks you to turn around, you will see him sitting on a picnic blanket.

He cooked it all. And again, he eats first so you can see he's not playing a trick on you. Until you eat a slice of pie and say it's delicious in a squeaky voice like you've breathed in helium. He'll chuckle in the same squeaky voice, since he ate a slice too, before you did. But he didn't say anything on purpose.

“JADE!” you complain.

“Fu fu fu. Please forgive me.” He's trying not to laugh too much at your voice, or his own voice. “But I found this recipe and couldn't resist figuring out what your voice would sound like. Fu fu. Although you are upset with me, I am not sorry. It's actually delightful listening to your voice like that... Pf... Ha ha ha.” He can no longer resist laughing at his own voice. “But this pie also has another property. I have heard that if two people who ate this kind of food kiss each other, their lips will glow. Would you like to find out if it's true?”

You want to go on a date? Um... Ok, Floyd is in the mood, so let's go. Yes, now. He's in the mood for a date and you can't know when he will be in it again. But you don't have plans? You make them along the way. C'mon Koebi-chan~.

He asks you if there is any rules for dates on land or something like that. You say there are clichés, but not necessarily rules. The important thing is that both people enjoy it. That's great! He hates being bound by rules. “You like to swim right?” He asks. You answer yes suspiciously. “Then, let's go for a Swiiiiiiiim!” He takes your hand and starts walking towards Octavinelle. Your panic is cute and funny.

He didn't just take your hand, he laced his fingers through yours. After all, you were on a date and people do that on a date, right? Despite his taste for squeezing, you feel an unusual firm gentleness in his fingers.

He was actually taking you to Mostro Lounge. He was telling you about some kind of secret passage that led you out there to the bottom of the sea. You start telling him about you not being a merfolk, you can't breathe underwater! “Uuuuum...? Are you sure about that?” Of course you were sure! “But haven't you already did it once?” He was smiling at you, he was really amused by your panic.

You finally realize he was referring to the potion Azul gave you when you made that deal to save the NRC students. He breaks down laughing when he sees your face when you realize this. And if you act sulky or slightly upset that he scared you, he'll think that's cute.

He asks Azul for that potion again. After a discussion about: "Do you think these potions are sold somewhere? Or that they are cheap?" Somehow, Azul gives him the potion. They speak the same language after all. And I'm referring to the language of deals.

He gives you the potion and leads you into the kitchen. At the back of the kitchen, well hidden is a small round door, which you have to crouch down to get through. Opening it, there it is, the bottom of that sea. A magical barrier prevents water from entering, but don't prevents anything else from entering or leaving. he tells you to drink the potion and go first. If you ask why... He needs to take off his clothes to turn into a merman, remember?

You do it and you appreciate that for a moment. Until you feel something pass you by very fast. “Baaa!” He surprises you with his cute baa, not the scary one. He's really excited to finally swimming with you. He would prefers to see you in merfolk form, but that would do for now.

He enjoys watching you swim, you do it in such a goofy way, it's funny. He messes with you a lot while you guys swim around. He also thinks it's funny how amazed you are at things he's so used to. Maybe he'll tell you things about the Coral Sea or show you things about the sea in general the you can find there in the Octavinelle sea. If what he tells you is truth or not, you're not sure.

And, after some time, like out of nowhere: “Oi, Koebi-chan...” he’ll wrap around your legs with his tail, embrace you with his arms and bring his face close to yours “I'm tired of swimmin’ around.” he pouts and then smiles, his eyes are cute but his smile is mischievous, one of his scary faces “And you still haven't paid me for getting you that potion.” he sees that you got a little scared and his normal happy face comes back “Hehehe. Don't be so scared. You don't have to pay me with money, that more an Azul thing. And it's boooooriiing. I'll let you pay me with some kisses. Landfolk also kiss on dates right? Koebi-chan~”

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

#Twisted Wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst wonderland #twst fluf #Twisted Wonderland Fluf #Azul Ashengrotto #Azul Ashengrotto x Reader #Azul x Reader #Jade Leech #Jade Leech x Reader #Jade x Reader #Floyd Leech #Floyd Leech x Reader #Floyd x Reader

940 notes · View notes

kirbybecomesastarwarrior · 3 months ago

Note

Why doesn't Marx want Kirby to forgive him, is it just the guilt thing?

Long story short, this is a combination of "the fear of getting hurt/rejected" & "shame and guilt," which results in self-sabotaging, but the main reason is...

HAMELIN REALLY MESSED UP MARX!

So, like Kirby with Cappytown... Marx was Hamelin's hero, but they betrayed him and thus turned to the dark side.

This all ties into his initial hatred for Kirby... he's very much angry at his former self for being so foolishly naive, and Kirby's good nature is too reminiscent of his former self.

That also makes it the main reason he could never truly hate Kirby... a younger self that he can't help but connect with. Leading to his "fake friend act" to accidentally grow to care for him and actually want him as a friend.

However, Marx knows he deceives Kirby the same way the people of Hamelin did to him... "pretending they cared for him." Using the very same methods, the townsfolk did to him... ("became what he hated")

This is why Marx doesn't have the heart to forgive himself... even though Kirby was always ready to forgive him and welcome him back with open arms. Because he knows he can never forgive the people of Hamelin... Why should Kirby? And, of course, he does!

The restoration of a friendship between Marx & Kirby happens~, But unlike the people of Hamelin, Kirby has this unconditional love for Marx and wants more than anything to have him back in his life.

I'd say these events happened after Planet Robboot... Marx finally makes his return and "saves Kirby?!" (I'm not gonna reveal from what because of spoilers)

With my interpretation of Marx, I wanted to take him into a sympathetic route (to make him stand out from the others). He still has the sass and mischievous charm, but I wanted to give him a proper reason why he is the way he is. It's a more heartfelt version of Marx that Kirby would want to be friends with and him in turn.

Marx represents "self-worth"; if people don't appreciate or treat you the way you deserve, then they don't deserve you. (Minus the piping all the Dark Matter back into the town as revenge...) KNOW YOUR WORTH AS A PERSON PEOPLE!

And he stands as one of the main reasons why Kirby ultimately chooses to become a star warrior. Moved out of the Popstar to travel and pursue his aspirations & dreams.

Please keep reading for spoilers & quick bonus comic~

So Arthur pretty much reveals Marx's backstory to the rest of the Kirby gang... and needless to say, they're speechless!

He still doesn't want to be forgiven, so he stays with Magolor (which I cover here with Magolor's lore), but yeah, of course, Marx opened up to Mags about Hamelin. And that's why Mags is there, while Kirby & Marx are back in his place telling his story to Kirby. (Kirby saw it because of "empathic touch" but didn't know the exact details of it..)

And Dragato, yeah, he was already on his redemption arc (Falspar's already went through his with Fluff, so he's there for moral support, plus it's the reason why Arthur partnered up together).... he already knew he messed up. But now, hearing the full story that he was, not only did he fall for the people of Hamelin's lies, but... MARX WAS THEIR HERO. (I know kinda of shoehorned the crew for the sake of missing the gang, I just missed them I had to...)

There's actually a small bit of tragedy... while the adults sold Marx out, the children who really loved him would've vouched for him... it'll tie back into his character later.

And I know it seems like I'm painting Dragato in such a bad light, but it's part of his character development. And for those of you who don't know... HIS MENTOR WAS DAME MORGAN (LE FAYE)! So yeah, high standards, little affection, never impressed~

Which is why I still need to establish her a bit more! More Morgan coming up soon

I'm trying to get to the old asks I wasn't able to answer before (since I was still developing the lore...) And I just need a little break from the tournament plus, I've been working on some Kirfluff stuff for Oct.: Kirfluff week!

Also, little funny side notes and gags' "Hero to Zero... Hercules" reference and Mag's little side comment. Based on the meme, "you ruined a perfectly good child..."

So, hope you guys enjoyed it!

#kbasw #kirby #marx #kirby marx #kirby super star ultra #kirby anime #meta knight #king dedede #bandee #magolor #anon ask #sir arthur kirby #sir falspar #sir dragato #bandana dee #kbasw answers #kirby right back at ya #hoshi no kaabii

62 notes · View notes

vagabond-umlaut · 2 years ago

Text

paper planes

brother to fushiguro tsumiki. (unofficially adopted) son to gojo satoru and you. nephew to a host of sorcerer uncles and aunts. (unwilling) assistant to the white-haired idiot. and, finally, ringbearer at your and gojo's still-undetermined wedding.

one teeny-tiny boy with one too many identity is what fushiguro megumi is - until he isn't. with lots and lots of sniffles and sniggers...

▸ gojo satoru x fem! reader; established relationship; post hidden inventory arc; manga spoilers; proposals; adoptions; alternate universe happy for everyone except toji lovers (sorry ＞︿＜)

▸ two fics in a week, wow. guess this is what is called a brainrot, huh? read this post by @/mintmatcha on tumblr and started writing this lol. but the plot of this story is miles, tons, eons away from that post, i swear. also, this fic is set in the same universe as blue hawaii but you need not read that first to read this. treat this as a stand-alone if you wanna! 😊 anyways, gif, divider and characters ain't mine. please don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

"yeah, yeah, i've got it all planned."

a discreet eye roll is all megumi gives as he goes through the menu card in his hands. a little distance away, he can spy tsumiki and you seated at a table, you tying his sister's long hair into braids while the latter laughs, probably at a joke you cracked.

a tiny smile rests on the little boy's face at the sight - which vanishes when he feels a large hand tousle his hair. you had spent hours and hours righting his hair into a proper shape; why must this idiot always mess everything up?

megumi looks up to find his guardian looking down at him with a shit-eating grin; though he can clearly see the nerves it's covering.

idiot.

phone wedged in between his ear and shoulder, gojo mutters a "one sec, suguru," and crouches down to the boy's eye level. the latter gives back an unimpressed stare.

"decided what you wanna have, 'gumi? remember mom and sis there asked you to choose for them today."

megumi feels an urge to say you two aren't his real parents - but stamps it down instantly. the both of you have been as good as real parents can be to their kids - or maybe even better. the boy has read books, watched movies and listened to his classmates talk about their families; the tiny urchin-head knows.

with a huff, he points at the double chicken fillet burger box - it's tsumiki's favourite and you too don't seem to dislike it. with a nod, gojo rises and placing his orders, returns to the call, beaming expression again directed at megumi.

"yeah, yeah, don't worry, man," he speaks into the phone, then drops his volume to a mere whisper, "'my little kiddo here is a born actor. he remembers the entire plan, step by step - don't you, buddy?"

megumi gives an imperceptible nod, itching back to get back to the table. he already would have - needless to say, the little munchkin prefers your company to gojo's, way way more - but their orders have not been delivered yet and the boy promised to be-

a little tap on the shoulder draws him from his musings and he cranes his neck up to find gojo frowning. "no, megumi didn't want to discuss the plan with me before leaving. no, he doesn't like you better- hey," the man looks at him, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose revealing his indignant gaze, "you wanna discuss with uncle suguru one last time?"

an indifferent shrug is all the reply he gives.

while uncle suguru isn't the best uncle he has, he isn't the worst either. the others are- oh, wait. the others include uncle kento and uncle yu. they are literal angels compared to him. so... maybe... he is the worst... never mind. it's too late to back out anyways.

grumbling, gojo hands him the phone. "hello uncle," megumi greets just like you and tsumiki have taught him to. the man behind mutters something along the lines of ''traitor" or something; the boy pays him no mind.

"hey champ," the voice floats over the line, pleasant, kind and the way people talk to babbling babies. megumi's bored face turns irritated. "let's discuss the semantics one last time before boarding your flight, okay?"

"yeah, okay," megumi says, and casting a sideways glance at his bundle-of-nerves guardian, continues, "we're going to reykjavik," he looks at gojo, silently asking if he pronounced it correctly. the man sends him a thumbs-up with an encouraging grin.

the kid continues, "the plane will land at noon day after tomorrow, which is mom's birthday. first, we will go to the hotel. then, after resting, in the evening, we will head out in a car to watch the northern lights. and then-"

"-when it's the right moment, your dad will pop the question to your mom and you'll click the camera. got it, mr. future ringbearer?" finishing the rest of the sentence for him, the man at the other end asks, sounds of pans clacking and food sizzling in the background. nana-chan and mimi-chan must have woken up.

megumi nods. "yeah, got it, mr. future best man."

a chuckle comes in response to his comment. "you're a lot like your mom, y'know?"

"yeah," he mumbles, waving back to you and tsumiki, a little smile on his otherwise-impassive-but-always-adorable face, "i know."

"good," the man says, then pauses when a loud crash booms through the air and through the phone, a set of two wailing voices following it not soon after. megumi can quite literally picture the wincing frown his uncle is wearing as he says the next words in a hurry, "okay, 'gumi. talk to you later. bye, and best of luck! satoru's counting on his little assistant."

"yeah, thanks," he responds but is too late - the call is already cut by then.

giving the phone back to gojo, who's tapping his sneakers-clad feet on the floor, he looks back ahead, wondering when the hell heck their token number will be displayed and when they will get their food.

to the kid's great relief, it doesn't take a lot of time.

before long, the four of you are seated around the table, gojo stealing a sip from your drink and you stealing fries from him, all the while tsumiki giggles loudly at your antics. megumi smiles, before he hides it behind the burger which he takes a bite from.

the four of you really look like a family, don't you?

"hey, guys, can i have your attention for a sec, please?" your sudden question startles him from his mind. the boy turns to find you with your usual grin, albeit a smidgen of anxiety can be found in the way your fingers drum on the table.

megumi shares a look with tsumiki and gojo. they look as confused as he feels. "do i have your attention, people?" you ask again, manner growing a tad solemn unlike your usual, though the affection is still evident in your tone.

gojo and tsumiki nod immediately. you turn to him, gently smiling, "can i have your attention too, 'gumi? please?"

the boy nods his head instantly. "yeah, yeah. sure," he replies, scooting his chair closer to yours. you send him a relieved smile. "good, 'cause what i'm going to say next is very important. so, listen to me carefully, 'kay?"

all three of them are eager to nod in affirmation and anticipation.

scouring through your backpack, you retrieve a couple of pretty important-looking papers, and placing them back on the table, clasp your hands atop them. the kid spots gojo shoot you a worried look to which you respond with a reassuring smile.

the man's frown fades a little.

gaze now darting from one kid to another, you begin, "you two know, right, we love you very much?"

"yeah!" tsumiki exclaims, but is quick to fall silent when megumi shoots her a glare. you proceed, lips pressing into a thin line, "but we cannot adopt you two, in spite of how much all us want it to happen. we tried to, many, many times. but those higher-ups just won't let us do that."

a second passes - one wherein his young brain registers your words - before, lower lip wobbling, the boy casts his gaze down upon his light-up sneakers.

is this where you'll say he'll be sent to those zen'ins? away from his sister? away from you and gojo? away from all his uncles, aunts, nana-chan and mimi-chan?

megumi feels a hand card through his locks gently. looking up, he finds you with a soft smile. "but the thing is 'toru and i didn't let them defeat our purpose. we thought, you two can choose to be my clan's wards. not 'toru's, because of fucking - sorry, please forget i said that word - i meant, idiotic clan politics. so, what do you think?"

megumi turns to his sister, a pensive look plastered on her face the way it is on his. gojo adds, a tender smile in place of his usual stupid grin, "no pressure, kids. the both of us won't love you two any less and will be equally fine in case you choose not to."

"you guys can take how much ever time you need to think. there's no hurry," megumi hears you say, your warm hand rubbing circles on his back, as he turns back to his half-eaten burger.

a long moment passes.

passengers enter the cafeteria, they leave the cafeteria. the four of you remain seated, quietly munching on your food.

the boy finally removes his gaze from his now-empty tray and sends an inquiring, confused, hopeful look to his sister. tsumiki smiles back with a tiny nod. the little kid feels his heart burst with joy.

"we want to," the two of them answer in unison, and within a fraction of a second, megumi finds himself swept up in a warm hug alongside his sister, by you. "thank you for giving me, for giving us a chance," he hears you mutter quietly in a tear-choked voice. the boy simply pats your back the way you do to him. he soon feels another set of arms wrap around the three of you.

megumi thinks he has never felt happier or safer than in this moment.

a while passes with the four of you in this manner, enwrapped in an embrace, before you all finally pull away from each other.

the boy returns to his seat, rubbing his eyes. a minute passes in composing all of yourselves before you state, munching on another fry, "so, step one, including tsumiki and megumi into my legal family is done and successful. thank you, my loves."

tsumiki beams back at you; megumi returns a tiny smile. you grin at them - which, the kid watches, turns slyer as you switch your focus to your boyfriend.

the little boy stares at you, then stifles a snicker - he thinks he has a pretty good idea of what's gonna happen next. his gut instincts are rarely wrong, after all.

"but, 'toru..." you drawl, grin giving way to a smirk as gojo smiles back - perplexed but loving all the same. "for the step two, making you my legal family too, guess i need to wait to say 'yes' until the northern lights viewing two days later... don't i?"

a beat passes, then another, and another.

a loud gasp sounds from tsumiki. megumi turns to his dad - who's gaping wide-eyed at his mom now, the man's face whiter than his ugly hair - and smirks. just like the imp the goggles-wearing idiot always calls him at home, despite you repeatedly telling him not to.

gojo looks back at him, shock written on, engraved into his features.

"though i didn't really help you propose, i'm still the ringbearer, right?"

▸ masterlist

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk fics #jjk imagines #gojo drabbles #gojo fics #gojo imagines #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #kit posts 📝

787 notes · View notes

milla984 · 1 year ago

Text

And in the Beginning...

Summary: after spending a day at D.C.’s most renowned multifandom convention Spencer and Garcia stop for a coffee. Spoiler alert - our fave Resident Genius dumps their order on Reader.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader (Reader is a sci-fi buff)

Category: fluff

TW/CW: swearing, mentions of food, some Star Wars-related talk

Word Count: 2k

Once again, a ginormous THANK YOU to @drgenius-reid for taking the time to beta-read the first draft (aka witnessing the horror)!

The following work is my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins' CM Meet Cute (or not) Challenge and is also part of the series Spencer Reid, my beloved

“Highlight of the day?! Jamie Hewlett signing my copy of The Cream of Tank Girl! In you face, Mr. 'Superman Can Fly'...!”

The woman carrying a Chinese paper umbrella rummaged through her purse to retrieve a wallet and pay at the coffee truck parked outside the convention center; stylish two-tone glasses matched the army green jumpsuit with a teddy bear patch on her right leg and the blue mandarin collar button-down shirt she was wearing, and her blond hair was tied up in a pair of small side buns.

The tall man beside her chuckled as he picked up two cups. “I don’t know if I should be more impressed or worried.”

“Why?! We made a deal and it’s perfect: he can have Sci-Fi-Gate, I’m keeping WashCon.”

“Sci-Fi-Gate has amazing Star Trek guests, though…”

A long and colorful scarf was wrapped around his neck and a deep red cravat necktie peeked out of the hem of a plaid design vest, combined with a single-breasted brown coat and a pair of grey pants.

“I can't believe you would really choose the Captains of the Enterprise panel over my emotional stability,” she frowned, paying zero attention to the cosplayer in a trenchcoat with a pair of black wings attached to their back she was about to brush past.

When the feathers smacked her cheek she pulled back, the tips of her umbrella almost poking the tall guy dressed as Doctor Who in the eye; the sudden movement startled the cosplayer and a rapid swing of their dark wings created a commotion in the crowd of people waiting for their turn to order. In the confusion that followed, a random shoulder bumped into yours and pushed you out of the line and off the sidewalk, right in front of the Fourth Doctor - who was struggling to maintain his Fedora in place and watch where he was going at the same time.

Needless to say, he ended up failing at both.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” the blond woman asked.

“I’m so sorry, SO SO SORRY—” the tall guy apologized simultaneously and she cut him off, rushing to your side.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

The frantic exchange prompted your brain to whoosh into light speed mode to elaborate and discharge the ‘Ah, shit!!’ and ‘wait… is this iced macchiato?!?!’ inputs in favor of a more suitable reaction at the sight of the considerable amount of caffeine soaking your hoodie.

“... I think I’m okay.”

“First-aid manuals suggest removing all clothes or jewelry near the affected area within moments after the spillage of a hot liquid,” the tall guy said, and the woman gasped in shock.

“Please tell me you didn’t get burned! Once I got this non-fat steamed white chocolate vani—”

“I’m fine,” you growled a bit.

Someone behind you was snickering and, despite the relief of not having sustained serious injuries, the attention was already making you feel uncomfortable.

“Scalds are caused by sources of humid heat and certain types of fibers retain the water, which can be responsible for additional damage to the skin,” the tall guy explained again, speaking faster than anyone you had ever heard.

You tucked your shirt in your jeans and raised an eyebrow in his direction. “Let me guess: you’re a doctor.”

“Well… uhm, yes, this is my…” he faltered, unable to tell if you were referencing his costume as a pun or not. “I am, actually.”

“Not that kind of doctor,” the woman added.

She sighed as soon as she realized you were standing there speechless, drenched in coffee, your gaze wandering back and forth between them. “I’m so sorry…”

“They should be more careful with the lids. I think I got lucky,” you muttered through gritted teeth as you pulled the zip down.

Thanks to the decision to splurge some money on yourself, earlier on, you had something to replace your soiled hoodie with. The Fourth Doctor looked away and focused his attention on the cups he was still holding in his hands; before he threw them in the nearest trashcan he inspected their content, confirming he’d fortunately spilled on you a combination of 98% half-caf iced caramel macchiato and just 2% regular hot americano.

The woman was still clasping the handle of her umbrella. “Listen, we were about to check out this itsy-bitsy lovely Indian place ‘round the corner, maybe you should come with us. You know… to try and get cleaned up a little.”

You dug into the shopping bag at your feet, taking a sealed package out to rip the plastic film wrapped around a brown sweatshirt with a stylized front print of the panoramic view of the desert, Jabba the Hutt’s palace and twin suns on Tatooine, and put it on.

“No offense, but my parents taught me to never follow strangers.”

“None taken,” the tall guy replied, “they were absolutely right. According to the National Missing and Unidentified Persons System, about 90,000 individuals are reported missing in the U.S. every year and the National Institute of Justice estimates that approximately 4,400 unidentified bodies are recovered annually.”

For the second time in less than five minutes, you considered the possibility he could truly be from Gallifrey. You also wondered if he was aware of his perfect facial structure: everything about his demeanor indicated he wasn’t too skilled in the art of charming people using his sculpted jawline and lean figure.

“... do you always quote statistics about murders and kidnappings like it’s a casual topic of conversation?”

His eyes got even bigger, showing a hint of gold on the inside. “It was merely an observation—”

“Yeah, he… does that,” the woman came to his rescue, “and even if it sounds bad, trust me it’s- it's part of his job. Our job. Except, I don’t deal with the scary, disturbing, yucky stuff.”

Your question wasn’t meant to come out in such a sarcastic tone. “You’re cops?!”

“FBI. Tech Analyst and Behavioral Analysis Unit,” she explained, and the tall guy waved a silent greeting at you.

Even though the chance of running into the Bureau personnel stationed in D.C., at some point, wasn’t unreasonable, ‘two FBI agents walk into a multifandom convention dressed as characters from sci-fi TV shows’ could have easily been the beginning of a bad joke.

Plus, it was hard to picture the Fourth Doctor as a G-Man. “What’s your Ph.D. in, exactly?”

“I have a Ph.D. in Mathematics. And Chemistry, and Engineering. And I hold BAs in Psychology, Sociology and Philosophy.”

“Google him. Spencer Reid, B-A-U,” the woman suggested after a short pause, in response to your skeptical expression.

Judging by her tone she was daring you to, as if the situation wasn’t already giving off major The Twilight Zone vibes… and yet, instead of bidding them an unenthusiastic farewell, you pulled out your phone to type his name.

A plethora of results popped on the screen seconds later, so you first clicked on the link titled BAU’s newest member.

“With three doctorate degrees from Caltech already, and a staggering IQ of 187 as well as an eidetic memory there is no psychological exam or test the FBI could put in front of him he could not ace,” the piece said about newly-recruited Spencer Reid.

“When I ask why he chose Caltech over MIT and Stanford, he quickly runs down a list of Professors he had a desire to study with. He makes no mention of the weather or girls,” an older article reported.

You skipped through at least a dozen mentions of SSA Reid’s outstanding performances in the field, then a PDF document, property of the California Institute of Technology, caught your interest and you read the title aloud.

“Identifying non-obvious relationship—”

“Non-obvious relationship factors using cluster-weighted modeling and geographic regression,” he recited by heart, “that's my Engineering dissertation.”

He was too prepared on the subject and too adorably peculiar to be an impostor posing as a genius FBI agent for kicks, during the weekend; you picked his Fedora off the ground as a peace offering.

“Seems like you’re a wunderkind, Doctor Reid.”

Spencer lowered his chin so he could mask the rush of blood to his cheeks and his friend giggled, gently linking arms with you.

“Now, there’s something relevant we need to discuss, pronto… how do you feel about veg biryani?”

An hour and a half proved to be all the time you needed to form a solid conviction that Spencer Reid going on a spiel about the original blueprints of a fictional space station was the best thing since sliced bread.

“It’s part of the iconic imagery Lucas wanted to establish, there’s no health and safety. And don’t forget it was originally designed by the Geonosians.”

You snorted at the mention of the classic ‘designed by a flying alien species’ argument. “That’s not an excuse! Even if the Geonosians designed it, they knew it was meant to be used by humanoid creatures.”

After leaving the restaurant, where you had insisted on paying for your share - much to Garcia's dismay, you’d walked back to the convention center’s parking lot and now you were waiting by your car for Penelope to get hers. As you had recently discovered, she loved mugs, old Italian movies and playing the ukulele; Spencer wasn’t as outgoing and chatty, especially about his private life, but Star Wars was for sure one of his numerous areas of expertise.

“TIE fighters don’t have a proper defense system and the original prototype even lacked structural integrity to support atmospheric flight. The Empire doesn't care about casualties, it’s safe to think they never bothered to install a guardrail or other appropriate safety measures because to them the Death Star technicians are expendable.”

“Okay… solid theory,” you admitted, making him smile as he wiped his forehead to get rid of a lock of curly hair.

“Thank you. It’s nice to have a discussion with someone who knows about the Geonosians. Or the Death Star. It only happened twice but I’ve had people asking me what that was.”

When the convertible Cadillac with a plastic Hawaiian lei tied to the rear-view mirror stopped inches from you, Garcia - behind the steering wheel - proudly gestured at the extension of her eccentric personality.

“Meet Esther. Isn’t she fab?”

You wolf whistled your appreciation, gliding your fingertips over the leather upholstery and orange body paint. “Quick question: how much do you think I’d get if I sued two FBI agents for… damages, let’s say?!”

Penelope produced a fluffy pen out of the glove compartment and scribbled something on the back of a PetMAC receipt she handed it to you.

“Sweet pea, if I were you I'd settle for a lifetime of free IT support.”

“I’ll take it,” you said, “I’m kind of tired of being bullied by my own laptop.”

She stared at you for a moment before her face lit up, like a girl on a trip to a four-story candy shop. “... have you ever been to Baltimore ComicCon?!” she asked out of the blue while Spencer plopped himself down on the passenger seat.

You shook your head. “Do you guys—”

“We should totally go together!!” Garcia proposed. Or rather, declared.

In all honesty, the prospect of attending another convention on your own was depressing and you’d given up on the one in Maryland for that specific reason; you turned to Spencer for his approval, too, and he nodded, maybe because he knew there was no way of stopping Garcia if she had her mind set on a specific goal.

“Baltimore it is, then…?!”

Penelope shot you a smug grin. “Keep in touch. We still owe you a nice dinner and ComicCon’s not up until September, I’d hate to run a background check on your license plate to find you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the idea and saluted them goodbye as they drove off, Esther’s taillights shining bright red.

What a weird Saturday. Meeting a real life genius and the quirkiest FBI agent ever came with a price, and one of your favorite hoodies was most likely beyond salvaging. You needed to know if Spencer Reid was well worth it.

Garcia’s words then echoed in your ears, so you sat in your car and unlocked your phone, scrolling through the most recent Google searches: you had a lot of reading to do.

@matthew-gray-gubler-lover, @thisiscalmanditsdoctorreid, @pretty-boys-book-club, @spookydrreid, @f-me-reid, @foxy-eva, @scorpiofangirl1109, @a-potato-wearing-plaid, @cynbx, @reidsbookclub, @nagemasstuff, @hotchsdharma, @reidmainbitch, @lizzylynch1, @will-grahams-eyes, @padawancat97

»»»— read pinned post for taglist info —«««

#spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fic #dr spencer reid x reader #my gifs #milla writes stuff #mentioningmargins #there are references from a couple of other tv shows hidden in this work #feel free to let me know if you can find them #quot “i understood that reference”

129 notes · View notes

serial-serializednovelreader · 7 months ago

Text

Nova’s Notes - North and South Weekly - Wk 1

So, today was the first entry of North and South and because of the Droughtula, I’m glad to have a beast of an entry to analyze! Also, as a note, I’m probably not going to quote as much of this, since there is so much of it — I’ll just refer to the part I’m talking about. One more thing: this is my first time reading this book. Feel free to share your responses, but no spoilers please! (I know this is a 100+ year-old book though, so I’ll probably filter tags)

Reading the first long paragraph, we can already get a glimpse of Margaret and Edith’s dynamic. They’re cousins and raised together from childhood and Edith is called pretty by all — except Margaret. But now, Margaret is starting to see her better qualities, since Edith is about to leave her and get married and Margaret is going home to live with her father.

What does that tell me? They may not be on the best of terms (at least on Margaret’s side), but even so, Margaret can’t help but feel sad at the upcoming “loss” of her cousin. There’s more evidence to support this: in later paragraphs, she’s referred to as “spoiled” and weak-willed, though it’s unclear whether that’s Margaret’s opinion or Gaskell’s omniscient opinion (which I think is something to watch out for). Then again, she also refers to her as “dear” and observes that Edith would stay with her fiancé even if someone came along with more money and comfort (since she’s so spoiled). Needless to say, I think Margaret has some complicated feelings.

I believe Margaret sees her for what she is — as spoiled and a bit of a child (which we’ll get to later) — but she’s still her cousin and can only see her as more dear. I love that Gaskell writes about this feeling of idealizing a person more when you know they’re about to leave (moving, marriage, etc.) because, as someone’s who been through this, I can very much relate and I appreciate her writing about this. Even if you’re not on the best of terms, you find yourself missing their annoying mannerisms too (unless they’re like, super bad or something lol)!

Moving on, Margaret overhears her aunt — Mrs. Shaw — talking to her friends about Edith’s marriage and her own marriage. What’s interesting here is that her main concern was making sure a) Edith married someone within her age range (unlike her own marriage) and b) love is of the utmost importance. Obviously, this is something pretty common in today’s society — in fact, it’s encouraged — but I do wonder how this was taken when it was first published. Was the aunt seen as frivolous and privileged, or revolutionary and modern? I did some research and it turns out by the time this was published (1854), this was already a well-established belief. So I guess she was simply echoing what most of society was already thinking!

What does stand out to me is that the aunt does talk about the age difference in her own marriage being a “drawback”. I don’t think I need to discuss how our society views age-gap relationships today (let’s just say it’s a hot topic), but I do find it interesting how very relevant this conversation from Mrs. Shaw still resonates with me so many years later.

However, Gaskell doesn’t seem to hold Mrs. Shaw in the highest regard, either. She describes her as “considering herself a victim to an uncongenial marriage” and now that her husband is dead, tries to find something else to be anxious about. Furthermore, she only does things because someone else wants to (and complains about it) while “all the time she was in reality doing just what she liked”. While these aren’t the worst things ever, I wouldn’t call this a glowing character review either. I would almost compare this to Mr. Woodhouse from Jane Austen’s Emma, who bemoans every little illness and thing that befalls him when he is actually pretty healthy.

Not that she’s seen to be a horrible aunt or mother to Margaret or Edith — it’s pretty evident that she cares for both of them by the way she dotes on Edith and how she took Margaret in as a child (I’m not entirely sure why — I think it was to teach her how to be a lady?). I like that Gaskell is already showing a lot of different sides to these characters!

Margaret is asked to model Edith’s wedding shawls, since she is currently down for a nap. She goes up to the nursery and reflects on when she first came to this house as a child. She was considered a wild thing — playing in the forest and all that. On the first night there, her new nurse already seemed intimidating and the nursery itself more akin to a prison. Poor little Margaret began to cry, but the nurse demands her to stop so as to not “disturb Miss Edith”. Then, she was all the quieter when her father and aunt went to check on her later, since she felt bad for being upset. I can well imagine a child of nine fostering a bit of resentment for her cousin after an introduction like that — not a big one, because I don’t think she’s that kind of character, but just a little one. How would you feel if you were thrust into an unwelcoming environment and told your emotions were a problem? It’s not Edith’s fault, but it’s not Margaret’s either. The upside is their relationship remarkably improved after that and she can look upon the nursery with fondness.

Honestly it gives me the same vibes as Charlotte Brontë’s Villete, which was published almost around the same time (though the roles are reversed in this case). At the beginning of the book, the protagonist, Lucy Snowe, is visiting her godmother but they have a new visitor: Polly. Tensions clash when they both have to stay in the nursery and Lucy sees Polly as a spoiled brat, while Polly sees Lucy as unfeeling and unkind to her. Obviously, not the same situation, but I think it’s a little peek into what this kind of dynamic is like!

Moving on, Margaret models the wedding shawls and they actually seem to fit her better than Edith (she has the height for it). The key point here is that “no one thought about it” though: they don’t seem to notice or appreciate Margaret’s beauty. While Gaskell remarks that Edith is known for her prettiness, the same attention does not seem to be applied to Margaret. I wonder if this will be a running theme? What I do appreciate is that when Margaret looks at herself in the mirror, she smiles and poses — she seems to know her own beauty and be somewhat self-confident, even if others don’t tell her. Or at least, she’s having fun dressing up like a princess, which is super cute and I love that for her!!! Why shouldn’t she have fun with this?

Enter Henry Lennox, Edith’s fiancé’s brother — a mouthful. He, understandably, causes a stir amongst everyone and even Edith wakes up from her nap as if she feels the vibes that her future in-law has arrived (to paraphrase the author, lol). While they ask him questions, a very interesting line pops up about Edith’s soon-to-be sister-in-law that I wanted to share and had to do some research on to figure out the meaning of:

“[Edith] had a multitude of questions to ask about dear Janet, the future, unseen sister-in-law, for whom she professed so much affection, that if Margaret had not been very proud she might have almost felt jealous of the mushroom rival…”

After googling what a mushroom rival was (because, what????), the consensus I found was that it means “an unimportant rival”. It was also a way to jab at the “nouveau riche” who found themselves in upper-class circles, but came from lower-class origins. I think ultimately what Gaskell is saying here is that Margaret sees her cousin’s sister-in-law as someone that may try to “steal” her cousin’s affections, but in the end there’s not much to worry about, since Margaret has established affection with Edith (almost like people with generational wealth) and Janet doesn’t have much to compete with because she is too new to Edith’s acquaintance (thus making her like the nouveau riche). Just my interpretation, though, please feel free to sound off in the comments!

Henry goes to sit next to Margaret after Edith’s questioning and Margaret seems very happy to seem him. Not shy at all! Their conversation is interesting. First he starts off with (kind of) mocking her and the ladies “playing with shawls” and how it’s “very different” compared to his “real true law business”. So yeah, not winning any points with me right off the bat, but let’s see where it goes, I guess? I mean, it could be just a joke, right?

He comments on how he’s noticed her doing all the hard work for the wedding and how he hopes she gets a break from that soon. She tries to deflect and mention Edith as also working hard, but he sticks by his assertion that she has been the one doing all the planning work for his brother and Edith’s wedding, which she can’t really deny. Even if she has not done all the work (I imagine Mrs. Shaw has taken up some of the heavy-lifting), it seems that the emotional toil of all the planning is what has made an impact on Margaret.

She wonders if a wedding must always be this way and even suggests that she would like her wedding to be more calm without all of the extra fluff Edith’s has (a bit of a controversial topic in those days I think — in my research I found that Victorian marriages were modeled after Queen Victoria’s ceremony, which included many traditions we still see today). That leads to this passage:

“‘The idea of stately simplicity accords well with your character.’

Margaret did not quite like this speech; she winced away from it more, from remembering former occasions on which he had tried to lead her into a discussion (in which [Henry] took the complimentary part) about her own character and ways of going on. She cut the speech short…”

I find this interesting — that Henry being complimentary is inherently distasteful to her and she immediately turns him away from it. I’m not sure if it’s because a) his compliments suck (who calls someone’s character simplistic — I don’t think that’s the compliment you think it is buddy) b) that’s her future relative-in-law and she thinks it’s weird for him to compliment her or c) she’s just not good at taking compliments in general. I’m actually not sure which it is — I need to see more of her character — but I do know the conversation does not improve from here on out.

She makes a rebuttal to his compliment by saying she is only thinking of her home in Helstone and it’s not a character trait. He tries to get her to talk more about it, but she will not be drawn in. At least not completely. She converses, but also gets quickly annoyed with him. You kind of have to read along to get what I mean, but their conversation is like two steps forward and one back.

Finally, he says, “You are rather severe to-night, Margaret.” And she seems kind of surprised by this because she didn’t realize she was being “severe”: she genuinely could not describe her home as he wants her to. Her justification is basically you can only understand it if you’ve been there, which she did kind of say before this point.

Don’t get me wrong: I love a good banter session, but this one just feels different in a negative way. I also feel like this back-and-forth banter is a set-up. This is how Margaret interacts with the people around her now, because they don’t seem to quite understand her. They think she’s being “uncooperative” or difficult — I don’t think she is. Or perhaps she is, but it’s also Henry’s fault for not changing the subject when she made it clear that she didn’t want to talk about her home and couldn’t describe it!!! I believe her change of scene will help her find people who do get her and maybe she will have a similar form of banter, but this time it will be different and she will be understood. That’s just my speculation, though!

He continues to talk to her, but they hit a roadblock yet again because he asks her “what she does to occupy herself in the country” and when she doesn’t have a good answer, goes to the point of saying:

“I see, you won’t tell me anything. You will only tell me that you are not going to do this and that. Before the vacation ends, I think I shall pay you a call, and see what you really do employ yourself in.”

Idk if someone told me this, even jokingly, I would not like it. This would be my response:

Like why does he need to know her every move?!?!?! I just feel like he’s not asking the right questions and he definitely seems to be making light of her “quaint” living (which I think she’s playing into just so he’ll leave her be). The problem is, he’s just filling in the blanks for her by describing what she does in her current home and then asks “oh so what will you do at Helstone? Archery, parties? Oh, you’re too poor for that? I see you won’t tell me anything.” He sounds exhausting to talk to!!!! Just be a good listener!!!!! Maybe that’s just me and I’m reading too much into it though. I don’t know how much we’ll see of him since he probably won’t be living where Margaret is going, but I honestly hope it’s not much. Or maybe I do — I want to know why he is this way, I’m nosey. 😂😂😂😂

Honestly, it kind of feels like when a neurotypical person and neurodivergent person have a conversation and it just…doesn’t go that well because both people have a different way of communicating and its frustrating for both sides. I know I’m being hard on Henry and whether he deserves that or not is up for debate (I’ll wait for final judgement), but it could just be a case of that. I’m also not saying people of different neurotypes can’t have a satisfying conversation — they definitely can — but it takes understanding from both sides and I do feel like both sides here are not trying to understand the other’s perspective. Just like I could be misunderstanding this whole conversation, I really don’t know!

Also, I’m pretty sure Henry is romantically interested in Margaret, but I don’t know if she returns the feeling. While she was initially was happy to seem him, she seems more annoyed by his conversation than happy (never a good sign). If he is flirting, I think it needs some workshopping because…uh…that ain’t it, pal.

I also notice that when Henry takes his leave, he remarks that “besides, Aunt Shaw won’t like us to talk.” Ok…what does THAT mean???? That nugget of lore is fascinating, but hard to glean much from. Is it because their conversations are always like this and Mrs. Shaw is just tired of hearing the back-and-forth? *Or* is part of the reason they have back-and-forth like this BECAUSE of Mrs. Shaw? Hopefully I’ll find out!

Enter Edith’s fiancé and that’s when the real stir begins! Edith is so excited she runs out of the room just to walk in with him (we love a dramatic entrance lol). We get the chance to observe both brothers while they observe Edith and Margaret in turn. Compared to the captain (and the whole family) it seems that Henry is the “plain one”, but on the whole seems “intelligent” and “keen”. But his interest in watching both women seems to be “slightly sarcastic” — which, what does mean?????? Henry, you’re so confusing!!!!!

Edith decides to show off how good she is at being a soldier’s wife by doing everything herself! Can you guess how well that goes? Yeah, she immediately can’t carry the tea-kettle because it’s too heavy for her and it gets all over her dress. She shows this to her fiancé “like a hurt child” and her fiancé either hugs her or does a relatable “kiss it better” thing — lol (shoutout to a special user in the comments section for helping me figure out what “the remedy was the same in both cases” meant :D). The chapter mostly ends with discussing how they made the tea and then “all was bustle until the wedding was over.”

I think it’s interesting that we don’t get a clear picture of the aforementioned fiancé — now husband. The only thing I can really mention is that he’s obviously affectionate with Edith and seems to humor her childish moods.

As for Margaret, I avoided talking too much about her character, specifically because I think we get it through the way she interacts with others. This is already long so I’ll make a quick list of what I think we can glean from her character so far, in no particular order:

Reflective

Understanding — for the most part (not with Henry)

Playful (to herself)

Doesn’t like too much attention

Determined

Not afraid of conflict

Speaks her mind

Loves her home

Loves her family, but knows their faults

Values tranquility

Helpful

Observant

Self-confident

I think that’s it! I’m excited to read more and hope you enjoyed my ramblings :)

#whew that was a lot #long post #north and south #north and south weekly #novas notes

38 notes · View notes

buggyboba · 8 months ago

Text

This Will Be The Day

── •✧• ──

A/N: Hello yes, lesbian sword fight…that is all. The prompt is from this list; x. I listened to the RWBY soundtrack, and this is the result…it wasn’t going to be a sword fight in the beginning, but listen….The Master is a swordsman, ergo Missy is a swordsman, and Reader is well….reader, enjoy!~ This has been another episode of Buggy pulling from other media, but this time I haven’t actually listened to the masterful audio drama but shut up sword fight in a castle.

Also, someone please send help, I said it was going to be a drabble, it’s a whole ass short story….insert the babadook meme here ‘Why can’t you be normal’ ‘screaming’

Pairing | Missy x Fem!reader.

TW| I don’t think there is any real ones, please let me know if I missed any, there are petnames. SPOILERS FOR THE MASTERFUL AUDIO DRAMA.

Wordcount| 4000

A03 Link | x

── •✧• ──

Things were quiet, which wasn’t terrible, but you knew a silent Missy was a dangerous one, as with her previous incarnation. So you slipped out of your room, checking the usual places that Missy would be. When you didn’t find her, you sighed and started towards the console room. As you entered the console room, so did she; only she was coming in the front through the tardis doors. The distinct smell of smoke from a fire hits your nose. Her usually pressed and perfect plum skirt was singed along the bottom and higher up; she had a bit of soot on her cheek.

You moved to go take her umbrella, gloves, and hat, putting them where they went. The umbrella in the umbrella rack, the hat on the hat rack, and the gloves on the little shelf nearby. After a moment, she walked over to put her jacket on the rack too. The smell of smoke was heavy; what did she do—skip through a bonfire or something?

“Nice stroll?” You grinned a bit. “Burn down any towns?” you teased, to which Missy raised an eyebrow, but then let a small little smirk escape.

“Only a little one; well, there are going to be a few; I may have accidentally started a teensy little wildfire.” She gave a slight chuckle.

“Missy! Accidently?” You sounded exasperated. “Why would you start a wildfire in Siberia?” you asked.

“Don’t worry, your pretty little head; while I was there, I thought, I haven’t taken you on a proper date lately,” she mused.

It was true, unfortunately. The last date you had got crashed by the Doctor and his companion, and the one before that, she took you to some really unsavory planet, where a plant almost ate you. Before that, it was 1940’s Paris. The one before that you were having dinner at a nice restaurant on Darillium, and Missy had taken you to see the singing towers, The Doctor and a woman had shown up but left you and Missy alone, and she made it a point to leave them alone. It was Christmas after all; that one wasn’t so bad, but still, needless to say, the last few dates had not been good; you both needed a good proper date. You looked at her and nodded. “Oh? Can I pick something this time?” you asked lightly. Missy seemed to think about it for a long time before she nodded.

“Oh! Okay!” you said excitedly, racking your brain. “I want a picnic,” you decided. Missy looked almost offended. Out of everything you could pick, you decided on a mundane picnic? All of time and space, and you wanted to sit on a blanket and eat sandwiches? You were not allowed to pick the date again, but she would give you that.

“What’s wrong with your face?” You asked, crossing your arms.

“A picnic, who do you think I am? The Doctor? A picnic,” she muttered.

“Yes, it would be nice to just sit down and relax, talk, and eat.” You spoke, trying to make your case for a picnic.

“We do that when we eat dinner together.” Missy pointed out as she stalked towards the console past you, leaving you following her. “Why would you want to eat outside, fighting off bugs and the elements for your food….I could always release bugs into the dining room.” She teased, and you made a face.

“You wouldn’t; you don’t like bugs, and you wouldn’t want them to escape into the tardis.” You said.

“Yes, that’s true, but what is your interest in picnics?” She mused, her icy eyes sliding over you.

“It’s romantic,” you said, nodding and leaning against the console next to her, watching Missy as Missy turned her attention back to the console.

“I could think of other romantic things to do that don’t involve picnics.” She mused. “More private things,” she trailed off.

“Mis! Fine, we have a picnic, but you pick the location; is that a fair compromise?” You asked softly, trying to find a middle ground. She was quiet for a few moments before she nodded.

“Deal,” she purred out. “Now go make the lunch... at least pack something good,” she said, her hand grazing your hip as she pushed you off the console.

“No, just because you said that, it’s going to be all jelly babies and crisps.” You laughed and moved away. You walked down the long hall, slipping into the kitchen. You immediately began taking out things to make simple sandwiches; you found some French bread, cheddar, and ham, and you found cream cheese and fruits. Which gave you an idea: you would make some sweet sandwiches and some savory ones.

You would bring some strawberries along, wondering if you could find chocolate to go with them. You really wanted to make this romantic; you knew Missy had a secret soft spot for romantics. Even if she would never admit it, let alone never show it publicly, there had been things she had done for you that made you believe she liked them. Well, it was that or she was using manipulation, but you chose to decide it wasn’t that.

She didn’t show love normally; it was more like a mix between a cat leaving presents and someone who was actually good at seduction. It was a mixed bag, but she kept things interesting. She was also very possessive when she brought you out for adventures; there were so many rules, and god forbid someone looked at you in a way she didn’t like. You had watched her disintegrate no less than six people this way, and she never mentioned it after it happened either.

You made quick work of making the food for the picnic, wrapping everything carefully, searching the kitchen for anything to carry it in, and for once, Missy’s tardis seemed to be on your side because you found the perfect picnic basket. You packed everything you needed. You even snuck in some wine and some jelly babies and crisps, so those would be the first things she pulled out when you sat down. You were pleased by your little joke.

You felt the rumble of the tardis moving; apparently, she had picked out a place. You heard her heels click by the kitchen, heading towards her room, no doubt to change. You should probably do that too; you wanted to look good for the date. You put the basket in the fridge just for now before quickly heading to your room to change into something comfortable since you were going to be outside, but something nice that Missy would be fine with being seen out in public with you. A nice little black summer dress and flats that you could walk in since you knew you would be carrying the picnic basket.

You finished up getting ready. You moved to go fetch the basket, bringing one of your blankets with you and moved to wait in the console room.

You heard the footfall, but no heels. You turned and blinked a few times, opening your mouth as you saw her. She wore a white ruffled top; the shoulders were still puffed but the sleeves were tight against her arms; she wore a pair of black pants; they were tight against her legs; she wore a black corset-like belt; she wore boots, but they weren't heeled. Her hair was pulled up, and a clip held it in a fanned-out ponytail. You had never seen her in anything else but her skirts; you didn't know she owned pants. She knew you were staring, and when you finally looked up to meet her eyes, she was smirking, making a motion with her mouth and hand to tell you to close your mouth as she walked past you to the console.

You closed your mouth and licked your lips subconsciously before you followed her a bit. “Should I put pants on?” That was the stupidest thing that could have slipped out of your mouth, but it was the only thing that wasn’t pining over her or questioning, How come you had never seen her in pants? And why was she so incredibly hot?

Missy snorted at your question, shaking her head. “Now now, my pet, I think your attire is fine. If I wanted you to change, I would tell you to do so, would I not?” She grinned a cat-like grin as she watched you open your mouth a few times to say something, but you shrugged and nodded instead.

“But, um, you usually...” You spoke and pointed a bit at her outfit.

“Something wrong, dove?” She asked, to which you shook your head, and you finally noticed the long black case she had brought with her.

“What’s that?” you asked.

“You know not to ask questions you don’t really want to know the answers to.” She smiled and poked your nose with her red-painted nail. You recoiled a bit and sighed. "Plus, I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise,” she said with a self-satisfied grin. “You wanted a proper date; well, this will be better.” She gave a small nod, like she had picked the perfect location and had the perfect idea to elevate this silly little picnic you wanted her to go on with you.

You frowned a bit but nodded. You would just have to wait and hope whatever it was wasn’t bad, or part of some other plot to destroy the doctor, or take over Earth, or Mars, or whatever Missy decided she wanted to do. It was fascinating watching her plan and scheme because you never knew what you were getting; sometimes she could be playful, and then other times it was very much watching a whole different person working, the intricate planning, and just how brilliant she was. You hoped whatever this was was playful and fun; you really needed a good date.

You shifted the picnic basket and blanket before starting over towards the door. Missy followed after a sort of sway to her steps as if she were mentally rehearsing something; you didn’t question it. You opened the door and slipped out, pausing when you stepped out. It was not the picturesque setting you had hoped for; it was desolate and the sky was clear, but you could see so many stars and a rather large moon, maybe. You felt the air shift behind you. Missy stood behind you, leaning her chin on your shoulder as she looked up.

“Rather pretty, isn’t it?” She breathed into your ear, and you could feel her lips press against your neck before she walked past you. “Kiamet, or what is left of it, but the sky isn’t why we are here.” She moved to motion behind her tardis, which had disguised itself as a lone burned tree. You looked and paused when you saw a large, imposing black castle.

“Spooky,” you breathed out.

“Is it? Oh, come on, maybe there are ghosts, monsters, or Tim Curry in fishnets.” She chuckled and grabbed your hand, pulling you up the hill towards it. You kept up pretty well with her long strides.

“So why are we here for a spooky castle?” You asked her. Her grip on your wrist slid down, so she was holding your hand, but neither one of you acknowledged it.

“Adventure... and the courtyard is nice; we should have a few hours of peace.” She nodded once again. Her movements were swaying as she continued to practice something in her mind.

“A few hours of peace?” You asked lightly.

“Oh yeah, collapsing universe, a double paradox now that I am here, bit sticky, but if I’ve timed it right, we won’t run into them.” She grinned a bit.

“Them?” You breathed out, suddenly not so sure about any of this.

"Oh, the other me’s, long story, silly little play for lives, I am ever so naughty and really can't be trusted even by my selves...don't worry about it, pet.” She nodded, pushing the door open to allow you entry. The castle was decorated in all black. “Don’t mind the decorations; he is so dramatic.” Missy shook her head. “I would have added pops of color—some purples, more red.” She hummed as she led you past rooms; it was like she could feel your questions rising, and she looked over you, her eyes dancing across your features. "Oh, don’t worry about it too much, my dear; I am fairly sure we will have enough time…”

“Okay, one, who is he? Who’s castle is this?” You spoke quietly as you took in the decor; it was very heavy, black, with deep reds and flashes of gold. It felt cold; whoever owned it must be a real –

"Oh, technically mine,” she said. “Well, long story, past regenerations, an arse of a man,” she smirked. “Maybe you remember the short-lived Harold Saxon?”

“The ex-Prime Minster...” You asked, "Wait, you were the Prime Minister?" You shook your head in disbelief.

"Yes, I was incredibly charming, wasn’t I? I said all the right things. Well, I said some right things. Well, I mostly used high-grade, low-frequency mind control to suggest everyone vote for me, but I digress. Yes, you see, I had some adventures, and I was a bit of a naughty boy.” Missy grinned a bit in thought, looking around. “Killed the doctor, then called all my past regenerations here and didn’t invite me, which was so rude, and you know how I feel about manners.” Missy teased.

You were quiet for a few minutes, trying to think of what to say. You decided to skip over the fact that she said she killed the doctor and called previous regenerations, as fun as the thought could be, the implications that she had managed to kill the doctor as Saxon, and then called her past selves to celebrate. Well, not really celebrate; you remember her saying something earlier about stealing lives? and not being able to trust her past selves, paradoxes hurt your head, and you didn't know how Time Lords could handle remembering events during paradoxes.

“Well, I didn’t vote for you.” You smirked a bit watching her reaction; there seemed to be a few moments where she was deciding what to say to you. "Not my prime minister,” you teased in a playful manner.

“Now wait a minute.” She started. “I was pretty decent….did you not find me charming? You find me charming now.” She said, grabbing your arm a bit, slowing the pace of your walk.

“Well, now you are a gorgeous woman, not a baby-faced man.” You nodded.

“Babyfaced? Babyfaced?” She gave the most offended pout, her lips curled down, and an exaggerated frown. “Take that back,” she muttered a bit. You moved to keep walking, not knowing where you were going. “Hey! No, now, pet, you don’t get to walk away from that; only I’m allowed to be mean to my past selves,” she said.

“But, like you were, I mean, not my cup of tea, but you were a golden boy; everyone wanted you; at least that's how people were talking.” You laughed a bit. “Round babyface,” you doubled down, knowing it was a dangerous game, but it was thrilling to be able to tease her.

"Yeah, it was a bit round... None the less, you should say sorry, or I’ll have to punish you.” She grinned.

“You won’t; you like that I have some fight in me.” You replied. “I’m not a meek little thing; I bite.” You nodded softly.

"Yes, I suppose I do like the challenge, as long as you know your place at the end of the day.” She nodded, once again taking the lead and leading you out a large set of doors. You were once again outside; the courtyard was large; there was what looked like what used to be a fountain, but it had long since dried. You figured it might have been a beautiful courtyard at one point, so you decided to put the blanket down there, setting the basket down. You busied yourself fixing the blanket; there was a moment when you felt cold steel against the underside of your chin, forcing your gaze up. Slowly, you looked up, and you found yourself at the end of a rapier. Missy was staring at you with a stoic look until your eyes met, and a small smirk twitched at the corner of her mouth.

“W…what?” you asked. She let the blade tip trail down your throat slowly, not hard enough to hurt but definitely catching your attention as she lightly stopped prodding the middle of your chest, but slightly to your left where your heart sat. “Mis?” you asked.

“Get up.” She said firmly, there was almost a predatory growl at the end. You hurried to your feet as you felt her bump your hand with the hilt of another rapier. Your fingers curled around it, and the moment you took it, she gracefully moved away, spinning away and into a proper stance.

“Missy, I don’t know how to swordfight,” you said quickly.

“Sink or swim, lovely. Nothing like a sexy sword fight to get the blood pumping, don't you agree, my dear?” She grinned, and in a movement, she was on the offensive. Her movements were fluid, like a dance, yet she held such learned power. You held the blade like you had seen in movies, but it didn’t feel right, and her blade crashed down against yours, forcing you to step back sloppily. She tutted at you, and with a gliding move, she swiped up, barely missing your cheek because you had flailed the hand guard up at the last moment. You tried to put space between Missy and yourself, watching her movements. You were not ready for this impromptu sword fight, but you had to admit that watching Missy was definitely doing something for you. While in your thoughts, Missy moved again. This time you saw it and moved to let the blade crash against hers, moving to lunge forward, but she moved her foot around yours, using your momentum against you. She pulled her foot back, causing you to fall forward, but she caught you by the arm, so you didn’t hit the ground. Her blade against your throat for a moment before she laughed. “You are bad at this.”

“I’ve never sword-fought before!” You whined exasperatedly, and as you breathed more rapidly, the cold metal on your throat made you shiver.

“Reset, try again, watch me, follow my moves, calculate, feel the movement, and follow through.” She instructed and moved the blade, letting go of your arm, so you fell the rest of the way. You got back up and brushed yourself off before awkwardly holding the blade in a pose you thought could be proper, which only got an amused look from Missy before her eyes darkened again, and she was moving forward again on the offensive, forcing you into the defensive. The sound of metal whipping together filled the courtyard as you backpedaled, trying to watch her and the blade at the same time, trying to calculate. She was fast and fluid; this felt very one-sided, like a child with a wooden sword fighting Zorro or something. You tried to lunge and swing back, but she easily dodged or blocked; she peddled you all the way to the fountain, forcing you to move onto the lip, backing up more, and she followed gracefully.

You tried to get her to go on the offensive by stabbing at her shoulder, but it didn’t matter; she used the guard to block and the pommel to shove you away from her. You almost fell off the lip of the fountain, but you caught yourself, feeling your ankle almost twist. You stood and were about to try to tap out when you felt a sting against your cheek, and a playfully teasing giggle came from the woman.

You blinked and felt something thicker than water against your cheek; she cut you. How rude. Her smirk made it so much more: "I can't wait to wipe that wicked smirk off of your smug face." You moved forward with a bit more gusto and a lot more anger; your movements were not graceful but much stronger; you actually got her to step back a few times, putting her on the defensive for the first time; you were certainly not using the rapier in the intended fencing way, but that was fine; you had an excuse. “Oh…there she is, think you can? Then come on, wipe it off my face.” You heard Missy tease. "Are you mad? Are you so hurt that I gave you a love tap, my dearest?” She giggled again, "I had to give you a reason to fight back, not be such a scaredy cat... go on, hit me, try it lovely, make me sad and cry.” She said her tone was goading. You made valiant attempts, but she dodged them or parried them away. That was until you caught her arm. You both looked at each other in shock for a moment. Your eyes were wide as a dangerous smirk crossed her lips. "Well, now that we’ve both drawn blood, the fun can really begin.” She said, “This is fun…you are having fun being awful at this, I’m having fun watching you try so hard...now I am really going to play.” She said with a grin. You didn’t like the sound of that; you could tell she hadn’t been really going hard on you, but now you feared what would actually happen when she went after you for real.

It happened so fast. She had locked your blade against hers, forcing you back off the fountain, staying right on you as you tried to keep backing up to unlock your blades. Your back hit the wall hard, and you felt her tighten the blades, pushing harder against you. You forgot how strong she was. The blades slid up almost against your throat. You did the only thing you could do. You leaned forward, suddenly throwing caution to the wind as you crashed your lips against hers. Your eyes closed as you felt her seem to think of what she wanted to do here before she kissed back. It was chaotic and so passionate, but there was biting and tongues. Her free hand grabbed you right above your hip, keeping you pinned as her tongue forced its way past your slightly parted lips. There was a soft sound that escaped your throat as she moved to pin you with her body instead. You managed to get your blade free before you tried to pull back, but she wouldn’t let you go. She let her blade go, and it clattered, causing you to jump. She grabbed yours roughly and yanked it from you. It also clattered on the floor, but then her hand was cupping the side of your neck. Before it slowly moved down, the pads of her fingers traced slow patterns down to your thigh before pushing past the hem of the skirt you wore. There was a moment you assumed she was going to go further, but she didn’t; instead, she stepped back just a bit, licking her lips some as she watched you open your eyes. Your skin was blushing, your body was hot, and your breath was heavy as you stared at her, her hand still lingering on your upper thigh, almost your hip under your skirt.

“That was almost a good strategy,” she said calmly before she slipped her hand away as she moved to sit down on the almost forgotten picnic blanket.

You stood there for a moment and then eventually moved to follow. Sitting down, she grinned at you, "Oh, my dear, you seem flushed. Just wait until I get you back to the Tardis.” She said in a playful tone, but you knew it was anything but playful; it was a promise of something more intimate.

She threw open the picnic basket and paused at the jelly babies and crisps. “You think you are funny,” she said, looking at you, and you nodded with a soft grin.

“I am.” You nodded, ready to have a romantic picnic on a desolate planet in a collapsing universe, trying to race the clock before her past selves showed up. It was so crazy, but you were definitely looking forward to what she had planned for you when you got back to the Tardis.

#gomez!master x reader #missy x reader #the master x reader #doctor who #doctor who x reader

31 notes · View notes

detshin · 1 year ago

Text

... I have conflicting feelings about the new spoilers lmao

Needless to say I'm incredibly happy that Shinichi and Ran are actively talking and quite a lot it seems (it is great! Love that for them yessss 🩷🩷🩷🩷).

And I am going to just- try to be hopeful for a real shinran file in the near future because well. Sonoko did get the idea of a date into their heads now too! Also great! Would love to see that. Please. Gosho.

But on the other hand...

This is not what I imagined for the Holmes fans' (Hakuba and Shinichi) first meeting to go like.

And also, the fact that they did the Kid disguising as Shinichi in the manga too is not ... Um... Great. Imo. If you've been following me for a while you know for a fact that I have a little bit of hate towards this trope. It's cheap. It's old. It's boring. It destroys the characters' characterizations and development. It's not good. Please, try to think of something else to do?

I swear. Ran better be able to see that's not her man.

Also... It's weird but in this chapter it's just so- obvious it's not Shinichi? I don't know what it is but I looked at his face in the spoilers and it was an immediate: that is not my son.

#detective conan #dcmk #shinichi kudo #shinran #ran mouri #kaito kid #hakuba saguru

79 notes · View notes

historicallyaccuratecheese · 1 year ago

Text

Well, I guess I’m continuing to make these now! Here’s the next part of my thoughts on every Magnus Archives episode! Now, last time I said that I was planning to write about episodes 21-40 in the next post, but as it turns out, the hyperfixation has set in and my thoughts are a LOT longer (so buckle up if you want to read this), and I also reached the tag limit. So, I’m only going to be covering episodes 21-30 here, and then I’ll write about episodes 31-40, and this 10 episode trend will probably continue for the rest of the posts, but that just means I’ll be able to put them out faster.

Also, unlike my first post, where I wrote all of my thoughts after finishing episode 20, all of these ones were written right after I finished the specific episode I talked about, so my thoughts are a lot more clearly documented. Finally, there’s a link to my masterpost, which will contain all the post’s detailing my thoughts on every episode before and after these ones.

Once again, no spoilers for future episodes please, and for anyone who hasn’t watched up to episode 30, spoilers are under the cut, so I recommend turning away until you’ve caught up. :)

- Episode 21, Freefall 🪂

Statement of Moira Kelly, regarding the disappearance of her son Robert.

WHAT THE FUCK??!! MARTIN??!! DAMN, I guess the horrors did get to him! Well, it’s nice to finally meet him, even if his first line was dropping shit on the ground. Either way, I get the vibe I’m in for a wild ride for this second half. ….What was I talking about? Oh yeah, the actual statement. Anyways this one upset me. Not only did it bring out my fear of heights pretty well, but the portrayal of a grieving mother who can’t comprehend what happened to her son was really heartbreaking. The line “The sky ate him” was kind of comedic at first, especially with Jon’s following reaction (love this guy btw, he’s such a loser), but then it became really horrific when I realized how it was just Moira desperately trying to make sense of the impossible horrors she just witnessed. The plot thread set up with Simon and Harriet Fairchild is also very interesting, and the whole sky thing kind of reminded me of Dominic’s visions in Ep. 4. Overall another one of many fantastic episodes, but HOLY SHIT I’M SCARED.

- Episode 22, Colony 🔦

Statement of Martin Blackwood, archival assistant at the Magnus Institute, London, regarding a close encounter with something he believes to have once been Jane Prentiss. Statement taken direct from subject.

….aaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!! Ok let’s start from the top. Firstly, I’m really happy we finally got to meet Martin in this episode, and he’s great! Honestly he comes off as more dorky than stupid, and just comes off as a real sweetheart, so Jon’s distaste for him (outside of very different personalities), gets more mysterious. Though all things considered, after what he experienced, I don’t think that the bullying is his biggest worry anymore… Alexander J. Newall does a fantastic delivery, as much as I love Jon’s readings, you can really feel how terrified Martin is here (also “Blackwood” is a sick as fuck last name, and I related to him trailing off about spiders…) Outside of Martin himself, we have Jane Prentiss (or what remains of her) and…well, let’s just say that I don’t find the sex worms nearly as funny anymore. Jane and the worms inside her are absolutely terrifying, and while I would say I’m excited to learn more about her, I wouldn’t be complaining if the institute staff never had to deal with her again. Also the text episode made me, if you’ll excuse my language…squirm. Honestly, this might just be my favorite episode so far. The way that the plot threads from previous episodes connected here was extremely satisfying, and needless to say, I’m very excited and horrified to see where the show goes from here.

- Episode 23, Schwartzwald 🇩🇪

Statement of Albrecht von Closen, regarding a discovered tomb near his estate in the Black Forest.

Worst episode ever because Jon didn’t do a German accent, smh. Ok but in all seriousness, I really liked this one! It wasn’t the strongest in terms of complex themes in my opinion, but it had a great vibe, and was still very interesting, entertaining, and decently creepy. Having a “statement” written before the archives was founded is a really cool idea that’s executed perfectly here, and while we didn’t learn that much about Jonah Magnus, I still found it cool to get a first glimpse of the archives’ history. (Also, given the eye imagery that appears both in here and in other episodes, I can’t help but feel like Albrecht’s wording of Jonah having “good eyes” or something like that is a little weird…) And…now that we have the instance of something that isn’t a statement, but is important being in the archives, I absolutely agree with the idea that Gertrude Robinson organized these poorly on purpose, so that Jon would get the knowledge he needed to have. Regardless, this whole episode had the vibes of a classic ghost story, which while not as weird and off-putting as some of the other horror here, was still a nice change of pace overall. The descriptions of The Schwartzwald were really well done and added to the atmosphere, and I just like the fact that we have another historical episode, that’s also set outside of The UK. Also, the way that they played with the time period at the end was amazing, I already had my suspicions due to the eye imagery, but the reveal of Mary Keay (and therefore Gerard Wa- I mean Keay) being a descendant of Albrecht was still really cool. I also do wonder if the Arabic book was eventually found by Jurgen Leitner in the future…eh, food for thought. Lastly, I loved Martin jumping in out of nowhere, it was both funny, and a grim reminder about how fucked the archives supposedly are, yippee!

Wow, these are a lot longer than my previous thoughts. This, my sweet children, is a phenomenon called “brain rot”.

- Episode 24, Strange Music 🪆

Statement of Leanne Denikin, regarding an antique calliope organ she possessed briefly in August 2004.

Jon, honey, are we not going to elaborate on the fact that one of ✨the horrors✨is literally inside the institute? Like, HELLO? That’s not terrifying at all! Anwyays, this episode continues the trend of making me scared of things I’m not initially scared of, yippee! It had great vibes as well, the weird shit in the attic was made to be as creepy as possible. Initially, I didn’t find this one to be too scary, and figured it was going to go in the direction of “music makes people feel kind of weird”. AND THEN JOSHUA GETS KILLED AND TURNED INTO A DOLL HELLO??!!! Like, I know he was kind of a toxic boyfriend, but DAMN, whatever was behind the calliope and the dolls did NOT have to go that far. (Also until the end I thought he might be Joshua Gillepsie, and like, I don’t care how toxic he is, but you do not dump a guy who bested an evil coffin with his freezer.) Outside of that, It was really cool to meet Sasha! I like her voice, and the introduction was quite funny. (Also, even as someone who has lived in England for over two years, and has a family that is 90% British, nothing hurt more that Jon’s “Americans”.) Lastly, I have a theory, which I like to call “Ringmaster? More like cult leader.” Because I’M SORRY, but you cannot convince me that a CIRCUS, called THE CIRCUS OF THE OTHER, which possessed a HAUNTED CALLIOPE ORGAN, is anything but a cult. (Watch me when I’m inevitably wrong lmao.)

I guess now is a better time than any to say that I’m kind of wondering if there’s an in-universe reason for the music in the background? I mean, considering that the whole framing device is Jon recording these statements, I have to wonder if there’s a reason for the noise we hear, especially with the worms in Ep. 22 and the music in Ep. 24.

- Episode 25, Growing Dark ⛪️

Statement of Mark Bilham, regarding events culminating in his visit to Hither Green Chapel.

HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! I LOVE BEING RIGHT!!! I saw the episode title and immediately assumed this would continue the lore of Episode 9, and I WAS SO RIGHT!!! (Also, I now just noticed that the PCOTDH’s symbol is a closed eye, while The Keay Family’s symbol is an open eye…my cult theory thickens…) Anyways, this was another very enjoyable episode! Firstly, even though it’s far from the first piece of media to do so, I though the way they portrayed a cult brainwashing someone when they’re most vulnerable was very well handled and pretty depressing. I also really enjoyed how the episode isn’t the most weird and paranormal on it’s own, but the knowledge of the connections to Ep. 9 makes us know that it DEFINITELY is, even when the characters in the story don’t. The episode was certainly very spooky, the description of the spinach and the dark church definitely got me. (Also my mom came into my room briefly and when she left she accidentally turned off the light and I nearly screamed.) There were also some really interesting plot threads set up here, like the chanting of the northern most human settlement in the world, the mention of “three hundred years waiting”, and I also wonder if “Mr. Pitch” is an alias for “Detective Rayner.” then…the ending. Holy shit. You know, maybe I DON’T need to know what happened to Gertrude….

Episode 26, A Distortion ☕️

Statement of Sasha James, assistant archivist at the Magnus Institute, London, regarding a series of paranormal sightings. Statement taken direct from subject.

I…what…I don’t even…we are so fucked. Ok, there’s a LOT going on here, but I’ll try my best to formulate my thoughts as clearly as possible. Firstly, this episode easily scared me the most so far, I agree with Jon when he says that the horrors being somewhat friendly is scarier than them being antagonistic, like HOLY SHIT this one was unnerving. But with that out of the way…uh…let’s talk about Sasha! She’s really cool, I like how her character gives us a lot more insight into what working in the archives is like for a fairly regular person (i say this because Jon is weird as fuck and Martin is too nice to be normal, and I mean that as kindly as possible). But…while I don’t necessarily doubt her status as the most level-headed person in the archives, I don’t think that’s saying much. Like, she saw a creepy guy with weird-ass hands who spoke in riddles and knew too much about her and her coworkers, and followed him into a dilapidated building, also she works at the council of ghost stories despite not liking horror. Like, no offense, I’m sure she’s overall an intelligent person, as are most people in the archives, but none of them are beating Joshua Gillepsie anytime soon (yes I’m still thinking about him.) But mentioning the guy with fucked up hands, WHO OR WHAT EVEN WAS THAT??!! I have very little ideas as to how this “Micheal” even connects to the greater picture. I know some people connected him to the mentions of the man with bones in his hands in Episode 8, but that honestly reminds me more of the Leitner in Episode 17. Outside of that, his name is quite interesting, I initially thought that he might be Micheal Crew, but given that Sasha doubts it being his real name, I have my suspicions (although it would give us a connection between this, the words in Episode 8, and The Boneturner’s Tale….hm….) However, I could absolutely see him being Micheal Keay, as he gives off enough ghost vibes to pass as him (and I’m assuming that if Gerard’s dead, Micheal is as well.) Also he is not described as having a Lichtenburg figure on him so…yeah. Lastly, we have the return of THE SEX WORMS. And as happy(?) as I am to see that The Magnus Archives, a podcast developed by RustyQuill.com, that is also licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License, is continuing it’s message of staying abstinent, all things considered, that was absolutely terrifying. I just LOVE the knowledge that the worms are a hive-mind and that Jane might not be the source, I LOVE THAT SO MUCH. In conclusion, I am probably going to sleep with a fire extinguisher tonight, and I am very scared for what the next 14 episodes have in store for me.

Also I guess I’ll mention Tim (the archival assistant, not the dead guy) here because why not. So far I’m getting major bastard energy from people’s descriptions of him, which means I will either love or hate him. Also I found it very funny but also kind of sad that Jon said he only trusts Tim to not prank him in Episode 11, and then he pulled a prank shortly before this statement took place.

- Episode 27, A Sturdy Lock 🔑

Statement of Paul McKenzie, regarding repeated nocturnal intrusions into his home.

Ok, after everything that happened in the last episode, it was nice to get a short and sweet one here. Well, as sweet as an episode of a horror podcast can be. Overall, this one isn’t my favorite, I thought it was a little bit under the standards of creativity for the show as a whole, but that’s obviously not saying much, as it was still pretty damn good in its own right. I think it was definitely very effective with its storytelling, and credit where credit is due, it certainly brought out my fear of weird noises in the middle of the night. And even if I can’t personally resonate with this aspect of it, I do really appreciate how it tackled the idea of mental illness at old age, and while I’d be surprised if the statement wasn’t real, considering where the show seems to be going, it did a very good job at planting seeds of doubt in my mind. But still, it was genuinely pretty crushing how Paul had no proof throughout the entire thing, along with how the cops treated him. It really did make me thing about what would have happened if he hadn’t washed the blood off his hands. It still had a creepy atmosphere, and the reveals at the end were pretty interesting, I hope they show us Marcus’ statement soon enough. Also, the aspect of loneliness in this one did remind me a lot of what happened in Episode 13, so I wonder if there’s some connection there. (Also, I love how I’m 27 episodes in and Jon is STILL roasting Gertrude’s organizational skills.) So while this one isn’t the most interesting for me, I still enjoyed it, and it was nice to have a slightly lighter one after Episode 26. I hope Sasha had a good few days off, she deserves it.

- Episode 28, Skintight 📷

Statement of Melanie King, regarding events at the abandoned Cambridge Military Hospital during filming in January 2015. Statement taken direct from subject.

WHOA THAT WAS SO GOOD!!! Ok, I feel like I should start off with my thoughts on the basic premise, as while those episode is certainly…not the most humorous in its execution, the premise itself kind of is. I don’t know why, but I just thought the idea of there being an in-universe competitor was a really fun concept that was executed perfectly here. It kind of reminds me of something like Hatchetfield and Clivesdale (I don’t know how many people reading this will understand that, but there seems to be overlap between TMA fans and Hatchetfield fans, and also like, shut up, let me indulge in my hyperfixations.) The bickering between Melanie and Jon was great, as was Melanie herself, I’d love to see her again as I think she oddly brought a lot to the world of the series. Although I will say that, while it doesn’t make me like him any less, Jon’s reluctance to buy into statements is a lot more frustrating when there’s another person in the room. I also absolutely love the fact that there’s an in-universe spooky podcast mentioned by name, like, come one, that’s genuinely hilarious. But comedic value aside, this one was definitely pretty creepy. In a similar vain to what Episode 23 was doing, the whole “young people enter creepy abandoned building to film stuff and then get genuinely scared” concept felt evocative of other classic horror stories, and the way they spun it into the context of the show was great. The atmosphere was definitely very creepy as well, as I have mentioned, hospitals creep me the fuck out. And lastly…oh my god, THE CONNECTIONS. So, I’ll start off by saying that all of the skin shit reminded me of what happened in Episode 18 (which I hope is true because I think some connections to other things would make me like that episode more). But that pales in comparison to the fact that we have stuff on THE ANGLERFISH, HOLY FUCK THE ANGLERFISH. I’m SO glad that they didn’t throw it away just because it was in the pilot episode. In retrospect, I think that the story of Episode 1 isn’t quite my favorite. It doesn’t really have to be, as I think the main draw of the episode is getting a first look at the framing device and general vibe of the entire podcast, but the stories didn’t really grab me until Episode 2, which is still one of my favorites. But MAN, this episode really made me appreciate the setup at the beginning so much more, and the knowledge that the people who walked into the alley didn’t necessarily die, meaning that all of those names could potentially come back, is SO exciting to me. In fact, when you consider that Sarah was kind of going through what looked like a possession, I wonder if The Anglerfish is a figure of worship in a cult, if that theory is to be true. (Also I have relatives that live in the same area as Sarah so…maybe I should tell them to watch out for their neighbor lmao.) So yeah, this…this show is just really freaking good.

Note: I have discovered the Leitner rant, and therefore I have achieved true enlightenment.

- Episode 29, Cheating Death ♟️

Statement of Nathaniel Thorp, regarding his own mortality.

I should start off by saying that I love the episode title for this, like, it’s not even metaphorical, the guy literally cheated in a game against death. Well, anyways, the main thing that caught me about the episode was how it absolutely blindsided me. While I was right about the soldier being the same as the statement giver, which I think was supposed to be obvious, everything else in those last six or so minutes left me with a wide-open jaw. (Also, can I just say that I love how poetic this guy just…decided to be? Like, I just love it when the statements really show of personalities with the way they’re written, and it comes with a cool framing device.) Regardless, I initially assumed that it was going in a very traditional line. Nathaniel cheats death, becomes immortal, and regrets it in modern day because he’s lived longer that he really should have. That, combined with the fact that “Death” didn’t seem like the one of the more creative horror monsters in the show so far, had me so prepared to just write this one off as one of my least favorites (once again, not like that’s saying much.) And then the twist comes and HOLY SHIT I WAS WRONG. The idea of there basically being multiple grim reapers at the hands of some unknowable power, who have to gain successors to finally die themselves is absolutely terrifying and extremely clever. I tip my hat to you Rusty Quill, you did a great job at fooling me. Kind of funny considering how this is a story about being punished for your hubris (which seems to be a recurring theme???) I have a few other small thoughts as well. Firstly, I can’t help but shake the feeling that Nathaniel Thorp was an actual revolutionary war soldier, but I can’t find anything online other than the character from this episode. Also, the fact that his fate remains unknown makes me think he’ll show up again, as it seems weird to NOT end the story with confirmation of his death, given the themes. Secondly, a lot of the…less than pleasant imagery here definitely reminded me of Piecemeal and The Boneturner’s Tale. I don’t remember the story inside that Leitner very well, but I might check just in case there’s any parallels between it and this statement. (Update: Not really.) And finally, I was just a little bit intrigued by the fact that we learn no one who was working at the institute in 1972 works there anymore. It’s probably nothing, but given the mysteries surrounding Gertrude’s death, I’m just a little suspicious, both in general, and of Elias because he’s still around. Overall this episode went hard, I’m still kind of stunned by what it pulled off.

Jane Prentiss statement…save me…save me Jane Prentiss statement…

- Episode 30, Killing Floor 🍖

Statement of David Laylow, regarding his time working at an industrial abattoir near Dalton.

You know what, Jon is right, there’s a lot of meat in this show. Not that I’m complaining, I mean, it does fuel my obsession with connecting the dots between statements. Regardless, while this isn’t among my favorite episodes so far, I still had a good time with it. The reason it’s not one of my favorites is purely personal, as I don’t do too well with animal violence. Like, as much as I do really appreciate how viscerally Jonny Sims can describe the statements, I will admit that the opening minutes describing the slaughter house made me more uneasy than the actual horror, and not in a particularly fun way, but it was overall fine. Speaking of the actual horror, that was actually pretty good. The endless hallways lined with doors that lead to precarious situations also kind of tapped into a personal fear of mine, but in a more fun and digestible way. And while the idea of “imagine humans being slaughtered like animals” is something I’ve seen many a time before, it was still much more well executed than many other interpretations of the idea (*cough cough*, peta) and there were also plenty of other interesting themes and ideas, like how the episode touched on the inherent horror of working in a job as gruesome as the killing floor, being enslaved to said job, and the idea that maybe we’re all just walking sacks of meat in the end, and nothing more. As for some other thoughts, I was definitely creeped out by Tom Han, I’m not sure whether or not he’s someone who spreads ✨the horrors✨or someone affected by ✨the horrors✨, and his sudden disappearance was certainly…odd. On top of that, it’s admittedly haunting to know that there’s still creepy stuff going on at the slaughter house, and that this isn’t something that happened to David, and only David. Overall, a pretty good episode, I don’t have much to say about it, but it was a fun time overall.

Tim…save me…save me Tim…

Well, if you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading! Genuinely means the world to me when there are people willing to listen to me ramble about my horrible (affectionate) interests lmao. I should have my thoughts on the final episodes of Season 1 out in due time, and while I’m sure it’s obvious, I’m absolutely hooked on this podcast. It absolutely has the potential to become one of my favorite things ever if the overarching plot becomes more involved and this is coming from someone who up until now, wasn’t all that gripped by podcasts. While I’m a little sad that I’m as late to the party as I am, then I remembered “oh yeah, I was in elementary school when this horrifying series came out”, and I’m also hopeful that I’ll be able to be around for The Magnus Protocol while it’s airing (I know it premieres in like a week but still.) Anyways, thanks for reading and hopefully you’ll be around for my thoughts on the next batch :)

49 notes · View notes