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komoreangel · 3 years

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𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐚

pairing: scaramouche x fem!reader

scenario: you met when you were both very young, and since the day he left you behind he still feels an undying fear for what sight would await him if he dared to return home.

or…

thantophobia - the fear of losing a loved one. but he had made it perfectly clear that you did not fall under that category when he left you and all of your promises behind.

request: okok my first idea was: scaramouche childhood friends to enemies to lovers. take with that what you will <3

a/n: hi anon ty so very much for the request we all know i love scara <33 but i did tweak it a bit basically its childhood friends to enemies to scara loves reader but reader isnt convinced (with a hint of 'ive always loved you' thrown in)

side note: this is a rewrite of an excerpt i wrote for a scara x oc, in which the oc was female (the same is said here but i will avoid using pronouns) and adopted into the kamisato clan as a princess (minor inazuma spoilers). the same situation is stated here. also i am 1000% willing to write more of this (includes my personal headcanons for scaramouche’s backstory, not canon!!)

growing up, you had always had poor health

your mother worried for you a lot when you were younger

she didn’t like to let you go outside much either

you spent most of your time in the palace walls while she worked, frequently being taken to see the royal physician

you would sit outside the door while your parents talked with the doctors about your “condition”

you weren’t even that sick

just weak for your age

that was when you first met him

he was training to be a soldier along his father

you were like a ghost in his eyes

sitting in the hall in the middle of the night

knees pushed to your chest, snoozing in the soft light of the moon

he was naturally a curious boy, so he kneeled in front of you and poked your shoulder

“hello?”

you startled awake

“wah-!” he fell back at your sudden movement

“who are you?” you asked

your voice was soft, and gentle, like a midnight breeze

“i’m [redacted].”

you remember what he told you, but some part of that memory had been erased from your mind…you wonder to this day what he could have said.

“my name is y/n.”

he thought it was a pretty name, although he wasn’t going to say anything

the two of you sat in the moonlight, talking quietly amongst yourselves

“why are you sitting outside the physician’s office?” he asked you

“my mama says i’m sick, and that going outside will make it worse.”

“oh. are you going to get better soon?”

you smile at him, a gesture that makes his chest tighten, although he can’t fathom why.

“yeah! she says that if we can afford to get some medicine from liyue, i’ll be all better! then i can start making friends!”

he slightly smiles

“can i be your friend, [redacted]?”

you had even said the name yourself once. why couldn’t you remember it?

his expression shifts to a slightly surprised look

“you…want to be my friend?”

he was quiet even then, and his silent expression would grow to an angry one over time

“yeah! you’re interesting, and you’re one of the few people who bothers to talk to me.”

he doesn’t speak for a while.

“you can say no if you want to.” you say to him.

“okay. i’ll be your friend.”

it’s a short response, but the bright grin that lights up your face makes it worth the wait

“yay! i can’t wait till i’m better so we can hang out more!”

you two talked in that hallway a lot

meeting after dark, talking about anything in the world

when you were about six, the worst of your illness hit you

the doctors didn’t even know what was wrong, and there were nights when he would sit outside the physician’s office alone at night, hoping, praying that the sun would shine on a world that still had you in it

you would collapse from exhaustion at the slightest overexertion

his father always told him he had to be careful with you, not only were you shorter than him, but you were also very fragile

those hours spent sitting in the hallway alone, he got to do a lot of thinking

he wanted to help you, but he didn’t know how

then, there was a sudden burst of hope

you were going to liyue with your parents

you would get the help you needed

he was happy for you, even if it meant you would have to spend time away from him

and then there was the terrible news

the ship had gone missing

you had too

he couldn’t sleep for days on end

his father was worried too

when he saw you again, you found yourself shuddering on the shores of inazuma

he wrapped his arms around you as tight as he could, as if his strength alone could undo everything that had happened

it was one of the few times he showed affection in public

he rushed you to the healer again

and this time there was no hoping

there was no praying

there was just the pit in his stomach, the fear that coursed through his veins and fueled his blood

every second felt like a decade, it was a moment in which you weren’t perfectly healthy and safe

the townspeople began to spread rumors, as people do

the guard’s son who was lovesick with worry for the sickly orphan girl

what a pity, no?

he wanted to shut them up. he wished he had the power to shut them up.

when even his father had to drag him away from the pharmacy, he didn’t talk to anyone for a very long time.

this was around the time he grew sour and snappy

his simply quiet demeanor developed into a scowl that constantly graced his face

he only smiled the day you were released from the physicians.

you weren’t fully healed. but you felt better than you ever had in your life.

his father took you in without a second thought, and he was just happy to have you with him.

“i’m better, scara.” you said to him, a happy smile on your face

“i was wondering when you’d hurry up and get well.”

you were a bit troubled by his attitude, but no less, you were happy to see your friend again.

it went like that for a long time.

he was rude, but you didn’t care because you knew what he was like underneath.

some nights he would sneak into your room and talk to you.

he told you he was just bored and felt like annoying you.

but his real reason was to make sure you were still breathing.

he always worried about you

so the day you received your vision, he felt a lot of relief

surely this meant that you could protect yourself. you were safe.

then the worst of all things happened.

his fathers death.

the day he felt like his world was ripped from underneath his feet.

almost immediately, the electro archon, baal, herself, intervened, and declared that you were to be adopted into the kamisato clan.

why you? why couldn’t he keep you with him? he was old enough to be able to take care of both of you

baal didn’t like his questioning. she said she knew what was best for you.

it was strange. because in the days he spent with you after, although not many, you didn’t seem sick at all.

for the first time, you seemed perfectly healthy.

he was glad for that…but he wasn’t happy. you could see that easily.

you knew this wasn’t the right thing for him

he stuck around for a year. you suppose you’re lucky he even stayed that long. you were pretty much his only reason.

sure he found friends in ayaka and kazuha…but he was unhappy.

he knew there was no point in staying, so he thought it was time he took his leave.

he approached you one day, as the sun began to set

you were worried for him, as he had been very angry towards baal and the emperor lately.

“scara, is there something you want to talk about?”

you watch as he stands before you

he blurts out, “run away with me.”

you’re taken aback almost immediately.

“what?”

he repeats his statement

“i’m going to flee from inazuma. come with me.”

“scara..”

his expression, as it does often these days, turns stern and serious.

“i’m not going to ask you again. come with me, y/n.”

you’re tired of him ordering you around.

“you know i can’t. i have duties here. i can’t just betray my country for you.”

“you know baal wants me gone. she’s going to kill me if i stay. she might do the same to you.”

you scoff at his words. “she won’t harm me or you. you’re being dramatic.”

he spits out his next words, laced with venom. “baal killed my father. i hate her and so should you.”

“scara.”

“it’s like you’ve completely forgotten about him just because you’re royalty now.”

“scara.”

“don’t call me scara. come with me if you ever cared at all.”

“scaramouche!”

he goes quiet

“don’t go. please.”

he frowns

“you know i can’t do that.”

you want to try and make him stay

but he won’t. you know nothing you say will convince him. he won’t let himself be convinced by you, even if that’s what he truly wants.

you inhale

“get out of here.”

“what?”

“go. leave. and take this with you.”

you throw the necklace you were wearing at him, and he catches it. baal had exiled him, it was true, but he couldn’t expect you to throw everything away for him.

“wait, what are you-“

as the two of you stare each other down, you hear ayaka’s voice coming from the courtyard, calling for you.

she has a guard with her, as the emperor assigns every royal family member. you managed to ditch yours early on.

“the guard is gonna get you if you stay, scara. get out of here, now.”

he scoffs

“whatever. i can’t believe i thought you were worth risking my life.”

he pockets the necklace and steps over the wall, and he’s gone.

nine years of friendship and he threw you away like you were nothing

in truth, the minute he was out of sight, he threw down his bag in anger

he turned around and you weren’t there anymore

you gave up on him

so if he hated you, you deserved it

it might be worth a hefty price anyway.

at least that’s what he told himself

(he never stopped missing you. almost as soon as he joined the fatui, he requested an audience with the tsaritsa to ask her how you were doing.)

“a simple agent, asking that much of me? and for a girl? that’s very bold of you.”

upon hearing it was about you, the cryo archon grew very interested. of course she remembered you.

the sickly orphan she gifted a vision to at a very young age.

she told him you were well

what she didn’t tell him was about baal going berserk and massacring thousands of her people.

upon receiving the news, he felt that chill upon him once again

the fear that fell onto his shoulders, weighing him down, too scared to ask for more information. he didn’t want to be told you were gone.

“the royal family was not harmed.”

he felt his muscles relax as he calmed down.

he quickly reassumed an upright stance.

he was the sixth harbinger. he has no weaknesses. he cares for nothing and no one.

but beneath his mask, the fire of his love for you burned brighter than the flame of any pyro vision.

a/n: ok so i really enjoyed this….scara banner when. i did tweak it a bit but i have other things written for this scenario in which scara returns to inazuma and reader is (deservingly) PISSED with him :) lmk if you want me to post those !

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holdmecloser-gandydancer · 3 years

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love and revolution

Magnus was intently working on a bookshelf. It was made of a beautiful, dark mahogany and, upon the request of the customer, was going to have dozens of birds carved into the sides and edges. He began sanding the shelves with a fine grit sandpaper. For a while, the only sound in the Hammer and Tongs was the soft, repetitive noise of wood being worn down.

The calm monotony was broken when the front door creaked open. Magnus looked up and grinned at the entrant; Julia Waxman, loaded down with bags from various merchants in town, had returned, the last dregs of the late afternoon sun trailing in after her. The sharp bite in the air let everyone know winter was just around the corner.

Magnus quickly stood up to relieve Julia of her burden She smiled and handed him half the bags in her arms. As the pair got to work unloading the bags, Magnus frowned. Everything Julia had brought home was either small, poor quality, or about to turn.

“This is what everyone had. Season’s been tough for farming and everyone’s raising prices to keep up with Kalen’s tariffs,” Julia said before Magnus could comment. She inspected the hard loaf of bread she’d been able to grab.

Magnus shook his head. For nearly a year, Governor Kalen and his cronies had been enacting increasingly harsh laws, oppressive curfews, and predatory taxes; the citizens of Raven’s Roost all felt the firm pressure of Kalen’s fine leather boots on the neck of their economy and of their freedom.

“How is everyone doing?”

Julia shrugged. “They’re all doing as well as they can. The Silverstrings are worried because their wheat harvest was half as fruitful this year as it was last year and a good portion of what grew was seized by Kalen.”

“Lucatiel?”

“His wool has largely been commandeered by Kalen. He hopes to be able to shear another large batch before winter hits in earnest but he’s uncertain.”

“And Therala?”

“Her herd’s dwindling. Most of the calves from this past spring either died or –“

“Were taken by Kalen and his pals. Right. Jules, how does he keep getting away with this?”

Julia laughed sharply and started putting some of the dry goods in the storage closet in the back of the shop. “Magnus, that’s just how things have always been here. For a while, anyway.”

“But how’d he even get into power in the first place?” There was nothing but pure astonishment in his voice. In the five years he’d lived in Raven’s Roost, he’d never quite been able to comprehend how someone so ruthless could have gotten the trust of the town; his friends and neighbors were good, honest folks and good judges of character. It made no sense to Magnus.

She puffed out her cheeks and thought for a moment. “He helped form Raven’s Roost into a proper town. We used to be vulnerable to bandits and those who sought to cause pain. He was stern but that kept us in shape. He used to be better. Genuinely. Not good, not at all, but not like this. His policies were never quite this harsh. I suppose he’s gotten greedy.”

“It’s senseless for him to dig this deep this quickly. If it continues like this, I don’t know that the town is going to last much longer.”

Julia said nothing. She knew Magnus was right but what was to be done about it? The two continued to unpack and put away items in silence.

“Papa won’t talk to me about how business is going here. Said he doesn’t want me to worry about things. How are we doing?” Julia looked at Magnus seriously.

He hesitated. Steven had specifically asked him to not discuss the business with Julia but when he saw her in front of him, firm hands anxiously picking at a sliver on the table, he found it hard to deny her.

“We’ve done better. I’m sure you’re aware the craftsmen corridor has been hit pretty hard by all the tariffs. Not only can we hardly afford to replace the tools and materials we need but the rest of the town can’t exactly afford our wares. We get the occasional customers,” he gestured to the bookshelf he’d been working on. “But we’re not doing great.”

Julia nodded and looked down. “That’s not exactly reassuring. But thanks for telling me.”

“Of course. Just don’t tell your dad I said anything,” he said sheepishly.

“Deal,” she said, glancing back at him with a smile.

Magnus sat on a bench outside the Hammer and Tongs and stared up at the moons. His teeth were chattering quietly but he wasn’t quite ready to turn in for the night. Isaiah Erksine, Kalen’s right-hand man, had distributed yet another list of tariffs and regulations to all the shops in Raven’s Roost earlier in the day. They were unconscionable; taxes and levies on every single scrap of material you could think of. Harsher curfews that made it nearly impossible for those in the craftsmen corridor to do much else besides make goods that nobody could afford. It was like the very essence of life was slowly being choked out of the town. Or, at the very least, the spirit of its inhabitants.

Magnus’s ruminative spiral was broken when he felt a thick, scratchy blanket draped over his shoulders. He glanced up and smiled; Julia, dressed far more sensibly than Magnus, darted a hand back through the doorway. In a moment, Magnus’s hands were wrapped around a piping hot mug of mint tea. Admittedly, the drink was more water than tea, but he drank it appreciatively.

“You seem troubled,” Julia mused, sipping from her own chipped mug.

“I am, Julia.” He confirmed, scooting over to make room on the bench. Julia mulled it over for a minute before sitting down. Heat was radiating off her like a fire and it took everything in Magnus to not immediately wrap his arms around her and hold her close. Though he did scoot a little closer. You know, to keep warm.

“I’d like to think that we could go a single week without tax hikes but it’s seeming more and more like a pipe dream,” she said flatly. “I hate this. I’ve lived among these people for as long as I can remember. Raven’s Roost is my home. When I was a little girl, I always used to think dream about the day that I’d get to raise my own family here. It felt like such a safe and warm place. And now…” She glanced at Magnus before she looked to the sky. “Now most days I feel like things might be easier if I just go somewhere else. And I don’t want that. I want to stay. I want to want to stay. I just don’t know that there’s going to be anything to stay for if this keeps up.”

“I want there to be something here for you,” Magnus murmured quietly, looking at Julia’s profile in the moonlight.

“Magnus, believe me, I don’t want to leave my home. I don’t want to leave –“ She looked at Magnus from the corner of her eye. “I don’t want to leave the people here. I just don’t think I can keep living under Kalen.”

“What if we don’t have to?” The words escaped Magnus’s mouth before he could even make sense of them himself.

Julia lurched and turned to look at Magnus, bewildered. “I’m sorry?”

Magnus had a choice. He could have easily retracted his statement. He could have laughed it off. But instead of thinking it over for any amount of time, he doubled down. “What if we don’t have to keep living under Kalen? What if we could still live here, in Raven’s Roost, but without that tyrant?”

Julia looked around before scooting closer to Magnus, their wind-chapped noses nearly touching. “Are you suggesting…” she took a breath, as though to steel herself. “Are you suggesting a revolt?”

Magnus could barely focus on the question with Julia this close to him. “I-I think I am,” his voice was near silent.

Julia nodded. “Okay. How’re we going to do this?”

Watery winter light did its best to penetrate the frost coated windows of the Hammer and Tongs. Magnus was idly whittling a piece of scrap wood. There weren’t any orders to work on and Candlenights was right around the corner; he figured he could fashion something homemade for both Julia and Steven.

His pocketknife nearly went flying out of his hand when the door of the shop burst open, startling him out of his focus. Standing in the doorway was a young earth genasi he recognized from town. He looked frantic and near tears. Magnus set his project down.

“Hey, Allura, what’s the matter?” Magnus asked, inviting the young man inside and shutting the door behind him.

“Magnus, it’s my dad,” Allura choked out. He looked gaunt and miserable; Magnus thought back to a few months ago when the entire Mountaindeep family came into the Hammer and Tongs, jovially talking about commissioning a crib, as a new baby was on the way. Allura, a kid all of fifteen, had chattered to him for ten minutes about how excited he was to become a big brother. He looked decidedly less excited in that moment.

“What happened?”

“W-we couldn’t pay the tariffs. My dad has been charging everyone half price. H-he said he couldn’t hike the prices up, it wasn’t right. And we couldn’t… Kalen took him away!” he cried, bordering on hysterical.

“Allura, buddy, you gotta breathe, okay? What do you mean Kalen took him?” Magnus led him to a chair.

“H-he hauled him off to the prison and I don’t know what’s gonna happen to him and my m-mom’s giving birth soon and I can’t help with that, I don’t know how,” He managed to get out, hiccupping between every few words, too distraught to calm down.

“Julia!” Magnus called up the staircase in the back of the shop. He had to get this kid to stop crying so he could get the full story and Julia tended to have a calming presence on, well, everyone.

In a moment, she appeared at the bottom of the stairs and sent Magnus a confused look. He nodded towards the crying teenager as explanation.

Julia rushed over, knelt down, and took Allura’s face in her thick hands. “Hey, hon, can you breathe with me?” she cooed gently. And for a few minutes, the shop was silent, save for Julia counting breaths for Allura.

“Can we hear the story again, bud?” Magnus asked quietly after a few moments.

Allura nodded and sniffled. “You guys know that Kalen raised the tariffs. Again. Um. My dad decided to slash his prices, not raise them to keep up. Said he couldn’t. He’s a big follower of Helm and he said it wasn’t right to keep medicines behind a steep price. He just wanted to help people. But Kalen came collecting today and he took my dad. And it’s not just him. He took Mr. Anvilrock and Sevara Mountainwillow and a few other people. And I don’t know what’s going to happen to them,” he said, his voice small and scared.

Magnus and Julia exchanged a look. She sent him a nod and turned back to Allura. “Okay. Thank you for telling us. Do you think that you can do us a favor?”

Allura furrowed his brow but nodded cautiously.

“Go around to the others in the craftsmen corridor and tell them to meet at the Hammer and Tongs tomorrow night? Just tell them it’s really important that everyone come. And if Kalen or his buddies ask you about it, be as vague as you can.” Magnus said seriously.

“If you’re asked about it, say that I’m teaching everyone how to patch their own clothes since Masden had to close down shop. ” Julia offered.

“But what about the curfew?” Allura asked, voice meek and eyes rimmed with red.

Magnus thought for a moment. “Tell everyone that we might have a way to keep us from having to worry about curfew ever again. I just need everyone to trust me.”

“I think I can do that.” Allura said, rising from the chair.

Julia patted him on the shoulder and slipped a gold piece into his hand. Before he could protest, she held her hand up and shooed him out the door.

Magnus rubbed his face for a moment. “Something’s gotta give, Jules.”

Julia reached a tentative hand out to squeeze Magnus’s hand quickly. “After tomorrow, I think something will. I hope.”

“Can either of you tell me why three separate people assured me that they’d do their best to make it to the shop tonight when I stopped in town a little bit ago?” Steven asked from the kitchen table.

Julia avoided her father’s gaze, busying herself with prepping tea instead.

Magnus focused intently on cracking eggs without getting any bits of shell in the bowl. He quickly whisked them together and held off on adding any salt or pepper to the mixture before setting them in the skillet. That was a little tip he picked up from—he thought for a moment—well, from his moms, he supposed. Apparently kept the egg from getting tough or something. He wasn’t really sure what that meant but followed the rule without fail. Made for good eggs, anyway.

“Am I just meant to be okay with the two of you encouraging our friends and neighbors to break the law to come over for a late-night chat?” A stern edge crept into Steven’s voice.

“Steven, we just wanted to have a meeting with the other craftsmen.”

“About what? What’s so important that it requires possibly getting some good people thrown in jail?”

“People are already getting thrown in jail!” Magnus protested. “Allura Mountaindeep came crying in here yesterday. His dad’s in prison, along with a handful of others who couldn’t pay. I just…Steven, you don’t have to agree with what we’re doing but you have to understand. I can’t keep sitting by and watch the town and people I love be beaten down by some big bully.”

Magnus returned his gaze to the eggs. The silence in the kitchen was broken by the teakettle’s shrill whistle.

“We have a plan. And hell, after tonight, it might not even be anything. But Papa, aren’t you tired of struggling? You can be as stoic as you like but I know the truth. This isn’t the life we should all be living. We should be able to have some shred of hope for a future that could matter. A future that isn’t just toiling until we die.” Julia stared at her father as she moved the kettle from the flame.

Steven stared back for a moment before glancing back at Magnus. He let out a sigh. “We can have the meeting but everyone is out before moonrise.”

Magnus and Julia smiled wide.

“Deal.” Magnus said, dividing the eggs between the three plates.

A hush fell over the group of craftmakers who all crammed into the Hammer and Tongs. It was a tight fit but it appeared that most of the corridor had managed to make the meeting. The sun had long since set, leaving only the meekest dregs of light hanging in the sky; moonrise was due in less than an hour. Magnus knew he had to make the meeting quick.

“I’m sure you’ve all heard of the few imprisonments that have come about as a result of Kalen’s new tariffs.” Magnus began, bouncing his gaze across those gathered in the shop.

A grumble of acknowledgement reverberated through the dense crowd.

“And I’m sure you all know that any of us could be subject to the same treatment just for being at this meeting.”

More noises of agreement bubbled up in the crowd.

“Then I’ll make it quick and worth your risk. I hate seeing Raven’s Roost like this. I know in my bones it could be better if things were different. I hate seeing everyone beaten down by these laws. I hate seeing Kalen’s friends allowed to do whatever they want, whenever they want, and never see any kind of repercussions for it. I’m sick of seeing people starving in the streets. Sick of seeing families torn apart because one of them had the audacity to be a kind person. I want Raven’s Roost to be a flourishing place.” He glanced over to Julia and pink stained his cheeks. “I want to be able to raise a family here. I want to want that. But as it stands, I don’t know that I can imagine a future for Raven’s Roost. I don’t know how many of us can last like this for much longer.”

“And what exactly are you proposing we do about it?” Hector Anvilrock, another metalworker in town, demanded.

“We’re proposing a revolution.” Magnus said simply.

The shop erupted in conversation. It began civil enough but quickly devolved into name calling and accusations of espionage and snitching. Magnus’s stomach dropped. He knew it wasn’t going to be an easy sell but if this was any indication, he feared for the future of any kind of revolution.

“Enough!” Julia said, climbing onto a chair. She was already taller than Magnus and nearly as broad so the added height made her the single most imposing figure in the room, though her warm brown eyes added an air of compassion. “I understand it’s a scary thought. But do we really think it’s a better idea to just roll over and get kicked? Sure, Kalen has numbers and power and resources. But we actually have something worth fighting for. We have the most skilled craftspeople on the continent. We have conviction. And we have a goal.” She sighed and rubbed her hand down her face. “I understand if any of you are scared or apprehensive. I won’t make demands. I won’t beg. I want you all to join us but I won’t look down on you for not getting involved. I just want to know that we can trust you.”

She glanced over at Magnus who was watching her, stars in his eyes. She raised her eyebrows at him and sent him a tiny nod.

“Well?” He asked, seeming to snap out of his daze. “Can we trust all of you?”

It felt like the entire show was holding its breath until Hector nodded. And then Allura. And then Therala. One by one, each person in attendance gave a silent pledge.

Magnus grinned, relief flooding his veins. This was only the first step, but they’d already hurdled over it with grace. He was certain they’d be able to make Raven’s Roost a safe place for all someday.

#taz #taz balance #the adventure zone #magnulia #magnus burnsides #julia burnsides #tazb #reese writes #i believe in big buff julia burnsides supremacy #the adventure zone balance #also shout out to me for snatching the rest of these names from the dnd campaign i am currently in <3 #taz balance fic #fic

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ironmandeficiency · 3 years

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pedro boys + spending habits

word count: fuck if i know, wrote it thru the app

characters: din, marcus m, dave, pero, marcus p, oberyn, max, frankie, whiskey, maxwell, javier, ezra

a/n: idk what caused this to happen but it works i guess. hope they make sense

✨support my ko-fi✨

trust him with your money, your drink, your social security number, everything:

din. this man is barely scraping by on his own when you first meet him. when he adds the kid to the mix, he gets even more frugal than he already is with an old as sin ship that many people are surprised to see fly. he will have a policy of “you earn it, you choose what to do with it” and since he goes after most of (if not all) the bounties to keep you all alive, he has the final say in how most of the credits are spent. he does want you to have nice things though, so he makes sure to configure the budget to where you don’t have to pour your credits into the group’s survival money very often. it’s the least he can do. he’s very big on taking care of his people and will show that in small ways.

marcus m. he’s a single dad for a significant amount of time, he has no choice but to be responsible with his money. he has to take care of missy, keep them both fed and housed and healthy, and that’s not even touching on how expensive all of high school graduation and college will be once she gets there. he teaches missy very early in life how important money is bc he doesn’t want her to ever know how it feels to not have enough. he makes a considerable amount of money w the heroics tho so he can afford to responsibly splurge on you both, but not constantly. is very cautious abt the splurging becoming a habit

dave. yeah he may be a murderer, but he’s scary great at managing his money (to continue being able to murder). he’s got his ex wife’s alimony (that still pisses him off but that’s another story) and two girls he takes care of, there’s no other choice for him either. there’s never a worry about dave having a midlife crisis and spending money on some stupid dad thing (like a motorcycle or assless chaps or a country club membership) because he murders to keep his mind off that sort of stuff. files his taxes diligently every year the day tax season starts and will pass this wisdom to the girls.

pero. he’s very good at judging if you need something or not. if it can’t feed you, keep you healthy, kill someone, or protect you, you don’t need to buy it. definitely not a man who indulges in trinkets and frivolous things that do nothing but weigh down his horse and his person. will encourage this way of thinking with whoever travels with him to whatever extent he can, but won’t be a dick about it if you have something sentimental on your person. if it’s a necessity, he will splurge on a bed and bath at an inn but not much else for a while. cheap because he has to be

marcus p. i don’t think i have to explain this one so i won’t. no i’m not being lazy who said that?

maybe you’ll be fine if he’s in charge. maybe:

oberyn. being a prince (and himself), there are different ways this could go. he spends his money frivolously at brothels & on his daughters + other loved ones (as well as other luxuries) and doesn’t really seem to be the type to keep tabs on it all as he goes. but... he’s a prince in a prosperous kingdom and so there isn’t really a worry for money. he’s known as the red viper for many reasons, including his clever nature and the ease with which he can get what he wants thru whatever means necessary. if you want for something that he can’t buy, you know he will find a way to get it for you (which can be a problem sometimes).

max. he’s good with money in the sense of perpetuating capitalism — that’s the red flag here. hell, he’s gonna be investing into bitcoin and who knows what stock market bs & bc it’s max, of course you trust him. max can’t control the stock market tho, so sometimes things are a little iffy. it always evens itself out though, and you make sure in the future that he invests his money instead of your joint money. he’s still gonna share anyways, it just helps you have a little more peace of mind.

frankie. he just wants to take care of you, okay? you can’t fault him for that 🥺 he maneuvers his budget around to make sure he can do all these nice things for you while leaving his own needs unchecked, which isn’t okay. he just wants to provide for the ppl he loves the best he can, but the problem begins when he starts to think he isn’t doing enough. his insecurity & lack of self-worth (fueled by his guilt for “not being everything you deserve”) is what makes him agree to the Trip™️ in the first place. once he comes back & sees you frantic, only wanting him home and not giving a flying fuck about the money, does he realize that you’re devoted to him and not what he can do for you.

whiskey. working for statesman made him forget what things really cost bc he suddenly never had to worry again about not having enough money. being with someone that isn’t practically made of money will snap him back into reality. he looks at his bank statements and his balance occasionally, but our big spender cowboy hasn’t really counted money as something he worries about for a while. when he constantly showers you in expensive gifts (only the best for his baby, that’s his motto) and you tell him that he has to not do that bc he’ll go broke, he plays it off because he doesn’t remember having to worry. separate bank accounts are only because you want to make sure your money is being spent smartly (even though jack has offered constantly to pay for literally anything you need).

don’t give him anything you want to see again:

maxwell. as much as i love this dork, he’s absolute shit with money. when his business is falling apart (bc he made the stupid ass decision to buy the oil rigs no one wanted bc they weren’t producing oil), he throws it all into saving face and trying to make investors buy into something that isn’t there. what a smart business man would’ve done was liquidate his assets and possibly try to get into a business that will yield at least some profit. he does learn his lesson tho and eventually can be trusted with money, but even he is hesitant to do anything with the household finances. he’s a dreamer, and dreams and money are the same as oil and water.

javier. i know you’re possibly surprised but hear me out. he’ll go all in to get info, whether he’s spending american taxpayer money or his own money or anyone else’s, if it’s valuable info that can be bought, it’s gonna be bought even if he goes without groceries for the next two weeks. before being with you, it was booze and prostitutes and cigarettes that ate away at his checks outside of buying information. the only thing that really changed once you got together was the prostitutes and slightly less cigarettes and booze. however, when he goes back to laredo permanently, he’s perfectly capable of keeping his shit in line. he’ll balance every checkbook in sight and run a tight af ship.

ezra. this man is a scavenger by necessity, a con man by choice. he has a silver tongue and a roguish charm and pretty questionable morals; he’s not gonna have any issue with getting his hands dirty. he’s probably gonna use your joint money to try and pull a fast one on some unsuspecting stranger (“it’ll double our money,” he says, “it’ll be fine,” he says), but then said stranger will end up turning the tables and leave you both absolutely broke. yeah he will feel guilty, no doubt. the only problem is that he won’t take it as a “hey don’t do it again” lesson, it’ll be a “this is how i can improve for next time.” eventually you have to put your foot down and take control of the money and when he realizes that you’re improving your lives much better than he is, he will thank you for it.

all pedro character taglists: @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @obirain @leias-left-hair-bun @themarcusmoreno @catsnkooks @captainrexstan @mackstrut @torradoza @simping-for-fives @stardustsunrisekisses @darthadeline @artemis61003 @majorshiraharu @getdookuedon @capricornrabies @max--phillips @darklingveracruz @book-of-anarchy @andysficrecs @purelypascal @whovianwar @lv7867 @hornystarwarsbisexual @kaermorons @princess76179 @pedropasscals @greeneyedblondie44 @seasonschange-butpeopledont @qhbr2013 if you don’t want to be tagged, lemme know!! the link to join is in my bio

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vosiro · 4 years

Text

⇾ Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurō x F!reader

⇾ Warnings: this shit nasty fr 18+, also CEO!Kuroo bc that’s sexy,

⇾ Authors note: In honor of my husbands birthday, I decided to write this nasty ass shit😜. See, ion know what demon POSSESSED me to write this but...🧍🏾‍♀️anyway, Y/n is implied black, but if you’re not black it’s ite!! There will be some use of AAVE on Y/n’s part tho, and she not finna be one of them “I-I-...b-but k-kuroo!” Shy bitches NONE OF DHET. She a bad bitch and that’s on prd. (Shy bitches still bad doe!!) is this self indulgent? Yea idc 💃🏾

≣ ≣ ≣ ≣ ≣ ≣ ≣ ≣ ≣ ≣ ≣ ≣ ≣ ≣ ≣ ≣ ≣ ≣ ≣ ≣ ≣ ≣ ≣ ≣ ≣ ≣

It was officially November 17, your husband’s birthday. When you had woken up, kuroo had already left for work, so the bed was empty. For the past week and a half you’ve been contemplating what to get him. You see, for your birthday, kuroo always showered you in gifts, money, clothes, anything you wanted. That was exactly the problem. Kuroo had the money, the expenses and the power to get anything either you or him wanted, what could you possible get him that he couldn’t already afford himself. For the past couple years y’all were married, you two always went to some fancy restaurant to eat, then went to a hotel to have some casual birthday sex. This year, you wanted it to be different, you wanted it to be special.

You walked into your local bar in a thin, golden bodycon dress, with a black, expensive fluffy jacket, that just made your skin pop. You just looked like walking money. And ofcourse kuroo had to have his girl walking around with that Hermes Birkin 30cm Himalayan with diamond hardware. You looked around the bar before you saw kiyoko waiting at a table. “Heyy shimizu” you gleamed, sitting down at the empty seat across from kiyoko. “Hey, Y/n-Chan” she replied, passing you the drink that was preordered.

“So.” You sigh.

��So? What’s wrong?” Kiyoko questioned.

“I don’t know what to get tetsu for his birthday...” you replied, taking a sip of your drink.

“I’m sure he’ll like anything you get him.” She reassured.

“Girl, but listen...This man got 4 cars, 3 houses, a visa black card, and a bad ass bitch. What more does he need...wtf do you be getting ryōsuke for his birthday??” You questioned

“Well, he usually likes anything I get him. It’s all about the thought y/n. You love him right? Any gift from your heart, he’ll like.” Kiyoko answered.

“Girrrr....you right, you right. Matter ah fact, I have an idea.” You grabbed your lil birkin bag and started to get out the chair “thank you shimizu! Make sure you get to the party at 7:30, tetsu’ll be back at 8!” You said as you rushed out the bar.

You made your way to the expensive lingerie store that was right next to the penthouse you live in with your husband. You quickly entered the store, looking around for something sexy, but cute, but nasty. Kuroo would never admit it, but he gets flustered easily. When you bend over, when you lean down infront of him and he gets a nice view of your tits, when your skirt’s a little too short, when you call him in the middle of a business meeting, and he has to excuse himself so he can fuck his fist to your moans and cries over the phone. You knew exactly how to rile him up, and that’s one of the things he loved about you.

You’ve been browsing the lingere sets at the store for a while, before you see it. A perfect thin, red, sexy, lingerie with garter belts. Not to toot your own horn or anything, but this would just make your skin pop. You quickly grab the set and pay for it, making your way back to the penthouse after.

———————————————————————

It was currently 7:58. Kuroo was expected to arrive at 8. Guests were under the table, hiding behind chairs, any possible place a person could squeeze themselves into. You were hiding under behind the kitchen counter with kiyoko. “Psst. Shimu,” you whispered.

“I’m right here y/n..” she replied.

“Right... anyway, guess what I got tetsu for his birthday.” You asked eagerly.

“Your love and affection??” She answered.

“Girl no...well yes...but no.” You said.

“Then what?” Kiyoko questioned.

“I got 𝐿𝒾𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑒.” You replied

“You’re making him wear lingerie??” She said.

“...😏” You smirked

“I’m kiddi-”

*clack*

The door to the penthouse opened slowly and everyone let out a big

“SURPRISE!”

Bokuto ran up to kuroo and gave him a big bear hug “HAPPY BIRTHDAY BRO!” he exclaimed. Kuroo went around greeting everyone, and thanking them for showing up. You were still talking with kiyoko before he started to approach you. “I should leave you two alone.” She she said before walking away to talk with her own husband.

“You planned all of this for me, baby?” He cooed as he took you into his arms for a hug, “yessuh, anything for you.” You said nuzzling your face into his chest. He started to place small kisses down your neck “fuck...I missed you...” His breath was hot against your skin “not here...let’s wait till the party’s over okay, babe?” You wanted to, you wanted to so bad... but one thing about kuroo is he goes feral when you make him wait

———————————————————————

11:00. The last few guests had left a while ago, and kuroo had just got done finishing his shower after you had yours. He walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, his chiseled chest on full display. This man was always so damn fine, like whew fuck it’s getting hot in hea fr. He sat next to you and started kissing ur collar bone, slowly removing your robe from your skin.

“You don’t understand how bad I wanted to fuck you,” He whispered into your skin. “I was hard the entire night...”

He completely removed the robe from your skin. “Oya? What’s this, baby?”

“Surprise.” You moaned slightly as he slid his hands to grip your ass “tonight, I’ll let you do anything you want to me..”

He halted in his movements “anything?”

“Mhm~” you reassured

You reach down to palm him through the towel, “someone’s really excited.” You say as you stroke him slowly. “That’s because my girl looks so damn sexy right now...and she’s letting me do whatever I want tonight.” Kuroo reaches down to rub circles on your clit.

“Mm~” he stick his tongue down your mouth as you let out your moan. “You’re so wet...it’s seeping through your panties and spilling onto my fingers..” he grins “only for you, daddy..” you say.”

“Fuck..the whole day I was thinking about coming home and fucking you... I even jerked off to the thought of you at work today,” He flipped you over onto your hands and knees, “Now you’re here...all sexy for me.” The towel slid off, and so did your panties as well. “I’m gonna fuck you so good baby, you won’t be able to walk or talk after..” he cooed, rubbing his tip along your folds

“W-wait tetsu, you just not gon prep me or n-fuck!!” He slammed his cock into you with a deep groan.

“Just Shutup and t-take it... fuckk...you’re tight.” He moved in and out of your cunt at an agonizingly slow pace.

“Faster daddy..” you moaned out

“Yea? My baby’s feeling good?” He picked up his pace and started jamming into you harder. You lifted your body up slightly. “Stay the fuck down.” He growled as he grabbed your neck, not wanting to mess up your hair. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good baby.” He was picking up the paste and hitting that one spot he knew you liked. You were moaning loudly into the pillow before he flipped you over onto your back.

“I wanna see that pretty face when I fuck you.” He started fucking you slowly in mission watching his dick get covered in your cream as went in and out. He then took your hand and put it on your lower stomach. “You feel that baby?” He picked up his pace slightly. “You feel how deep I am? Fuck.” His eyes were tainted with lust, and cheeks painted with blush. Your hand felt each and every thrust he was putting into you.

“F-fuck tetsu, you’re so big..” you whimpered. Kuroo was always a sucker for praise. “Yea? Look at you, you’re such a good girl taking all of it.” He groaned out.

“Open your mouth baby.” He stuck two fingers in your mouth coating them in saliva, then slowly sheathing them into your other right hole. You whine out at the stretch. “I want both of my kitten’s holes to be filled tonight.” He let out as he stretched your ass.

“Shit, relax baby, you’re so tight you’re gonna cut off my circulation.”

“F-feels s’good” you moaned as he continued to satisfy both your holes. “C’mere baby.” He pulled you into the reverse cowgirl position. “You knew what you were doing naughty girl” he groaned as you bounced on his dick “shit...dressing up...fuck...like that.” You were squeezing him so tightly and it just felt so good.

“Yes, I knew..mm~” there was no point in lying, you knew exactly how kuroo would react. He landed a smack on your ass “I’ll have to punish you princess,” you heard a spit noise come from behind you, then felt a warm trail of saliva roll down onto you right puckered ass hole. Kuroo massaged the liquid around the hole “fuck, you think my dick would fit in here? My cum dripping out of you pussy and you ass? That’s so sexy..” you winced as he stuck his thumb inside. “Shi.. does it feel that good? You like that? You’re squeezing so tight, fuck.” He groped your ass, letting out a low moan.

“Suck your cream off my dick baby.”

“Yes daddy.” You replied getting off of him and on your knees. You take his girth cock into your mouth. You started bobbing your head quickly, tasting yourself on his dick. He place a firm grip on the top of your head. “Y-yes, just like tha...mm.. fuck.. your so good to me baby.” His hips started bucking into your mouth roughly, you could tell he was close “fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

He grabbed your head halting you to stop. “I wanna cum inside you..”

“Then do it daddy, cum inside me...”

“Fuck. Get on your hands and knees.”

He slid back into you once again letting out a deep moaning after regaining stimulation “how are you still this fucking t-tight...no matter how hard I fuck you...fuck.” He leaned forward and stuck his fingers in your mouth while pounding you into the mattress.

“Mm~ tetsu I’m close~” you whined out

“Yeah? Cum for me baby, milk my cock, I’m gonna stuff you so good.” Ah yes, an even more feral kuroo...truly delicous. “I’m gonna fill you up with my kids...fuck what if you get pregnant.” He groaned. “You’d look so cute with your tummy swollen.” He started picking up his paste, pounding into your sweet spot even harder. “Tetsu, I’m- nngh~ fuck.” Your orgasm washed over you, you were completely fucked out, but he still kept pounding into you.

“Fuck. That’s right, cum on my dick.” One of his arms were on the headboard while the other was wrapped so comfortably around your neck. “C’mon baby. Cum for me one more time. I know you can do it.” He grunted

“I c-cant tetsu.” Your body was still shaking in ecstasy. “Yes you can, c’mon” The hand around your neck reached down to rub your wet clit rough and fast. Needless to say he had you cumming in no time. “Fuck fuck fuck tetsu-”

“Shit, I’m almost there baby, just hold on for a littl- fuck.. bit more.” His thrust started to grow sloppy. “Fuck, I’m cu-uh..nngh.” He let out the most deep and beautiful moan as he spilled his seed into you with one last thrust. You fell onto your back and kuroo right on to of you.

“Fuck baby, that was the best birthday present ever.” He huffed, still out of breath

“Mm~ tetsu! You went too rough..now I’m finna be aching all day. My entire body hurts.” Yo complained.

“Atleast your sexy and in pain.” He said, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Stfu.”

Fin.

———————————————————————

Did I proof read this? No🧜🏽‍♀️ anyways I wish kuroo a happy birthday mwah 🥰

Me writing plot: 🤮👺🤢👹

Me writing sex scenes: 😏🌝😜🥰

#kuroo smut #kuroo x reader #nekoma #nekoma smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu!!#my writing #haikyuu x black reader #kuroo x black reader #kuroo fluff

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theres-an-impulstor-among-us · 3 years

Note

person who left the "Impulse & Skizz as the final 2 in 3rd life or Impulse kills Skizz for knowing too much" prompt here. Just read your latest fic so could you do the one where the final 2 are Impulse & Skizz? Thx ^^

thank u so much for asking for this. it became quite self-indulgent but i hope it’s still good :D

cw blood, suicide

…

“Martyn!” cries Skizz, seeing his friend and only remaining ally stumble into Dogwarts, a bloody wound in his chest.

He dashes forwards just in time to catch Martyn as he stumbles. As he lowers his friend down, he inspects the wound. It’s clearly a stab wound, and it’s been bleeding for a while.

“Martyn, oh my gosh…!” Skizz’s voice cracks as he cradles Martyn in his arms. “Stay with me, Martyn! Stay with me!”

“I don’t have long,” rasps Martyn, his face pale. “S-Skizz, listen-”

“You gotta stay with me! W-We gotta win this together!”

Martyn weakly shakes his head. “I’m d-done for. Skizz, please… Impulse is on his w-way here. You gotta kill him. End this.”

Tears spring to Skizz’s eyes. “I… I can’t lose you, Martyn…”

“I’ll b-be okay,” Martyn whispers. “I’ll be with R-Ren again. G-Good luck, Skizz. Thanks for e-everything.”

“No…”

Martyn’s head falls back, his eyes closing. But it’s the buzz of Skizz’s communicator that confirms what he already knows.

InTheLittleWood was slain by impulseSV

His only remaining friend and ally is gone.

Skizz hangs his head and cries, hugging Martyn’s body close to him. They were so close to winning this. Two vs one; it should’ve been so easy. They could have won this together. They SHOULD have won this together.

They were so close…

Finally, Skizz gently lays Martyn’s body down and shakily stands up, his hands and armour smeared with blood. He takes a moment to wash them clean in the pond, before collecting everything he could need for the final fight.

There’s only two people left now. Just two. Skizz…

…and the friend who betrayed him.

After enchanting some fresh diamond armour, using the Renchanting table for the last time, he climbs the ladder onto the wall of Dogwarts, equipped with Martyn’s shield, Ren’s axe, and Etho’s bow. It helps to have a part of them with him as he enters the endgame. He can feel their presence, their strength, cheering him on. With the prospect of either killing or being killed by his best friend looming over him, it makes him feel a little braver to have this extra strength.

After several excruciating minutes of waiting, Skizz spots a figure coming towards him from the direction of BigB’s house, down the mountain. Its pathing is too specific to be a mob.

This is it.

Skizz nocks an arrow and aims it at the figure. If he can get a shot on Impulse here, he might be able to gain an advantage.

Impulse gets closer.

Skizz doesn’t shoot.

Impulse gets closer.

Skizz can’t bring himself to shoot.

“Hey, Skizz,” says Impulse, stopping close enough to the wall that a shot from here would kill him. “How’s it going?”

“You here to collect the full set?” snarls Skizz. “Killing Ren and Etho wasn’t enough for you, huh? You just had to take Martyn from me too.”

“I’m not gonna back down now, Skizz. Not after everything I’ve done to get here.”

Skizz’s grip tightens on the bow, causing Impulse to let out a laugh. “C’mon, do you really want to fight me?”

“Of course I don’t, you jerk,” whispers Skizz shakily. Louder, he says, “I’m not gonna back down either. I’m gonna beat you for Dogwarts.”

“Dogwarts is meaningless,” scoffs Impulse. “A fake kingdom with a fake king that’ll die as soon as this world does.”

“Ren was more of a king than you were of a friend!” Skizz snarls back. “Ren, Martyn, Etho — they’re all better people than you!”

“Really? Then why are they not here now?”

“BECAUSE YOU MURDERED THEM!!!!”

Skizz’s roar shatters the otherwise quiet air and he lets his arrow fly. It glances off Impulse’s armour and does no damage, but Impulse stumbles back anyway, clearly taken by surprise by Skizz’s unexpected attack.

While Impulse is distracted, Skizz leaps down from the wall and charges at him with his — Ren’s — axe. Impulse only just manages to raise his shield to block the attack, but he’s off-balance and Skizz’s strike shoves him backwards.

Impulse’s cry throws Skizz off guard. For a brief moment, he feels the urge to rush over to his best friend and make sure he’s okay.

But then Impulse recovers and charges at him. In his haste to get away, Skizz forgets his shield and simply dodges to the left, but Impulse’s own shield catches him in the jaw, causing him to taste blood in his mouth.

“You’re so annoying!” Skizz growls.

“Good. So are you.”

Remembering his shield this time, Skizz blocks Impulse’s next blow and lashes out blindly with the axe.

Impulse screams as the blade digs into the exposed part of his arm. It’s not a deep cut but it’s enough to throw him off.

“The Red Winter Axe finally tastes enemy blood,” says Skizz triumphantly, as if the spirit of Ren is giving him the words.

“You’re so PATHETIC,” Impulse snarls, clutching his arm.

“GOOD!” Skizz screeches back. “SO ARE YOU!”

Clearly now infuriated, Impulse resumes his attacks.

Normally, Impulse would be much better at PVP than Skizz. But 3rd Life has changed something in both of them. They’re both exhausted, but it’s more than that. Their motivations have changed. Impulse has done so many bad things; he’s lost himself, and it reflects in his fighting style. Whereas Skizz has improved, and he has something to fight for. So now they’re on more equal footing.

Finally, Skizz finds himself fighting extremely close to the edge of the hill, at the bottom of which a river flows at its deepest part.

But as Skizz tries to move out of the way, Impulse charges again and in his haste to dodge, Skizz loses his balance. He grabs hold of Impulse’s wrist as he topples backwards, bringing his former friend with him. The two both lose hold of their weapons as they tumble down the hill towards the river.

Skizz lands heavily but cleanly in the water and sinks rapidly. The shock of the impact stuns him — not for long but long enough. He struggles to swim upwards but his strength is almost gone. The utter exhaustion is finally catching up to him.

As Skizz sinks further down under the water, he can’t help thinking that this is it. This is how he’ll die. The coldness of the water grips him and pulls him down, weakening him. He’s about to run out of air. This is the end…

…

No.

It can’t end like this.

It won’t end like this.

Pushing off against the bottom of the riverbank, Skizz breaks the surface of the water with a loud gasp, taking in a gulp of oxygen. He manages to swim to the edge of the river and climb out. His chest and limbs are aching but he knows he can’t afford to stop now. He crawls away up the hill, choking and gasping for air, not daring to even look back. Every bone in his body is telling him that Impulse is right behind him, about to kill him in one shot. The bloodlust, the drive to win, it’s all coming to a head.

But just as Skizz reaches the top of the hill, his communicator buzzes.

impulseSV drowned

Skizz has to read the message no fewer than a dozen times before he properly realises what it says.

Impulse is… dead. He’s gone. He must have hit his head when they landed in the river, knocking him out.

After a while, Skizz lies down on the ground, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. He doesn’t know whether to cry hysterically or be relieved. Impulse’s death was indirectly his fault, considering he’s the one who caused the two of them to fall into the river. If he had noticed his former friend’s predicament sooner, maybe he could have saved him. Should he have tried to save him…?

But then he remembers the way Etho’s voice cracked when he talked about how Impulse had betrayed him. Ren’s scream as Impulse buried his axe blade in his chest. The sight of Martyn bleeding out in Skizz’s arms.

He pushes himself up off the floor and, exhausted and almost completely out of energy, limps over to his cracked shield, lying where he had dropped it. Picking it up, he turns his face upwards and lifts the shield to the sky. A triumphant gesture devoid of triumph.

“For Dogwarts,” he rasps.

This gesture drains the rest of his strength and he drops to his knees, head spinning, the shield falling to the ground beside him. He’s fought so hard for so long. All he wants now is to rest.

He manages to pull himself to the edge of the hill that has no water at the bottom. It’s time to finally end this, once and for all.

Skizz straightens up and takes a final deep breath. Holding the Dogwarts banner tightly in his hand, he leans forward and lets himself fall.

Skizzleman fell from a high place

And with the final death notification, broadcast to a world of ghosts and memories, the 3rd Life journey comes to an end.

#3rdlifesmp #3rd life smp #skizzleman #impulsesv #vaunna’s requests #cw blood #cw suicide

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hurricaneonanesthesia · 4 years

Text

Fluff Alphabet (Mammon)

@pzlqpibz said: Please can i have one full alphabet on mammon ? 🥺🥺 Love you, take care of you !!!!!!😚😚😚

Hi! I hope that you don’t mind that i’m tagging you. But anyways here is a full fluff alphabet for tsun tsun baby mammon :)))) ~Admin Hurricane

A - Activities; How do they like to spend time with you?

He likes taking you out to buy stuff despite him not being able to afford a lot of things lol. And if he can, he also likes taking you to his shoots so you can see him going all out with different outfits and such.

B - Beauty; What do they admire/find beautiful about you?

He rlly likes your hair and just playing around with it. He also thinks it’s rlly cute when you’re studying together and your face scrunches up while you try and figure out what the answer is. He’ll just kinda stare at you longingly and then when you catch him, he’ll turn away panicked and blushy lmao.

C - Comfort; How would they help you if you felt down/were having a panic attack?

He’d also panic because at first he wouldn’t quite know what to do, but then he would just pull you into a hug cause he wouldn’t rlly know what else to say.

D - Dreams; How do they picture their future with you?

At first, he thought that it was a one sided thing, so all he could rlly see is you with one of his brothers and not him. But then after you got together, he could see it as something that could work out. Being the avatar of Greed, everything used to be just about him, him, him, but then you came into the picture and all of that was thrown out the window.

E - Equal; Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

He gives off dom vibes, but rlly he’s the more passive one lmao

F - Fighting; Would it be easy for them to forgive you? How do you fight?

It would probably be something along the lines of: Mammon: grrrr you idiot human, I’ll never forgive you! *five minutes later* Mammon: nooooo MC come back dont hang out with my stupid brothers.

G - Gratitude; How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what you’re doing for them?

He acts like he isn’t but really, he is, he’ll just never admit it.

H - Honesty; Do they have any secrets that they hide from you? Or do they share everything?

He gets into a lot of trouble with the witches and he doesn’t want to get you involved. But since he’s a terrible liar you still find out anyways.

I - Inspiration; Did you change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

You did! You helped him with his relationship with his brothers.

J - Jealousy; Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Oh boy, he’s a tsundere for a reason lol. If he wasn’t the avatar of Greed, he’d be the avatar of Jealousy lmao.

K - Kiss; Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

I like to imagine that he’s a rlly good kisser dshfbsffdbsh. The first kiss was most likely pretty rushed and a spur of the moment type of thing, where he literally goes “cause i love you idiot,” then proceeds to kiss him.

L - Love Confession; How would they confess to you?

If you’ve seen lesson 20, you know ;)

M - Marriage; Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

At the beginning of your relationship, he’s terrified that you’re gonna leave him cause everyone thinks he’s a scumbag, but then later on he really believes that he wants and will get married to you. He’d probably propose by pulling you into a secluded place away from his brothers, maybe the top of the devildom and then ask the question. And mammon, being mammon would want an extravagant wedding lol

N - Nicknames; What do they call you?

Treasure, baby girl, babe, baby, my human

O - On Cloud Nine; What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

It’s pretty obvious lol, he’s more blushy and clingy than usual. He doesn’t easily express his feelings cause whenever he sees you, he turns into a stuttering blushy mess.

P - PDA; Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Oh man, if he could let the entire Devildom know that you’re going out with him, he would do it. His brothers are tired of him constantly bragging and going “mE AnD mC aRE dATiNG”. But he’s a shy blushy baby about PDA in front of everyone else.

Q - Quirk; Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

I think that mammon would actually be rlly good with kids! He doesn’t seem like it at first but he’s just a big softie for them.

R - Romance; How romantic are they? What would they do to make you happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He doesn’t act all romantic at first, but he’d try his best to make you happy. Something catches your eye? He goes out of his way to go get it for you later.

S - Support; Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

He’s supportive of whatever you want, he believes that you can achieve anything you set your mind to.

T - Thrill; Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

He prefers to follow a routine.

U - Understanding; How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

When the two of you start dating, he knows you pretty well. He doesn’t show it but he’s pretty empathetic.

V - Value; How important is the relationship to them? What is it worth in comparison to other things in their life?

This relationship is vvvvvvvvvvvvvv important to him. He’s never had anything like this because he’s constantly being put down by his brothers and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

W - Wild Card; A random Fluff Headcanon.

When the two of you wake up in the morning and you’re trying to get up, he’ll just pull you back unexpectedly and cuddle longer, refusing to let you go.

X - XOXO; Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

In public, he’s a blushy baby, but in private be prepared to have this boi be stuck to your side like glue. He won’t let you go. You probably have to initiate the cuddling first tho.

Y - Yearning; How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Oh man, if you’re gone, he sulks a lot and hides out in his room. He’ll probably just lay on top of his bed scrolling through his gallery looking at pictures of you, or you and him.

Z - Zeal; Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

If it’s you, he’s willing to try his best and achieve it, even if he acts like he’s uninterested. He really cares about you and wants to ensure your happiness.

Want more of my writing? Be sure to check out my masterlist :)

If you wanna request something, don’t be afraid to send something my way! Thanks for reading and have a lovely day!

#obey me shall we date #obey me #mammon headcanon #shall we date mammon #mammon obey me #mammon x reader #mammon x you #hurricanethedragon #mammon fluff alphabet

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awanderingdeal · 3 years

Text

Never too late - 6 - 7

A continuation of Leo and Regulus’ attempts (antics) to give Regulus the childhood he never had.

CW: Food talk

Please message me if you feel I need to add any content warnings

Rating: T

Previous and future chapters can be found on my masterlist

Credit for the sweater universe and the characters within it go to @lumosinlove. What a hero.

[This is currently unedited, and I'm not that happy with it, but also my writing mojo has decided it is vacay time so it is what is it]

6. Go to camp! You’ll make friends for life.

“Le! Did you order something?” Finn called, appearing in the doorway of the kitchen carrying a large box.

“Yeah, it’s the t-shirts,” Leo nodded, scraping the onions he’d just chopped into the pot. “Put it on the island for me please, babe.”

Finn looked down at the box, making a show of testing its weight before he looked back at Leo with wide eyes, “This seems like...a lot.”

After adjusting the temperature on the stovetop slightly, Leo washed his hands and made to inspect the delivery. “Err, yeah. Potts got wind of the plan and got all excited. Half the team are coming now,” he smiled sheepishly.

“Of course that happened,” Finn threw his head back with a laugh. “You might as well make it a thing.”

“A thing?” Leo repeated, throwing Finn a bemused look.

“Uhh huh,” Finn nodded.

“I’m gonna need more, babe,” Leo said, lifting one of the shirts out of the box and running the material through his fingers, humming a note of approval.

“More shirts? There’s like 50 here,” Finn frowned.

“No, love,” Leo laughed, shaking his head “More on what a ‘thing’ is.”

“Ohh, got you,” Finn chuckled, leaning against the counter. “I just meant, if half the team is coming anyway, you might as well invite the other half. Get the kids involved. You know, a thing.”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” Leo cocked his head.

“Well, I did go to Harvard,” Finn shrugged, rooting around in the fruit bowl to find a suitable pear. One that wasn't too big because Finn got bored of flavours quickly and could never finish them. One that wasn't too soft, because he hated the sticky mess on his hands. In the early days of their relationship, Leo had been excited for the adventures that were going to come with his boyfriends, but he hadn't been prepared for how much the little nuggets of information he would discover about them would mean to him. The satisfied smile that appeared on his Finn’s face as he procured the perfect one was infectious.

“Such big brain energy and yet he still can’t load a dishwasher,” Leo retorted, motioning to the stack of crockery that had been abandoned on the counter.

***

“I have no idea why I put up with you,” Regulus scowled, covering his eyes with his hands. “Okay, I promise I can’t see.”

“Because I’m your best friend, obviously,” Leo replied, making a stupid face to ensure that Regulus was, in fact, telling the truth, and began to lead him towards the back door.

“Obviously,” Regulus drawled. “Do I get a choice in this best friend business?”

“Well, you can try and resist it if you want, but I am incredibly loveable and inevitably you will have to succumb to my charm so you might as well just deal with it,” Leo said.

Regulus gave a resigned sigh, “I suppose as best friends go you aren’t too bad.”

Leo laughed, punching Regulus lightly in the shoulder before telling him to watch out for the step up into the back yard.

“I hope you know that if I break my neck, you will be paying for -” Regulus started.

“Wegggie!!” Harry shouted through a mouthful of graham crackers that James had been trying to buy his silence with.

“Is that?” Regulus pulled his hands from his face, his eyes going wide at the scene in front of him. Leo had to admit he may have gone a little overboard with the execution of the summer camp. What had started off as a few classic summer camp activities had turned into a carefully planned extravaganza. There was a climbing wall and he’d hired an events team that taught archery. Between the games of dodgeball and capture the flag, there would be time for tye-dying, friendship bracelet making, water balloons, tug of war and much more. Of course he hadn’t skimped on the food either: burgers, pizza, vegetable sticks, taco salad and hot dogs; there was a long buffet table laden with an endless supply.

Regulus pulled Leo back inside, tugging him further into the kitchen so that the crowd of Lion’s players and their families couldn’t see them. “Leo, this is too much.”

Leo looked at Regulus trying to read his friend, but the other boy was infuriatingly closed off. “Look, if you really don’t want this, I’ll go and tell everybody to enjoy themselves and we can get out of here.”

Regulus huffed out a breath, “It’s not that I don’t want to...it’s...it’s weird everybody being here. They are obviously just here because you asked them and I feel like an add on.”

“Okay, let me stop you right there,” Leo held up a hand. “You practically live at Kris’ house the amount of time you spend there with Avie. Celeste loves you like a seventh? eighth? child...honestly, I’ve lost track of how many children they’ve adopted at this point. You and Olli…”

“Alright, alright,” Regulus interrupted, “I get your point.” He cocked his head slightly, “Huh, I guess I didn’t realise how much I’ve settled here.”

“You need a second to process that or are you ready to go have some fun, because I think Harry might eat all the s’more supplies if we wait much longer.”

***

Leo leaned into Logan’s shoulder, smiling as he watched his boyfriend show Katie how to toast her s’more in the bonfire that crackled in front of them. He was admiring the softness of the French leaving Logan’s mouth, when Regulus plopped himself onto the large log they were sitting on, a sleeping Aveline clinging to him.

“Hey, Reggie,” Leo greeted, turning his soft smile to his friend. “You alright?”

“I’m good. I just wanted to say thank you,” Regulus nodded, shifting Aveline into a more comfortable position. Leo noticed that Regulus had added another 3 new friendship bracelets to his haul since he had last got a moment to catch up with him. “For all this. This day has been amazing. All of it. I’m not sure if summer camp would have been my thing really, but I never really got to do fun family garden parties either and this has been incredible. ”

Any reply that Leo was about to make was disturbed, by Aleandra dumping a water balloon over Marc’s head right in front of them, their loud screams causing Aveline to wake with a cry.

7.Decorate your room! Paint the walls, buy new bedding and pick some new accessories! Make it your space.

"Well," Leo set a pile of magazines on the bed with a soft thud. It was a little old-school, but he was adamant that it was easier to come up with a complete picture this way. "What do you like? You don't have to know exactly, but we can't go to Ikea without any idea." He let out a soft snort at the unintentional rhyme.

Regulus looked up at him, wide eyed, as if he'd just asked him to supply the solution for world peace. "I don't know," he shrugged, toying with the sleeve of his shirt.

"You must have some thoughts."

"I don't know," Regulus snapped. "I've never had to make these decisions before. There was no point liking anything, because our parents would do what they wanted either way." He spat the words, and despite how it made Leo feel he knew the anger was a sign of some sort of progress. Not even a few months ago, his friend had spoken about his childhood like it was just a different form of normal.

"I'm sorry," Leo apologised, climbing onto the bed next to Regulus.

"It's not your fault, is it," Regulus shrugged, tucking his knees to his chest.

"I shouldn't have pushed you for an answer," Leo clarified, moving the magazines out the way and dragging his laptop from the bedside table. “Look, how about we go through Pinterest and you can pick some pins you vibe with. I’m sure we’ll find a trend.”

“Yeah,” Regulus breathed, shuffling closer to Leo. “Yeah, okay.”

***

“What the hell, there’s more,” Regulus said in awe as they rounded another corner to be confronted by rows of rattan baskets.

“I think we’re nearly at the end.” Leo looked up from the map he was trying to follow, almost stumbling over the cart when Regulus came to a sudden halt.

“These are nice,” Regulus mused, picking up a walnut coloured weaved basket. “My towels will look nice in these.”

“I’m sure they would,” Leo chuckled. He shouldn’t have been so surprised by how quickly Regulus had gained an affinity for interior design considering how he had taken to honing his clothing style with such ease.

“Oh! But these are nice too.” Regulus turned to show Leo another basket, that was identical in every way except for being perhaps a shade lighter.

Leo groaned. They had been in the store for over 3 hours and the cart was overflowing. His friend was adamant he was going to pay his own way and considering the short amount of time he had played for Slytherin along with the legal fees to end his contract early, the man was having to learn to budget to be able to afford college. Leo had suggested that doing a couple of interviews would leave him with a fair buffer, but Regulus had wanted to put as much space between hockey and his new life as possible. Leo was supportive, but Regulus seemed to be having trouble getting out the habit of buying everything he wanted.

“Right, pick one and then close your eyes. We need to get out of here.”

***

“Up a little on the left,” Leo instructed, shaking his head as Regulus lifted the left side of the photo frame considerably. “No, not that much.”

“That’ll do.”

“It’s not straight!”

“Neither are you and you don’t see us complaining,” Regulus huffed as he adjusted the frame again.

“You’re just jealous,” Leo threw one of Regulus’ new cushions across the room, hitting him squarely in the back of the head.

“Eww,” Regulus deadpanned. “And please do not throw my things,” he glared, hugging the cushion to his chest.

Leo was about to make a comment back, but he was interrupted by Sirius clearing his throat in the doorway.

“Got you a present,” Sirius said, holding out a large bag.

“Sirius.” Regulus crossed his arms over his chest, his face set into a disapproving stare. “I told you -”

“Think of it as an early birthday present,” Sirius interrupted.

“My birthday is not for another 4 months.”

“Just take it. I promise I’ll let you do this the way you want, but you’ve got to let me buy you things every now and then too. That’s what big brothers do.”

Regulus sighed, crossing the room to take the bag from Sirius. “Thanks,” he muttered, the corners of his mouth lifting despite his best efforts. The smile spread further as he laid the mustard coloured herringbone throw he’d been salivating over in the small boutique they’d visited a few days prior.

“You’re welcome,” Sirius nodded. “Looks good in here, by the way. We’ll have to find you an apartment in New York that will be big enough to fit it all in.” he commented, walking away as he finished his sentence.

“I’m paying for the apartment!” Regulus called after him. Leo barked a laugh as Regulus ranted about stubborn humans on NHL wages. Regulus poked a finger at him. “You can be quiet. I know this was your doing.”

#regulus black #leo knut #Sweater weather #Lumos in love #Rating: T #CW: Food talk

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monkberries · 4 years

Note

They dealt with all of the above. Ringo was treated as a joke for pretty much everything, especially since this was the era of prog rock. His personal life was also tabloid fodder. George was derided as being a dour spiritual nut who was out of touch. He along w/ Ringo didn't get the respect he deserved as a guitarist bc his style wasn't in at the time & people knew little about his role in The Beatles. All credit went to Lennon/McCartney. 1/2

John had the benefit of having the rebel genius image, but even he became a source of ridicule with all the stunts he pulled with Yoko and the way his career declined after Imagine. He wasn't deified to the degree he was in the 80s. I'm not trying to say Paul never had a hard time, but the way this fandom talks as if he is the only one who faced extreme criticism or disrespect just tells me they haven't looked much into the other Beatles' lives. The man is more admired than most musicians. 2/2

(IDK if this screenshotted anons were from the same person or not, but I’ll just answer them in this one since it’s all the same subject.)

Here’s what I think is valid, as I see it: Paul fans are upset by the way his music was treated by the music press, especially in the first few years of the 70s, while the music of the other three were generally given at least the benefit of the doubt. They’re not upset about the tabloid gossip, the purely personal stuff – they are upset, specifically and with good reason, at the way Paul’s music was treated and the way the music world’s personal dislike of him seeped into their music reviews. I’m gonna focus in on 1970 through the end of 1974, since this is where a lot of the complaints spawn from, and things start to shift in a big way in 74. You didn’t ask but contemporary writings about their early solo music is something I’m fascinated by anyway and you turned the wind-up toy key in my back, so. Off I go. This is gonna be so, so long.

At different points in the decade, all of them were subject to a sullying of their personal reputations. That is where I do agree with you: all of them were subjected to that by the press, to varying degrees, at varying times, and for various reasons for each of them. That is just what happens to public figures the longer they are public figures. Tabloids mess with everyone no matter how beloved they are.

However, that’s not what I generally see Paul fans getting upset about. What I see is that they’re upset at the way the much more legitimate and widely respected music press approached Paul’s music and talent in general. It is widely received knowledge now that the critics treated Paul’s music differently than they did John’s and George’s and even Ringo’s; the trashing was not “equal.” They came at John and George with the assumption that their talent was real and ongoing outside of the Beatles, their genius unquestionable, their motives pure and well-intentioned and honest. Paul was not afforded these assumptions. Some examples to show what I mean, most of them found through wikipedia, rocksbackpages, or rollingstone.com.

John

Plastic Ono Band was Robert Christgau’s number one album of 1970 in The Village Voice. from Creem’s review: “John's record, of course, has been righteously raved over ever since its release, justifiably. It's interesting and even enlightening to see a man working out his trauma on black plastic but more than that, it's totally enthralling to see that Lennon has once again unified, to some degree, his life and his music into a truly whole statement.” From High Fidelity’s review: "a tremendously exciting listening experience, perhaps the best any Beatle has ever offered." In their Imagine review, Rolling Stone called POB “perfect.” A couple reviews in the mainstream were more mixed, put off a little by the rawness of it, but overall the rock world quickly grew to see this album as a work of genius.

Imagine was even more widely well-reviewed, despite a mixed review from Rolling Stone (John fell out with Jann Wenner around this time, curiously). Here’s a passage from rateyourmusic.com: “Imagine was actually one of the most critically acclaimed albums of the year, aside from this tepid review in Rolling Stone. Indeed, much of the rock press seemed palpably relieved that the former Beatle hadn't gone completely off the deep end. ‘It's the best album of the year, and for me it's the best album he's done, with anything, or with anyone, at any time,’ Roy Hollingworth wrote in the 10/9/71 issue of Melody Maker. ‘The album is superb,’ Alan Smith agreed in the 9/11/71 issue of NME. ‘Beautiful. One step away from the chill of his recent total self-revelation, and yet a giant leap towards commerciality without compromise...I have no criticism at all.’”

Some Time in New York City was admittedly John’s nadir, and the press was vicious about it, both personally and musically, deeming the album egotistical, lacking in energy, and devoid of sincerity. However, many maintained a reverence for the genius that came before it and hopeful encouragement for the future. Rolling Stone said that “The Lennons should be commended for their daring;” Creem said it wasn’t half bad; and even though NME’s article was scathing, it ended with a plea for John to return to form, saying, “Don't rely on cant and rigidity. Don't alienate. Stimulate. You know, like you used to.”

Mind Games, though reviews were mixed, fared far better in comparison. Again, there is a hopeful tone to the reviews, a sureness that John can do better. From Rolling Stone talks about the music being a return to POB form, but the writing is his worst yet; however, Landau qualifies this by saying the lyrics aren’t “offensive, per se, just misguided... [John Lennon’s admirers] might even be able to withstand something more challenging” and then praises John’s voice, his production, and a few individual songs. In Melody Maker, Ray Coleman says, “if you warm to the rasping voice of Lennon and, like me, regard him as the true fulcrum of much of what came from his old group, then like any new Lennon album, it will be enjoyable and even important.” Christgau is more middling but also says, “Still, the single works, and let's hope he keeps right on stepping.”

Walls and Bridges seems confusing to reviewers in retrospect. They couldn’t seem to come to a consensus on it. The musicianship was widely praised, for the most part, though Rolling Stone criticized the first side on this front; reviewers alternately said it was “the latest chapter in John Lennon’s Identity Crisis” (Creem) and “truly a superb album by any standards” (Melody Maker). Throughout the Rolling Stone review, the author is able to thoroughly critique the songs, for better or worse, with a neutral affect and without resorting to insulting John personally. He ends the review on a positive note: “When one accepts one’s childhood, one’s parenthood and the impermanence which lies between, one can begin to slog along. When John slogs, he makes progress.” Again, even though the reviews aren’t all positive, we can see, especially and most importantly in the most influential rock magazine of the time, the acknowledgment of his talent, a sense of excitement for what John will do next, and a belief that his work is authentic and honest.

George

All Things Must Pass, I mean. Apart from a couple of outliers like Christgau in The Village Voice (he called it “overblown fatuity”), it was incredibly, almost universally beloved by the music press when it came out. There was quite a bit of surprise that such a talent had been under everyone’s noses all this time, but I don’t think anon is quite correct that all the credit for the Beatles went to Lennon/McCartney. For example, Ben Gerson in Rolling Stone recognized George’s talent within the Beatles like this: “Up until now, George has been perhaps the premier studio musician among rock band guitarists. From the electronic whine which began “I Feel Fine” to the break in “Hard Day’s Night” to the crazed, sitar-influenced burst on “Taxman,” George exhibited an avant-garde imagination and a technical flawlessness, as well as the ability to stay within the bounds of a song, which has remained unparalleled.” In Melody Maker, the feeling of journalists was summed up thusly: hearing the album was “the rock equivalent of the shock felt by pre-war moviegoers when Garbo first opened her mouth in a talkie: Garbo talks! – Harrison is free!" The personal nature and honesty of the lyrics were praised as well; Time described it as an “expressive, classically executed personal statement.” Ben Gerson did call his proselytizing offensive, but in the next sentence says that George redeems himself from that with the personal plea in Hear Me Lord.

Concert for Bangla Desh - again, some cynicism from Christgau in The Village Voice (must have woke up on the wrong side of the bed that day) and of course tax issues dogged it later, but overall, for the rock press at the time, this was a crowning achievement that George pulled off. He was praised all over the press, countercultural and mainstream, for his live musical talent, the group of musicians that joined him, the lack of political motivation, the sincerity and goodwill, and George’s ability to bring back "a brief incandescent revival of all that was best about the Sixties" (Rolling Stone). To this day he is credited with creating the model for future charity concerts.

Living in the Material World - Nothing could have topped the one-two punch of ATMP and the Concert for Bangla Desh, but honestly, LITMW came pretty close for some journalists. Rolling Stone again praised George’s honesty and authenticity: “ Despite the occasional use of “psychedelic puns,” Harrison’s lyrics are so guileless they convey an extraordinary sincerity that transcends questions of craftsmanship. Similarly, the devotions we are called upon to share with Harrison, though they communicate no specific, private torment, do have the authenticity of overheard prayers and are therefore sacred.” Melody Maker said, "Harrison has always struck me before as simply a writer of very classy pop songs; now he stands as something more than an entertainer. Now he's being honest." The pushback against his pious attitude and lyrics picked up some steam with this album, particularly with Christgau (again) and Tony Tyler of NME, who called it “so damn holy I could scream.” However, it was far from the consensus opinion at the time, and with the biggest rock magazine in the world at your back, you can withstand quite a bit.

Dark Horse, oof. That poor man. It did get some positivity in Billboard and Melody Maker, but my god, the reviews for this album and its subsequent tour were so cruel. I suspect when these anon(s) talk about the others being treated terribly by the press as well, this, along with John’s STINYC, is one of the examples they would give, and they’re not wrong about that. This was the point where George’s piety and what they perceived as a sanctimonious attitude finally started really getting to everyone, and the album plus the tour was the perfect opportunity to dogpile on him. I guess it was to be expected; no one can ride that high forever, and the press loves to knock people over and kick them while they’re down. Rolling Stone called it “disastrous,” “shoddy,” and called his guitar work “rudimentary,” eventually declaring that George had “never been a great artist.” This from the same magazine that was practically worshipping at his feet the year before. Yowch.

Ringo

Sentimental Journey - The less that’s said about this album, the better.

Beaucoups of Blues was actually quite well-received. No one called him a genius for it, and it wasn’t a serious personal record and therefore wasn’t treated that way, but journalists seemed uniquely able to let themselves enjoy this record despite the serious/political/personal tone of most musicians at the time. Melody Maker believed Ringo had "conviction and charm" and that because of that, the album stripped away the serious “hip posturing” and let you just enjoy the music on its own terms. The Village Voice said that Ringo was “good at making himself felt.” Although Rolling Stone’s tone was a bit more cruel than other magazines (there was a crack somewhere in there that Ringo wasn’t as smart as John), it also called him lovable and the record “a real winner” where the songs “sound terrific.”

Ringo was a total smash and I think people forget this. It’s remembered only because it’s an album that was worked on by all four Beatles, but actually, the critics fuckin loved it. Ringo was praised in Rolling Stone for his unpretentiousness, sensibility, and essentially collaborative nature: “Ringo was always the figure of conciliation within the Beatles, undoubtedly the most genial, conceivably the most sensible, and the one with the smallest musical axe to grind. His very lapses bespoke the esteem in which the others held him; had they not liked him so much, those perfectionists would never have allowed him to sing. Perhaps because as the drummer he stood outside the process of creation, he had the best perspective from which to see the Beatles as a unity. Ringo has never had any pretense of self-sufficiency. Once he had gotten his special projects out of the way (projects for which John, Paul and George's talents would have been unsuited anyway) Ringo was ready to call upon the three most obvious people to assist him with writing, singing and playing. As Starr's first "pop album," Ringo signifies a homecoming, not just of family, but in musical style as well.”

Goodnight Vienna was kind of a minor album for Ringo, but still, reviews were pretty good. Rolling Stone praised his “unalloyed sincerity which is his trademark and trump card.” Yet again, we see the theme of authenticity popping up in these reviews - if you are perceived as authentic, honest, and sincere, that takes you a long way with music reviewers in this time period, and Ringo was nothing if not wholly, completely himself.

Paul

McCartney - One of the main complaints of Paul fans is that Jann Wenner forced Langdon Winner, the author of the review for this album in Rolling Stone, to rewrite his article and put a more negative spin on it. The result is that Winner praised most of the music but totally undermined his own praise by questioning the authenticity of the tone and deriding the press release that came with the album as much as he praised the music. He ends the article like this: “I like McCartney very much. But I remember that the people of Troy also liked that wooden horse they wheeled through their gates until they discovered that it was hollow inside and full of hostile warriors.” This was a huge blow at a time when personal authenticity and substance were considered paramount. Melody Maker also questioned the legitimacy of his genius, saying “With this record, [McCartney's] debt to George Martin becomes increasingly clear.” Most other reviews weren’t any better.

Ram, I mean, Jesus Christ the reviews for this. It’s a widely respected album now, even made the RS top 500 albums of all time list last year, but at the time people were still so angry with Paul for supposedly breaking up the Beatles that they were still taking it out on his music a year later (imo). Landau in Rolling Stone called it “emotionally vacuous” and said it lacked conviction, saying also that it was “so incredibly inconsequential and so monumentally irrelevant you can’t even [hate it]; it is difficult to concentrate on, let alone dislike or even hate.” NME called it “the worst thing Paul McCartney has ever done.” Threaded through these reviews is a belief that the songs are devoid of meaning and that Paul’s happy domestic front is just a frustrating lie; Christgau in The Village Voice said he was “infuriated by the McCartneys' modern young-marrieds image” - infuriated because he clearly doesn’t believe it, rendering Paul dishonest and his music inauthentic. Once again journalists are unable to review Paul’s music without sniping about him as a person.

Wild Life - Though the situation remains largely the same - reviewers refuse to take him seriously, believe anything he says, or treat his musical talent as anything but vacuous fluff - the reviews aren’t quite as bad as they were for Ram and a bit of positivity begins to stir. It’s evident especially in the Rolling Stone review, where Mendelsohn wonders if Paul is making crappy fluff on purpose to piss John off because it will sell just as well anyway. It’s not much, and on top of the fairly strong criticism there is almost no hope for future Paul releases: “My own conviction is that we'd be foolish to expect anything much more earth-shaking than Wild Life out of McCartney for a good long while... In the meantime the reader is advised to either develop a fondness for vacuous but unpretentious pop music or look elsewhere for musical pleasure.” But it’s something.

Red Rose Speedway Paul continues to be lambasted by a lot of the press on this album for being lightweight and having no meaning behind his songs (at this point it’s just repetitive to quote the articles, just trust me that they say basically the same thing they were saying for the past three albums too), BUT I think a nuance that gets forgotten in all of this is that Rolling Stone gave it kind of a decent review. It seems like they finally quit gatekeeping and realized that songs don’t need to have some deep personal meaning to be good. Kaye is still not very nice about Paul’s lyrics but he recognizes that he doesn’t have to take Paul’s music on the same terms as he takes John and George. Paul’s music is less personal, but that doesn’t make it unworthy. He calls it “pleasant, accessible without concentration” and praises Paul’s voice and arranging skills. It feels like for this album, Rolling Stone took the stick out of its own ass when it came to Paul and finally relaxed enough to receive Paul’s music on his terms rather than theirs. Which, imo, primed the rock world for...

Band on the Run, Paul’s comeback. Even though Christgau in The Village Voice remained unconvinced (he called it “a pleasant piece of hackwork”), almost everyone else adored it. It seems weird to us now, but the general sentiment seemed to be that people were surprised by how good this album was. NME said, “The ex-Beatle least likely to re-establish his credibility and lead the field has pulled it off with a positive master-stroke”; and although Landau’s review in Rolling Stone overflowed with praise, he also said, “I'm surprised I like Band on the Run so much more than McCartney's other solo albums because, superficially, it doesn't seem so different from them.”

I hope I’ve been able to demonstrate a general trajectory with the musical reputation of each Beatle here. John starts off on two incredible high points, crashes and burns, and then works his way back up. He DEFINITELY missed with STINYC, but even when he followed it up with Mind Games, there was still a hopeful tone to the reviews, sort of like, “Ah, well, the last two weren’t great but we’re still looking forward to what John will give us next.” Until the Dark Horse tour/album, which did sour the press on poor George, the music press adored him. It was hit after hit with him. He could not miss. Three high points, one after the other, then a monumental crash. Ringo seems to stay fairly high, even if the records aren’t serious records. All three of them start out incredibly well, and the music press was able and willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.

Paul was given none of that. Perhaps because he was out of step with the attitudes about music at the time, perhaps because journalists hated him for breaking up the Beatles, perhaps because they believed John when he painted Paul as “establishment,” perhaps a combination - whatever their issue was, Paul was given no benefit of the doubt to start with, no faith in his genius, and no belief in his authenticity. He was just a hack to the music press for the first few years of the 70s; he started at the bottom and was forced to work his way up, unlike the other three. It started, imo, when Wenner forced the journalist who wrote the McCartney review in RS to rewrite the article, and it spiraled from there. He was seen as hollow and uncool, as one of the anons said, “straight” in the parlance of the time - straight meaning “establishment.” This is kind of where I do start to roll my eyes a little bit at stans, when they get upset at people calling him “establishment” and trying to prove that actually he was so anti-establishment that people couldn’t handle it or whatever, without trying to understand what the word “anti-establishment” meant at the time. But there are also really substantive arguments you can make that say Paul’s music was not taken seriously because of a personal grudge against him.

I’m not saying that all of them didn’t have run-ins with the music press. I’m saying there is nuance here that I don’t think these anons are allowing for in the first few years of that decade. They came at George and John and Ringo with a positive, or at least neutral, slant most of the time. They came at Paul with a negative one. Case in point are the reviews of Band on the Run that were surprised at how good it was. That stuff gets people’s hackles up. The others didn’t have positive reviews rewritten to be more negative. The others didn’t have albums savaged that are now on the Rolling Stone top 500 albums of all time list. I do agree that John, at least, and George post Dark Horse, had a harder time with the music press than people generally remember or care to think about – deification is retroactive, I guess, and as Paul fans we should definitely recognize that Paul wasn’t the only one who went through a rough time with the press. But I do think Paul’s situation was made uniquely and unjustifiably difficult for those first few years.

I mean, at the same time, I cannot stress enough how much this did not affect his bottom line. Despite the horrible reviews, Ram still made a ton of money, McCartney made a ton of money, Band on the Run and Wild Life and Red Rose Speedway all made a ton of money. He had a fanbase, a huge one, that followed him loyally and faithfully through the early 70s as he was getting savaged by the press, and through the middle and late 70s when he was touring. At some point, you have to step back and go, wait. Why does any of this matter? This was 50 years ago. He was a multi-millionaire then and is a billionaire now. And you are right; whenever people over-generalize and try to make the case that Paul was always badly reviewed and the others were press darlings, I tend to get annoyed because they’re totally missing the actually interesting nuances of the situation (that can be easily found online! I found most of the music reviews through snippets on Wikipedia!) In conclusion, I guess my point is that both “Paul was vilified while everyone else wasn’t” and “everyone was equally vilified” paint the events of the early 70s with brushes that are too broad and miss the nuance that was evident in the way the press interacted with their music.

#Anonymous #macca #johnny #geo #ritchie #fab four #sorry this isn't so much a response to anon's points as it is me going off on research tangents and accidentally writing a masters thesis #reading old rolling stone album reviews is such an unexpected pleasure i recommend it

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rohad93 · 4 years

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Moonlit Masquerade: Mother of the Bride

Part 13 of the Moonlit Masquerade Series

Amity sat quietly at the kitchen table, having her customary morning cup of tea with Lilith before the sun came up. She had become a master at slipping out of bed without disturbing Luz even a little, depending on how wrapped around her the human was, usually it was just an arm, but sometimes she was snaked around her like a python.

Even Hooty was still asleep, so it was quite still in the house. Usually, they chatted but it was quiet this morning, Amity lost in her thoughts and Lilith content to let her think in the quiet, lost in her own idle thoughts.

She had something to do today, something she had been putting off for almost two weeks now, but there was nothing left to do but rip the bandage off and be done with it. She sighed quietly into her cup of black tea, making Lilith look up at her.

“Something on your mind, Amity?” she finally asked

“I’m going to see my parents today, tell them that Luz and I are getting married,” she says.

“I see, I was under the impression that you didn’t speak to your parents anymore,” Lilith hummed.

“To my mother, no. She prefers to try and send passive-aggressive messages through my siblings though from time to time. I do keep in occasional contact with my father though, I don’t want to lump him in with her, he was never the warmest man, but I don’t think he was ever aware of the kinds of things that went on when I was a kid…” Amity frowned into her cup.

“If you’d like my opinion…,” Lilith trailed off and Amity nodded, she valued the opinion of her once mentor, now friend, and still occasional mentor. They didn’t always agree, but they had both changed a lot in six years. Amity was older and wiser, able to more easily see things from Lilith’s point of view, while Lilith had done much growing of her own, looking to find more gray areas in life other than the stark black and white she had believed in for so long “His complacency is no less at fault then your mother’s manipulative maliciousness.”

Amity frowned, in ways, she knew Lilith was right, if her father hadn’t been so buried in work all the time and a little more attentive to his children, the three of them wouldn’t have suffered as they had under their mother’s thumb.

The waters were muddied though. For all his shortcomings, Amity loved her father and found difficulty condemning him to the same degree as her mother. He had been the one to teach her abomination magic and encouraged her curiosity for everything, kindled her voracious appetite for reading and learning as a child.

Whereas her mother...

Everything about Odalia Blight brought out the worst in Amity, and she had been all too happy to help foster what Amity viewed now, as some of her less desirable personality traits. Her at times, baneful pride and self-destructive need to overachieve to please people, for example.

To be honest, she wasn’t sure where she would be right now if a certain human hadn’t barreled into her life with all the force of a B-5 gorenado.

She surely would never have had the courage to start standing up to her and have the screaming match just after her eighteenth birthday that led to her moving out. Over her hair no less, though as Luz had once said, if it was just about hair, she wouldn’t be so upset. It was never ‘just’ about her hair. It was so much more than that.

It was hard to believe that was three years ago

An eighteen-year-old Amity ran through the woods, panting and tears still dripping down her cheeks as she made a beeline for the owl house through the darkness of night and the thick trees, her breath coming out in clouds in the cool night air of early fall.

She felt relief flood her when the eclectic demon house came into view.

She didn’t even bother knocking, the owl house had become her second home and Eda told her to just come in when she came over. Hooty also saw her coming and, perhaps seeing her tears and frantic face, for once, simply opened for her.

Luz was sitting on the couch doing homework when the door swung open and she flew into the living room, stopping only long enough to look around and for her eyes to land on Luz.

“Amity?” Luz sat up in surprise, even more so when Amity quickly crossed the room and threw herself into her girlfriend’s open arms, burying her face in her neck.

“What’s wrong?” Luz asked, the panic clear in her voice as Amity curled up in her lap and wept into her shoulder.

Luz held her till what was left of her tears had fallen and dried. At one point both Clawthorne sisters had stuck their heads out of the kitchen to check on them and Luz waved them away as she comfortingly rubbed her back.

When she finally calmed, Luz asked her again what was wrong.

“I had a fight with my mom. A big, screaming, fight,” she finally admitted, Luz’s eyes were the size of saucers at that.

“About what? Me again?” she grimaced and Amity shook her head from her place, nose buried in Luz’s neck.

“No, my hair,” she mumbled.

“Oh, yeah, I noticed your roots are starting to get long again…,” Luz hummed, reaching up to run her fingers through said hair. Amity leaned into the comforting touch. “So, what happened?” she asked quietly.

“I told her I wasn’t going to dye it anymore. I wasn’t a child and could make my own choices, and I wanted it to be natural again. She said I was being childish, that we should match… then said that it was your fault, that you influenced all my ‘bad decisions’,” Amity growled, scowling to herself. “So yeah… we spent fifteen minutes screaming at each other till she said that as long as I lived under her roof I’d do as she says, so I just ran out of the house…”

“I’m sorry, Amor,” Luz hummed.

“It’s not your fault,” she sighed, leaning back to look at her. “Titan… I just wish I had somewhere else to go, anywhere…”

“Well, you’re eighteen, why don’t you move out?” Luz suggested.

“Where would I go? If I moved out I’d have to drop out of school and work so I could afford a place to live, and this is our final year….” Amity frowned. “What coven would take a drop out? I think I’m just going to have to suck it up till spring…”

“That’s almost a year from now, and it seems it's only getting worse at home, Amity,” Luz said worriedly. Things had been escalating in the last year between Amity and her mother, but especially in the last three weeks since her eighteenth birthday.

“I know… but what choice do I have? I have to finish school,” she sighed, going limp against her warm girlfriend, who held her comfortingly.

“Could live here.”

They both jolted, turning to look at Eda, leaning in the doorway to the kitchen, arms folded.

“W-what?” Amity blinked at her, and Luz was looking at her just as bewildered. Eda sighed, walking fully into the living room, Lilith poking her head out of the kitchen behind her.

“You can live here, Kid,” she said again.

“I couldn’t… I don’t… I couldn’t be an imposition to you like that, Eda,” Amity finally said frowning.

“Imposition? You’re the quietest person who ever comes over here, and look at all these free-loaders!” She gestured to Lilith, Luz, and King, laying curled up asleep in the chair across from them, snoring.

“Hey!” Luz yelped and Lilith frowned.

“What’s one more? Besides, it’s one more pair of hands to do chores and stuff.” She shrugged.

“I… I don’t…” Her eyes were starting to burn again and Eda noticed, giving her an easy smile.

“Look, you’re a good kid, Amity, you just ended up with crap parents, with skewed priorities, and you’ve always been good to Luz, hell, you been good to us.” she gestured to herself and Lilith, who nodded as she walked into the room to stand next to her sister. “It’s not like you’re not here all the time anyway,” she snorted with a grin.

“What do you, think, babe?”

She turned to look at Luz who was looking back at her with barely restrained glee.

“I… Okay…,” she finally said, a small smile pulling at her lips.

“Whoo!” Luz jumped up, Amity held aloft bridal style in her arms.

“Luz!” Amity yelped at the sudden movement. Eda chuckled and Lilith smiled at the two.

“We’re living together!” Luz grinned and Amity blushed at the declaration as it really sank in.

She was now living with her girlfriend…

“Oh, right… we need to have a quick talk.” Eda crossed her arms and both girls' faces paled.

“Ay dios mio, not another talk!” Luz looked at her fearfully.

“No! Not that talk… not exactly,” Eda grumbled, scratching the back of her head. “There are no other rooms, and obviously you’re not gonna live on the couch, so you and Luz are gonna be sharing a room, so it’s time for a change of rules,” she sighed. “You’re eighteen…” she pointed at Amity. “And you will be here soon,” she pointed at Luz. “And I’m not stupid enough to think I can stop it, so from now on, doors closed, always.” Eda declared as the two turned red as fresh apple blood and Lilith snickered behind her closed hand. “And I swear to the Titan, the first time I get woken up in the middle of the night, you’re living on the couch!” she pointed at Luz who guffawed at that.

“Why me!?” she shouted. Eda leaned down so her face was only a few inches from Luz’s.

“Because you’re the one I always hear,” she hissed with a frown, and Luz’s face was practically glowing at that. Lilith was choking on her , not so restrained, laughter.

Despite her own bright face, Amity snorted, biting her lip, Luz looked at her with a face that spoke loudly of the betrayal she felt.

“So, let’s go get your stuff!” Eda leaned back and clapped her hands.

“Right now?” Amity blanched.

“No time like the present!” Eda held out her hand and her staff flew into the room. Lilith finally recovered and nodded, summing her own staff.

“Yeah!” Luz was grinning at her again and Amity giggled.

“Luz, you can set me down now.” she grinned at her.

“Oh, right,” she chuckled.

She pulled out her scroll and quickly called her sister and told her and Edric to throw all her clothes in a box.

“What, why?” Emira’s confused voice said in her ear.

“Because I’m moving,” she said simply as they left the owl house on the two older witch’s staves. There was a long pause on the other end of the scroll.

‘WHAT!?” Both twins were suddenly screaming in her ear.

When they showed up, she and Luz hurried inside, luckily avoiding her mother and father. The twins were standing in her room with her clothes all packed. They quickly explained the situation as they collected all of Amity’s personal belongings, she knew how big Luz’s room was so she had to make some sacrifices in her books and some other things, but Amity was now caught up in a giddy euphoria of leaving this place that had, for years, felt like a prison. She grabbed only what was most important to her. Her special box of keepsakes, her clothes, her diary, and a couple of little things. In hindsight, it was a little sad how unattached she was to most of the things in the room and how all the important things in her life fit into two decent sized boxes. They were the few things she had chosen for herself.

She could examine that later, for now, she just wanted out.

The twins offered to help carry them, but despite the fact they were both twenty, they still lived here, and Amity didn’t want to make things harder for her siblings if they ran into their parents.

“I can’t believe you’re really leaving,” Emira sniffled a little as they followed Amity and Luz down the stairs.

“Honestly, this is pretty hardcore and I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder of you, Mittens,” Edric said and Emira nodded.

“We’re gonna miss you,” her sister added.

Amity rolled her eyes even as she smiled.

“I’m moving into the owl house, I’m not leaving the demon realm.”

“But still!” Edric threw up his hands.

“You guys are always welcome at the house,” Luz supplied helpfully as they walked toward the front door.

“What is going on here?” A voice stopped them all cold at the door.

Coming out of his study was Alador and Odalia Blight.

“Oh, uh, good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Blight…,” Luz said cautiously. Alador nodded at Luz, but his gold gaze quickly shifted to his youngest daughter.

“Finally come home I see, Amity.” Odalia frowned at her youngest, completely ignoring Luz, which only made Amity angrier and she frowned, glaring at her mother.

“What is this?” Alador questioned, holding a hand at the two of them and the boxes.

“Mother informed me earlier tonight that so long as I live here I can’t make my own choices, despite being an adult, so… I’m not going to live here anymore.” Amity declared, standing up straight, even as she held her box of things in front of her like a makeshift barrier between herself and her parents. Luz shifted nervously from foot to foot while the twins glanced cautiously at each other.

Both older Blights' faces showed their shock at the declaration.

“What?” Odalia’s face is the picture of shocked outrage while Alador’s is sheer disbelief.

“Eda was kind enough to allow me to live at the owl house while I finish school,” Amity said.

“Amity…,” Alador started, and for the first time since Amity can remember, looking completely shocked.

“Do you see what allowing her to associate with this human has done, Alador?!” Odalia turned to her husband, scowling, as he turned his shocked gaze to her. Anger flared up in Amity, scorching hot.

“This isn’t about Luz! This is about you!” Amity practically screamed at her mother, making everyone jump and stare at her with wide eyes. “This is about you, controlling and manipulating me my entire life, telling me how to behave and dress. Who I could be friends with and what color my damn hair should be!” She unloaded on the older witch, voice cracking. “I’m tired of pretending I’m perfect, I’m not, I’m never going to be and you can’t make me by trying to change me! I’m tired of it and I don’t have to take it anymore… so I’m leaving, and you won’t have to worry about it or me embarrassing you or just me in general anymore!” Amity is breathing heavily as she finishes her tirade, fueled by years of neglect and overbearing controllingness.

Everyone is looking at her with wide eyes. Luz’s chest aches for her girlfriend and the twins are standing there with their jaw hanging open.

“What? Your hair?… Amity…,” Alador doesn’t understand what’s going on and tries to speak, but his wife is quicker.

“You ungrateful girl, after everything we’ve done for you, and you would throw it all away, for that?” She holds her hand out at Luz and Amity is seeing red, not just because of the insult to her girlfriend, but that she’s standing here, screaming at her and her mother still doesn’t hear anything she says to her.

“I told you, this isn’t about Luz! But yes, yes I would, for her and for the chance to finally just be me, and not just your dress up figurine!” she snarls, but then clutches the box tightly, sighing heavily. “I’m wasting my breath…” She turned on heel and started toward the door.

“Amity!” Alador stepped forward, calling his daughter, but before he could say anything else Odalia was calling at her back.

“If you step out that door, don’t ever think of coming back!”

The twins gasp, looking at their mother, not shocked, but horrified at the declaration.

“Odalia!” Alador whips around to face his wife, no longer is his tone shocked, but now a deep rumbling anger fills his voice.

Amity stops mid-step, staring out the front door at Eda and Lilith who are standing on the porch, watching, both their faces set in deep frowns, no doubt they heard everything.

Amity closes her eyes as she’s struck by how final this all is, but what shocks her is how much it hurts, that this was how it has to be between her and her mother, because so long as Amity allowed it, Odalia would never release her talons on her, let her live her own life.

So this was how it had to be.

She turns to look over her shoulder and Odalia is looking down her nose at her in that imperious way that has been the centerfold of Amity’s nightmares all her life. Her hard, olive gaze is expectant, expecting Amity to turn around and grovel for forgiveness, but not this time; never again.

Her jaw clenched, and her grip on the box tightens and she turns to her father, who for the first time in her life that she can remember, looks lost.

“Bye, Dad,” she says quietly and turns to stride out the door, never once looking back. Eda and Lilith step out of her way as she walks across the yard to the gate. Luz followed her silently.

The ride back to the owl house is quiet and it’s only then, flying through the dark, quiet sky that Amity lets the tears fall. She leans her face into Lilith’s back and cries. The older Clawthorne silently reached back and patted her leg comfortingly.

She cries all the way home.

Eda and Lilith don’t say anything as they watch the two teens go up the stairs

The second they set her things down on the floor of Luz’s… their room, she crawls into the bed, shoes and all, and curls into a ball. Luz hasn’t said a word since they left Blight Manor, and she doesn’t still as she crawls into bed behind Amity and holds her close, it’s all she can do.

She knows Amity is hurting and hates that there's nothing she can do about it, so she settles for holding her, a silent reminder that she’s here if she needs her.

Amity sighed, coming out of her memories to see Lilith looking at her concerned. Amity smiled at her.

“I’m fine, just…. thinking,” she answers the unasked question, and Lilith nods.

It’s then that they hear the tell-tale sound of feet on the stairs and Luz walks into the kitchen, dressed, and her staff in hand.

“Morning Lily.” She smiles at Lilith, who echoes the greeting. She leaned down to kiss Amity. “Morning, sneaky.” she grins and Amity chuckles.

“You sleep like a hibernating bear-cobra, I hardly have to be that sneaky.” she smiled at Luz over the rim of her teacup as she took a sip. Luz walked over to the counter and with a spin of her staff, all her potions gathered themselves from the counter and bundled themselves together in a convenient sack, hanging from the staff.

“I know for a fact you’re abnormally quiet and light-footed.” Luz grinned at her, hefting her wares over her shoulder as she grabbed a bottle of apple blood out of the fridge.

Amity just smirks at her.

“Welp, I’m off to cure the boils, rashes, and insomnia of the wonderful people of the Boiling Isles,” she declared like she was leaving for battle.

“What would the people do without you and your glorious, self-sacrificing ways, my dear?” Amity giggled as she stood from the table and set her cup in the sink.

“We pray that they never have to find out, mi amor.” Luz winked with a grin. Lilith rolled her eyes at the two, even as she smiled to herself.

“I need to get going myself, I’ll walk you out,” Amity followed her out.

“Have a good day,” Lilith called after them and they called back goodbyes.

“You got big plans for the day?” Luz asked as they closed the front door behind them.

“Just some errands to run…,” she said, not a lie, she did have some errands to run, but she carefully didn’t mention her trip to Blight Manor, it would only worry her. Luz nodded and she mounted her staff. “Don’t work too hard, querida,” Amity mumbled against her lips as she kissed her goodbye. Luz smiled at her.

“You forget who my mom is, I learned from the best how not to work hard,” she laughed and Amity rolled her eyes, both at Luz and that statement. There are few people who work harder than Luz, but she lets her jest.

“Have a good day!” Luz blows her a kiss as she flies off toward town.

Amity watches her go before summoning her own staff and taking off in the opposite direction, toward Blight Manor.

It’s a short ride and all too soon the large, opulent house comes into view.

Amity frowned to herself as she slid from her staff, standing outside the gates to her childhood home, and looked up at it's dark, imposing walls.

Once this place had been her worst nightmare, the fear of being constantly trapped within its walls, forced to dance along with her mother’s every pull of the string. She’d known since she was a child that her mother had been a conniving manipulator, but she had been a child, helpless to fight against it. Her and her siblings, though the twins did everything they could to help shield her from the worst of it, something she sometimes felt she did not voice enough thanks for, though, even when she did the two would hear none of it, they had all had each other’s backs.

Speaking of…

Edric and Emira were standing on the porch, waving at her as she walks through the gate and she smiles at them, even as she rolls her eyes when she sees that Edric still has that ridiculous mustache he insisted on growing.

“Well, well, if it isn’t one of the great heroes of the rebellion! To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?” Edric asks with a bow. Emira rolls her eyes and elbows him before jumping on Amity in a tight hug.

“We haven’t seen you in weeks!” Emira whined as Amity laughed into her shoulder.

“Except for the picture of that pretty rock you sent us, let’s see it!’ Edric grinned and Amity rolled her eyes as Emira released her and nodded.

“Yeah, let’s just see what our future sister-in-law was able to pull together,” she smiled, grabbing Amity’s left hand to hold up for both twins to examine her ring.

“Very nice,” Edric whistled.

“It’s beautiful, Amity,” Emira agreed. “We’re so happy for the two of you,” she said and Edric nodded in agreement.

“Thanks, we’ve already decided on a date. The thirty-first of October,” she says and Edric laughs.

“Halloween? That’s very ‘Luz’ actually.” He grinned.

“Actually, it was my idea. that‘s the date of the next blue moon.” She smiled fondly at the memories the mention of the lunar event brings.

“Aww, that’s sweet,” Emira coos, she’s partially teasing, partially sincere, it is a romantic idea.

“You two are still ‘that’ couple…” Edric rolled his eyes, even as he’s grinning. “Ridiculous,”

“What’s ridiculous is that mustache,” Amity claps back, hand on her hip, making Emira snort and Edric frown.

“I think it’s distinguishing,” he huffed.

“Distinguishing from what? Good looking facial hair?” Amity cocks a brow, smirking, and Emira barks a laugh.

“I told you, it’s terrible,” his twin laughs.

“Please shave it before the wedding, or you can’t be in any photos,” Amity tells him, half-seriously. He crossed his arms and huffs.

“Fine…”

“So… are they here?” Amity asks and the jovial mood dissipates.

“Yeah, they’re in dad’s study.” Emira frowns and Amity nods as she walks past them into the house.

The memories that hit her when she steps inside are not good and she pushes them away as she walks down the hall with her siblings.

Edric knocks and their father’s voice sounds back through the door.

“Yes?”

“You have a visitor,” he says.

“Come in.”

He opens the door and the twins walk in ahead of her before stepping to either side of the doorway.

Their parents' faces turn surprised before Odalia’s turns sour again.

“Amity!” Alador quickly stands from his desk and walks around it toward her.

To say Amity is surprised when her father wraps his arms around her in a tight hug is an understatement, but it fades quickly and she smiles and hugs him back.

“Hi, Dad.” She squeezed him before stepping back to look at him. There are a few more lines in his face and grays weaving their way through his auburn hair and beard than the last time she saw him in person, but he otherwise looked unchanged.

“You look wonderful.” he smiled, brushing his fingers through her own long, auburn hair, gold eyes burning with a warmth that shocks her.

“Thank you,” she smiled.

“To what do we owe this, unannounced, visit after three years?” her mother finally speaks up, drawing her gaze and Amity frowns. The message is clear, she is not welcome here, and that is fine by her.

“Worry not, I won’t be taking up much of your time,” she bit out.

“Nonsense, come sit.” Alador offered, but Amity shook her head.

“I have things I need to take care of for the council, I can’t stay long.” she smiled sadly at him, ignoring the look her mother was giving her at the mention of the council and wanted to smirk.

The Blight family had of course sided with the emperor, or at least her parents and extended family had, until the tides of the war had changed and it became clear that the rebellion was winning, then they had switched sides. After the rebellion was over the Blight family was one of the upper-class families that had been forced to pay reparations for their part in the initial battles against them and were now viewed less favorably by the people of the Isles, the loss of status was something that Amity knew from her siblings, left Odalia quite bitter. No doubt she blames Amity and of course, Luz, for their parts in the leadership of the rebellion.

“I wanted to come and share some news with you,” she told her father, who looked at her expectantly. “Luz and I are getting married at the end of October,” she tells him and both her parents are surprised by this. She takes a sick satisfaction in her mother’s scandalized face.

“That’s wonderful, Amity,” He smiles at her as he gently takes her hand to look at the ring adorning her finger and Amity smiles. Odalia makes a disgruntled, disgusted noise, making her father frown.

“I can’t believe you intend to drag this family name through the mud further than you already have, first by taking part in that… ill-conceived, rebellion, but now by giving it to a human.” Odalia blight almost spits the word.

“The ‘family name’...” Amity spat back. “...has never done anything except make me miserable and I want to be done with it.” Alador’s brows shot up and Odalia scowled. “That’s why when Luz and I get married I’m changing my name to Noceda,” she informed them with finality. “I came here today as a courtesy, one you don’t deserve,” she said to her mother. “And to ask you if you’d come, Dad.” Amity turned away from her mother to look at her father, who is still looking at her, face full of surprise. “I’d very much like you to be there.” she looks at him pleadingly. “You don’t need to answer now though, I just wanted to let you know.” She smiled at him and turned to go, but not before her mother landed one last parting shot.

“Even before the human, you were a disgrace to this family, Amity.”

“Odalia, that’s enough!” Alador roared, whipping around to glare at his wife, magic energy crackles in the air around him that makes the hair on the back of all three Blight children’s necks stand on end.

The venom that drips from her mother’s statement does not surprise Amity, and despite how much she has grown to hate and resent her mother for the years of manipulation and verbal abuse thinly disguised as concern, deep in her core, the words still burn her. She hates the green-haired woman standing behind her, yet she’s her mother, the only one she has, unlike Luz, and the fact that the two despise each other claws at a tender place in her heart that had been an open, raw wound since she was a child, a place inside her that had always longed for the kind of relationship her friends had with their parents, no matter how impossible that is, and she knows it.

So instead she straightens her spine and pulls back her shoulders, steeling herself and trying not to look at her siblings as they stand by the door to their father’s office, a mix of anger and sadness on their near-identical faces.

“Then it really shouldn’t matter to you who I marry, or what my name is, should it?” Are her parting words as she strides out of the office and down the hall, the twins follow a second behind her, but neither say anything till they are on the front porch.

“You okay, sis?” Edric asks her finally.

“No,” she answers them honestly. “But I didn’t expect anything different…” She summons her staff and mounts it; she can’t be gone from here quick enough.

“Let us know if you need anything, okay?” Emira asks, frowning.

Amity looks at the twins, their concern clear as day on their faces and Amity dismounts her staff to wrap her arms around them both and they squeeze her back tightly.

“We love you,” They both say, and Amity knows fewer things are truer than that, for which she could never be more grateful.

“I love you both, too.” She prys herself from her clinging siblings with a huff of a laugh.

She quickly jumps on her staff and flies away from Blight Manor, for the last time.

Tears are starting to burn and blur her vision and as much as she’d like to play it off as the wind whipping past her face, she knows it isn’t. The confrontation left her feeling raw, despite its brevity, she knows for certain that this is the last time she will return to her childhood home. There is nothing left to say to her mother and Amity knows she will never change.

Her grip on her staff is tight.

She needed Luz.

She finds her in her usual space in the market, hocking potions to the people of the Isles, though that makes it sound like it’s a scam, her business is far more reputable than Eda’s ever was, much to the older witch’s chagrin. Luz’s potions, from their school days onwards, are some of the finest quality in all the Boiling Isles and people come from all over to get their hands on them, something Luz is extremely proud of, she was the top student in potions all their years in school after all.

She has a small crowd, so Amity stands back, waiting because she knows the second Luz sees her she’ll insist on closing her shop for the day, and she doesn't want her to do that.

When the customers finally dissipate and Luz is left counting snails with Mochuelo standing on her shoulder, hooting quietly at her, does Amity finally approach.

“Look, I don’t judge them, if the guy needs seven bottles of rash potion, who am I to say no?” she tells her palisman, gesturing with a hand.

“That sounds like quite the rash,” Amity says as she stands to the side of the stand, making Luz jump.

“Amity, what are you doing here?” Luz’s face lights up like the sun peeking over the mountains until she gets a good look at her fiancée. She’s leaning heavily on her staff, and her eyes hold a hint of red that indicates she’d been crying and Luz’s smile drops, brows drawing between her eyes.

“I just... needed to see you.” Her voice is tight.

Mochuelo jumps off Luz’s shoulder as she sets her bag of snails under the counter and walks over, reaching up to cup her face and wipe the remnants of tears away with her thumbs. They are mostly dry but she can clearly see the track marks left behind on her cheeks and the puffiness around her eyes.

“What’s wrong, did something happen, amor?” she asks her gently.

Amity just lays her staff against the stand, Calliban slithering off it, and wraps herself around Luz, desperately seeking her comforting embrace, which the human would never deny and squeezes her back, rubbing her hand up and down Amity’s back. She’s learned over the years that Amity will tell her what’s wrong when she’s ready, so she waits.

She whistles at the two palisman, and the two flip-down her closed sign.

“Come on.” Luz lifts her with a frown and carries her back behind the stalls curtains where she keeps her stock, it’s dim and she carefully slides them to the ground, Amity in her lap.

Luz contents herself with running her hand through Amity’s long, soft, auburn hair until she sighs heavily against her and leans back so she can look at those concerned, deep, brown eyes.

“I’m sorry, I should have gone home instead of coming here and bothering you while you’re busy...”

“You’re never a bother to me, Amity,” Luz said, wiping at her face with the back of her fingers. The corner of the witch’s lips curled upward ever so slightly at that but quickly fell again as she spoke.

“I went to see my parents today,” she finally said and watched as Luz’s brows shot into her hairline.

“Why?” the tone isn’t angry or judging, just curious and concerned.

“I wanted to invite my father to the wedding… we might not have the best relationship, but I do love him. I’d like him to be there, and I…” she trailed off, biting her lip. Luz waited, squeezing her gently. “I guess I just hoped that maybe, just maybe, my mother had changed in the last three years, but I should have known better, she’s never going to change,” Amity sighed.

“I’m sorry, mi amor.” Luz frowned, resting her forehead against Amity’s. “I wish she wasn’t like this either.”

“It’s fine…”

“No it isn’t,” Luz cut her off. Amity always downplayed her feelings when it came to her mother, but Luz knew better. “It’s not fine, but, you know, it is okay for you, not to be fine, right?” she asked her quietly. Gold eyes stared back at her for a long moment.

“Right…,” Amity sighed, closing her eyes and leaning into Luz. “I wish I had a mom like yours…,” she sighed

“Which one?” Luz asked with a small grin and Amity couldn’t help but smirk at the question.

“Either,” she mumbled. “I should head back to the house and let you work.” she moved to pull away but Luz only held on tighter.

“It’s lunchtime, I wouldn’t be working right now anyway, so just stay a while, we can get lunch at Redstone…” Luz wheedled making Amity smile. She still felt so wounded, but Luz was always a balm on the pains in her heart.

“Okay.”

As they walked down the street Luz was already trying considering her next plan of action, and she thinks she needs to make another visit to her mother.

#Lumity #moonlit masquerade #Luz Noceda #Amity Blight #Eda Clawthorne #Lilith Clawthorne #Alador Blight #Odalia Blight #Edric Blight #Emira Blight #gay #fic #the owl house #TOH

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bluesockets · 3 years

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HUGO WEIDERMANN ( HE/HIM ) is a CIS MALE, THIRTY-SEVEN year old THERAPIST & PSYCHIATRIST who has been living in Moorbrooke for TWO YEARS. They were born on MARCH 5 and right now, they are currently residing in REDGRAVE GROVE. It has been said that they look suspiciously like MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER and if they had to choose a song to describe themselves, they would choose HEAVY BALLOON by FIONA APPLE. ( ox, 21+, cst, he/him )

❮ it grows relentless like the teeth of a rat it's just got to keep on gnawing at me !! ❯ TW : ILLNESS, DRINKING MENT. !

full name : hugo weidermann. nicknames : he actually hates most derivatives of his name. calling him ‘huey’ is a one way ticket to getting your number blocked. pronouns : he/him. age : thirty-seven. date of birth : march 5, 1984. zodiac : pisces. gender : cis male. sexuality : gay. hometown : munich, germany. current residence : redgrave grove. languages spoken : german + english.

BIO !

—— hugo was born into a moderately wealthy family right in the middle of munich, germany. his parents pushed a lot of their #grindset on him and his baby sister. unfortunately for him, this meant a future of perfectionism and unrelenting gifted kid syndrome. he sacrificed a lot of his social needs for grades early in his life and after a while, it all became second nature. once in a blue moon he’d talk to his peers in scouting but he’d stutter, stumble over his words, and never quite found the right things to say. figuring himself a lost cause, he studied. he helped his mom with the garden. maybe occasionally played half life or duke nukem on the family computer. all of this dedication to perfection made him a shoe-in for harvard university, all the way over in the united states. his parents, father especially, encouraged the idea. that was all he needed to get himself on a plane to massachusetts. he was just glad his family could afford frequent flights back home, in case everything went to shit. —— when he first landed, hugo thought he’d only be in the states for school, but he ended up liking it a lot more than he thought he would. after finishing school and taking up a residency in downtown boston, he moved to new york. he made a good amount of money, was able to keep in touch with the few friends he met in college, and even secured a few long term relationships along the way. he hit his thirties and finally felt that he reached a point of contentment. this ... didn’t last long. —— right before he was able to buy his first house in the city he fell ill and, after seeing more doctors than he could count on both hands and feet, was diagnosed with lupus and rheumatoid arthritis. this wasn’t something he thought he was going to be able to handle by himself, so his sister came down from her home in germany to assist him with his daily needs. the two of them definitely couldn’t afford new york and medical bills on hugo’s salary alone, which led them to pack their bags and head to ( what his sister considered ) the next best option. moorbrooke, maine !! he wasn’t too stoked about this. he’d be leaving most of his support system behind and he knew absolutely nothing about the area, but his sister found a job there and it was a good place for him to start a private practice of his own. he’s still struggling over the loss of independence and the complete change from where he was in life before, but he’s coping ! after spending a lot of time inside and away from the people of moorbroke, he finally thinks he might be ready to actually make a life here. even if he wasn’t, his sister isn’t gonna move the two of them any time soon.

TIDBITS !

he’s a very nice dude and will totally engage with people, he just cannot bring himself to let his walls down. you really gotta know hugo well if you wanna have a conversation about anything serious without him deflecting the whole damn time.

his accent .... god rest his soul. he’s been living here for 20 years and sometimes people still need to take a second to understand him. especially when he drinks. two beers in and the man needs a translator.

speaking of drinking, he doesn’t do it often, and he can’t hold his liquor. i’d actually advise people to never give him alcohol. like, ever.

was on the rowing team in college. please don’t ask him about it. he’ll talk about it forever.

if it weren’t for his dog and his bees he’d be at rock bottom. outside of writing ( which i will get to in a jiffy ), beekeeping is his favorite hobby. ask him nicely and he might give you a jar of honey.

before coming down with lupus and RA he wrote two very boring books for psychiatrists and psychiatrists only. now that his focus has shifted away from his career a little bit, he’s in the middle of writing a poetry collection.

you will find this man at every bookstore in a 10 mile radius. he can’t be in the sun for too long so instead he likes to look at stuff he promises himself he won’t buy and then buys it anyway.

CONNECTIONS !

clients

he’s got fifteen clients on his caseload just to keep himself from losing his mind. he specializes in family, grief, trauma, and stress but doesn’t limit himself too much because of how small the town is. what i’m saying is : let hugo prescribe your characters drugs.

fellow beekeepers

he’s kept to himself a lot during his time in moorbrooke but his sister used to force him out at least some of the time. she drives him to beekeepers association events and conventions often enough, i would imagine it’d be a lot easier for him to talk to someone who shares the same niche hobby !! if your muse doesn’t keep bees, i’m always down for him to talk to some of the people who buy his honey at farmer’s markets.

former close friends

hugo met a lot of people ( particularly on harvard’s rowing team ) in college and during his stint in new york. i’m sure it’d be great for him to meet someone he knew up here because he’s honestly so tired of having to get used to new situations by himself.

flirtationship but hugo is oblivious the entire time

this guy is definitely the type to flirt with people on accident. i think it’d be really fuckin funny if he was flirting back and forth w someone he wasn’t consciously flirting with in the first place.

😏

listen the only thing i love playing out more slow burn self improvement and found family is romance. he’s been single since he was in new york and i think he deserves a little smooch. please dm me if your muse is also deserving of a little smooch.

etc, etc, etc !

there’s definitely more i want. i want everything you have to give me. however, if you’re in need of specifics, i would love to see : his doctors, people he can become friends with + let his walls down around, people he can teach german to, other authors, beta readers, and neighbors !

what am i missing. ah, yes.

pinterest / spotify [coming soon!]

#mbintro #* ‣ 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐧 ― abouts. ❜#illness tw #drinking mention tw

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iffeelscouldkill · 4 years

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Mission Log: REDACTED

A/N: Now that Yuletide reveals are revealed, I can go ahead and own this fic I wrote for the awesome Mousek for Yuletide! It’s quite long (14,999 words), so I’m not going to post the whole thing here, just enough to give people a flavour and lure them to AO3 for the rest.

This fic is written in an “audio narrative” format, in the same style as the From the Archives ficlets if you’ve read those. Slightly spoilery warning (skip over this to remain unspoiled but please read if you’re concerned about potential triggers): this fic features people’s memories being modified (though not completely irreversibly) without their consent.

Enjoy, friends!

Summary: Canon divergence AU from mid-episode 9. Instead of executing Plan B, the Rumor crew learns about a top-secret Regime project that is being carried out at ADVANCE Labs - and that the fate of the crew of the Iris is not what they thought it had been.Violet Liu goes in undercover, posing as a member of the lab team. But can she undo what the Regime has done to the crew and free them - without losing herself in the process?

Read on AO3!

---

“This is Agent McCabe. Two weeks have now passed since our last update. Based on the continued lack of audio input via this swarm of Strain H, we can assume that the crew of the Rumor have acted on the intel given to them by the insurgents, Thasia and Violet Liu, and successfully cured themselves of the VCN nanocloud infection.

“As a result, pending further developments in this case, the Strange Case of Starship Iris is now considered closed. Footage from the case remains available in the archives and can be accessed on request by submitting form B7-081 with a superior’s signature.

“My thanks to Major General Frederick, Agents Bauman and Cross, and the specialists at Procyon, as well as Junior Agent Goodman for their assistance in this case. Long live the Republic.”

SYSTEM: E.L.L.A.

USERNAME: EMILY CRADDOCK

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED 26 JULY 2191.

REVIEWING DRAFT...

“Hey, it’s me. I just wanted to check in and say that I’m fine, I’m safe and I passed the background checks without any problems. I kept thinking the whole time that someone from the intake process would recognise me, but – none of them seemed familiar, and I guess I wasn’t either. Just a very small cog in the vast machine of the Reg- the Republic. God, I’ve got to get used to saying that again.

“I’m all settled in in my apartment – it’s twice the size of my room on the Rumor, but I can’t help thinking how much I miss that space.” Quiet laughter. “And you all. I… guess I’ll talk to you soon. I’ll have more to update you with tomorrow, after I start work at the lab. And I’ll be able to let you know whether our intel was good.

“Until then… Violet Liu out.”

“This is uh, lab report 05, week two? Analyst Brannon reporting on behalf of Gamma Team at ADVANCE.

“Over the past few days, our lab has continued work on synthesizing the NDMA proteins, and Specialists Chang and Yeboah report that they have made some positive advancements in this area. We have provisionally moved up the timeline for the first round of testing with this in mind, though Specialist Yeboah cautions that we need to monitor how the new proteins react with other molecules in the solution first, and then with the blood cell samples.

“A new member also joined our team today – specialist Huang. I wasn’t aware that we’d actually been hiring for our vacancy, but uh, she seems very qualified? A little over-qualified, even. In addition to her qualification from Brightwell she has extensive experience with this type of lab work, which makes us lucky to have her as part of the team. She’s joined Analyst Vázquez and Assistant Hudson in their work on the histone deacetylases.

“My specialism is in a completely different area, and I’m pretty sure our work histories have never overlapped, but – she seems familiar somehow. Except she said she was based on Mars up until six months ago, and I’ve been working on New Jupiter since… uh…

“Sorry – lost my train of thought for a minute there. I’ve been getting these persistent headaches… I think it’s all that poring over modelling data. Though I never get them while I’m working, so maybe they’re delayed-onset headaches? Heh. It could be the lab lighting; I might ask Supervisor Kaaka if we can swap out the bulbs for a lower wattage.

“Uh, anyway. This is Analyst Brannon signing off. Long live the Republic.”

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED: 27 JULY 2191.

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“Hey, it’s me. Oh my god… oh my god, I can barely process what’s been happening. I was going to send this message as soon as I got back to my apartment, and instead I’ve just been sitting and staring into space because it’s just so… surreal…

“They’re alive. They’re all just… alive and working in a lab at ADVANCE on New Jupiter.

“I mean, we haven’t ruled out the possibility of highly advanced duplicates, but why would the Repub- the Reg- the IGR go to all that trouble? The simplest explanation - even if it still sounds pretty far-fetched - is that they're the same crew.

“Brian, if you’re listening to this – Alvy's alive. I know I didn’t work with him that long but I’m sure, I’m so sure it's really him. But it’s like Thasia and Other Violet said – none of them remember who they were, or their real names. Everyone here calls him Analyst Brannon – Michael Brannon.

“We’re not working very closely together, but I found an excuse to go over to his workstation and introduce myself, and – it seemed like he recognised me. I’m gonna try and find ways to talk to him – the real Alvy Connors is still in there, Brian, I’m sure of it.

“Is there anything you want me to… ask him? Maybe a question that only he would know the answer to?

“Sorry, I don’t have much more time – the IGR has listening devices planted throughout every Republic-issued apartment; everywhere except the bathroom. Even they have to draw the line somewhere. I scanned it, and it’s clean, but if I remember right there are still sensors that will activate if you go above a certain noise, light or heat, threshold – y’know, in case anyone takes it upon themselves to… build a bomb in here or something. And I don’t want the bugs outside to pick up what I’m saying, which is why I’m whispering.

“But I can’t stay in here too long, or they’ll get suspicious, so – I’m fine, and so far I haven’t messed up or called the Republic the Regime or anything in earshot of anyone. And no-one has recognised me. Well, except for Alvy, maybe.

“I’m still trying to figure out what exactly they’re working on, here. If you’re going to go to the trouble of staffing a lab with the crew of an… of an exploded space ship, it must be important, right? Or maybe not. Maybe it’s just a test, to see how well they assimilate.

“I’ll let you know when I know more. Until then… stay safe. I will too. Violet Liu out.”

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED: 27 JULY 2191.

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“Hi, Liu. It’s me.

“I’ll keep this to the point, since I know you probably don’t have much time to spend playing back these messages. We’re all fine here. Kind of in a holding pattern, since there’s not much to do until we hear more from you or from Thasia and the other Violet, but it’s not too bad.

“Jeeter’s really happy, by the way, since he listened to your message. I mean, I think he’s still – processing – because he thought Connors was dead, he even wrote to his parents, and now we find out he’s alive, but not… y’know. Not Connors any more.

“But he’ll be fine. Krejjh is helping, which means the two of them are being even more nauseating then they usually are, and that’s saying something.

“Anyway. Listen, I know you want to try and get through to Connors, but… just be careful, okay? None of us, including Jeeter, wants you to get hurt or – worse – on the off chance that we might be able to bring him back. We always knew it was gonna be a long shot.

“Tripathi said to tell you the same, by the way. Well, she said it in a more… Tripathi… way, but the idea was the same. Find out what you can, but don’t get caught. We can’t afford to lo- to mess this up.

“Okay, I should go. Arkady Patel out.”

“This is lab report 06, week three. Analyst Brannon reporting on behalf of Gamma Team at ADVANCE.

“Since my last report, we have introduced the synthesized NDMA proteins to the solution and tested their interactions with samples representing different blood types. Six out of eight of the samples produced expected results, but two of the samples produced some unexpected interactions with the AB type blood cells, which warrants further testing and study.

“Specialist Huang, Analyst Vázquez and Assistant Hudson are progressing with their work on the histone deacetylases, which should be ready to introduce in the next phase of the solution, pending resolution of the AB blood cell issue.

“Okay, what else… Oh, Specialist Huang is integrating well with the team. She and I have had a couple of conversations, though our second one was unfortunately cut short when my headache started up again. Maybe I should bring it up with Dr. Starling…

“Damn it. Is that the time? I was supposed to go for my treatment a half hour ago – damn it, damn it.

“Uh… I should probably redact that from the final report. This is Analyst Brannon, signing off. Long live the Republic.”

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED: 30 JULY 2191.

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“Hey guys, it’s me again. Violet. It feels kind of nice to use my own name for a change instead of being called ‘Specialist Huang’ all the time… I almost forgot to react to it once, though luckily Vázquez thought I was just focused on my work.

“Not a whole lot to report still – I’m still trying to figure out what it is the Regime is doing in these labs. It’s something to do with DNA methylation and synthesized NDMA proteins – well, I won’t bore you with the science, but why would the IGR be working on that? Could be they’re trying to develop a neural enhancer, but for what? I haven’t ruled out the possibility of there being some kind of link to the nanobots, but no-one here has mentioned nanites, and there are no nanotech specialists working in the lab.

“They keep us very siloed, too. I know what I’m working on, or at least what I have to do, but I don’t know why, and none of the people I work directly with seems to know what we’re developing here. Just something about a solution and blood cell samples. We might not even be the only lab working on this, which means I’ll have to find another way to get at the bigger picture.

“I spoke to Alvy a couple times – I was careful, Arkady, don’t worry. We didn’t manage to talk for long anyway – people don’t socialise much here. I’d kind of forgotten what it was like to work in this kind of environment, where no-one trusts anyone or lets their guard down, because people will backstab each other for the slightest thing. Maybe they had a professional disagreement, or don’t get along, or they wanted to get the credit for the other person’s work. It doesn’t take much of an insinuation to get someone transferred or – worse.

“Nothing’s happened, not yet, and it’s still nowhere near as bad as that student internship I did during the war. But it feels… tense, almost hair-trigger. I think I heard we’re having an inspection later on this week.

“Anyway, Alvy – I didn’t get to talk to him for very long, not just because of the environment, but because he had this headache come on the second time we talked. I’m not sure if it means anything – he said he gets them often. Brian, do you… remember him saying anything about that before?

“He seems a little different to the way I remember him on the Iris – a little more serious, less laid-back, though he’s still the friendliest person on the team. I didn’t… get to know him under the best circumstances, so I’m not sure if that’s due to the memory wipe or not.

“He also mentioned that he’s been seeing a doctor for these treatments – they all have. It could just be something to do with the away shuttle explosion, some kind of recovery program – there was an explosion, even if it didn’t really kill anyone, and Alvy’s got these – support struts in one of his legs, I think they’re carbon fibre. He walks with a slight limp sometimes.

“It could be nothing, but I feel like it might be worth digging into? Arkady, are you able to poke around in ADVANCE’s systems a bit, see if you can find anything that resembles medical reports?

“I’d better go. I brought my makeup bag in here as a cover for taking a bit longer – I don’t even know if the IGR has cameras in these apartments, but better to be safe than sorry – but there’s only so long you can take to put on the bare minimum I wear.

“Send me a message when you can. Violet Liu, out.”

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED: 30 JULY 2191.

REVIEWING DRAFT...

“Hey, Liu. Good instincts on the medical treatment thing. I didn’t spot anything like that in my initial sweep of the system when I forged your interview and acceptance records, but I wasn’t on the lookout for it either.

“There’s a limit to what I can access without jacking directly into ADVANCE’s mainframe computer or piggybacking on their local network, but I’ll dig around as much as I can.” Jokingly: “ Worst comes to worst, we could always send Jeeter in with an earpiece and make him pose as a computer technician.

“Oh, also, Jeeter says he doesn’t remember Alvy ever mentioning any kind of migraines or head pain. Apparently he’d go on these all-night coding benders and then sleep for two hours and be completely fine the next morning. Maybe it caught up to him, but – well, I’m not gonna jump to any conclusions. I’ll see what I can find in the medical records.

“Also – be careful with the inspection, okay? Your ID will hold up, Campbell doesn’t skimp on the quality, and you look different enough from the physical description they have on file, but those Regime higher-ups will ask some weird shit to catch you out.

“You’ve got the comm if you need us for anything. Just… keep your head down.

“Arkady Patel, out.”

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED: 31 JULY 2191.

REVIEWING DRAFT...

“Hey, Liu, listen. You were right. There’s something weird going on with these treatments.

“I managed to track down the medical records for the whole crew. Wasn’t easy, but I’ll save the tales of my security-defying exploits for another time. Anyway, I managed to hack into an account belonging to someone called Dr. Starling. They were brought onto ADVANCE’s payroll on June 1st – two days before the away shuttle exploded.

“There are files for all of them, and the scientific stuff doesn’t mean much to me, but from what I can tell, they’re monitoring them all for signs of what Starling calls ‘leakage’ – memories from their previous lives. Five of the other crew members have reported experiencing head pains, and it’s not a physical injury – Starling seems to think the pain is set off by them thinking back beyond a certain point, or being reminded of something from their past life. They upped the frequency of the ‘treatments’ to try and counter it, but so far it hasn’t worked.

“I think that’s what they’re for, the treatments – they’re keeping the crew’s memories suppressed. Which means, if they can be interfered with somehow…

“Bad news is, I can’t get into the scheduling system, not without access to the local network. But in Starling’s notes it says that Alvy was meant to come in for a treatment earlier today- well, yesterday technically, since it’s after 3am. But he didn’t show. So maybe you could get through to him.

“Obviously, don’t blow your cover, but if Alvy’s been getting these headaches a lot, it could mean he’s trying to remember? You said he got a headache when you guys talked – what were you talking about?”

A stifled yawn. “Shit, I’d better sleep, Sana wanted me to help encrypt some intel to send to Thasia and the other Violet Liu first thing in the morning. I’ll talk to you later. Arkady Patel out.”

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED 31 JULY 2191.

REVIEWING DRAFT...

“Arkady, you’re a genius! Oh my god, I could kiss you.

“I’ve only skimmed the records you copied, but they make references to a solution that sounds a lot like the one we’re developing in the lab. What if that’s the answer? What if that’s what the IGR is having the crew develop, another version of the treatment – maybe one that’s more permanent…

“…Oh god, that’s so dark. They’re having the crew work on erasing their own memories. It’s so inhuman, so – exactly what the IGR would do.

“–I have to go, I’ve got work in half an hour, but – this really helps. And I’ll try to talk to Alvy today, see if he seems any different after his missed treatment. Violet Liu out.”

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED: 31 JULY 2191.

REVIEWING DRAFT...

“You, uh—” The sound of awkward throat-clearing. “You are welcome. Yeah. Like I said, it’s uh, it’s what I do! So, no, uh thanks required. Though if you wanted to, I—

“Shit, I’ve gotta go, Sana needs me. Uh, Arkady Patel out.”

Read the rest here!

#fic #TSCOSI #The Strange Case of Starship Iris #Yuletide #Yuletide fic #mission fic #Violet Liu #Arkady Patel #Alvy Connors #RJ McCabe #Vikady #I really enjoyed writing the dorky Violet/Arkady interactions in this fic #I mean I really enjoyed writing all of this #but especially that aspect #also please ignore the sciencey jargon #though I've been told by someone who is more sciencey than I am that it is not bad jargon #it took me way too long to come up with 😂 I wanted it to be vaguely plausible #but it's not necessary to understand the fic

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that-one-awkward-anon · 3 years

Text

Shrine of Confession

Happy Pride Month Twisted and Creased are gay and in love

tagging @darkwarfy cause he saw the preview of this and said it’s cute so I got encouraged to finish it

Creased had a problem. He really liked Twisted. Like, liked liked him. Loved him, even. The problem was… well, Creased wasn’t sure if Twisted liked him too, or if they were just very close friends.

For example, Twisted said that he loved him a bunch of times, even when he did small things. But friends said they loved each other all the time, right? And then there was that time where Twisted said he could kiss him after Creased had helped him in a particularly tough battle. But that was just a saying, right? People said that when they were relieved, and they had just barely escaped with their lives. And then there was that time that Twisted really did kiss him after a fight. He forgot what he had done to earn it, because his brain had basically shut down during it. But that was probably just a fluke, so it didn’t count. And so, Creased was stuck, unsure if he was actually picking up signals or just hoping for the best. He didn’t want to just come out and ask Twisted- he was way too scared of ruining their friendship if he didn’t feel the same. So for now, he was forced to silently pine. Unfortunately for him, he was currently sharing a room with Twisted for the night. Which really didn’t help his situation at all. Instead of the wilderness, they had actually found a small Red village to stay in for the night. And after Twisted had convinced the mayor that they were trustworthy, they had been allowed to stay in their inn at a discount. Which was good, because they only had about 10 Gold between the four of them after buying supplies. He didn’t know why the Princess of Sivilus didn’t have more Gold on her, but whatever. Unfortunately, they still couldn’t afford separate rooms, so they decided to pair up. And since Snapped and Rugged were obviously going to share a room, that left him and Twisted. Together. In an inn room. For the entire night. At least they had separate beds, or else Creased might have actually died. Creased had been trying his best to be quiet and mind his own business, but his eyes kept flitting over to Twisted, then back to book he had randomly picked out. Currently, Twisted was kneeling at the side of his bed, doing his nightly paladin prayers to SoL. He looked so… serious. It wasn’t like Creased had never seen him with that expression before; hell, he always looked like that while fighting. Unlike Creased, who actually liked fights, Twisted looked like he just wanted to get them over with. Brow furrowed, deep frown, completely focued on whatever he was attacking. But seeing him like that while things were calm was… odd. It was as if he just wanted to get his prayer over with as well. But he was a paladin, right? And a pure Red on top of that! Wouldn’t talking to SoL be the highlight of his day? Creased looked over again when he heard Twisted sigh in frustration, then stand up from his kneeling position. “Twist? You good?” he asked, trying his best to play it cool. Twisted looked over at him in surprise at his question, before relaxing slightly. “Oh… I thought you had fallen asleep,” he admitted with a weak chuckle. “Yeah, I’m just… having trouble praying. “Oh? Why’s that?” “Honestly? I’m not sure. I’ve been kinda struggling for the past few days, but tonight it’s really bad. I just feel like I can’t… properly connect with SoL. Which kind of makes me a crappy paladin.” Creased frowned slightly, then closed the book he was pretending to read to properly look at Twisted. “Twist, you aren’t a-“ “I know I’m not, don’t worry. But I sure feel like a bad paladin right about now. What kind of paladin can’t pray to their god?” Creased frowned and sat up more as Twisted continued to degrade himself. “Twisted. Not being able to pray once in a while doesn’t make you a crappy paladin, it just makes you normal,” he said, much firmer than before. Twisted glanced over at him, before looking away. “…Yeah, alright. I’ll take your word for it. Anyways, there’s a small SoL shrine in that park we explored. It might help to actually be looking at him, so I’m gonna go test my luck. Do you wanna- “Yes!” Both Poprets started at each other at Creased’s enthusiastic response, both equally as surprised. After a few stunned seconds, Creased immediately started to backtrack. “I mean, o-of if you want me to come! I can j-just stay here and w-wait for you to-“ Creased cut himself off when Twisted started to laugh. “Crease, you can come. That’s why I asked. Now then, let’s head there quick, so we can come back and get some sleep.” Creased didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as Twisted finished talking, he jumped out of the bed and onto his feet. It wasn’t either of them had to change- their “pajamas” were just cleaner travel clothes. So they both quietly left the inn, then Twisted lead Creased to the park. He hadn’t exactly been impressed the first time they had visited, but this time he could appreciate all the effort that must have gone into planting and maintaining everything. Not to mention, despite most of them being some shade of red, the flowers were quite beautiful at night as well. Finally, Twisted stopped and looked at Creased with a smile. “Alright, here we are!” He stepped aside with a dramatic flourish, and… wow. How had he missed this before? The marble statue wasn’t that impressive- every SoL shrine had one. But it was the decorative flowers around it that had him speechless. Unlike the rest of the flowers in the park, these flowers were a complete rainbow of color! And the way they framed the statue was just… beautiful. And laying on the palms of the marble statue was a marvelous, sparkling, deep blue flower. It reminded him of Rugged’s fancy magic flower, but it was absolutely the prettiest thing there. Well… the second prettiest thing there. But Twisted was occupied, so he had to keep his pickup lines to himself. While Creased stood there gaping, Twisted went and kneeled in front of the statue. Creased finally snapped out of his stupor and quietly took a seat near the statue. From that angle, he could see Twisted’s face again. And this time, he actually looked… different. Instead of serious and stormy, he looked completely relaxed. Kind of how Rugged looked when she was healing one of them with her magic. But to be fair, she looked relaxed 95 percent of the time, so it wasn’t much of a difference. But for Twisted… it was almost fascinating. This entire adventure, he had seemingly switched between being stressed or hesitantly optimistic, sparing the group a weak smile once in a while. Around Creased, he would properly smile and laugh, but that was probably just because they had been friends for so long. But it had been a long while Creased had seen Twisted look so calm. And… it was really cute. Seeing the always serious, “let’s just get this over with” Red actually relaxed made Creased start to relax as well. He had kept up his “selfish asshole” persona for so long that being vulnerable was still new to him, but around Twisted… it came completely naturally. After this adventure was over, he wanted to always feel like this. No stressing over the end of the world, just relaxing with the man he adored. “Take a picture, Crease, it’ll last longer.” Aaaaand Twisted had noticed him staring. Immediately, Creased could feel his face heating up. “U-Um, I’m, uh… s-sorry, I didn’t m-mean… I was just l-lost in thought, I w-wasn’t-“ “Lost in thought, huh? What were you thinking about?” Twisted asked, nonchalantly sitting next to Creased on the bench. God, Creased felt like he was going to melt at this rate. There was no way he could admit what he had been thinking about! “I… u-um… I was t-thinking about… tomorrow? W-When we leave, I mean.” “Oh? What do you think we should do after we head out?” Was Twisted getting closer? He was absolutely getting closer, right? Creased could just barely feel the Red’s hand touch his, and he felt ready to absolutely explode. “…T-Twist, c-can we pretend I w-wasn’t staring? Please?” Creased finally squeaked, admitting defeat. Both of them knew he was lying about being “deep in thought”, so doubling down wouldn’t do him any good. Unfortunately, Twisted only gave him a cheeky grin and scooted closer. “So you were staring. What, were you just admiring my paladin physique?” Twisted teased, leaning in closer. Creased probably looked like a neon sign at this point, because now he was thinking about Twisted’s body. Despite Creased being taller and older by a year, Twisted could probably pick him up and throw him around without trying. Not that he would exactly mind that, but one issue at a time. “N-NO! No, I w-wasn’t staring at-“ “You sure? This shirt is kinda tight, so I wouldn’t blame you.” “Twist, dude, you’re killing me here.” Twisted barked out a laugh at that. “Alright, alright, sorry. I’ll stop. But what were you staring at, then? Cause whatever it was, it sure got your attention.” The pair sat in silence for a moment. Creased was too embarrassed to even attempt to explain why he was staring, but he couldn’t think up any decent excuses either. Slowly but surely, the silence became awkward. “…Creased, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t-“ “I was looking at your face.” Creased glanced over at Twisted again after he blurted out his reason. But instead of disgusted or surprised, he just looked… confused. “My… face? Why?” “O-Okay, well, not really your face. Your facial expression.” “…Dude, I’m even more confused. What facial expression did I have on?” Alright, Creased needed to just suck it up and explain himself. “You… you looked really calm. This entire time, you’ve always had your eyebrows furrowed, sometimes even when you slept. You really only relaxed around me, but you still looked kind of on edge. But just now… you actually looked relaxed. And I haven’t seen you like that ever since all of this began.” Twisted stayed quiet as Creased explained himself, nodding silently at the end. “Okay. I didn’t even know I had that expression on… Well, I guess just being around you makes me chill out more!” “…Come again?” “I mean, according to the others, I look… stressed when I pray. Again, I never know what facial expression I have on, but that’s what they said. And you just confirmed it, I guess,” he said with a slight chuckle. “But being around you… I don’t know. You just seem to help me relax whenever I’m near you.” Creased just stared at him wide-eyed when he said that. He… helped Twisted feel relaxed? Just by being nearby? They had such a deep connection that even being near him helped him relax? He didn’t even know how to respond to that. Well… there was one way to respond. Maybe he could finally just… come out and admit he liked him? Now felt as good of a time as any, especially after that confession. “…Twisted?” “Yeah?” “…I like you.” Twisted chuckled slightly. “I like you too.” “No, I mean, I like like you.” “I ‘like like’ you too, dude.” He was still grinning teasingly. Okay, Creased needed to just spit it out. “Twisted, I… I love you! I love you a lot!” Twisted blinked in surprise. “…Seriously?” Alright, time to commit. “Yes, seriously! I love fighting with you, because you look so focused and it’s really cute! And I love sleeping in a sleeping bag next to you, even though you snore, because when I’m next to you I had good dreams!” “Crease-“ “And I think you’re really cute, and really handsome, and I really like it when you wear that jacket because it just makes you look really cool, and you already look cute fighting, so it’s like a mix of cool and cute and-“ “Creased, am I that bad at dropping hints?” Now it was Creased’s turn to be surprised. “…What?” He finally looked at Twisted properly, and that’s when he noticed that the Red was also basically glowing with a blush. “Creased, I have literally kissed you before. How did you ever think I don’t love you back?!” Well, now he just felt silly. He glanced away slightly, too embarrassed to look at Twisted while he explained himself. “…I mean… you can kiss someone that’s just a friend! S-So how was I s-supposed to be sure that meant you love me?! I just thought-“ But before he could even finish explaining himself, Twisted kissed him. Again. And once again, his brain temporarily shut down. It only rebooted when he pulled back, and Creased was staring at that cheeky grin again. “Now are you sure I love you?” “…Yeah,” Creased finally managed to whisper. “Yeah, I do”. Everything was quiet for a few more seconds… until Twisted let out a soft laugh. He leaned closer to Creased again, kissing the still frozen Green on the forehead. “You’re a damn idiot, Creased.” “H-Hey!” He wasn’t going to deny it, but still! “I didn’t hear a ‘no I’m not’, so I assume we’re in agreement. Now let’s get back to the inn before someone notices we’ve been gone for too long. Or…” Twisted grinned again. “…Do you need me to pick you up and carry you there?” “…I’m pretty sure I’d die if you did that, Twist.” Twisted laughed again, this time much louder. “Alright, walking it is.” He grabbed Creased’s hand and helped him to his feet, and for half a second Creased seriously considered that offer to be carried again. But thankfully, his brain kicked in once again, and he silent stumbled back to the inn with Twisted. And as they did, he glanced at the blue flower sitting the shrine one more time, then over at Twisted. He was right. Twisted really was the prettiest thing there.

#oc writing #Hero OCs #creased is. so bad at reading signs #twisted literally kissed him and he went 'man idk'#'it might just be me'

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css1992 · 5 years

Note

Do you take prompts? Cause I'm dying to read some good Mob boss Tony who's badass with everyone else and melts down for his baby Peter! :) Thank you anyways 😊

Hello there! I’m not sure I’m gonna take prompts yet, because I’m a really slow writer and would probably get overwhelmed way too quickly, but I do love myself some Mob Boss!Tony, I just needed an excuse to write it, haha.

@roleplayangelprincess, I really do hope you like this! Thank you for reaching out. XO

Mob Boss!Tony x Precious!Peter

Word count: 5k+

Warnings: explicit, nff, 18+, mentions of blood, violence, torture and child abuse (nothing explicit), no violence between main pairing. Mafia AU. If you spot anything else that might be triggering to anyone, please let me know!

-*-

Tony’s world had always smelt of gunpowder, blood and tears, for as long as he could remember. The only lullabies he knew were the sounds of shots being fired, screams of horror and desperate begging. Howard used to say it was important that he was raised in the middle of all that, he believed it would make him a tougher man, a firmer leader. He wanted Tony to experience all those situations he usually found himself in, because one day it would all be his – his whole empire, all of New York City’s underworld would be in the palm of his hands, and the scum of the earth that lived in it would be able to smell fear, weakness and softness from three thousand miles away.

So Tony never knew softness, kindness or gentleness. He was raised on blood, tears and gunpowder, to the sounds of screams, gunshots and begging. He was groomed to be a leader as heartless and cold as Howard, to be able to pull the trigger without hesitating. Cold and calculated. He was eight when he killed for the first time, just old enough to support the weight of the gun with both hands and handle its kickback.

The man had begged and cried, looking into his eyes, and Tony didn’t feel anything, he had heard those sounds so many times by then, it did nothing to him. Howard said “do it” and he did. He pulled the trigger. The man’s blood spattered his face and arms and shirt and it was weirdly warm, like teardrops on his skin. He stood there, mesmerized for a few seconds, before Maria told him to go clean up and get ready for supper.

That episode was his life in a nutshell, the smells, the sounds, the darkness, his mother’s reaction, his father’s nod of approval. He grew used to it all, he embraced it, he craved it, and he didn’t know anything else.

Until Peter.

Peter was a ray of fucking sunshine on Tony’s cloudy, dark days, and he hated it at first. He hated that he made his world brighter, he hated that Peter made him want to bend to his every wish, hated that he made him want to protect him from the world, hated that he made him feel so fucking vulnerable, and weak, and exposed, but he loved him. He fucking loved him so much. He had no idea when it started, but it felt like from day one, he never had a choice.

Tony had just left one of his clubs in a terrible mood, one of his most profitable deals had fallen though due to his employees’ incompetence and he had had to kill people – six, to be precise – it was a bloodbath, there was running and screaming and just nonsense in general, as he sat there and rolled his eyes at the failed escape attempts. To top it all off, there was blood on his favorite suit. It was a three-piece, Italian cut suit and it would go to waste thanks to those idiots running around like fools. All in all, a bad day.

“Excuse me, sir! Excuse me!” And then, sunshine. That chirpy, high-pitched voice coming from behind him was slightly annoying, and if he had been just a little more pissed he would have turned and shot him on the spot, no questions asked, but as it was, he’d maybe just tell him to fuck off.

When he turned around, though, there was a young man looking back at him, clearly scared now. Tony noticed that Rogers and Barnes had their guns pointed at him, as he raised his shaky, thin arms in surrender, a black, Italian leather wallet in his hand. “Y-you, y-you dr-drop...” He couldn’t even speak, so Tony took that time to look him over. He looked young, probably in his late teens or early twenties, he was thin and short and he had a very pretty face for a boy. He wore baggy jeans and an oversized NYU hoodie, so Tony guessed he was a student. In short, a very delicious meal for such a shitty night.

“Rogers, my wallet,” Tony cut the boy off, gesturing for Steve to get his wallet from him. He almost passed out when the blonde man approached him, still holding the gun to his face.

“I don’t mean any trouble, sir, I’m so sorry, I just found the wallet on the ground, I-I swear,” He whimpered pitifully and the sound made Tony’s cock twitch. He raised an eyebrow at himself.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, looking around to maybe try to figure out where the boy had come from. They were in a deserted area, somewhere between Queens and Brooklyn, near one of his clubs and a few of his warehouses, there was nothing around there that would justify Peter’s presence, unless he had ulterior motives and the college student get-up was just a ruse.

“W-walking home from work, sir. I-I didn’t have any money left f-for the subway,” He stuttered, hands still up, he was shaking all over now, and it usually didn’t bother Tony, but he was such a pretty thing, the older man didn’t like to see those squirming for the wrong reasons, he had other uses for them. If the boy was harmless, that terrible night could still be saved.

“What’s your name, boy?” That was all Natasha needed to run a background check on him and, in that moment, he found out the name of what would come to be his greatest weakness. Peter Parker. He looked at Barnes and he nodded quietly, sending a message to Natasha to run a quick check. As soon as it came back clear, he opened a big, shark-like smile at the still trembling boy. “Well, it appears we got off on the wrong foot, sweetheart.”

In retrospect, Tony wouldn’t be able to tell what possessed him that night, what made him think that it would be a good idea to lure him into his car and offer him a ride home. He knew that the boy did things to him, he was gorgeous and innocent-looking, a personal favorite, but Tony didn’t often act on impulse. Even his one-night-stands were carefully chosen and vetted, he couldn’t afford to take any risks; but that night, for the first time – the first of many –, he made an exception for Peter Parker. He didn’t know what made the younger man come with him, either, specially after being held at gunpoint by Rogers and Barnes, but he came, probably possessed by the same entity that clouded Tony’s judgment.

The mob boss made up a story about being the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company and told him that Rogers and Barnes were his bodyguards. He wasn’t too far off from the truth, he did run a multi-billion dollar business and Barnes and Rogers were the only two people in the world he trusted with his life. He told the naive boy that he couldn’t tell him the company’s name for safety reasons, and he ate it all up like a good boy, got in the car with Tony and was easily charmed by his words.

What the older man didn’t count on, though, was that he was really charming, too, in his own way. He was smart and sharp, slightly sarcastic and sassy, and really, really sweet. The older man couldn’t quite understand why it attracted him so much when he took the boy back to his place, but it did, and when he had him sprawled on his one-thousand thread count Egyptian sheets, mouth slack and begging for more, he thought it was merely lust.

Only it didn’t go away after that first night, but Tony thought he just had to fuck him out of his system, which seemed easy enough. He invited Peter to dinner – unfortunately, he had to keep up the facade of being a nice gentleman if he wanted to have him again – and the boy was so fucking happy to hear from him when he picked up the phone. Tony could swear his room got brighter when his voice filled up the empty space.

He was just as charming and even more sassy the second time they met, a little less shy, a little bolder now that Tony knew what he looked like naked and stuffed full of his cock. He took him back home again. And again. And again. By the fifth time they got together, Tony realized – with the utmost horror – that he was beginning to care about the boy. He longed to see him, he wanted to know about his days; he was amused by his antics, he remembered the names of his friends from school, and the professors he liked and disliked. He wanted to hurt the people who made him sad for whatever reason, he was worried about his eating habits, he wanted to make all his money problems disappear. He cared about him.

So, logically, he had to kill him.

There was just no other way, Tony Stark couldn’t afford to care about anybody, it was too big of a weakness, it was gonna be his downfall and he couldn’t have it. So by the sixth night, he did what he had to do. He unwrapped the thin, pale arms from his chest, untucked the sweet-smelling head from under his chin, and got out of bed. He took his gun from the nightstand drawer and pointed it at Peter’s head.

He’d make it painless, the boy wouldn’t have to suffer, he’d die peacefully in his sleep. Tony would have to buy another bed, but other than that, it wouldn’t be much of a clean-up, the way the boy was lying almost in the center of the bed, there wouldn’t even be blood on the floor. Besides, he didn’t have any family left, he only had a couple of friends at school and two more who were away for college, so not many people to look for him. They’d think he’d moved away or something.

Tony stared at him over the barrel of his gun. As soon as he had stepped out of the bed, Peter reached for his pillow and clutched it like a doll, dreaming away, with an almost unnoticeable smile on his lips, completely unaware that he was sharing a bed with the most dangerous criminal in New York, possibly in the whole country. So innocent, and naive, and beautiful.

He was so tiny, so out of place in his cold, dark world. Peter didn’t smell like blood or gunpowder, he smelled like something sweet and edible, he never screamed or cried, he always had a bright smile for him and the most delectable laugh.

Tony faltered. No matter how hard he tried to will his finger to pull the trigger, he couldn’t do it, he just couldn’t fucking do it. He squeezed his eyes shut and lowered the gun, cursing under his breath, unable to believe he couldn’t do such a simple thing. Eight-years-old Tony hadn’t fucking blinked when Howard told him to do it. Why couldn’t he fucking do it?

“Tony? Is everything okay?” When he opened his eyes again, Peter was sitting up, and he looked worried. Tony noticed his eyes were fixed on the gun in his hand. “What’s going on?” He whispered, looking around the room, as if there was a threat out there, little did he know he was face to face with the devil himself.

“Nothing, sweetheart, I just thought I heard something. I checked, it’s nothing, go back to sleep.” He put the gun back in the drawer and the boy breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh, good. Come back to bed, then.” He reached out his arms to Tony, so open and trusting, sitting on his big bed, swallowed by all those expensive sheets, wearing one of his old t-shirts. So fucking small, and breakable, and vulnerable. Tony couldn’t keep him. As long as the boy was alive, he would be a weakness, he could be used as leverage.

So he needed to die. It was for his own good.

The next day, he called Barnes into his office, lighted up a cigar and slowly smoked it as he tried to digest the words he had to say to him. The other man stood there stoically, waiting patiently, until Tony blurted out, “I need you to kill Peter.” He didn’t move a muscle, didn’t even flinch. Professional as ever.

“When do you need it done, boss?” Barnes was the best man for the job, Steve was great, but he was a little soft, and Tony saw the way he looked at the kid, with that small, discreet smile full of fondness.

“Tonight,” he said, jaw set, eyes narrowed. It needed to be done. “He has a night shift at the diner. He gets off at eleven, I want it done by then. You know the drill, be discreet, careful not to make much of a mess, don’t leave any witnesses, yada yada.” He gestured with his cigar, feeling detached, like he was talking about anybody else but Peter.

“You got it, boss.” Barnes nodded and turned to leave, only to be stopped by Tony’s voice.

“Barnes,” Tony didn’t look at him when he turned around. “Make it quick. And painless.”

“Of course.”

So Tony waited. And that day might as well have lasted a fucking year, the way the hours dragged, he couldn’t concentrate on his meetings, couldn’t fucking eat, not even his cigars were enough to calm him down. He was snapping at his employees, killing people for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, losing money for being too fucking off his game.

Around ten that night, he sat on his favorite armchair, the one one in which he and Peter fucked when they couldn’t even make it to the bed, and waited. He drank his scotch and pretended to think of something else, anything, but his mind kept going back to Peter’s lifeless body covered in blood. Gone forever. He lighted up a cigar and, when he noticed his fingers were fucking shaking as it approached eleven o’clock, he realized he couldn’t fucking do it. At ten fifty-eight, he called Barnes.

“Barnes, what’s your status?” He asked, a lump in his throat, afraid it was too late already.

“He’s gathering up his things to leave, boss.” He answered calmly and Tony sighed in relief.

“I’m calling it off. Come back here right now, you and Rogers.”

“Yes, boss.”

As he waited for them, he poured himself a glass of scotch, weighting his options. He couldn’t kill Peter, but he couldn’t let him be a weakness either, so he needed a plan. First of all, Peter couldn’t be kept in the dark anymore, it was too dangerous. Second of all, nobody could ever know about him, the only two people who already knew he existed were Barnes and Rogers, and he would keep it that way.

“It’s your duty to make sure no one knows about him. Not a single soul. I mean it.” He stared at them intently and they looked back at him impassibly, nodding. “If anyone gets a whiff of him, if anyone tries to harm him in any way, I’m gonna choose one of you to torture and kill and let the other one watch and then lock them in the same room with the body to watch it rot, are we clear?”

“Yes, boss,” they both answered in unison, unfazed. One of the reasons Tony trusted them with his life was because they were each other’s weakness, they were easy to threaten. The second reason, of course, was because they risked their lives to rescue him when the Ten Rings gang managed to kidnap him, under Obadiah Stane’s orders, the jealous bastard. Nobody else came but them, and they took down the whole gang by themselves. He rewarded them handsomely, and they became the highest ranking people in his inner circle, followed closely by Natasha and Bruce.

“Good. Bring him to me.”

Not even an hour later, Peter walked into his office, looking frightened. As soon as he saw Tony, though, he breathed a great sigh of relief, rushing to his side to sit on his lap and hold him tight. Tony raised a brow, confused.

“I was so worried, Bucky and Steve just picked me up and they wouldn’t say anything, I thought something had happened to you.” His little arms clutched his neck tightly, desperately, and Tony’s heart swelled with emotions he didn’t even know existed. He breathed in the boy’s scent, feeling nervous all of a sudden, he wasn’t sure why.

“We need to talk, Peter.” He held his head with both hands and pushed him a little. “Maybe you’ll want to sit a little farther away from me for what I’m about to tell you.”

“I know what you’re gonna tell me. Please, don’t.” Tony froze at that, muscles going rigid, eyes wide. He stared at the kid’s face and he looked embarrassed, sad and scared.

“What do you think you know, Pete?” He asked quietly, studying the boy’s reactions. He shrugged his shoulders, avoiding Tony’s eyes.

“I think you’re not really a CEO,” he whispered, as a single tear ran down his cheek. Tony reached out to dry it immediately. “I-I think you h-hurt people… And stuff.”

“What stuff? Why do you think that?” He tucked a curl behind his ear and placed a finger on his chin to force him too look at him.

“I don’t know what stuff, just… Stuff. Illegal stuff.” More tears followed and he closed his eyes briefly, opening them a few seconds later. Tony waited patiently. “I’ve heard you on the phone a few times, I can smell gunpowder on you. And – blood. And it’s never yours.” Tony nodded slowly, watching his boy falling apart before his eyes, he looked pained. He was clearly a lot smarter then he let on and a lot sneakier, if he had been listening in on his phone calls. Weirdly, the older man wasn’t even mad.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” He questioned, trying to dry his tears again, holding the boy’s cheeks in his palms. He nodded slowly.

“It terrifies me,” he admitted quietly. “But I – I just. I can’t stay away from you.” He frowned and Tony sighed, smiling softly.

“I couldn’t hurt you if I tried, baby boy.” He wanted to laugh at how true that was.

“I know. I think I know that, just. Just don’t tell me wh– I don’t want to know. The things you do.”

“Of course, it has nothing to do with you, you’re not a part of this world. I’m just gonna need you to be more careful, ok, baby? We’ll set a few ground rules, and everything will be just fine.” He rubbed the boys arms as he nodded, but he still seemed agitated and nervous. ”Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“I – Yeah, I guess.” He tried to smile but it turned into a grimace as a few more tears escaped his eyes. “I’m really scared.”

“Peter, listen to me. You don’t ever have to be scared, do you hear me? No one can touch you, you’re under my protection. Do you understand that? No one would dare, I swear to you. I swear it.” There was a lot of confidence in his voice, but he was terrified himself, he was afraid he couldn’t keep that promise, but Peter believed him. The way his face softened and he was finally able to smile again, Tony knew he believed him.

They took it one day at a time, slowly figuring out their own rules. After that talk, they didn’t see each other for a few weeks, just in case someone had taken notice of the fact that Peter had entered the tower seven times over the course of four months. Then, for the boy’s spring break, Tony took him to Japan for a week, where they could walk around freely, hand in hand, only taking a few precautions before traveling, like not boarding the same plane. After that, they were able to establish a weekly routine, they never met on the same day or at the same time, but they never went more than a week without seeing each other. Quickly, days turned into weeks, which turned into months, which turned into years. Two whole years, and Tony still couldn’t believe how a boy like Peter could belong with a monster like him.

“Boss, the prince is upstairs,” Barnes warned him as soon as he stepped into the tower, to Tony’s surprise. They hadn’t scheduled anything for that night and, for a few seconds, the older man panicked and it must have shown, no matter how hard he tried to suppress it. “He’s unharmed. He insisted that I brought him as a surprise, just a heads-up.” He added and the boss let out a breath slowly, nodding.

“Very well.”

Tony hurried upstairs and as soon as he stepped inside the apartment, he was gifted with the sight of his young lover sitting on his armchair. He was wearing one of the older man’s t-shirts, his favorite one, the oldest Tony owned. He didn’t seem to be wearing anything underneath it, as Tony got a glimpse of his cute little cock peeking out from under the hem of his shirt, between his parted legs. The boy was sleeping, head resting on a hand, propped on the arm of the chair.

The older man walked towards him, loosening his tie, then stopped in front of him. He knelt by his feet, stroked his calves lightly and kissed both of his knees softly. The boy’s eyes fluttered open in surprise, until they finally focused on Tony.

“My prince,” The older man greeted, kissing his way up the pale, plump legs, stopping at the hem of the t-shirt. “Did I keep you waiting?”

“Tony,” He mumbled sleepily, running his fingers through the other’s graying hair. “It’s okay, I was hoping to surprise you, actually, but I guess I fell asleep.” His hand slid towards the older man’s cheek and he leaned into it like a cat, turning a little to place a kiss on his palm.

“Good boy,” he resumed his kisses on pale, shivering thighs, and Peter sighed quietly. “What was this surprise about, baby boy?”

“Just missed you, it’s been a while,” Peter adjusted himself on the chair, sliding his lower half down the seat and spreading his legs wider, until Tony could see a sparkle between the boy’s cheeks, where his pink, tight hole should be. The young man was blushing slightly, Tony found it endearing that he still did, after all that time.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, have I been neglecting you?” His fingers slid across Peter’s legs, thumbs drawing circles on the sensitive skin on the inside of his thighs, and the boy’s breath hitched as he got closer and closer to his balls. Tony saw his small cock flushing pink as it stood to attention, and the toy inside his hole jerked.

“It’s okay, you’re busy.” Which was absolutely true. Between Peter’s classes, Tony’s tight schedule and having to keep the boy a secret, there wasn’t a lot of time for them to meet, but Tony would correct that soon. When the boy graduated in a couple of months, he wouldn’t be such an easy target anymore, at least he wouldn’t have a predictable schedule in such a public place. He could live at the tower, where it was safe, and Barnes and Rogers could take care of him whenever he needed to go out.

“I was, little one, but I have all the time in the world for you now, let’s see this surprise of yours, shall we?” He spread Peter’s legs further, placing each of them on the arms of the chair, his boy was incredibly flexible, gorgeous to watch. He raised his shirt a little bit, just up to his stomach, but didn’t take it off. “Ah, I see. What a beautiful surprise you have there, baby boy. Thank you.” His little hole was stretched around the plug Tony had bought for him, a slick, black one, with jewels encrusted on the handle, now sticking out of him. It wasn’t too big or thick, he liked him to be tight, after all. “Did my prince come while putting this in?”

“Yes, sir… Twice,” He was already panting and Tony hadn’t even touched him where it mattered yet. He smirked and clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

“I’m so sorry, you must have been really starved for cock, right? Daddy haven’t been feeding you properly. We’re gonna correct this now.” He held the end of the plug and pushed it in a little more, moved it around a bit, only to hear his boy gasp when it brushed his sweet spot. Then he slowly started pulling it out, watching in amazement as his rim stretched to allow the thickest part of the toy to come out. Once it was completely out, his hole gaped for a few seconds, before clenching furiously around nothing.

The kneeling position was hard on his knees, but his prince deserved nothing less, so stayed there and leaned in, licking the wet, quivering hole, eliciting a desperate moan from Peter, as he held his own knees in an attempt to keep his legs spread open. Tony gripped his thin waist, fingers digging into his soft flesh, hard enough to leave marks, and tried to fuck his tongue inside him. Since it was already a little loose from the toy, it gave in and he was able to lick inside him, and the boy cried out in pleasure, rocking his hips against his mouth.

“Oh, I missed this, Tony… I missed this…” He mumbled, arching his back, and the older man kept going, tongue buried inside his hole, fucking and licking it, biting his ass cheeks carefully when the young man tried to close his thighs around his head. He tasted delicious and smelled amazing. Tony made his way up to his ball as he pressed two fingers into his hole. They went in with barely any resistance as the boy moaned desperately when Tony sucked his balls into his mouth.

Peter writhed on the chair, hands buried in the older man’s hair, trying to pull him closer, small whimpers leaving his mouth every time the man’s fingers brushed his prostate. Tony licked his way back to his hole, as he tried to fuck it with both his tongue and fingers, until he could see Peter was way too close to the edge.

He got up from the floor and undid his pants. As soon as his cock sprung free, Peter launched himself at it, grabbing it with one hand and sucking the head into his mouth, like a starving man. Tony’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he groaned, burying his fingers in his wild curls and tugging just a little, enough to prevent him from deep-throating his cock – he probably wouldn’t last long if he did, sometimes he thought he might come just from rimming him.

He held his head with both hands, setting a steady pace, and Peter obeyed happily. He licked the tip of his cock, kissed it gently, then went back to sucking as one of his hands came up to play with the older man’s heavy balls – he hadn’t come in days. He took a deep breath and allowed his boy to have his fun for a while, but then pushed him gently and lifted him from the chair, taking a seat himself.

“Come sit on your throne, my prince.” He grinned devilishly, and Peter didn’t even blink an as he placed a knee on each side of Tony’s thighs, reaching behind himself to guide his cock inside.

“Oh, fuck,” He cried, as he sank down onto his cock, mouth hanging open, head thrown back in ecstasy. Tony watched, mesmerized, as the boy took him in slowly, inch by inch, until his cock was completely sheathed inside his tight heat. Peter’s inner walls massaged him as his little hole fluttered, trying to adjust to his girth, and he made little sounds of pain and pleasure.

“You’re perfect, baby, perfect for me,” Tony held his face by the cheeks and brought him closer, licking his lips open to kiss him messily and hungrily. He’d missed him, too, his soft skin, his high-pitched voice, his tiny hands stroking his face, the bouncy, sweet-smelling curls. Peter truly belonged in another world, and although he should feel completely out of place in Tony’s arms, nothing ever felt so right in his life.

The younger man started moving after a few seconds, whimpering against Tony’s lips as he rocked his hips back and forth, up and down. His hands clutched the back of the chair as he bounced on the older man’s cock, following the pace set by Tony’s hands on his hips. The older man slapped his ass once, twice, only to see the boy coming undone, biting his lips and trying to stop himself from screaming.

“Let me hear you, baby,” he grunted, fucking up into him as he bit the younger man’s lips, holding his neck with a hand. When he slapped him a third time, Peter couldn’t hold it in anymore, he screamed the older man’s name as he came with a blinding force, arching his back and gripping his shoulders. If the sight of Peter out of his mind with pleasure wasn’t enough to push him over the edge, the way he clenched his hole on his cock would do it. The older man followed suit, as he grunted against the boy’s neck, leaving marks on his skin.

Peter went limp in his arms, completely relaxed and safe, arms wrapped around his shoulders as Tony held him close, protectively. If it were up to him, Peter would never leave the penthouse, he’d quit his job, and school, and be right there where Tony could look after him. But of course he was a feisty little one, so it wasn’t up to Tony.

“Have you eaten, little one?” He whispered, placing soft kisses on his shoulders and neck, and the boy shuddered.

“No, I was waiting for you.” He whispered back, snuggling further into his arms. “But now I’m sleepy.”

“Poor baby.” He placed a kiss on his temple. “Why don’t you take a nap while I cook you some Bucatini Carbonara, huh? Isn’t that your favorite?”

“No, I’ll cook, you always cook for me,” he mumbled against his neck and Tony could barely understand what he said.

“But you’re sleepy, baby. Besides, you’re a terrible cook on a good day.” Tony chuckled, feeling the boy laughing against his chest.

“Fine, I’ll help, then,” he compromised, pecking his lips.

“Sounds great.”

Peter carefully lifted off of his cock, then stepped out of the chair, hurrying to the bathroom. Tony watched, heart clenching, as his boy walked away. He squeezed his eyes shut for a minute, trying to rein in the feeling of dread that overtook him as he imagined Peter in danger, held captive by someone like him, someone as cruel and heartless as him, someone who would torture him, make him suffer, just to get to Tony. He opened his eyes wide, feeling helpless, as he realized there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to protect him. He’d give away his entire kingdom, he’d give his own life in exchange for his.

Peter came back to the living room, still wearing his old t-shirt, a huge grin on his face as he rambled about school. Tony smiled to himself. He was worth it.

#starker #peter parker x tony stark #ironspider #mafia au

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