#how does one make a category on Ao3 that is just like I accidentally made my own spiderman verse | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

deniigi · 4 years ago

Text

MORE POLYCULE SHIT

here this is mostly Sam/Ned from Matt’s POV. (this piece assumes Matt didn’t know about the negotiations until later)

Title: soda bottles

Summary: Matt finds out about Sam’s involvement with Ned and then with Peter’s polycule. He tries to talk to Sam about it, but fails. On like, every front.

---------------

The apprentice told him to stay out of his room and his life and his business and he should have known better by now, truly.

Matt knew that voice. And he also knew that what Sam, Samuel, Sammy-my-darling was doing right now at this present moment was giggling.

Unacceptable. There would be no joy in this house.

Matt removed himself from the door and declared war in silence.

---

The dogs were instrumental in luring Samuel out to open space. And by luring, Matt meant knocking on his bedroom door with leashes in hand and asking Sam if he wanted a walk.

In no time Matt had zero leashes and zero dogs and, while he was at it, zero apprentices.

In fact, he had been abandoned.

In his own house.

Again.

How did this keep happening?

---

Foggy told Matt to let Sam have his little crush on Ned. Ned was a good boy. Foggy had maintained this for years. He skirted around the fact that he’d grabbed Ned’s shoulders when he was 17 and had told him to stare him in the eyes and to never fall in love with his best friend.

Matt pointed this out to him and got a pillow to the face, then a huff and an uncalled-for reminder that he was a fucking idiot and no one loved him.

This was Foggy’s love language though, so Matt didn’t take it to heart. Instead, he abandoned him for the only person in the world who truly understood him.

Jenn.

---

Jenn had to spend fifteen minutes cooing over the fact that Matt had acquired an apprentice and then she had to spend another ten being an asshole about it and then she spent a solid 5 making dad jokes at him when he tried to talk and so he waited until she was done with her cackling and personal jabs.

She told him that it was cute that Peter’s bestie was gushing over Matt’s apprentice.

She told him that he should be happy for them.

And Matt was. Happy for them, that is.

He was thrilled.

Sam’s track record with long-term partners, as far as Matt could tell, was a solid nil for nil. The boy refused to be attached to anyone, which Matt totally got.

But it was like standing by, watching your own young moronic self making a series of unfortunate decisions that were not only whole unnecessary, but also had solutions within easy reach, like headstones in a damn cemetery.

Sam had a string of guys and girls that he’d picked up at clubs and bars and fuckin’ hipster literature readings downtown who were literally, actually falling over themselves to be with him. And he texted them and laughed about them and joked with Leilani and Achara about them, and then never spoke of them ever again.

Matt got it, okay?

He’d been that guy.

Maybe a little more on the jock side of things and maybe a little less, say, refined than Sammy—but he still got it. A slightly longer relationship was good for Sam. And Ned was a good egg—no, a great egg.

But he just couldn’t shake this feeling, Jenn.

He didn’t even know what it was, but it made him paranoid and want Sam to go back to the self-destructive nonsense, because at least Matt knew what that felt like. He could push back against that after dumping the kid out of the ring in training.

“Matty,” Jenn said affectionately, “You’re trying to protect Sam, Ned, and Peter. But you don’t have to do that. They’re all grown. Let them make their decisions.”

Ooooohohoho

How dare she.

Matt knew they were grown. Sam was nearly 25. Peter was almost 27—oh god, Peter was almost 27. FUCK. Jesus. Lord. Someone—Christ.

Sammy was a baby.

He couldn’t be playing with these big kids, he’d have his heart broken.

What if Ned got bored of him, Jenn??

Matt couldn’t beat the shit out of Ned. Ned was a good boy. And Peter would lose his damn gourd and that was how Matt would end up under two tons of concrete and rebar with an angry spider perched on top, stomping and spitting.

“Matt,” Jenn said soothingly. “Peter learned how to be polyamorous from you, dear heart.”

Oh shit.

Oh right.

Oh no.

“I’ve gotta go,” Matt said. “Lovely talking to you, next time you’re in town, come around for a foursome or a twosome or a three if Kirsten��s down—okay BYE.”

Jenn laughed at him when he hung up.

Matt clutched at his chest.

---

He’d inadvertently taught Peter what polyamory looked like by flinging himself down on many disgusting surfaces and moaning and writhing in agony and despair about Foggy being monogamous and everyone in the world being unspeakably brilliant and strong and no-doubt gorgeous.

Fuckin’ Kirsten.

Fuckin’ Wade.

Fuckin’ Karen.

And Heather and Marci and ONE TIME ONLY Frank.

UGH.

Disgusting. Matt needed Lysol to scrub that moment of weakness from his brain.

The point was that he’d been a chump, and baby Peter had observed these various moaning sessions and had apparently, at some point, started taking notes.

Gah.

Peter. Why?

Stop loving your friends. Stop copying me. Get your own breakdown material.

Uuuuuuugh.

Okay, okay. Rally, Murdock. It’s fine.

This is simply a conversation to have with Sammy about how to negotiate such--hng. Actually maybe this was a Kirsten conversation.

---

He went to visit Kirsten.

He got a little distracted because Kirsten was Kirsten and she required thorough smelling and like, minimum two kisses and she deserved to have at his bare chest if she wanted it—who was he to deny her—THE POINT.

The point. Was.

That he told Kirsten about things and she told him not to talk about work when she was taking her shirt off, and he told her to leave it on for just like, five minutes longer and that came out wrong and she was insulted and Matt had to backtrack for half an hour.

But he got there in the end, alright?

Kirsten said she didn’t know that Sam was polyamorous.

Matt said that he didn’t know if he was, but he sure as shit was flirting with Ned like, constantly.

Kirsten said that that explained why Sam kept telling her that he couldn’t come to dinner with them because he already had a date. Kirsten then went rigid and said, “Wait, you mean Ned-Ned?”

Yes.

Yes, Matt did.

“Oh.”

Correct reaction.

“Is that—do you think that’s –hm.”

Correct reaction maintained and appreciated. Matt no longer felt like a monumental ass.

“That might be a little, uh, cuttin’ it close there,” Kirsten said. “Does Peter know?”

Presumably. Ned couldn’t lie for shit.

“Maybe we should ask Peter what the negotiations there are. He’s pretty on top of that stuff.”

Shockingly, that was true.

Good plan.

“If Sammy’s gonna get involved with them, then he should at least know what he’s getting into,” Kirsten said.

Yes, but also—why is this feeling happening, Kirsten, beloved life partner number 2?

“Oh, that? That’s called ‘you’re a territorial dick,’” Kirsten said. “Get over yourself.”

“But he’s 24,” Matt said. “A child.”

“He’ll be twenty-five in a few months, Matthew,” Kirsten said. “That’s bad-decision-making prime-time. This is inevitable. My concern is that he’s not going into a relationship with Ned, thinking that he’s the primary partner there.”

Okay, fair.

“Are we done with this conversation now?”

Yes.

“Thank god. I hate your dad impulses. Cleanse yourself of them and get on the bed.”

Would do.

---

Kirsten made Matt call Peter and be awkward for the both of them which, Matt would like it stated for the record, was extremely unfair and manipulative of her.

Peter told him that Sam was fine.

Peter told him that he and Sam had maybe fooled around a little bit without Matt and Foggy and Kirsten’s knowledge which was. Hm.

Troublemakers. Stop laughing, Franklin. This is nothing like the time we inducted Kirsten into our life and lied about it to everyone we knew for 3 years.

Nothing.

Peter thought not. Peter thought that Sam had told Matt about this whole thing. He then got a little huffy and said that Ned was the one who had swept Sam off his feet while Peter had been standing right there, man. As Spiderman. Primed for feet-sweeping.

That was satisfying.

Peter took the next ten minutes to complain about how Sam didn’t want to talk to him as much as he wanted to talk to Ned and how Ned was always begging off dinners with Peter and MJ to go have dinner with Sam and how Peter and MJ had to make do with Johnny in his absence.

Matt would never understand why Peter pretended that he and Johnny Storm were nothing more than fuck buddies, but okay, sure. If that’s what helps you sleep at night, little lion man.

Peter went on to say that the worst part of Sam and Ned’s mutual obsession was how fucking cute it was.

Disgusting, Peter maintained.

There were matching bracelets and drawn out decisions about matching sneakers. And there was nattering on until past midnight about Transformers lore and there was non-stop texting and complaints about various tools and coding languages and all this shit that Peter’s own flavor of nerd had diverged from about six years ago.

Kirsten made a little squeak that told Matt that she was highly entertained by Peter’s ‘complaints.’

It sounded more to Matt like Peter and MJ were hunkered down behind the couch, narrating all Ned’s behavior to Johnny (the totally uninvolved fuckbuddy) in whispers.

Foggy curled up on the edge of their own couch to muffle his wheezy giggles.

Exhausting.

The youth were exhausting. How had no one just shot Matt straight through the heart at 27?

“I will speak to Sam about emotional repression,” he promised Peter only to receive a “NO WAIT” from both him and, from the sound of it, MJ and (only fuckbuddy) Johnny a little ways away.

Peter hurriedly explained that Sammy was really shy and skittish about being around their polycule and had just connected with Ned as the least threatening member and it had taken ages, so please don’t say anything and destroy all of the rest of their hard work.

This hit a strange note.

Foggy and Kirsten weren’t snickering anymore either.

Sam?

Wasn’t?

Shy?

Like, if anything, Sammy was shameless. Always lying in people’s laps and snatching their open hands to swing back and forth.

Sure, he was teasing. But shy? Shy?

Sam was sick.

“No,” Peter said. “Double D, he’s not sick.”

Very sick. Terminally ill.

“DD. He’s not sick.”

Bullshit. Matt was taking him to the doctor. Too bad, Sam. You couldn’t avoid it forever.

“Matt. He’s just. Emotionally. Repressed. You should recognize it because its your whole way of being.”

Wow, hadn’t this conversation been going on for a while now? Time to go.

“MATT. Leave him alone,” Peter said. “I’m looking after him, okay? Chill.”

Chill. Yes. Okay, fine. Matt would chill.

For now. Goodbye, Peter.

---

Matt hadn’t chilled about anything in his life and he didn’t intend to start now. So instead he confronted the apprentice.

The apprentice leaned very hard against his door and told Matt that he would rather die than speak of such things, so Matt told him to bare his neck.

Sammy was convinced. But only just.

He made himself frighteningly small and grumpy on his bed and allowed Matt to sit only on the last four inches of it. Matt kind of wanted to take the opportunity to teach him how to hiss.

But alas. That was a skill for another time.

“I talked to Peter,” he said.

Sam mumbled.

“He says you’re shy. Are you feeling okay?”

Sam mumbled in a more prolonged, growly kind of way. He was muffled by something. Probably jeans. Or sweats. Hard to tell.

“Why are you being shy? We both know you’re not shy. Ned’s a nice boy,” Matt told him. “You can trust him.”

Sam jerked his body in some way strongly enough to make the bed shake.

Matt sighed.

“Sam,” he said.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sam said.

“Listen, kid,” Matt said. “You’re gonna do what you want. You’re grown, those are your decisions to make. But if you’re ever uncomfortable or you want to spend time with one person in particular, you’ve gotta communicate that to the others. I know that’s not like, smoothly done or whatever. But it’s what you’ve gotta do in these kinds of relationships.”

Sam made an unhappy sound.

“I don’t want a relationship,” he said quietly.

Ehn.

Same, pal.

They’re a lot of work.

“They’re worth it,” Matt promised him. “And it’s okay to be a little in love, you know. I’m in love every day. It’s not shameful. You don’t have to hide it.”

Sam huffed.

“People’ll stare,” he finally said. “If we ever went out. People would stare.”

Ahhh.

“That’s what you think,” Matt said. “But then you go and do it and it turns out that no one actually cares. People are very self-centered, Sam. You spend all this time worrying about how others perceive you and, at the end of the day, 90% of people literally don’t care. You don’t have to talk to Ned in your room all the time.”

Sam did something with his body that concentrated it even further into a dense mass.

“I like him,” he admitted. “He’s nice.”

Matt hummed.

“He’s a peaceful person,” he said.

“He talks so I don’t have to,” Sam said.

Aw.

Matt felt across the bed and eventually found Sam’s cheek to pinch.

“So shy for such a loudmouth,” he teased.

Sam bit his hand. Matt snickered.

“It’s okay, when I met Fogs I was shy, too,” he said.

Sam grumbled.

“It’s true,” Matt said. “Could not fathom having another human around who I didn’t have to put on an act for.”

He waited.

Sam didn’t even seem to realize that his heart was slowing down.

“I don’t like talking all the time,” he said after a long few beats.

Matt ruffled his hair.

“Ned knows a lot about Star Wars,” he said.

“And computers,” Sam added.

“And code,” Matt said.

Sam’s foot shook a little. Matt schooled his face. Sam crunched into a tighter ball.

Adorable.

Matt got up.

“Long distance is rough,” he said. “Maybe you guys can watch a movie together.”

Sam made a disgruntled sound. Matt left him to be miserable.

---

“You’ve sure turned your opinion around.”

Yes, Husband. Matt had indeed. But that was because Sam was clearly and obviously suffering as a result of this crush, which was precisely where Matt needed him to be.

Misery was familiar. Resentment was nearly as good as spite in terms of skill development.

Dopey-ness was asking for trouble.

“Matt, you cannot be serious.”

Oh, but he could.

“Matthew, what did you tell that boy?”

Nothing he didn’t need to know.

Foggy abandoned him at the table. Matt sipped his coffee. It tasted oh-so-sweet.

---

Things did not change until Matt got a text from Peter that said simply ‘when the fuck is Sam’s birthday?’

In February. Why was he asking?

Peter said ‘damn. Okay, thanks.’

Peter then said that he’d seemed a little sad lately and Ned was freaking out about it and fixating, so they were collectively looking for an excuse to cheer Sam up a little.

Oh, Matt realized. No, that wasn’t sad.

The night nurse had given Sammy the good drugs after last week. He was high as a kite, bless him. Kept running into walls and shit. Matt had dragged him up out of the dog beds twice now.

He informed Peter of the damaged elbow and got nothing but keyboard smashes in return.

This was followed by Sam stumbling out of his room and half up the stairs to make pitiful sounds when he couldn’t make them stay still long enough to climb the rest of them. Foggy shook his head and told Matt to go “strap that kid to the bed, for god’s sake. He’s gonna tear more stitches. And go text for him before he drops his phone again.”

Sammy was coming along great.

He held his phone out to Matt when Matt came down to stand over him on the stairs.

“They’re yellin’,” he slurred.

Yeah, Matt figured.

“Bed,” he said.

“It’s too hot,” Sam said.

No, pathetic ball of humanity. That was the fever, bud.

“Open the window,” Matt said.

“I have a window?”

Bless.

“Up you go,” Matt said.

“DON’T TOUCH ME. Nooooo. Teach, noooooo.”

---

MM: Peter stop texting him. he can’t read his texts rn. Zero tolerance for opioids.

PP: for WHAT

MM: he’s fine. lightly stabbed. Fractured elbow.

MJ: MATT

MM: yes?

MJ: tell him to get better for us

NL: ;__; please?

MM: he will be fine. He’s supposed to be sleeping this off.

MJ: can you keep us updated?

MM: why

PP: he’s our partner?

MM: ?

MM: I thought he was Ned’s main

NL: AJDF:AKSDFJASDFa

NL: DOES HE TALK ABOUT ME??

MJ: dude

NL: my b my b sry sry

NL: does he talk about me DD?

MM: no

NL: cool cool cool that’s fine

PP: ned

NL: it’s casual that’s cool

MJ: oh my god

NL: it doesn’t mean anything. That makes sense.

MM: peter what is happening?

PP: ned has decided that no texting means that sam hates him and no longer wants to be part of our relationship

NL: TELL HIM IM SORRY

PP: remember how you told me I have rejection issues?

MM: Ned he’s fine. He’s not mad. He’s high.

NL: [pikawat.png]

MJ: *coughs*

NL: oh shit my bad. I mean.

NL: what do you mean?

MM: I mean he likes you. He just hates talking about weaknesses. Ergo he hates talking about you.

MJ: ah, yes. I see now. The superhero logic. The forest has reappeared before me.

NL: OWO

MM: what does this mean?

PP: it’s a face. Like a super interested cat

NL: shut up

NL: so he likes me back?

MJ: no

PP: no

MM: I presume so? I don’t know kid. I just said he doesn’t talk about it.

NL: DD I will pay you in computer repairs to find out for me

MM: to find out if Sam likes you??

NL: yes

MM: what part of his obsession is confusing you

MJ: ASHDAF:SDF

PP: harsh

NL: all of it.

NL: okay so here’s the thing. We got like, matchy matchy stuff, right? Cause that’s what couples do. But he never wears his?? And like, we’ve been playing these games online, like, trying to beat each other, but he just stops playing halfway through? And if we’re watching a movie, it’s fine for the first half, but then he gets quiet and I just end up nattering away about nothing for like an hour and I can’t read the silence DD. I can’t read it. And Peter’s a liar

PP: okay no it is WELL established that I can’t lie what are you even talking about

NL: and he keeps going on about how sam’s shy, but he’s NOT shy. And we were fine until this week, but like, obviously, he’s high and not reading his messages and stuff, but idk am I making this into a big deal? From your end?

MM: What was that face, Peter?

PP: OwO

MM: OwO

MJ: ASDFAeirwieawewdflajwe

MJ: NED LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO THE OLD MAN

NL: SHUT UP. DD, please. Help me. Should I apologize? Is he bored of me? Does he want more time with Peter?

PP: what

PP: no pal I’m just a piece of ass in this situ

MJ: as you should be

PP: awwww

MM: ned Sammy’s fine?

NL: omg ‘sammy’ that’s really cute do you think he’d mind if I called him that? You know. If he ever speaks to me again?

PP: DD just tell him everything is fine so we can all go to sleep without being woken up every 20 min for a crisis.

MM: I literally don’t know. He doesn’t talk about any of you.

NL: can you sneaky-ninja ask him?

Matt could not with these children. Sam’s heartbeat was evening out. He was nearly back to sleep. Matt’s back couldn’t take hauling him up off the stairs in another half an hour, so he was going to stay right where he was, that was for damn sure.

“Samuel, you are dating three different flavors of spazz,” he told him.

Sam wriggled over and snuffled into his duvet.

Matt decided that that was an affirmative.

MM: he says you’re all dramatic and to leave him alone to sleep.

NL: ;__;

PP: ned that is not rejection

NL: ok

MJ: this is embarrassing

NL: I’m just gonna crawl under the floorboards and waste away👍

PP: for fuck’s sake this is me-levels of drama

NL: DD can you tell him that if he’s ever down to just watch shit as friends that’s okay too?

MJ: NED. Matt’s literally out of this loop. And Sam’s probably unconscious.

MM: can confirm is now unconscious. I am exiting your drama.

PP: Dude remember when I said I was gonna drown myself in the sea? You are reaching those levels

NL: I JUST LOVE HIM

Oh, aw.

NL: And it’s okay if he doesn’t feel the same way, that’s okay, I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t like uncomfortable. I can text him less and let him do his work things and we don’t have to organize shit on the weekends. It’s totally fine

These fuckin’ kids.

Matt grabbed Sam before he cracked his head against the wall and felt around for something to put between his forehead and it.

He fumbled out his phone in the meantime.

“Samuel,” he said into it, “When you wake up, come upstairs before taking the next pill.”

---

Sam was in pain and grumpy as shit and his mood did not improve as he read through Matt’s messages.

“Two days and everyone loses their goddamn minds,” he said.

Pretty much.

“Ned loves you,” Matt teased.

“Ned needs one of those happy pills,” Sam deadpanned.

Hm. How about no?

Sam groaned and carefully melded himself to the table.

“Why don’t you wear the matchy-matchy stuff?” Matt asked, setting a bag of icy water on Sam’s shoulders. He made a soft sound of relief.

“I don’t want to get ‘em dirty,” Sam hummed.

Hm.

“Maybe if you wore them out a little bit, Ned would like that,” Matt offered.

Sam mulled this over.

“Nah,” he said. “I’ll just tell him I wear it to sleep.”

Matt was so proud.

He missed Foggy coming in halfway through that discussion.

He did not miss the lecture Foggy laid on both of them about lying to loved ones.

---

Matt decided that Sam was far, far more emotionally repressed than he’d given the kid credit for. He was tickled pink.

Kirsten and Foggy were not. They called this ‘concerning behavior’ that needed ‘to be monitored in case of hidden injuries and self-harm.’

And like, man, it was as if they’d hard experience with this shit or something.

Matt decided to bypass their waffling and cornered Sam by trapping him in his duvet and demanding to know if he was hiding any injuries or self-harm.

Sam told him to get out of his room. His heartbeat did not react to the accusations, but rather to Matt’s ‘giant, heavy, albatross body’ assaulting him in his safe place.

Matt decided that this was proof that the emotional repression was, as he had always argued, doing exactly what it needed to: making Sam three times more functional as a human being.

Foggy took from that explanation that Matt was lying to him again.

Which, like, obviously.

But did Foggy need to know any of that?

Fuck no.

Only happy times with Matt Murdock here.

Smiling was somehow the wrong answer.

Smiling resulted in yelling. And then lots of loud heartbeats. And then something that looked a little like a fight, probably, to people with working eyes. But Matt knew that it wasn’t that.

It was just Foggy being hurt that Matt couldn’t tell him that Foggy’s homesickness was digging holes in his own resolve and mental wellbeing.

Sam popped up when Foggy went to go lay down to calm down and asked if everything was okay.

Matt told him it was.

Sam’s heart was not convinced. It started beating faster somehow.

Matt fully anticipated the texts that arrived later that night.

---

PP: yo DD, you guys okay?

MM: why

PP: ‘cause Sam’s freaking out saying that you and Foggy were shouting again?

MM: ah

MM: no we’re okay. No biggie

PP: I smell bullshit

MM: carry on smelling then

PP: Matt do you ever think about how you’re like, an example to us all of how not to live?

MM: beg your pardon?

PP: I just mean like, you do shit and we all learn from your shit. Like, every day.

MM: ?

PP: Sam like dumped a pile of lies he’d been telling Ned in his lap and started crying for like half an hour and apologized for another 40 minutes and then hung up and won’t answer his phone.

MM: what was that face again? The cat one?

PP: OwO

MM: OwO

PP: lol

---

The apprentice was perhaps absorbing too much too fast. He flat out denied having had any emotional crisis.

His heart was dead even when he said it. He was getting too good at out-maneuvering that trick.

“Peter seems to think that you had one the other night,” Matt mused.

“Peter needs to mind his own business,” Sam sniffed.

Aha.

“You like Peter,” Matt pointed out.

“He’s fine,” Sam said.

“Fine or fine?”

“That’s nasty, Teach. Don’t be gross. That’s like your little brother.”

Oh, sure it was.

“If Peter is sussing out your lies, you’re not doing a good enough job,” Matt said. “What you need, kiddo, is an aura and a starting point.”

Sam paused in making a horrible grating noise with some tool in his hand.

“A starting point?” he asked.

Why yes, apprentice.

As in, if you start off with your walls up and don’t let them buckle so easily, so many of these problems can be avoided.

“Isn’t that, like, the opposite of what Foggy said to do?” Sam asked suspiciously.

Well, technically. The husband might be correct for normal humans, but they weren’t normal humans. And as much as Matt loved him and thought he was brilliant, Foggy would never truly grasp that Matt needed those lies.

He needed the repression. The bottling. The anger.

He needed all that shit to be shaken up in him and then capped by the helmet every night.

Doing that kept Matt safe. It kept others safe.

It wasn’t fun and it wasn’t pretty and yeah, Matt was pretty fucked up because of it.

But Stick hadn’t been wrong about everything.

Not even he could be wrong about everything.

“It’s called balance,” Matt said. “Think about it like this. You’re a teacher. You’re about to walk into a new class. You need to establish a respectful relationship between yourself and these kids. How do you do it? Do you start off nice? Or do you start off strict?”

Sam said nothing.

“I start off strict,” Matt said. “Because it’s infinitely easier to become nicer and to keep respect than it is to start off nice and get meaner.”

Sam processed this.

“This sounds like an anti-Foggy sentiment,” he said.

No. It wasn’t anti-Foggy. Nothing was anti-Foggy.

“It’s nuance,” Matt said. “Intrapersonal relationships? Minimal repression. Interpersonal relationships, maximum repression. Don’t give them something to use against you”

Sam’s teeth clicked together as he worked his jaw.

“Talk to Ned and Peter,” he said. “Walls up to everyone else.”

Everyone else. Yes.

“I can do that.”

Yeah, Matt knew. Sam did it to pretty much anyone he didn’t immediately take a liking to at the firm.

“I can do that,” Sam repeated.

Woah. Wait. Hold on there, slugger. Nuance, remember?

“I’m just gonna hate the entire world,” Sam said. “Thanks, Teach. That’s a big help.”

---

PP: Matt

MM: Peter

PP: you know that Sam fucks with you daily right?

MM: …I forget sometimes

PP: lol you guys are funny

That little shit. Fine.

Do whatever. See if Matt cared.

Goddamn kids and their goddamn love affairs.

Whatever. Fuck ‘em.

Let them learn the bullshit on their own time. Matt had better things to do.

---------------

Matt and Foggy and Kirsten have their own polycule goin on with folks entering and leaving it as need be. And sometimes you just have to make Sam/Ned content because it is unerringly adorable.

#ficlet #samuel chung #matt murdock #ned leeds #inimitable verse #but this isn't canon to the verse I'm just fuckin around #fic #don't mind me #just having a ball #how does one make a category on Ao3 that is just like I accidentally made my own spiderman verse #and now I want to write stories using those characters but not in that main arc #I JUST WANT TO PLAY IN THAT SPACE YALL

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sc-passions-and-pastimes · 3 years ago

Text

Did you see our post yesterday about the awesome reader spreadsheet where you can earn badges? Check it out! If you made your own copy yesterday, we corrected a couple of things and encourage you to re-copy yesterday’s “pairings” and “category” columns. Sorry for the inconvenience!

DAY 2 REVEALS

Ain't Got A Care In The World But Got Plenty of Beer

[Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Patrick Brewer & Stevie Budd, Patrick Brewer & Rachel, Rachel/OC - M - 22,839]

Patrick's never been one to half-ass anything he's ever done. That includes a new hobby he began just to have something to do.

baci

[Patrick Brewer/David Rose - E - 9,126]

Looking across the room, David spots the whiteboard at the front of the kitchen that reads “Welcome to Italian Cooking for Couples”.

“What the fuck?” David mutters quietly. Or so he thought.

“You got caught out too, huh?”

David looked over to see the only other person in the room who was alone walking in his direction, looking at him with a rueful smile.

“I’m Patrick,” he said, holding his hand out for David.

“Oh, hi,” David said, looking at Patrick’s hand for a second before taking it. He has a firm handshake and when David looks him in the eyes he finds a pair of warm, whiskey coloured eyes looking back at him. “David.”

“So, I’m guessing you also didn’t realise this was a couples class?” Patrick says, rubbing the back of his neck.

David & Patrick meet when they each accidentally sign up for a couples cooking class … this is 5 times they don’t kiss and 1 time they do (and more).

Keen and Bright

[Patrick Brewer/David Rose - T - 3,560]

Patrick reclines with his back against the seat of his kayak, resting the paddle across his strong thighs as he lays his muscular forearms on top of it, ensuring he won’t lose the all-important piece of molded plastic that will allow him to get back to the safety of solid ground. He inhales deeply, taking in the sight of the trees lining the hills in the distance. It’s calm and quiet out here, just the sound of the waves lapping in the wind and the occasional bird out in the distance. He closes his eyes, breathes in again and smells nothing but clean, fresh water as the cool breeze off the lake whips across his face, refreshing him.

Once he feels rested enough from the short break, he grips the double-ended paddle on either side and rolls it back and forth in his hands to mentally prepare himself to continue forward. He rolls it again a few more times and waits until he sees that the tip of the blade is facing up. He takes in another breath of fresh air as he sits still in the middle of the lake. The heft and weight of the paddle in his hands feels good. He really wants to get past the rocky point he can see ahead of him before turning back.

Be the Dazzle You Want to See in the World

[Patrick Brewer/David Rose - E - 3,029]

David and Patrick have to find someone to teach a class for the Friday evening workshop series they host at Rose Apothecary. After they find someone who enthusiastically volunteers, Schitt's Creek will never be the same.

hearts & parts

[Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Stevie Budd/Twyla Sands, Patrick Brewer & Stevie Budd & Alexis Rose & David Rose & Twyla Sands - T - 2,462]

“I think we made some very insightful discoveries today.”

“Oh really? Like what?”

“We’re all very horny and apparently much more attractive than we thought. That, or our standards are just very low.”

“Speak for yourself,” Stevie mumbles. “I know I’m hot.”

---

or, schitt’s creek, being the lovers’ paradise that it is, has a complicated tapestry of romantic entanglements — stevie, twyla, david, patrick, and alexis attempt to find out just how complicated it is

The First Rule of Book Club

[T - 2,217]

The First Rule of Book Club is...read the damn book!

A dialogue-only look at how the Schitt Book Club goes

shining, shimmering, splendid

[Alexis Rose/Twyla Sands - G - 1,368]

Twyla tries to picture it: glowing blue water rolling onto the shore as the moonlight hangs overhead. She imagines streams of light catching Alexis’s hair as she wades into the water and beckons Twyla to follow her. (Does she know Twyla would follow her anywhere?)

“I have an idea,” she says, slowly, before she thinks better of it. “What if… you showed me?”

“Hmm,” Alexis stops braiding again to reach for her phone on the coffee table. “I think I still have some pictures on here…”

“No,” Twyla grins, pushing the phone down. “I mean… We should go.”

The blonde blinks. “To Puerto Rico?”

“To all of those places.”

OR: Twyla finally starts spending some of her lottery winnings on things that make her smile, and learns how much she loves to travel. Who better to show her around the world than Alexis? A small collection of drabbles.

----------------------

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#scpassionsandpastimes #sc passions and pastimes #sc fests #sc fanworks #sc fic #david x patrick #patrick x david #david rose #patrick brewer #stevie x twyla #twyla x stevie #stevie budd #twyla sands #stevie x alexis #alexis x stevie #alexis rose

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glowingspence · 3 years ago

Text

Caring hands

Warning: Sexual Content [in Chapter 3]

Summary: Morgan finds out that Spencer never really had the change to really enjoy sex due sexual partners that want him to mask during it. He is about to change that and puts so much effort in it, it becomes much more.

Category: Fluff/Smut/Light Angst [Will I ever write something without angst? Probably not]

Paring: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid

Word Count: 4534

Chapters: 3/3

Read all on ao3

Chapter 1 below the cut:

They don't talk much about sex.

Spencer thinks it is a stereotype that guys allegedly do that while he has heard JJ and Emily talk about it a lot more graphic and detailed than Derek and him do.

Sure they do sometimes, little jokes about having had a one night stand and how Derek likes to brag about it but Derek has this weird habit that whenever Spencer had sex he will know. For some reason he just does. Anything gives him a tell and Spencer to this day has not found out why.

In the beginning Derek didn't know either what it was but with some profiling it was clear.

Everytime Spencer did have sex the night before he was a lot more sensitive to things touching him and textures he needs to touch and his mind will take a little bit longer processing questions.

Not much you couldn't tell if you aren't close with him.

And the most obvious thing is that he always tucks himself away. Mostly thicker closes, moes layer. Shielding himself by wrapping his arms around him. Gaining always as much distant as possible and for a long time Derek just put it off with his sensory issues and that when a neuro typical person feels this much, maybe Spencer will feel even more and that this is just a lot to process. That this is good but when he walks into the office and just looks genuinely distraught and scared and just eventually freezes in his spot Derek gets up approaching him.

"My man!" He jokes as an attempt to cheer him up. "Boy or girl?"

"Girl" Spencer answers quietly, they both aren't silent about their sexuality. Both open to date men as well as women.

Spencer had outed himself merely by accident when they were working a case and told them that he just loves the person and doesn't care about the gender and when most of the others had starred at him he didn't know what he did wrong.

"She nice?"

"I need to get out" Spencer tells Derek really quiet and the man nods and puts his hand behind Spencer's back not touching him but leading him to the bathrooms where Spencer the moment Derek locks the door behind them, starts pulling of his sweater and then fiddles at his tie, "Get it off"

"You are alright, Spencer. Deep breaths"

"Get it off" He yells again while Derek resolves the knot and eventually pulls the tie off and Spencer is tapping his chest and then goes over to flapping his hands. "Shirt. Shirt too"

"I will" Nervously Derek resolves the bottons and then pulls the shirt out of Spencer's pants and pulls it off. "Better?"

"Better" Almost relived, only wearing his under shirt now Spencer looks at him and after a few moments of panicking he mumbles a quiet,"Sorry"

"Nothing to be sorry for I will get you my jacket." The moment Derek bought that jacket it wasn't his anymore. It is not really soft from the inside but rather clean as Spencer would describe it. Soft in a way that they isn't a fabric that had bumps and fluff but is just clean and smooth and when he wears it, it's like peace is hugging him and it's so heavy because it's to big and it's almost perfect expect for the fact that it has cord on the outside and that is a huge no go. He is definitely not touching that.

"Did anything happened last night?" Morgan asks as he holds the jacket open for Spencer to slip in.

"Yes"

"Do you want to tell me?" He picks Spencer's shirt and tie of the floor making a mental note to wash it for him so he doesn't have to touch the stuff that was on a bathroom floor. "No pressure, we can talk about it sometimes else."

"I - I- sometimes have the problem during it- you know- with the feeling- and- people are not really understanding."

"Can you elaborate?"

"People expect me to mask - and I do. I really try but I can't mask everything. And she was, you know- sitting on my - and it felt really good and it was a lot so I accidentally whined and - and - I - flapped my hands - hands and - and she pushed them down and told me to - to not ever do that again to any women during - during sex and I really needed to because she made me feel good but it was all to much and she just kept going and I couldn't- it all - I just want to be able to have sex like everyone else."

"They always tell you that?"

"What?"

"To mask."

"I just do mostly, surprisingly guys are more understanding if a stim slips but they don't want it either."

"You shouldn't have to mask and what that women did was wrong I hope you know that. You stimming or whining as you call it is the equivalent to her moaning. That's how she signals or realises that feeling that you have too and it's okay to stim or do anything. When you have sex with someone, you should be as safe and comfortable as the other person and I have to tell you I have no idea how hard that maybe is for you but you should be allowed as much as the other person to do what you need to do for it to become a good experience."

"You really don't know how less understanding people are do you?"

"I probably don't. I am aleady annoyed by the people we see every day here at the office." He jokes hinting at the guy that they made fun of the other day after he in the morning made fun of Reid and then in the afternoon tripped down the stairs and broke his wrist.

Spencer had felt so bad for laughing when he heard that, that afterwards he apologised to Hotch with tears in his eyes saying he didn't mean to wish him any harm and that he doesn't like that someone got hurt and that he doesn't know why he laughed and Hotch had been so confused he just told Spencer off so he feels taking seriously and then just starred at his wall for a few seconds before huring after him and pulling him in a long hug promising it is okay to feel sorry and its okay to emphasise with him even if Derek told him that this guy deserved it.

"And you aren't even me"

"C'mon why are you even doing this still to yourself? Why not waiting on the right person?"

"Maybe they will be one of them." Spencer tells him with honesty in his eyes. His arms disappearing in the long sleeves of the jacket. "It's dump I know."

"Nah you are right just - just promise me you will be more clear of your boundaries. Am I right with the assumption that last night was a little bit to much?"

"I didn't say stop it wasn't her fault. I am fine, I promise. Don't make a big deal out of this."

"I won't."

Weeks go by and the thoughts about what Spencer had told him don't leave his mind. He always travels back to the disappointment and hope that he will someday find someone that is understanding while Derek could not imagine how someone could not be.

In general and especially with Spencer.

He couldn't imagine forcing him to hide a stim when he is laying underneath him, filled with so much joy about what they are doing that he would want to stop that.

He couldn't imagine having Spencer in his lap, kissing him and making him feel good in any way it's possible and then forbidding to show it.

He couldn't imagine having his thin body all under his power, all his trust in his hands and then to brake it with such carelessness.

"Spence wait" Derek calls after him when he aims for the elevator. "Where are you going?"

"It's late. It's friday" Spencer tells him while Derek holds the elevator doors open.

"Not for you it isn't."

"Do you really need me to spell it out for you?" He asks with an annoyed expression. "I am having a date tonight."

"Oh"

"Oh?"

"No no sorry. I - have fun."

"Thank you" Worried Derek backs up and leaves him alone with his date but leaving his ring tone on and when he sees Spencer the next morning, with the same distraught expression and the same tiredness he had the last time he makes his decision final.

"Let me take you out on a date." Spencer chuckles uncomfortably while putting down the books he brought from home on his desk. "I am being serious"

"Why do you want to take me on a date? Did you lost a bet to Emily or something?"

"Every time you walk in here with the same disappointment on your face, let me show you it doesn't have to be this way." Spencer studies him for a moment and then straightens up. "Don't feel pressured you don't have to say yes we will never talk about it again or we will do it some time else-"

"Why?"

"Because I think you deserve to learn that it can be different and that you don't have to put up with that just to get laid."

"I don't have to get laid - I don't have to sleep with someone-"

"I know"

"I don't want to answer yet. I don't know what to answer yet. This is an very unexpected question."

"You are all good, you can take all the time you need." Derek gives him an encouraging smile and just when he turns around,

"I'd love to."

"Then I will pick you up at seven"

"Wait tonight?"

"If it suits you."

"Yes. Yes."

Continue reading here

#spencer reid #derek morgan #ao3 fanfic #moreid #autistic spencer reid #my writing

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sassysnowperson · 3 years ago

Text

writer's meme - TY to @r0b0tb0y for the tag!

How many works do you have on AO3?

168 - oh man that's more than I'd realized. I passed 150 and didn't even notice!

What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,133,901

So many.

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

Since r0b0tb0y and I were just talking about this, I conveniently have a list of all 20 ranked by number of works

134 - Star Wars 7 - Original Works 7 - Marvel 2 - Pirates of The Carribean 2 - The Old Guard 2 - Discworld 1 - Good Omens 1 - Leverage 1 - The Good Place 1 - Avatar: The Last Airbender 1 - Ocean’s 11 1 - Harry Potter 1 - The Goblin Emperor 1 - Gundam Wing 1 - Star Trek: TNG 1 - Hades (Videogame) 1 - Sailor Moon 1 - Russian Doll 1 - Mummy/Wonder Woman crossover

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Lol, looking at my top five - it falls into two categories

1. Fics I wrote right at the height of a fandom's popularity that got a massive reader boost because it was the Hot Thing Right Then

2. Star Wars Fix-Its

A Series of Better Decisions - A Padme/Obi-Wan/Anakin SW Prequel Trilogy fix-it where Anakin talks to Obi-Wan and spends Revenge of the Sith in a stressed-out bisexual panic instead of becoming a Space Fascist. He winds up fake-poly-dating Obi-Wan to try to bring down Palpatine, and eventually winds up in a better place due to the power of Quitting Your Job and becoming a househusband.

Galactic Response Time - Captain Marvel - an at the time MCU canon-compliant gen fic that ran the universe forward and explained how Carol really TRIED to show up for all those other crises that happened, but it turns out most of the major MCU disasters only lasted like three days and space is real big, y'all. Featuring Nick Fury cathartically bitching with his Space Bestie.

New Lands for the Living - Fix-it where the sequel trilogy ends Even Worse, Poe goes back in time to mercy-kill the timeline, and much to his dismay winds up married to just-before-Original-Trilogy Luke Skywalker. He has an existential crisis about his own existence, meets some competent women, and starts fixing things.

Life's Little Pleasures - The Good Omens fic where I put all my ace feelings, featuring metaphysical bonding and good scotch.

Flustered - Another Padme/Anakin/Obi-Wan SW Prequel Trilogy fix-it, where Order 66 never happens. Anakin gets some therapy and Padme gets a horrible crush on Obi-Wan.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do! I love getting to talk to people about fics, and I so appreciate people making the effort to comment I want to spend some time with them! It's so much easier not to comment, I know.

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

Hmmm this is not my normal wheelhouse. I usually go angst that gets resolved by the end. Let me look to see what the options are.

Okay, I think we've got two contendors: In Waystation an exhausted Poe Dameron crash-lands in a station where a Bodhi Rook that lived and then hid now lives with Baze and Chirrut. There is a little epilgue that implies they're going to meet again, but the bulk of the fic does end with Poe making the decision to go back to the Resistance, and leaving Bodhi behind. Still, I think it's more wistful, rather than angsty.

Time Enough for Mourning takes it though, I think. Davits Draven/Antoc Merrick, that is entirely about Draven mourning the fact that Antoc has died. The end is still, I think, more cathartic than angsty, but it is overall probably the strongest "break out the waterworks" of my fics.

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

I do occasionally, usually when someone prompts me and I find something in there that makes my brain go!!! I think the strangest is probably The Face Underneath. It's a Cassian Andor/Elim Garak fic where I drag Garak into the Star Wars Universe for a triple drabble series where he is an old mentor of Cassian's.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Mmm, not proper hate. Realtalk, the most devastating one for me was when I posted a fic that the only comment was a spelling critique.

And yes, there was a spelling error, but still, very crushing to have that be the only feedback. (It has since found a few readers that said nice things, very healing :D)

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yes! Uh - consensual, between adults, often M/M adults, tho I have written explicit femslash, hetfic, and poly piles. It's usually affectionate, often plays with power dynamics even if it doesn't go into full dom/sub.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that anyone has made me aware of, I've never looked.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Had a request or two, but never been linked the result - so not sure if it didn't happen or if I just didn't get linked. I welcome it!

I have had several fics podficced, and I LOVE that. What a joy! Making a blanket permission statement that allowed podfic is one of the best decisions I've made as a fic author. Suddenly, Podfic!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Once or twice! I like the idea of doing it, but follow-through is hard. Hoping to do some co-writing soon though, so we will see!

What’s your all time favourite ship?

Sorry, unrepentant multi-shipper here. I like possibilities, and finding the story that will bring people together, more than one specific thing.

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

I don't have ANYTHING I've given up on, but there are a few fics in my unpublished drafts that were beautiful ideas, and really struggled to become contained stories. They all want to be sprawling things, and I have not felt sprawling-thing-writing passionate about those ideas. But, you never know! Inspiration may strike.

What are your writing strengths?

I'd say character voice, along with that, dialogue. Also humor moments that still have real weight and don't undercut the story, as well as straight comedy writing.

What are your writing weaknesses?

You see, I, uh, do this thing where I don't really end a sentence - I think about ending it, I even assume, at some point while I'm writing that I have ended it; I have not and it meanders, persistently, until I have constructed a whole paragraph made out of one chain of words and a hodgepodge of punctuation.

Also the thing where I accidentally use an unusual word five times in one paragraph because my brain has grabbed onto it like an excited puppy and keeps offering it up as the Perfect Word.

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

I love having multilingual characters. When writing, I tend to keep all the words in English and use dialogue tags to denote language shift - unless I am inventing the language, or have a speaker of that language willing to beta the bits to make sure I don't mess them up too badly.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Actually wrote and posted? Rogue One.

Fandom of my heart my younger self spun out stories in my imagination about? Where if I had my own computer and easy access to a fic archive they almost certainly would have become spectacularly earnest fics?

ReBoot and Sailor Moon. The Sailor Moon was an AU that took place on the sun and they all had kick-ass horses. Baby Sass knew what was up.

What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

Nope, sorry, can't pick, love them all in different ways for different reasons.

Tagging: @semisweetshadow, @anamelesstraveler, @jules-of-the-crown - and generally if you follow me and want to do it, do so and tag me in it!

#fic talk #about the writer #long post #text post

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malecsecretsanta · 4 years ago

Text

Merry Christmas, facialteeth!

For @facialteeth <3

When your soulmate loses something it gets sent to you and vice versa. For almost 400 years Magnus thought he would never have a soulmate until one day a pacifier shows up in his loft.

Read On AO3

*****

Who Are You Really?

Magnus stares at the pacifier in his hand. He doesn’t recall anyone bringing a baby to his loft recently. He doesn’t take in as many clients due to his position as High Warlock. He’s pretty sure he would remember a baby being in his home.

Thinking nothing of it, he sets it down on the side table in his living room and goes back to work. The Circle may be disbanding and shadowhunters are getting arrested, but there are still attacks happening in New York and the Institute has asked for his help in tracking the remaining Circle members.

Magnus snorts at his own phrasing. The Institute more so demanded that he help them. He of course made sure to set his price high for what he expected in return. The new Heads weren’t going to make him bend the knee to their every request. He was going to make life extremely difficult for the Lightwoods. They may have been forgiven by the Clave, but Magnus will never forget what they did.

Without looking up from his cauldron, he reaches for an ingredient on his shelf, and instead of touching the vial he knows is there, a soft fabric brushes his hands. He whips his head up from the cauldron and stares at the blanket draped over the shelf. Not just any blanket, a child’s blanket- no an infant’s blanket.

Magnus stares at the cloth for so long that his brewing potion is now ruined. He doesn’t care though, not when there’s something more important to focus on. With a shaky breath and hand, he grasps the blanket. It’s so incredibly soft in his hands, the fabric is perfectly suitable for a baby. Not just any baby though Magnus realizes, his soulmate’s. His soulmate must have just turned two, when most soulmates start to receive their partner’s lost items.

A sob escapes his lips and he presses the blanket to his face.

Four hundred years, it took four hundred years for his soulmate to be born. Magnus had lost hope such a long time ago of ever getting one. Each year that passed with nothing showing up around had him made him lose hope. And after everything Camile did to him, the manipulation, the gaslighting, stealing his items, and pretending that they were soulmates, Magnus swore to never open his heart again.

Now here is this pacifier and blanket in his loft, letting him know that love will not be lost to him. That there is someone out there that is made for him. He scrunches his face at that thought. His soulmate is a baby, he shouldn’t be thinking like that, not yet. He still has many years to go, but Magnus will gladly wait as long as it takes to meet them.

“Oh god my soulmate is a baby and I’m a warlock,” he says out loud to no one. He glances in horror at the state of his apothecary. Everything is everywhere, the minute he forgets one thing it’s going to teleport to a baby.

Potion forgotten, Magnus starts to clean his apothecary with precision, making sure that everything is labeled and in a proper place that is easy to find. The last thing he needs is to kill a baby, let alone his soulmate.

“You better not die because of me,” he demands, glaring at the pacifier and blanket now resting in a case in his bedroom.

The first six years are filled with anxiety on Magnus’ end. His friends made fun of him at first, thinking he had finally gone mad. When he showed them the items, they rightly shut up and even occasionally helped him if he was looking for something for a potion. None of them wanting to be responsible for the death of his soulmate. This is the happiest they have seen him in a long time, if it means portaling at ungodly hours of the night to help him find something before it disappears then so be it.

Magnus did have fun “accidentally” losing toys for his soulmate to have and play with. He has no idea if his soulmate actually uses anything that he finds, he hopes that he does. While Magnus is sure that his soulmate’s parents spoiled their child to no end, Magnus was never one to not spoil someone important to him.

Somehow Magnus knew that the exciting thrill was never going to last. His soulmate would be eight now. He glances at the calendar on the wall, a big red circle around September 12th. Magnus had made sure to mark the date after he got a hold of his emotions all those years ago.

He’s debating on what to send an eight year old child on their birthday. He’s been good about getting gender neutral toys for his soulmate, not knowing if they are a boy or girl. He’s going through a catalog on his phone when he spots a piece of paper on the coffee table. It's flipped upside down but Magnus can see some dark ink on the other side of the paper.

His soulmate must be doodling or drawing and forgotten something they made for their birthday. Magnus reaches out and grabs the paper flipping it over to inspect the drawing.

The paper bursts into flames by his magic.

No that- that can’t be right. Magnus just saw the paper wrong, he must have. There’s no possible way that was what he thought it was. He gets a second chance to see when another paper appears on his coffee table. He feels himself starting to fall apart as he reaches for the sheet and flips it over. He recognizes the marking anywhere.

Iratze

The paper once again catches fire from his barely contained magic. Magnus feels his throat tighten and his breath getting shorter. Shadowhunter. His soulmate is a shadowhunter, his mind provides. He feels like the universe is playing a cruel joke on him. Of all the people living on this earth, his soulmate had to be of the people who have hunted and killed his kind for hundreds of years.

Magnus barks out a wet laugh, immediately summoning a drink from his cart and downing it in one go. The glass is already refilled as he watches more papers appear on the table, more runes scribble on them. He doesn’t know how many times he refills his glass, but he got the desired effect he wanted: numbness.

He doesn’t know how long he’s stared at those papers, drinking his pain away. He can barely sit up at this point with the alcohol flowing through his system. He can’t remember the last time he got this drunk. He’s been better since Camille, not wanting to go that far again. He hears the door to his loft open. Was he expecting guests? He doesn’t remember, doesn’t care. The intruder could rob him for all he cared.

“Well you look awfully dreadful,” a familiar British voice says. “Is this why you’ve been ignoring my calls and I had to take the long way in?”

“Ragnor,” Magnus slurs, he tilts his head towards his friend. The small movement makes him nauseous, it takes everything in not to immediately stumble to the bathroom to throw up.

“What is it this time?” His friend sighs dramatically. Ragnor glances around the room, glaring at something out of his field of view. “Obviously something has upset you enough to drink almost your entire cart. Did Camille try and reach out to you?”

“No,” he says too quietly. He can already feel the emotions he’s tried to lock down start to bubble up. He doesn’t want to cry in front of Ragnor, his friend doesn’t need to worry about him. The man always has more important things to deal with than him. Still, his arm has a mind of its own and points to the coffee table.

“What, you were studying runes and decided that getting drunk would be easier?” Oh, he truly loves Ragnor, the old fool knows how to make him laugh even at his lowest of lows.

“Not mine,” he manages to get out before tears start to fall.

“Oh, old friend,” Ragnor whispers. He’s happy that he doesn’t have to explain more, his friend understanding what the papers mean.

The couch dips beside him and an arm wraps around his shoulders. Magnus doesn’t even try to resist, he’s just so tired. He rests his head on Ragnor’s shoulder and cries. Damn the universe for dealing him this deck of cards.

As his soulmate grows older, the less stuff they seem to misplace. Magnus would find it strange that he’s practically getting nothing, but at this point, he doesn’t care what the shadowhunter does with their life.

He does, though, care about the number of arrows he’s been finding in his loft.

Magnus glares at the vase he designated for arrow disposal and sees that it’s full. He has five more wrapped in a cloth in his hands. With a sigh he snaps his fingers and summons another vase, tossing them in. He doesn’t know why he’s keeping them, there’s really no point except to dump them at the Shadowhunter’s feet when they meet. Maybe even throw a few at them, he considers.

There’s nothing on them so he figures that the shadowhunter is training. Though Magnus almost shudders at the thought that a child is already practicing how to use a weapon. His soulmate is only ten years old, surely Nephilim society would wait until their children are at least thirteen before making them train for hunting.

“Stupid Nephilim, not keeping track of his arrows,” Magnus grumbles. “That’s almost thirty arrows in the past two months! I would like to think that a shadowhunter would at least know how to put arrows away after training and not leave them everywhere.”

“Do go easy on them, Magnus,” Ragnor snorts from the other room. “It’s not like they had a choice in what family and life they were born into.”

“They still have the option to run away,” he grumbles, knowing he’s being irrational.

“Surely you don’t want them to be homeless at ten years old?” Ragnor says, entering the room with two cocktails, handing one off to Magnus before plopping down on a chair.

“Maybe,” Magnus whispers, he looks over at his friend and sees the raised brow. He rolls his eyes, “Okay I don’t, not really.”

Magnus knows he’s being unkind to his soulmate. But after everything in recent years with the Uprising and the Circle, it’s hard not to associate all shadowhunters into the same category especially when so many members of the Circle turned tail and came crawling back to the Clave. And the Clave willingly brought them back into their ranks with a slap on the wrist. Magnus rolls his eyes at the thought of Robert and Maryse Lightwood being allowed to look over the New York Institute as their punishment. Those two should have been put behind bars for all that they did for the Circle.

“Don’t you think you are being a bit dramatic?” Ragnor asks as Magnus takes the seat across from him.

“Me? Dramatic? Hardly, my dear Cabbage,” he says dramatically, hand on his heart.

“Right,” Ragnor snorts. “Just a gentle reminder that you are getting upset at a child for being born into a life he had no power over just like you with Asmo-”

“Don’t,” Magnus snaps, his glamor flickering for a moment. “Don’t ever compare my upbringing to that of a shadowhunter.”

Ragnor doesn’t say anything else which he kinda feels bad about. His friend also knows better than to talk about his father in such a casual way. The two fall into a tense silence as they go through the books scattered on the table. He sighs, glancing over at the two vases of arrows that he’s put in his library. Ragnor is probably right, but he’s not going to tell that to the old fool’s face.

Magnus will apologize later, right now he wants to focus on the spell they’re working on and not about the shadowhunter.

The day they do meet is not by fate, no, more so Clarissa Fairchild, who Magnus had almost forgotten about. It’s been a couple of years since her mother brought the frightened child to his doorsteps to wipe her memories. Seems the girl has fallen into shadowhunter hands after her mother goes missing. He wouldn’t put it past the rogue Circle members that were in his club a few nights ago to be the reason.

As he examines the ruby necklace, a memento of another time in his life, a shout echoes across the basement and something whistles past his ear. Turning around he sees a Circle member fall to the ground dead with an arrow to the heart.

Magnus feels his own heart stop as he turns to watch the archer descend the staircase and make his way to the corpse, to search for life. Magnus feels his skin turn warm and start to tingle, like a lego piece snapping into place. A whisper of a no slips past his lips. The shadowhunter must feel the same as he stands from checking the body he stands straight. Hazel meets brown as the man, the shadowhunter, stares at him in shock.

It’s him.

Magnus doesn’t wait for the man to reach him. He summons a portal, ignoring Clary’s cry to wait, and steps back into his loft. His breathing is erratic and it feels like his heart is about to explode.

His soulmate is here, in New York. What is Magnus going to do? He can’t leave his post as High Warlock, not with Circle members making a reappearance. His people need him to protect them. Over the blood pulsing in his ears, he hears a cry, immediately snapping him out of his thoughts. Reaching out with his magic he feels that his hideout has been infiltrated. Dammit, he shouldn’t have left this place for that girl.

Magnus can worry about the ache in his chest later, his people need his help.

He doesn’t even wait for the Circle members to notice him, magic blasts out of his hands attacking any person who dares to enter this safe haven. When he finds out who leaked the location, he’s going to ban them from New York. He doesn’t have use for someone who would rat out his own people.

“Your magic is strong, warlock,” the Circle member taunts. “Much stronger than that horned warlock I killed this morning.”

“Elias,” he says solemnly. He throws a ball of fire at the man who easily dodges it. They circle around each other, the man’s grin never leaving.

“So that was his name, lucky he sold you out before I took his warlock mark,” the man laughs.

Magnus knows he shouldn’t let his anger get the best of him, but he still finds himself lashing out at the Circle member, trying to disarm him. The man's grin turns even more sinister and something in his stomach tightens.

“Cats eyes,” he points out. Magnus didn’t even realize his glamor had dropped. “Would be a nice addition to my collection.”

Before Magnus can reply an arrow sings past him and lands in the man’s leg making him stumble. Magnus doesn’t wait for him to recover and deals a finishing blow. The Circle member collapses on the fallen bookshelf and Magnus feels like he’s frozen. That feeling in his stomach wasn’t from the Circle member, it was from him.

Magnus spins and sees the same shadowhunter from the club stand there, bow still raised, panic in his eyes. The man releases a breath and lowers his bow, eyes rake over the Circle member’s body before turning to Magnus. Magnus steps back, magic sparking at his hands ready to fight.

The man opens and closes his mouth, trying to say something but nothing comes out. His eyes show only concern and worry, but that can’t be right, no shadowhunter would ever look at him like that. He glances at Magnus’ hands and the look disappears to something more neutral, closed off but not before Magnus catches a glimpse of pain.

“Alec!” A male voice shouts from down the hall, Alec glances behind him taking his eyes off of Magnus. The man must have a death wish for taking his eyes off of him. Magnus could easily take him out now, but his body won’t let him. “That’s the last of them.”

The shadowhunter, or Alec, nods his head and turns towards Magnus again, “We should go join the others.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Shadowhunter,” he bites back, hoping to get a reaction out of the man, but Alec doesn’t even flinch, just nods his head again.

“Apologies,” Alec says, turning around and leaving the library but halts, looking at something on his left. Magnus follows his gaze and realizes he’s looking at the multiple vases of arrows he’s kept over the years. Alec’s face stays blank but the grip on his bow tightens before he continues his way out of the living room.

Strange, Magnus thinks. He thought the shadowhunter would have demanded Magnus listen to him or even drag him to where everyone else is. Instead he’s letting Magnus choose to go with him, giving him the option to run tail if he wanted.

Of course, Magnus won’t do that, he realizes with a sigh. He doesn’t know how many of his people made it out alive, all of them probably scattering the second the Circle members entered the hideout. He’ll need to notify friends and any families of the fallen here.

With a wave of his hand, Magnus rids the loft of any dead circle members and teleports their bodies to the ocean. Let the sharks have their fun with them, he doesn’t care. In another wave, he teleports the bodies of the fallen warlocks to another safe haven he has in New York and a fire message to Catarina about what happened and where she needs to go.

When Magnus enters his living room he catches Alec with his head down and a girl with long dark hair rubbing a hand up and down his arm looking at him with concern. Something in his chest aches and presses a hand to his heart. Is that what Alec is feeling? He hates it. He doesn’t want to feel what the shadowhunter is feeling.

He must be projecting his emotions because Alec flinches, pressing a hand to his chest and looks up at him. Again the pain that he sees disappears by that blank look. The girl catches Alec’s change and looks over at him and sends Magnus the most heated glare he’s ever received.

He doesn’t have time to deal with that. He puts on his High Warlock persona and makes a show of his magic. Clary, to no surprise, is as stubborn as her mother and refuses to leave without getting her memories back. So he tells them what they all have to do to get them back. None of them argue to his surprise, though the blonde boy tries but is stopped by Alec with a hand on the shoulder.

The summoning goes off without a problem. All of the shadowhunters listen to his explanation of how the ritual works and that they must not let go of each other’s hands. When Magnus explains that they must hold hands, the sister, Isabelle, moves into a position that forces Alec and him to hold hands. Magnus tries not to let his frustration show and accepts the positions.

The second he and Alec’s hands touch, it’s like the final piece of their connection is sealed. He hears Alec let out a gasp and the hand in his grips tight before loosening. Magnus looks at Alec and the shadowhunter is not even glancing at him, he continues to stare at the wall opposite of him. Magnus feels an incredible sorrow fill his chest that makes him want to curl up and cry.

Alec shows no outward sign of what he’s really feeling and something pokes at his heart that this is not the first time that Alec has had to mask his emotions. He shakes off the feeling, looking away from Alec to see everyone else staring at him waiting, though Isabelle is still glaring at him.

The demon asks for a memory of the ones they love the most. Of course, his is Ragnor, his oldest and closest friend. Jace, who he finds out is Alec’s parabatai, and Isabelle’s are of Alec, which warms his heart or well maybe not his, he looks over at Alec and sees the soft smile on his face as the shadowhunter sees himself reflected in the tornado of smoke in the center. He doesn’t even catch what Clary’s memory was, too enraptured by the kindness shining in his soulmate’s eyes.

When the summoning is over, Clary collapses and is caught by Jace. He scoops the unconscious girl and leads her out of the loft with Isabelle, a quiet thanks as they pass him, leaving Alec and Magnus alone in the room. Alec hasn’t looked up from his hands since they let go, rubbing the hand that was entwined with his.

“Thank you for helping us,” Alec speaks softly.

“I didn’t do it for you,” he says.

“I know.” Alec finally looks up from his hands and there’s a small smile on his face. “I’ll let you be. Have a good night, Magnus.”

The shadowhunter doesn’t wait for his response and rushes out the room to catch up with his family leaving Magnus alone.

Alone.

Something that Magnus has been used to for decades now. His heart had been protected under a lock and key for so long and then Alec, this shadowhunter, his soulmate had to barge in and rip the lock off the cage.

Magnus doesn’t want to feel like this. He liked it better when he was alone and didn’t have a soulmate, when he didn’t feel this much in his chest. The people he knows who have met their soulmates have told him about how they felt butterflies the first time they met their other half. That it felt like they were whole for the first time. Magnus doesn’t feel whole, he feels rage at the universe for giving him a shadowhunter as his soulmate.

Magnus doesn’t care how kind Alec may or may not be.

He will never fall in love with a shadowhunter.

Of course, that wouldn’t be the last time he saw Alec. He made it clear that he was not interested in getting to know the shadowhunter and thankfully Alec respected that. Again throwing Magnus off about his view of shadowhunters.

Now Jace definitely fits that shadowhunter personality. Brash, rude, demanding, following red heads around like a lost puppy. Magnus rolls his eyes as the blonde’s gaze never leaves Clary’s as she word vomits in his living room fretting over Luke. Luke, who is in the state he’s in because of Clary, and Simon who couldn’t listen to simple orders.

One would think that the girl would take her time to recover after getting all of her memories back. It seems that when she discovered the location of the cup, she snuck out of the Institute and met up with Sherman only to get kidnapped which led to a fight between a Beta and an Alpha werewolf which led to a new leader to the New York pack and-

Lilith, Magnus needs a drink.

He sends Simon and Jace off to fetch ingredients for him to help with the potion that would save Luke. Which leaves him and Clary to wait for them to return. Magnus focuses on the potion to make sure it doesn’t turn sour.

“So,” Clary says. “You and Alec, huh?”

Magnus almost drops a vial in the cauldron. “I beg your pardon?”

“You two are soulmates right?”

“And what gave you that idea?” He grits.

“The stuff in Alec’s room,” she shrugs, wandering around the apothecary. “He has a whole bookshelf full of trinkets and vials exactly like the ones in here.” Clary pokes at the vials on his shelves, he almost snaps at her to stop. “It’s really incredible, you can tell he took great care of them all.”

“Is that so?”

Clary nods, smiling as she picks up a vial off his table, inspecting it. “Yeah, he got really upset with me when I tried to pick up one of the items. Even went as far to wipe my finger prints off the thing. You can easily tell they’re his greatest treasure.” Clary’s smile turns to a frown. “Though last time I went to talk to him, he had put a bed sheet over the shelf.”

Oh. That information does something to his heart, like something has a vice grip around it now. Magnus shakes his head, clearing himself of the feeling, and goes back to the potion.

“Maybe he’s upset that he realized I’m a warlock,” he snorts.

“No, that wasn’t it. When I first saw it, he had this soft, delighted smile on his face. He had said that he hadn’t met the warlock who was his soulmate yet, but that he was eager to meet them. Said that he hoped his runes wouldn’t scare you away and that he could prove that he would care for you the way he cared for the items he got from you through your connection.”

The vial that was in his hand drops to the table. Clary jumps at the sudden sound and turns to him in surprise.

Surely Alec didn’t think that way about him. He was an abomination with demon blood, Alec was a shadowhunter with angel blood. There’s no possible way they would work and yet, Alec knew his soulmate was a warlock before he even laid eyes on Magnus. Had a bookshelf full of the items he had lost over the years.

“Why?” He mutters quietly. “He’s a shadowhunter whose soulmate is a warlock. We’re not exactly the perfect match.”

“Why should that matter?” Clary asks. “It is clear that Alec doesn’t care that you’re a warlock. His mother is a different story though.” Clary rubs her arms up and down her arms like a shiver passed through her. The accurate reaction when talking about that woman. “I don’t understand how he just stands there while she speaks to him like that.”

“Like what?” His mouth feels dry, the blank face from a few days ago makes sense now. With a mother like Maryse Lightwood, finding out your son has a warlock soulmate probably didn’t go over well. He’s positive that Alec’s other siblings didn’t get that treatment, especially Clary and Jace who discovered they were soulmates.

“Like he’s inferior for having a warlock as a soulmate. The first thing she did when she stopped by his room was berate him for still having that bookshelf, like he should be ashamed of himself for displaying who his soulmate was so openly and that she thought she told him to toss out anything that wasn’t useful.”

Magnus feels like there’s no air in the room. He leans forward on the table and stares into the bubbling concoction.

With each new thing he learns about Alec, the less his view of him is so harsh.

“That’s when he had covered the bookshelf,” Clary whispers, biting her lip. “Ever since their mother came back to the Institute that spark in Alec’s eye is gone.”

“Maryse does have the personality of a brick,” he chimes in hoping to lighten the mood.

Clary doesn’t take the bait and instead looks at him with sympathy. “I don’t remember much about when we came here last, my memories are still a bit jumbled, but I know that when I woke up, no one knew where Alec went. Jace said to let it go, that he gets that way sometimes, but I couldn’t help feeling like something wasn’t right. When I found him he was on the roof, shooting arrows, one after the other until his hands were bleeding.”

“Why are you telling me this,” he rasps. His heart is beating out of control. Was Alec that hurt by his rejection? He was a shadowhunter, he should be relieved that his warlock of a soulmate doesn’t want to be with him. It wasn’t like Magnus would be upset if Alec left. Something about that thought makes his heart stop.

“Because you both deserve happiness,” she says. “And I think Alec at least deserves a chance before you kick him to the curb.”

Magnus doesn’t know what to say to that. What could he say to that? For centuries he’s kept away from shadowhunters as much as possible and now he was fatefully connected to one. Why should he be the one to make that step? It wasn’t like Alec was taking the first step.

That’s because you rejected him before he could, his mind unkindly reminds him.

Magnus doesn’t get the time to ask more questions about Alec as Luke starts to seizure on the couch. He tells Clary what still needs to be done with the potion as he rushes over to Luke and pour his magic into the werewolf’s body to slow the spread of the poison.

He loses track of time, just focusing on making sure that Luke makes it through this process. Just as he starts to feel his magic flicker, the door to his home bursts open and there’s a warm body catching him as he falls back.

Magnus huddles closer to the warmth, clasping his hand around the one that takes his.

“Use my strength,” a voice whispers in his ear. “Take what you need.”

Magnus doesn't waste a second, siphoning magic from the person behind him. It’s like being shot with adrenaline, the other person’s energy practically shoving its way into his body. It’s definitely a first for him. Anytime Magnus has asked to share strength with someone, there is always a tug from the other person, not fully trusting Magnus to not abuse the power the other is giving him. Magnus feels no resistance from whoever he’s taking magic from. For someone to trust him that openly and blindly that they just give him their very essence brings tears to his eyes.

He’s going to have to thank whoever it is once he’s sure that Luke won’t die on him. Maybe even take them out to dinner as a thank you. As if they heard his thoughts, Jace and Simon rush through the living room and hand over the last ingredient to Clary who tosses it in the cauldron. Moments later, the trio are rushing over to the couch and pouring the potion down Luke’s throat.

The reaction is practically instant. Luke is no longer seizing on the couch and the dark veins around his wounds are receding. Magnus stops his constant flow of magic and drops. Or would have dropped, if the person behind him hadn’t caught him preventing him from making a fool of himself.

He just settles into the person’s arms and closes his eyes, focusing on his breathing. He used more magic than he had planned tonight and he feels exhausted. Not as exhausted as he thought he would be he realizes. That’s when he feels the hand still in his squeeze down and rub the back of his hand with their thumb. The person he’s leaning against begins to speak to Jace.

He jolts at the person’s voice, realizing just exactly who he is resting against. He opens his eyes and whips his head to Alec’s. Alec who is staring down at him with concern and worry that makes his heart ache. Magnus hurriedly lets go of their entwined hands and finds the strength to stand up. He doesn’t look back at Alec.

He asks Jace and Simon to help carry Luke to the guest room, ignoring the heat in his cheeks and the quick beatings of his heart. He hastily follows the men into the bedroom, making sure Luke is comfortable. He’s not ready to address that whole situation waiting for him in the living room.

As he gets Luke comfortable, his mind wanders back to Alec. He wonders if one of the others called Alec for help, but no, there would be no reason for them to notify Alec that he would need assistance. None of them but Clary knew about Luke’s deteriorating state and she was too busy making sure the potion was good to go when the others returned with the missing ingredient.

He pauses fluffing Luke’s pillow and presses a hand to his chest as it aches. He had been so focused on healing Luke that he didn’t even notice his connection to Alec was so open. He doesn't feel much from Alec, but he understands now, why Alec knew to come to the loft. Magnus must have called out to him and Alec came running to help.

He doesn’t understand the Shadowhunter. Magnus couldn’t have made it more clear that he wasn’t interested in getting to know him. Yet, he still showed up, saved his life twice, helped Clary get her memories back and even assisted him in saving Luke, all without Magnus asking him to. He held Magnus close to his chest and let him practically drain him of his Nephilim energy to save Luke. The part of him that he kept under lock and key for so long slowly pours out and a warmth spreads through him at the fact that someone would do that for him without him asking, begging them to do so. It’s what he always wanted in a partner.

Why should the fact that him being a shadowhunter change that? Clary’s words from before also ring in his head, that Alec kept everything he lost and displayed them proudly in his room and told others about him, other shadowhunters.

He’s hit with a yearning in his chest that makes him want to try. To maybe get to know Alec a bit and see what the shadowhunter is like. He’s never given Magnus a reason to think that he’s hostile. If anything, Alec has been giving him the space he’s asked for and was only dismissed when Magnus told him off. It’s Magnus who’s the one that’s been hostile. He should fix that, go talk to Alec. He should start by saying thank you.

Magnus excuses himself from the room and goes back out to the living room. Millions of thoughts race in his head, wondering what he should say, how he should say it. But when he reaches the living room, Alec is nowhere to be seen. Magnus steps towards the couch and looks at the entrance to his loft and doesn’t see the shadowhunter.

His foot hits something on the floor. Magnus’ breath catches as he finds a small trash bin filled with bloody rags. He looks at his couch and sees that the blood stains are gone.

Alec cleaned up the mess for him. Alec probably felt how depleted of magic he was and didn’t want him to exert himself anymore. The smell of lavender waffs through his living room, getting rid of the metallic smell of blood and decay.

He doesn’t know why that makes his eyes water. Alec did all of this without being asked to. He was being kind again, like he has been since he and Magnus first crossed paths. Magnus was just too stuck in his past to realize it.

Not anymore, he decides, clenching his fists. He’s not going to let his past dictate his happiness anymore. He has a chance to be happy with the man who the universe has chosen to be his soulmate and he’s going to make the most of it.

Magnus is going to make this right, he has to.

#facialteeth #malecsanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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teashoptiramisu · 3 years ago

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ATLA shipping stats on AO3

I was looking through the zukaang tag for Fanlore and seeing more explicit fics that I usually do in this fandom, so I got curious about the ratings trends for various popular-ish ships (as of today, 26 October 2021):

and yeah, zukaang and jetko have a noticeably higher proportion of fics marked explicit (though not an especially high % compared to some other fandoms, such as music RPF or Jujutsu Kaisen). Which tracks with AO3′s general interest in slash, and tending to be hornier about m/m than other categories of pairings. TBH I’m surprised zukka isn’t higher as well. The other ship that sticks out is Tyzula, though that’s more in Unrated & Mature categories, which often aren‘t actually sexually explicit (really depends on the fic and I haven’t read any of these ships so no idea how they tend to be used in these cases).

Although the biggest thing that sticks out to me is the overall numbers -- zukka still hasn’t quite beat out zutara (but give it time), and the ATLA fanwork corpus on ao3 has literally TRIPLED in size since the first time I checked on it a year and a half ago. Y’all have added over 20k fics to ao3 -- hows that for ATLA Renaissance!

(some further clarifications/data collection notes below the cut)

For each row except the first (”all”), I looked at all worked returned by AO3 for the canonical tag for that pairing. Therefore, a lot of fics are probably being double-counted. (While making this I noticed for the first time that ATLA seems to have almost as much of a “tagged background ships” problem as BNHA -- to fans of mailee and similar minor pairings, my condolences.)

However, the “all” row is literally all works tagged “Avatar: The Last Airbender” -- which includes many works with no ships or romance of any kind. That does show up in the lower percent breakdowns for the higher works -- not as dramatically as I was expecting, but keep in mind when comparing the first row to the rest.

The gray and white columns on the left half are raw #s of works appearing in each ship tag with that rating, the blue-and-pink columns on the right hand side are percentages. Higher saturation = higher percentage, and I grouped [Not Rated, Explicit, Mature] together as one category (pink) and [Teen, Gen] as a second category (blue). The rightmost column is looking at the combined percentage of pink category (the “U” in “U+E+M” is because I keep accidentally calling the “Not Rated” category “Unrated”, woops) -- and then I made that it’s own pink/blue spectrum, which in hindsight is very confusing and I’m sorry. But basically: more pink = more fics in the “adult-ish ratings” bucket.

Finally, I tried to include all the “major” pairs (ended up going for ships with over ~500 works, and also Taang b/c I already recorded it before I picked that cutoff), but I was just checking through various tag searches by hand, so it’s possible I missed some.( Like, I totally forgot about some moderately popular Sokka het ships, but it’s fine they basically follow the trends above.)

All numbers were gathered by hand and typing things into an excel spreadsheet, apologies for any mistakes.

OK ACTUALLY FINALLY, this is an impartial survey, not an endorsement of or even opinions on any given ship. If you have theories about the ratings breakdowns of specific ships, or especially how people are using “not rated”, I’d love to hear it, but keep it respectful. Complaining about or bashing any ships on this post will get you blocked.

#no complaining about ships on this post please. i will block you #charts #ao3 #shipping #atla #fandom #analysis

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let-it-raines · 5 years ago

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What a Wicked Game {13/15}

Killian met her in a pub on a rainy night in March. Going inside was only supposed to be a way for him to avoid the rain and fight off the demons in his head. It was a place for him to pass through, not stay. But then he was charmed by a blonde woman with a quick wit who had absolutely no interest in him or who he was.

That was a first. It was also the beginning of Emma Nolan helping to bring him back to life. It was the beginning of everything.

Five years later, with their worlds crumbling around them, Killian can’t help but wonder if this is the end of the peace they have known now that his family knows about his relationship. It wouldn’t be a problem if his father wasn’t the King of England.

rating: mature

a/n: thanks to @captainswanbigbang for making this possible, to @resident-of-storybrooke for being the best cheerleader/proofreader, and to @captainsjedi for making me beautiful artwork and also being a wonderful cheerleader!

This is the last *official* chapter. The next two are epilogues to honor the original story and it’s epic crazy epilogue. 💕

ao3: beginning | current

tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 |

-/-

November 10th, 2018

Elsa gives birth to a girl.

It happens quickly, a quarter past five on the morning on November tenth, and the text wakes Killian from his slumber to find a picture of Elsa holding a small, red-faced child named Elizabeth.

Princess Elizabeth Amelia Zara Jones.

Lizzie.

“She’s beautiful,” Emma whispers over Alex’s head as his small limbs kick into Killian’s stomach like they’ve been doing since he was dropped off last night by frenzied parents.

“She looks demonic right now.”

“Stop,” Emma hisses with a roll of her eyes. “All babies are the most gorgeous creatures on the planet. You’re not supposed to point out that they can look demonic and be unattractive.”

“If it’s not my child and I’m not saying it to the parents, I can say whatever the hell I want.”

“And if it is your child?”

Killian reaches his hand over to tug on Emma’s waist, pulling her closer to him so that her freezing feet tuck between his calves and they won’t wake Alex with their whispering. “Now, Swan, we’ve talked about this. We’re just practicing with our naked sleepovers. No babies are going to be involved.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“Not right now,” Emma huffs, but he can see her smile. “Can you believe Elsa and Liam have another baby?”

“Aye. Known it would be happening for awhile now. Elsa’s ever burgeoning stomach gave me a few clues.”

If she didn’t have a toddler between the two of them, he knows that she’d slap his shoulder over his cheekiness and maybe a little bit to get back at him for accidentally slapping her earlier. Instead she reaches across Alex and cups Killian’s cheek, thumb running across the bone.

“Do you remember the night you told me Elsa was pregnant again?”

He does. He remembers how distraught he was over thoughts of this child growing up in the same way he had. He’d shown up at the pub a complete mess and tried to get Emma into bed instead of talking through what was bothering him. But she’d known him so well, knows him so well, and made him talk about what was bothering him instead of drowning himself in her and in alcohol.

That was only six months ago, and his world has flipped on its head several times since. It’s so much that he barely knows what to do with any of it. Really, all he knows is that he’ll never have to worry about Liam treating Lizzie in a different way than how he treats Alex. Brennan will never understand or realize how awful he is and how backward his mindset can be, but that won’t truly matter. Not when Alex and Lizzie have incredible parents who aren’t going to fall into the trap that this family seems to keep falling for.

Not when they’re going to change everything about this family so that future generations will never go through what they’ve been through.

Emma. All of this is because of Emma.

She’s changed his world.

(And is changing a monarchy.)

“Yes,” Killian whispers back to her.

“So much has changed since then. Everything really. You and your family are an actual family, babe. A family with issues and that one awful relative that we’ll pretend doesn’t exist, but there’s also so much love. It’s amazing.”

“It’s all because of you, Emma.”

She laughs, so quiet so as not to disturb Alex in this hushed conversation, and he knows she’s going to brush it all off.

“I mean, I was at the root of some knock down drag out fights, so I wouldn’t say that.”

“I would.”

“Killian, if the relationship you have with Liam is better, that’s all you. You fought for what you deserved, no matter how hard it was, and I’d like to think that you’ve got a winning strategy.”

Except for with his father…

But no matter, this woman next to him with red pillow crease lines on her cheeks and tangles in his hair continues to change his life, and if it wasn’t for Alex between them and the day he knows he has ahead of him, Killian would get the engagement ring out of his shoe in the closet and ask her to marry him right now.

Having that ring made while they were broken up was the most idiotic idea, but he thinks much like Emma and her lightning bolt tattoo, a part of him knew that it would all be okay.

Best stupid decision he’s ever made.

“I love you. I think I might love you too much”

And it’s true. As sentimental and slightly vomit-inducing as it might be to some, he does love her so much that his chest pangs.

He loves her not simply because she is beautiful and a light in his life who makes him laugh even when he doesn’t know how anymore. He loves her for the way that she enjoys watching stand-up comedy even when it’s bad and stops her runs to dance along to the music playing through her speakers. He loves that she is kind to others and compassionate about those who she cares for, and he loves the energy she brings to her own life. He loves her not for what she does for him but for who she is. She’s Emma, a mess of good and bad qualities.

She’s brilliant in a multitude of ways.

And she’s here and not going anywhere. He’s not going anywhere either. It’s a constant reminder between the two of them, something they both need to hear, but Killian knows deep in his belly that they’re not going to go through another separation again.

Will they have other shit to deal with? Of course. But they’re doing it together.

“Not possible,” Emma murmurs before kissing his nose. “I love you, too. I’m glad you won’t call our babies ugly even if you think they are.”

Killian laughs loud enough this time that Alex stirs between them and groggily opens his blue eyes, looking between he and Emma. He stretches his arms above his head and kicks Killian’s stomach before turning into Emma and wrapping himself into Emma like the little traitor he is.

“Emmy,” he giggles, pressing wet kisses over Emma’s face. “Emmy is here.”

“Yeah, buddy, I am. How do you feel about going to take a bath? You and Killian need one before we go visit your new sister.”

“Noooo.”

“Yes,” Emma confirms, squeezing onto Alex and scrunching up her nose. “Especially Killian. He’s smelly.”

“Oi,” Killian scoffs. Every kind thought he had about this woman has disappeared in that exact moment, but he can’t wipe the smile off his face. It’s been a good morning. A good few weeks really. “I’ll have you know I bathe quite frequently thank you very much.”

“Then you’ll have no problem taking a bath right now.”

-/-

Emma is visibly nervous when they arrive at the hospital and are surrounded by people, fans and photographers alike. Her leg tapping up and down is shaking the entire car, but she doesn’t say anything in protest to getting out. When he asks if she wants to stay inside, she shakes her head and turns in the backseat to unbuckle Alex from his car seat before exiting the car to a loud clamor of voices.

The press have a field day seeing Alex walking into the hospital holding Emma’s hand, all of them calling out questions and trying to get Alex to pose or wave for the cameras. When Emma picks him up, resting him on her hip and telling him to wave, he happily complies as long as Emma waves with him.

Good. That’s a good start.

As they’re nearing the stairs a photographer yells out, “Emma, why is Prince Alexander walking with you and not Killian?”

Killian thinks Emma won’t answer. Her relationship with the press is abysmal as best. It was like that before the accident, but ever since, she’s hated them even more. He has too. All of the ones here today may be here to celebrate the birth of a new member of his family and may not mean any harm, but it’s easy to clump them all into one category.

They could have killed the woman he loves all over a picture, and Killian will never forgive anyone for that – not the press, not August Booth, no matter any of their motivations. If the three of them were able to go inside today in a different entrance, there would be no question as to how they would enter the hospital. At least no one is asking about the bloody breakup. That’s been a constant topic every time he’s stepped out into public lately.

Small wins and all.

“To tell you the truth,” Emma begins, shifting Alex on her hip. She’s talking to the people, the ones who aren’t holding professional cameras and microphones, and that makes a bit more sense to Killian. “Alexander here is always telling me that he loves his Emmy more than he loves his Uncle Killian because I know where we keep the good cookies…I mean, biscuits. Still getting used to the change in vernacular no matter how long I’ve lived here. That one will always throw me off.”

“Biscuits,” Alex joins in, raising his hands in the air and then rubbing his belly, causing the reporters and the crowd to roar in their laughter.

“Killian can’t give them to him because we hide the biscuits from him. He’s got a bit of a sweet tooth, you know.”

“Well, that’s why I love you, darling,” Killian teases. “Because you’re so sweet.”

“He’s also apparently got a thing for cheese,” she tells the crowd, throwing a wink at him. And he should have known that she would tease him when given the opportunity. Her heart has to be hammering in her discomfort, but she’s trying her best to be a part of his world.

There are parts of him that are still so fucking livid that he doesn’t know how to function seeing the flashes and hearing the clicks of the cameras, but he knows that he can’t do anything about it. At least not now. Right now all he has to worry about is making sure that Emma and Alex are safe.

Killian leans down to give her a quick peck, making Alex cover his eyes with his hands like he does nearly every time, and he can hear the laughter mixed in with the clicks of the shutters on the cameras. Some will be mad that Emma came with him to the hospital, but those without a stick up their ass will see the moment as a simple every day, family moment. He doesn’t care what anyone thinks, and if they have something to say, every press privilege for an official will be revoked in the snap of his fingers. He’s glad she’s here. Always.

After making a few more pleasantries and waving goodbye, the three of them are ushered inside by Graham, who is almost scarily professional while working. The man is an old friend and Ruby’s boyfriend, but no one would ever know that for the job he does.

Good.

They can be mates at dinner or when he’s off duty. For now, Killian wants the assured protection for his loved ones.

“My boy,” Liam greets once they’re in the maternity ward and away from most prying eyes. “I have missed you.”

“Papa,” Alex squeals, squirming out of Emma’s arms to run to his dad and be swooped up into his arms for a bracing hug. “Emmy gave me biscuit.”

“For breakfast? That’s nutritional.”

Emma huffs and crosses her arms over her chest even as Liam walks toward her and brushes his lips over her cheek. “He had oatmeal for breakfast. We just happened to be talking about biscuits outside. How’s Elsa?”

“Tired, happy, wonderful,” Liam laughs with genuine joy, eyes reddened from lack of sleep and tears of joy. “She just woke up from a nap to feed Lizzie, and I know she’s chuffed to see you all.” Liam turns his attention to Alex now. “Are you ready to meet your new sister?”

“She’s here?” Alex gasps. “Not in tummy?”

Killian chuckles and shakes his head. They went over this on the ride here and this morning, but the concept might be too big for a toddler to understand.

“She’s here, Alex, and I know that Mummy is ready to see you again. She’s missed you.”

Liam starts to walk away, Killian walking with him, but then he notices that Emma hasn’t moved from her spot, and Killian makes some half-assed excuse about letting Liam take Alex to see the lad first and that they’ll join them later.

“Hey,” he says to Emma, cocking his head to the side, “what are you doing? Don’t you want to go see Elsa and Lizzie?”

“I just...I need a moment.”

Killian arches a brow, but she doesn’t see it. Instead, she closes her eyes and leans back against the wall, her chest visibly heaving.

“Tomorrow or in a few hours or at some point in time,” Emma whispers, eyes still closed, “Elsa is going to walk out that door in heels and a pretty dress with a newborn in her arms and be photographed within an inch of her life. She’s still going to be wearing a damn diaper under a five-thousand-dollar dress, and I...I…shit. The people don’t scare me, but the press does. I flinch at the sounds of the cameras, am constantly worried that someone else is going to chase me or want something from me and I - ”

Emma opens her eyes, the green watery. He’s got no idea what’s happening, and he feels like he should.

He knew she was nervous when they were in the car, that it was a big deal for her to come with them today, but he foolishly thought she’d made it through the experience unscathed.

“I know that it’s an adjustment,” she continues, “and I’m only just learning, but I...if we have kids, I don’t want them on display like that. I don’t want myself on display. I don’t want to disrespect your customs and traditions, but I also want to respect myself and our kids. They shouldn’t have to be terrified of the click of a camera like I am right now.”

“Emma - ”

“I’m fine,” she sniffles, wiping her eyes. “I really am. That was just a lot outside, and I’m tired and I wanted to let you know how I’m feeling because that’s something we’re working on. I - ”

Killian steps forward and tucks her hair behind her ears, swiping his thumb across her cheeks to wipe away the little flecks of mascara. “It’s a process, my love, and if you think I’m not still fucking angry over what happened to you, you’re wrong. I’m livid. It’s not going to be something either of us get over in a blink of an eye or possibly ever, but I will do everything in my power to protect you and these hypothetical children and dogs or cats or even lizards.”

“Lizards?”

“They’ll get their own security guard too.” Emma laughs and leans forward into him until her face is buried in his shoulder. “I’d go to the end of the world for you. Every damn day.”

“That’s dramatic.”

“I try.” Killian rubs his hand over her back and kisses the side of her head. “Thank you for sharing what was going through that head of yours.”

“Thank you for not making me feel like I’m crazy.”

“I’ve given you a pass on that for today.” Emma huffs into his shoulder, and he kisses her hair again. “Are you ready to go into the hospital room now or do you need more time?”

“I think I can handle going to see that ugly baby you were talking about earlier.”

“Please don’t tell them I said that. I did not call Lizzie ugly.”

“It was implied.”

Emma gasps when Killian lightly taps her ass, but he doesn’t get to see the look on her face since he’s quickly walking ahead of her toward Elsa’s hospital room. She catches up, slapping his shoulder before hooking her arm around his and holding onto his elbow.

When they walk into the hospital room, Elsa is sitting in the bed wrapped up in a robe with her hair in a bun, and she’s holding both Lizzie and Alex while Liam sits at the edge and quietly talks to all of them. Killian feels like they’re intruding on a moment, like this isn’t meant for him and Emma.

His brother is a good but broken man, and Killian is happy for him. For all of them.

“They look so happy,” Emma whispers in his ear before placing her head on his shoulder.

“Aye,” he agrees. “I think they are.”

“Would either of you like to hold her?” Elsa asks them, waving them into the room even though Killian thinks they might need to slink away to give them privacy.

“Can I?” Emma asks, voice small as if she wasn’t just directly asked.

“Of course you can,” Elsa answers, motioning for Emma to come closer. She carefully hands Elizabeth over to Emma, the both of them cradling Lizzie’s head. “She’s wavering in and out of sleep.”

“Oh, she’s so beautiful, Elsa,” Emma compliments, running her finger over the covered swaddle of Elizabeth, before tacking on, “and Liam. I guess you possibly had something to do with this, though I think she’s likely to get all of her good looks from other members of the family.”

Liam laughs, actually laughs at Emma’s tease, white teeth flashing in an exuberant smile that Killian has rarely seen in his life.

Well, he’s seen it lately. A lot actually. But he’s not accustomed to any of this yet.

His brother is his friend and is capable of joking with Emma. It’s pretty much some kind of miracle even if he knows it’s through a hell of a lot of hard work and tough conversations.

If he looks back too quickly, Killian will get whiplash.

“I think that sounds about right,” Liam chuckles, moving over to stand next to Killian and throwing his arm over Killian’s shoulder. “You best hope your children get their looks from you and not this one here.”

Emma’s face flushes red, but she doesn’t say anything back, just shoots Killian a timid smile and mouths “he’s right” to Killian. She throws in a wink just for extra emphasis. Killian is hit with a sense of want – want to have children, want to have those children with Emma, and want for those children to look just like her – that he has to stifle, just winking right back in response.

They’re not ready. They can talk all about future plans and wants for that time, but they’re not ready. They’re still so young, and they have all of the time in the world to figure things out. They’ve just gotten back, and he doesn’t want to rush anything.

But it’s undeniable how incredibly, stupidly jealous he feels of Liam for getting all of this.

Is it possible to be genuinely thrilled for someone and jealous all the same?

Elizabeth starts fussing in Emma’s arm, a slow cry that’s only going to get bigger, and he watches Emma hand the baby back to Elsa and sit down on the bed to talk to Alex, who is absolutely enraptured with his sister. Killian wonders just how long that’s going to last before Alex is absolutely cross with all of the attention Lizzie will be getting.

“She’s doing so well,” Liam says suddenly, arm falling from Killian’s shoulder.

“Elsa? Yeah, she seems to be doing great, the tough lass she is. I’ve never quite understood how women are able to give birth.”

Liam just chuckles, shaking his head. “Brother, when a man loves a woman - ”

Killian gently slaps his brother’s shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

“Aye, I do. I can’t quite understand it myself. I think they might be magical. And Elsa is incredible, bloody amazing really. I’m forever in awe of her. It’s just that I was talking about Emma. It takes a strong woman to stay with the two of us despite our lives, and we’ve found some of the good ones. I’m sorry for everything before. I can’t say that enough.”

Killian doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to deal with hearing everything he’s ever wanted to hear from his brother yet again, so he redirects the conversation. “So a little lass, huh?”

“I’m already out of my league.”

“You’ve been batting out of your league for your entire life, brother.”

Liam barks out another laugh. “Was that a baseball term? Have you ever seen a baseball game?”

“I’m dating an American whose father is obsessed with baseball, so I think you can fill in the blanks.”

Killian doesn’t want to intrude on Liam and Elsa, knowing just how exhausted Elsa has to be and how special this time is, but then Liam is asking if Killian and Emma would like to stay with her while he takes Alex home to be with his nanny and to keep his schedule from deviating too much. They insist that they can watch him for the day, but Liam and Elsa both would rather him be home and don’t want to burden the two of them.

It’s not a burden at all.

But that’s how Killian ends up holding Lizzie as she sleeps, little sputtering noises escaping her lips. She doesn’t at all look like a little red demon now, and he was wrong to have said that earlier. He thinks they’ll be rather good mates.

“I think she likes you,” Emma whispers, trying not to wake Lizzie or Elsa.

“Well, I’ve been told that the hair all over my body makes me comfortable to sleep on.”

“Whoever said that is brilliant.”

“Aye, I think so.”

“Do you think we should put her in the bassinet?”

“I’m scared that if I move it’ll disturb her.”

“It won’t,” Elsa mumbles, still mostly asleep.

He and Emma both quietly snicker, and carefully, Killian stands from the couch and walks to the small rolling bassinet, placing Lizzie down. She doesn’t startle or wake up, and he takes it as a win.

“I’m going to go get some tea or coffee, love. Do you want something?”

“Coffee. See if you can charm a nurse to get you the good stuff instead of the ones at those stations outside.”

Killian winks. “I’ll try.”

When he walks outside the hospital room door, he nods his head in acknowledgment to Elsa’s security and his own, telling Graham that he’s going in search for coffee, and Graham directs him to a small coffee and tea station around the corner. It’s exactly the bitter stuff he didn’t want, but since he doesn’t see any nurses or doctors to charm into letting him use the good pots in their lounges, this will likely have to do.

He got so little sleep last night that he’ll take anything with caffeine to bring a little life back into his eyes and his body.

Just as Emma’s disposable cup is filling with bitter coffee he knows she won’t drink without copious amounts of creamer, there’s the sound of doors opening and the loud clatter of footsteps moving down the hall.

It’s his parents and their security.

Shit.

He didn’t think they’d come for a few more hours.

“Killian,” Allison blushes, her smile growing in size as she scurries through the hallway to embrace him, her frame so small in his. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Aye, Emma and I brought Alexander to see his sister and mum a few hours ago and have been keeping Elsa company while Liam takes Alex home.”

“Well, that is a wonderful surprise. We knew Alex and Liam had gone home for a bit, but I didn’t know you were here. I can’t wait to see my new grandchild.”

Killian pats his mum’s back before pulling back and kissing her cheek. “She can’t wait to see you. Why don’t you go on to the room? I want to speak to Dad for a moment.” Allison raises her brows. “I’ll be fine. Go meet your new granddaughter.”

Allison nods and steps away from him, and Brennan begins to do the same until Killian places his hand on his chest and keeps him from walking down the hallway.

“Do you need something?”

Killian swallows and sets his shoulders back before directly looking in his father’s eyes, ones he’s never seen show kindness to him, ones he doesn’t expect to.

At this point, he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t need that. He’s not looking for the approval of this man.

“I’m going to say this one last time,” Killian begins, clenching his jaw to keep himself as steady as possible, “and if you don’t listen, I will go through with every word I’ve ever said about exposing you and ruining that pretty image you like to keep up.”

Brennan’s jaw clenches, but his age shows on his face instead of his anger. “You’re my son. I don’t have to listen to you.”

“There are hundreds of people out there, each of them with a camera on their phone. That doesn’t even take into account the news outlets. In less than two minutes, I can ruin you. Do you understand that?”

Brennan blinks and looks away before turning back to face Killian, no emotion on his face. It must be from years of practicing or possibly years of uncaring. “Go on then.”

“I’m marrying Emma. I don’t know when, but I am. When that time comes, you will sign every necessary piece of paper and approve every detail of the wedding. You will lie and say that you’re happy for me because it’s good for your image, and you will not fight with us behind the scenes. You don’t have to like me or Emma, but you will not continue to cut her down. I won’t let you, Liam won’t let you, and I can guarantee that Mum won’t have it anymore.”

“Anything else you’d like to command of me today or are you done asking for things I don’t have to grant you?”

Bastard.

His father is a bastard, but Killian is in this now. He’s not backing out now.

He’s not losing Emma again.

“Emma will get a full team of security protection under your personal pay until we’re married and she can legally have the same arrangements as the rest of us, you’ll agree to cut off any press from official events if they try to slander or attack her again, and you will release statements to have her protected so she doesn’t almost fucking die again. She could have died because people wanted a picture of her, and I will not stand for that again. These aren’t negotiations. These are demands. Any kind of protection Elsa has, Emma will have as well, whether we’re married or not.”

“How do you - ”

“No negotiations,” Killian repeats, refusing to back away from his father. “I’m happy to help set all of this in motion for you if you need me to. I’ve been working on a few things. I’ll send them to your office tomorrow.”

When Brennan doesn’t say anything and doesn’t move from his sport, Killian raises his brows and inches closer. “Do you understand? Stepping out of line will have repercussions for you, and threatening me will do you no good. I’m willing to step away from the cushions of this life. I’m not dependent on the coin purse and the good publicity. You are.”

“None of this is going to be pretty for you. The public will continue to despise her and think that everything she does is wrong. Every misstep will be magnified, and your popularity will plummet.”

Killian scoffs and shakes his head. This man is never going to get it. “The beauty of the whole thing is that I don’t fucking care about any of that. I am going to choose Emma every time. I’ve never loved this lifestyle or craved the approval of the press like you. I’ve never wanted any of this. I respect the history of our family, and I can guarantee that Emma and I will do our best to honor that. However, we’re forging our own path with our own family, and if I end up having to leave this family later for Emma’s well-being, there won’t be a second thought to it. Now go greet your new granddaughter. I hope she never has to know what a bastard you are.”

Brennan nods his head before quickly stepping away and storming down the hallway, the swinging doors quickly closing behind him with his security following after him. Killian needs a moment to breathe, to calm himself, because there’s a pretty good chance he could vomit right now.

That has to work.

That has to be the final time. That has to be the nail in the coffin and the thing that gets them moving forward. He can’t move backwards. He can’t.

They can’t.

Moving forward and moving on to something real and concrete is what he needs, what Emma needs too, and that has to work. Getting knocked down on his ass again isn’t an option.

Emma getting hurt again isn’t an option.

May his father have one modicum of decency. Or really, may he be so damn scared of losing public favor that he complies. That’s Killian’s ace up his sleeve, and God, he hopes it works.

(It’s going to.)

“You having trouble working the coffee machine?”

Killian huffs and turns his head to look down the hallway to see Emma walking toward him. “No, I think I’ve got it figured out, but I believe the coffee I made for you may be cold by now.”

“Guess you’ll have to make me a new one then.”

“Guess I will.” Killian opens his arms, and Emma walks right into them until she’s nuzzled into his chest and his chin is resting on her head. “Did you see my Father?”

“I did.”

“Did he speak to you?”

“There was a slight nod.”

“Of course,” Killian scoffs, rubbing his hands up and down her back as she does the same to him. “I just gave him an ultimatum, finally, and God, Emma, I hope that it works.”

“Me too. We’re going to be okay. I don’t know how, exactly...I just know, okay?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, kissing the top of her head, I know that too.”

They only linger in the hallways long enough to fix one new cup of coffee before a nurse rounds the corner and offers to take them to the lounge where they have the good coffee and tea. He didn’t even have to charm someone to get the stuff that wasn’t going to be acid in his stomach, and he’s thankful for small miracles.

He’s also thankful for Emma. She has every right to be angry or closed off or even nervous as hell when they go back to the hospital room where his parents are. She’s not making some herculean effort to make conversation with his dad, but she’s also not letting him push her into a corner where she can’t enjoy being around people she loves.

Killian’s been learning to do that his entire life. Emma has nearly perfected it in a few months.

Emma nudges his shoulder, and he looks down to see a napkin in his lap. God, he’s missed passing napkin scribblings back and forth with each other. He’s got a box full of them somewhere in his apartment.

Your mom has been looking over at us with “please fuck and give me grandchildren” eyes for the past ten minutes.

He snickers and leans in to whisper in Emma’s ear. “I’m sure there’s somewhere around her where we could get that done.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“You’re the one who said my mum was thinking about us fucking.” Killian brushes his lips over the shell of Emma’s ear, flicking his tongue so that goosebumps rise over her skin. “Would you like to go home now?”

“I would.”

Killian tucks the napkin in his back pocket and stands from the couch, holding his hand out to Emma behind him. They say their goodbyes, both of them kissing Elsa’s cheeks and running their finger over Lizzie’s stomach, before telling his mum not to hog the baby for too long. It takes far longer than it should for them to take their leave, but eventually they’re walking back to the entrance of the hospital with Graham in front of them.

“Every time this door opens for the next two days, all of these people are going to think it’s Elsa stepping out. There’s going to be shouting and photographers. Can you handle that?”

“I know,” Emma tells him. “And I can.”

Emma threads her fingers between his, her palm as warm and soft as always, Killian sucks in a deep breath, and he hears Emma do the same. “You ready to go, my love?”

She squeezes his hand, the tightness lingering a second too long, and answers, “I’m ready.”

-/-

@mrtinski @klynn-stormz @jonirobinson64 @snowbellewells @therealstartraveller776 @thejollyroger-writer @sherifemma @shardminds @captainsjedi @galaxyzxstark @galadriel26 @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @teamhook @spartanguard @searchingwardrobes @itsfabianadocarmo @owlways-and-forever @jamif @shireness-says @ultimiflos @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @onepunintendid @bluewildcatfanatic @397bartonstreet @killianswannn @carpedzem @captainkillianswanjones @mayquita @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @a-faekindagirl @scientificapricot @scarletslippers @xellewoods @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @singersdd @captainswanbigbang

#what a wicked game #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #csrt #captain swan rewrite a thon #captain swan

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kaen-ace-of-diamonds · 4 years ago

Text

Full Moon Dance

Word Count: 2700+ (chapter 1) (chapter 2) [AO3 link]

Genre: Humor/Romance

Characters: Raven Branwen, Summer Rose, Qrow Branwen, Taiyang Xiao Long, Kite Branwen (OC, mentioned)

Pairing: Raven Branwen/Summer Rose

Summary: Misunderstanding what "taking a partner" is supposed to entail, Raven asks Summer to the Vytal Festival Dance.She did not expect that to become a gateway to facing her changing feelings for her teammates and her place at Beacon.

(I meant to have this posted for the free day of @rose-bird-week but missed the mark by a few days)

~0~

“Sometimes, reaching out and taking someone’s hand is the beginning of a journey. At other times, it is allowing another to take yours.”

Vera Nazarian

~0~

Culture shock was a phrase that Raven had grown to truly detest by the end of her first year at Beacon. Navigating the obstacle course that was non-tribe society seemed to trip her and Qrow up at every turn, even as constantly helpful as Summer tried to be.

(Considering how funny Tai found them sometimes, she would hesitate to fully include him in the “helpful” category.)

When they’d gone back home to the tribe for their break, Kite had insisted on several nights where the three of them took dinner and drinks alone in her tent, so she could squeeze her twins for every last detail of their new school lives. Which Raven supposed she understood, coming from their leader who they’d never been apart from for so long, but she could have done without quite that much raucous laughter at their missteps.

But by the time they got into the swing of second year, Raven thought that they had fully gotten the hang of this whole “living in the real world” thing, as Qrow was given to calling it. So when on the way back from class she started to hear the strains of an animated conversation, she didn’t think she would need to ask about exactly what was being discussed.

“...what everyone does,” Tai was saying. “Just don’t think so hard about it!”

Their backs were to her as they walked in the direction of their dorm room, so she couldn’t see Qrow’s face. But she could see him slowly nodding, and could picture the look of deep contemplation that probably accompanied it. This must be serious business.

“But I’ve got no idea what to do! We don’t have these things in Anima!”

“...No offense, but you guys don’t really have that much in Anima, do you?”

“You’re just catching on to that? And, I mean, I guess we do, but it’s not like it’s a fun party. What’s even the point of this dance thing?”

Recognition sparked in Raven’s head. Of course it was that.

Her primary interest in the Vytal Festival was combat, of course. The two of them hadn’t effortlessly crushed all competition Beacon had to offer, all the time, the way she’d expected coming in. But it was close enough that they were hungering for new opponents to test their strength, as were their teammates, so the influx of new students coming in for the tournament had her very excited.

(Bloodthirsty, Qrow called the gleam in her eye, but she thought that was a bit too strong a word.)

She was determined not to make any more accidental friends — two was quite enough! — so the idea of wasting so much time fraternizing had not caught her interest at all. It was nothing like the occasional, informal bonfires of the Mistrali and Animan bandit tribes, where in the dark hours of uneasy peace, agreements and alliances could be brokered, and the future heirs of the kingdom’s underworld could get a feel for each other.

In any case, Qrow had not participated in one since he was thirteen and a large tree branch had fallen on Eiric Athdara while they’d been trying awkwardly to dance together. He’d blamed his Semblance and spent the next four years’ worth of bonfires sulking in the shadows, much to the confusion of everyone who had found him appealing and the exasperation of Kite. With all their positions here only temporary, Raven still wasn’t clear about the purpose of this event, and was interested in Tai’s explanation.

“Well, it’s fun!”

She resisted the urge to groan.

But she could hear the smile in Tai’s voice as he rambled on. “Remember that birthday party we threw you two? It’s even better than that, because nobody’s expecting anything of you, because you’re not the center of attention. You can do whatever you like—”

Oh, yeah? thought Raven with a quirked eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah?” leered Qrow, wagging his, and earning himself a punch in the shoulder from his partner.

“You know what I mean, Qrow, good gods. Anyway, it’s just about having fun. You don’t even have to know how to dance, or wear anything super fancy. The important part is the people you’re with.”

“Well, sure. But I don’t know if there’s anybody else I’d want to take with me. Though everyone else gets so upset when I say no, I oughta just say yes to the next one who asks. Let them tag along.”

Raven didn’t know why he sounded so despondent about it. Warning would-be suitors away with her ever-improving sword was something she’d been doing since her first weeks here without a second thought. She still wasn’t sure why their numbers had increased the closer this dance got, but it made no difference to her.

“Oh, come on, you don’t need to do that!” Tai threw his arm around Qrow’s shoulders, grinning. “You’re going to have a great partner to get you through it!”

Raven blinked. This was news to her. You were supposed to go with your partner? Making arrangements with someone else was some sort of exception? Well, this was just getting more confusing by the day, but she could work with it.

“That’ll be fine, then,” she said out loud, making the boys jump and whip around so fast they knocked their heads together doing it.

“Ow! Raven, what the hell?!” Qrow shouted, as if she personally had whacked him upside the head.

Tai looked only mildly surprised. “You should have said something if you wanted to join in.”

“No need,” Raven replied, with a small toss of her head. “I’ve already figured it out.”

“Figured what out?”

The three of them looked up towards a nearby staircase to see Summer trotting down it, looking interested in whatever fragments of conversation she’d heard.

Raven looked back at her curiously: if this was the custom around here, why hadn’t Summer said anything to her about it? She gathered that Summer too had been raised outside the kingdoms, from what little she was willing to say about her background, but she’d lived in Vale long enough to know about things like this. Well, no matter, she was making up for it now.

“Hey, Summer!” she called up. “You’re going to the dance with me, aren’t you?”

She hadn’t expected a simple question to make the hallway go silent, but it did. Summer blinked, staring open-mouthed at her for a long moment. Then her face lit up, and she let out an almost exhilarated laugh.

“Sure, of course I will!”

The delight in her voice startled Raven somewhat, but she recovered quickly. “All right, then.”

By now, she was used to being carried away on Summer’s zest for life. But Raven found the way she nearly flew down the rest of the stairs to grab both of Raven’s hands in hers, smiling so brightly, to be unusual even for her. Shouldn’t she have seen this coming? Or was Raven supposed to be the one to make the first move all along, for some reason, and Summer was just excited that she was finally getting with the program?

Being landed with her partner in the first place had been so damned convoluted that this might as well happen (and she hoped this wouldn’t also involve Summer falling on top of her head from an ungodly high place). Still, she wondered whether it really called for Summer nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet like she’d just been told Solstice had come early.

“I’m so glad you told me when you did! I was going to just rent one of the basic white dresses, but now I know for sure we’re both going I’ll look for nicer ones — and I can do your hair! I’ll pick something out, just give me a little bit!”

With that, Summer disappeared back up the stairs in a flash of white cloak. Raven had a brief and blissful moment of thinking she had successfully navigated the situation, until she turned to see Tai and Qrow’s jaws both nearly on the floor.

“What?”

“W-Well...” Tai was the first to find his voice again. “We just...didn’t expect you to ask her out, out of the blue, is all.”

Raven raised an eyebrow. “Why not? Aren’t you supposed to go to this thing with your partner?”

Both boys’ mouths became perfect O’s of realization. They looked at each other, and then back at her.

“Oh,” said Qrow. “Uh, Raven, we should probably talk about something...”

~0~

There was no way she could let Kite hear about this.

Raven didn’t think her cheeks would ever stop burning. Not even the cooling late afternoon air helped. At least nobody could easily spot her here.

Usually, when she screwed up some Valerian social norm or another, she was able to either brush it off or bluff well enough that it didn’t look like a screwup at all. And even if neither of those worked, she was much better at intimidating people into silence about it than her brother. Absolutely none of those methods would work here.

Logically, she knew that Summer wasn’t the petty or easily embarrassed type. Still, the thought of finding her and admitting to her mistake...gods, how could she have been so dumb? She didn’t want to imagine the disappointment on Summer’s face the next time she—

“Raven! Hey, Raven? Could, uh...could I come up there with you?”

Raven startled, and glanced down to see Summer hanging out over the windowsill, peering up at her. Perhaps the tree directly outside their dorm room hadn’t been the best place to flee to if she wanted to remain undiscovered.

“...Sure. If you can climb.”

Uncannily squirrel-like, Summer hopped out the window onto the trunk, and scurried up several feet of tree to reach the branch that Raven had taken up residence on. Scooting over slightly to give her room to sit, Raven noticed that she wasn’t just eager to help: she looked a little abashed as well, a look that only became more pronounced in the short silence that followed.

“So...” Summer rubbed the back of her head, mussing her braids. “I talked to Tai and Qrow and I...think I owe you an apology.”

“You do? Why?”

“Well, I misunderstood. I made a bunch of assumptions and...” Summer gestured to the branches around them. “Scared you up a tree.”

“Hmph. Scared is a bit of a strong word, don’t you think?”

“I guess. But still: I’m sorry I put you in that position.”

Raven sighed. “I was the one who acted without thinking. You don’t have to worry about it.”

To her relief, Summer didn’t look to be worried anymore...but she did look thoughtful. “So...what would you have done if you’d asked and I didn’t want to go with you? Hypothetically, I mean?”

It did not take Raven long to hit upon the answer. “Hid somewhere better than this and avoided you until it was all over.”

Summer laughed, but Raven wondered if that was concern in her eyes. “You know that’s not a very good way to handle your feelings, right?”

“Well, it’s best to go with your gut on these things,” Raven huffed. “Honestly, I’d rather just skip all this dance nonsense and get to the part where we thrash everyone else in the arena. No messing around, just winning.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t that be great!”

She had expected Summer to agree with her: she wasn’t fiercely competitive like her or Tai, but everybody liked to win. However, by now she knew her partner well enough to tell that, though her smile was impeccable, her response was just a bit too enthusiastic to be honest.

Determined not to miss anything this time, Raven spent a long moment studying the other girl’s face, replaying their conversation in her head to — hey, wait a minute.

Summer blinked. “Raven? Why are you looking at me all suspicious?”

“...Before, when you said ‘hypothetically,’ how did you mean it? As in, hypothetically, what would I have done...or if you hypothetically didn’t want to go?”

“I...well...the second one,” she murmured.

Ah. She’d been so worried about her own stung pride that she had forgotten all about how excited Summer had been. So that was that.

“I mean, of course you can still go. I’m not going to stop you.”

“I was always planning on it. I’ve never been to anything like this before, either. But...” Raven very nearly jumped when she felt Summer’s hand slide on top of hers, her palm so soft it always surprised her. “I was really hoping we could go together.”

“Like as a team, or...?”

Summer didn’t laugh, just gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “With you.”

Oh.

All of a sudden the shapes of the clouds in the distance were very, very interesting.

“You...you like to dance, then?”

“My parents used to. My dad, especially.” The smile in Summer’s voice was wholly genuine this time, if wistful with nostalgia. “He’d always coax my father into it, outside when the moon was full. My father would grumble about it, pretend he wasn’t sappy enough to love it. But he was, every time. I could tell.”

Raven wasn’t sure what was making the hair on the back of her neck stand up: Summer’s thumb idly rubbing against her hand, the strangely melodic tone of her voice, or the vague and discomfiting sense, that hit every time Summer let them hear something about her life before Beacon, that she was close to a secret.

All any of them really knew about it was that Summer had once had fathers, and now did not. Raven of all people didn’t want to instigate any digging into their team’s secrets. Kite wasn’t her mother, but for these purposes...

“My mom didn’t do any of that stuff. I don’t know how to dance, either.”

“We can learn together, then.”

Wow, those clouds. Definitely more deserving of attention than her rapidly pounding heart.

“Raven? Would you like that?”

For a good few moments, Raven wasn’t sure she would be able to answer. When she finally did, it was in a voice much lower and quieter than she had expected. At least it was steady.

“...Yes. Yeah, I think I would.”

“Then we will. I promise.”

She nearly fell backwards off the tree branch, when she felt the feather-light touch of Summer’s lips on her cheek. They were only there for the most fleeting of seconds, making her almost wonder if she’d been wrong...but no, she couldn’t possibly mistake it for anything else, and finally turned to stare at her partner.

Color. When Raven looked back on this moment years, even decades later, it would be all of its colors that lingered the most in her memory. The faint pink that painted Summer’s cheeks, the softer shade of her lips. The perfectly clear blue sky behind her head, that made the deep red ends of her hair stand out like fire against it. And the silver moonlight of her eyes — it occurred to Raven for the first time that she had never seen anything quite like them — that shone just as brightly as her smile.

Something twisted in her chest, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. She felt sure that Kite would smirk at it, though.

Remember what you’re here for, Raven, she would remind her. She’s not really your partner. She’s your victim.

Normally, she submitted to the voice of her leader, like any loyal Branwen. Today...she did not push it aside, exactly. But she could wait a little while to heed it, and push her luck just a bit more today.

“On second thought...I’d be honored to escort you, Summer,” she said, lifting her head a little higher and affecting the tone that Kite took with other tribe leaders. “So long as you can promise you won’t let me make such a fool of myself again.”

Summer giggled, clearly relieved. “I promise that too! I’ll make sure of it.”

“You know, with Tai and Qrow there to soak up all the attention, that’ll probably be easier than you think.”

“Well, maybe. Let’s give them some credit. And I can’t promise that you won’t get any attention. I still get to take you dress shopping and do your hair, don’t I?”

“...You keep saying that,” Raven said dubiously, “but when you say do...what exactly are you picturing?”

“One day...” Summer reached out again and ran her fingers through the back of Raven’s hair, where they promptly got stuck around the middle of her neck. “One day this won’t happen.”

She tugged a little to emphasize the point, but not hard enough to hurt. Raven was certainly in no hurry to have her remove her hand.

“Actually, if you want, we could climb down and start trying stuff out now. See what styles you like?”

“Sure. Just...not right now.” The breeze was blowing gently in their faces, and Raven couldn’t quite place the scent that it carried to them, only that it was clean and sweet and she liked it. “Mind if we hang out up here for a while? It’s nice out.”

In answer, Summer leaned over and rested her head on Raven’s shoulder. “Yeah. It is.”

The birds had flown off, and the clouds thinned out, leaving only the perfect sky behind. Raven couldn’t seem to remember the last time she’d felt so very relaxed. Had she really been so furious with herself just a few minutes ago?

This really was good. She found herself wanting more. Perhaps this dance was something to look forward to after all.

#rosebird #raven branwen #summer rose #taiyang xiao long #qrow branwen #rwby #team strq #kaen's fics

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preathfics · 5 years ago

Text

PreathFics Madness: Sweet 16

Welcome to the second full round of the PreathFics Madness, co-sponsored by @hardtchill.

We had 249 votes in the round of 32.

Congratulations to those fics that advanced. There were some REALLY close matchups (we’re talking 3 vote differences). We’re now down to two matchups in each division.

Don’t forget:

We’re looking for your nominations for the best fics in a variety of categories. We will eventually use these to inform a bracket-like competition of things like Angst, Fluff, and One-shots.

Nominate Here

Thanks to @hardtchill for managing this. To avoid conflict of interest, @hardtchill has asked that you please do not nominate anything by AO3 user DODO24.

The Bracket:

A reminder that this bracket is all of the PreathFics that received 900 or more kudos on AO3 (as of April 7, 2020). We need you to vote for your favorites in each round. The fic with the most votes in each matchup advances to the next round. I will not be posting the margins of victory, but @hardtchill also has access to the results and can independently verify their validity.

Sweet 16:

The Sweet 16 is now open for voting. You will vote on 8 pairs of fics. We’re giving everyone three days to vote again. Please please please DO NOT vote more than once and DO skip any pairs of fics that you haven’t read. I’m including links to all of the fics below each division bracket image, should you want to read before voting!

This round will end after 72 hours (8pm GMT/4pm EDT/1pm PDT on April 17/ 4am ChinaST April 18).

Next round will be the Elite 8, and you will vote on 4 pairs of fics to determine who advances out of their division and to the final four!

Sweet 16: VOTE HERE

Here is the bracket:

Division 1:

under pink skies (248782 words) by wnnbh12

Chapters: 30/30 Fandom: Women's Soccer RPF Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press Characters: Tobin Heath, Christen Press Summary:

Tobin likes her life. She's made a name for herself playing professional soccer, she's got an endless list of girls' numbers in her phone, she's got the life she's always wanted.

But sometimes things change.

And sometimes change is a good thing.

---

electric love (23296 words) by blake0tyler Chapters: 3/3 Fandom: Women's Soccer RPF Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press, Alex Morgan/Kelley O'Hara

Characters: Alex Morgan, Tobin Heath, Christen Press, Kelley O'Hara, Lindsey Horan, Morgan Brian, Crystal Dunn, Mallory Pugh, Emily Sonnett, Julie Johnston, Rose Lavelle

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, chaotic alex morgan, everyone is oblivious

Summary:

As a best friend, Alex knows — she just knows — that there are really only three things that Tobin genuinely cares about: black coffee early in the morning, playing soccer, and kissing girls at parties when she’s slightly too tipsy.

Alex also knows that dating pretty transfer students from Stanford does not fit into that category anywhere.

She knows.

Okay, she’s fairly sure, at least.

Christen & Tobin at college.

(& Alex’s perspective on the whole thing).

---

Feeling This (180329 words) by 5oclocksomewhere

Chapters: 32/32 Fandom: Women's Soccer RPF Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press

Characters: Tobin Heath, Christen Press, Kelley O'Hara, Julie Johnston, Ashlyn Harris, Ali Krieger, Alyssa Naeher, Lauren Cheney, Amy Rodriguez

Summary:

Christen is excited to start her freshman year at UNC, rooming with three of her teammates. A last minute transfer changes everything.

---

Wild and Young (44193 words) by Hidge Chapters: 19/? Fandom: Women's Soccer RPF Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press, Tobin Heath/Alex Morgan Characters: Tobin Heath, Christen Press, Alex Morgan, Kelley O'Hara, Allie Long, Julie Johnston, Crystal Dunn, Original Male Character(s)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, Love Triangles, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Confused Tobin, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Fluff and Humor, high school parties

Summary:

It turned out that Tobin Heath was totally into that whole good girl thing.

Tobin thought that Alex Morgan was the only girl that she could ever want, and then she got to know Christen Press.

--- Division 2:

---

Lonesome Dreams (286745 words) by whatname0523 Chapters: 36/? Fandom: Women's Soccer RPF Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press

Characters: Tobin Heath, Christen Press, Mana Shim, Kelley O'Hara, Alex Morgan, Servando Carrasco, Julie Johnston, Zach Ertz

Summary:

I lie under starlit sky And the seasons change in the blink of an eye I watch as the planets turn And the old stars die and the young stars burn But I don't really know this place, And it's lonesome here in the wide-open space Can it be as real as it seems? Maybe this time I won't wake from the dream

---

I was struggling to figure out how lightning works (then it struck me) (128582 words) by alittlestitious Chapters: 25/25 Fandom: Women's Soccer RPF Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press Characters: Tobin Heath, Christen Press, Alex Morgan, Ali Krieger, Ashlyn Harris, Kelley O'Hara, Julie Johnston, Original Child Character(s) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Single Parents, Family, Kid Fic

Series: Part 1 of

Struck

Summary:

"Hey Al, I accidentally kidnapped some kids," Tobin rushes out when her best friend picks up the phone, without so much as a hello.

Tobin possibly makes the best biggest mistake of her life.

---

Mixed Messages (110746 words) by elm27 Chapters: 28/? Fandom: Women's Soccer RPF Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press Characters: Alex Morgan, Kelley O'Hara

Summary:

Christen transfers across country to attend UNC, following in the footsteps of her friend Kelley O'Hara. Once she's there it is one series of events after the other, mostly surrounding her new roommate, Tobin.

---

Love on the Weekend (152214 words) by whatname0523 Chapters: 19/19 Fandom: Women's Soccer RPF Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press Characters: Tobin Heath, Christen Press, Kelley O'Hara, Allie Long, Lindsey Horan, Emily Sonnett

Series: Part 2 of

Roman Holiday

Summary:

I gotta leave ya, it's gonna hurt me My clothes are dirty and my friends are getting worried

Tobin and Christen fell for each other in Italy. Can they make a long distance relationship work now that they're home?

--- Division 3:

---

Gold Love (172649 words) by Holom Chapters: 18/? Fandom: Women's Soccer RPF Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press Characters: Christen Press, Tobin Heath, Mallory Pugh

Summary:

“Christen? It…it is you, right?” Tobin sounded a bit unsure now.

Christen wanted to say something but she felt like she’d forgotten how to speak - like she was 15 again meeting Tobin for the first time. Her eye had caught the light reflecting off something on Tobin’s finger and she was certain she was going to pass out.

Right there, right where she saw Tobin put it on 12 years ago, was Christen’s ring.

“You know I waited for you. I waited for you until that loud u-17 coach threatened to make me run laps for the whole camp. I was so sure you were going to walk into the changing room, Christen. Where did you go?"

---

on a scale (from one to ten) (200591 words) by softanticipation Chapters: 28/28 Fandom: Women's Soccer RPF Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press, Kelley O'Hara/Christen Press Characters: Christen Press, Kelley O'Hara, Ali Krieger, Alex Morgan, Sydney Leroux, Tobin Heath

Series: Part 1 of

on a scale (from one to ten)

Summary:

After a summer apart, everything changes between Christen Press and her childhood best friend, Kelley O'Hara. All Christen wants to do it figure it out, but she's got a handful of other things that keep distracting her: thinking about grad school, being forced to make new friends, and - most importantly - trying to get along with Kelley's newest teammate, who seems to be out to make Christen's life a living hell.

---

pillowtalk (36823 words) by softanticipation Chapters: 4/4 Fandom: Women's Soccer RPF Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press Characters: Christen Press, Tobin Heath

Series: Part 1 of

pillowtalk

Summary:

Tobin's hurting. Christen's always there.

“It’s okay,” Christen soothes, moving her hand to come up and tangle in the base of Tobin’s hair. “We don’t have to do this now.”

“But I want to,” Tobin says, jaw setting even as her eyes fill with glittering tears. “I want to do this now.”

---

Afterglow (163024 words) by quincindentaldreams Chapters: 17/? Fandom: Women's Soccer RPF Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press

Characters: Tobin Heath, Christen Press, Kelley O'Hara, Amy Rodriguez, Megan Rapinoe, Ashlyn Harris, Ali Krieger, Cody Press, Meghan Klingenberg, Becky Sauerbrunn

Additional Tags: Parenthood, Soldier!Tobin, Mom!Christen, Breaking Up & Making Up, G!pTobin

Summary:

"Her father, however, with the back doors closed from all the commotion and the front porch windows open, had recognized it instantly. His hand stopped from where it had been flipping the next pancake, ears tuned in to the outside to make sure he was hearing things correctly, then the sound of that old truck door shutting sounded throughout the house.

Christen angled her head backwards as the back door was opened, watching her father peak his head out quickly and wipe his hands on a hand towel. Every hair on her body stood up, as if lightening was about to strike through the blue sky above her head.

“There’s someone at the door for you, baby.”

--- Division 4:

---

Worth a Thousand Words (69624 words) by Heath17_KO5 Chapters: 18/? Fandom: Women's Soccer RPF Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press Characters: Tobin Heath, Kelley O'Hara, Christen Press, Alex Morgan, Ashlyn Harris, Emily Sonnett, Lauren Holiday, Ali Krieger

Additional Tags: background kellex, the whole uswnt - Freeform, Photographer AU, possible background soran, Don’t copy to another site

Summary:

Photographer Tobin has been hired to do the (tastefully nude) photography for a USWNT calendar, the proceeds of which will be used to benefit charity. She expected a busy day. She expected the long hours. She expected the nervousness of the women. She did not expect Christen Press.

---

Girl Crush (198389 words) by Urbanrebel6 Chapters: 28/28 Fandom: Women's Soccer RPF Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press Characters: Tobin Heath, Christen Press, Alyssa Naeher, Kelley O'Hara, Sydney Leroux, Ali Krieger, Alex Morgan Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University

Summary:

Christen has a girl crush

---

we'll take the world by storm (it isn't that hard) (30866 words) by bestthreemonths Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Women's Soccer RPF Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press

Summary:

Navigating life, love, and adulthood in Los Angeles is hard enough for the average 26-year-old, but most 26-year-olds don't have several million subscribers hanging onto their every word like Christen Press does.

aka the youtuber AU

---

Make Me Like You (40428 words) by LittleHeiHei Chapters: 15/? Fandom: Women's Soccer RPF Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press Characters: Tobin Heath, Christen Press, Alex Morgan, Kelley O'Hara, Allie Long, and the rest of the USWNT, Ashlyn Harris, Jill Ellis

Additional Tags: Hate to Love, Sharing a Bed, Secret Relationship, Eventual Smut, I'm as clueless as you are about where this is going, Fluff, They're both rude asf, Enemies to Lovers

Summary:

They’ve hated each other since they met in the 2009 NCAA final. Christen thinks Tobin is cocky and insensitive. Tobin thinks Christen is uptight and far too serious. Fast forward 6 years and the two women find themselves sharing a room during the 2015 World Cup. This could get interesting…

#preathfics madness #sweet 16 #900 kudos

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ckret2 · 5 years ago

Text

Eddie’s like but does he LIKE us like us and Symby’s like he’s got fangs take a chance

Written for @symbruary Day 15, free day. So I decided to write a part 2 to the Venom/Morbius thing I wrote a few days ago, where Morbius is like, secretly into Venom. It was only fair that I demonstrate that Venom is secretly into Morbius too.

Also in canon Eddie always gets crushes on girls and the symbiote either quickly emotionally tags along or slowly emotionally tags along, so I thought it'd be nice if the symbiote got the crush and Eddie is the one who slowly emotionally tags along.

Bouncing wildly back and forth between giving the symbiote a brain-voice and just mixing its thoughts and Eddie’s together all willy-nilly in the narration is fun.

###

You like him, Eddie.

Eddie grumbled in acknowledgment.

Like him too.

Eddie grumbled louder.

They'd just finished having a midnight meal with Morbius, who'd invited them to visit Monster Metropolis—partially to give the symbiote another potential safe haven, but partially to socialize.

And as a consequence, Venom had spent the last hour sitting on the railing of a dark fire escape, pondering over the conversation, trying to figure out what kind of socialization Morbius was asking for.

They had concluded that they couldn't conclude what his exact intentions had been. It had all been rather ambiguous.

The symbiote was of the strong opinion that they should remove the ambiguity posthaste.

Should ask him out. The symbiote was basically vibrating with eagerness. On an emotional level. Not a physical one. A bunch of stretched out goo vibrating between Eddie's organs and atop his semi-dissolved skin would probably gently rattle apart the fire escape.

It was a lot more excited than Eddie would have expected over the thought of a date. "Dear... without checking my memories, what do you think a date that involves two humans would consist of?" He was somewhat concerned that it was picturing what their date nights were like.

The symbiote eagerly pushed over a pile of mental images. A relaxing moonlit walk through New York City's most crime-ridden streets, looking for wrongdoers to thwart. Splitting a romantic dinner for two—Morbius could have the blood and Venom could have the brains, so nobody would have to fight over the good bits. Pressing their mouths together and demonstrating the deadly-dangerous razor-sharpness of their fangs on each other's lips and tongues.

Venom's (admittedly already rather vacant) gaze went totally blank. "Okay. That's actually pretty nice."

And while they were going on the moonlit walk the symbiote could stretch over both of their hands and connect their thoughts. They could feel each other's feelings, wouldn't even have to speak. Very romantic.

"Hmm..."

They could ask if Morbius was interested in doing what Eddie called the Weird Stuff.

Venom almost fell off the railing.

It would be even weirder with a third person!

"Maybe save the Weird Stuff for the second date," Venom mumbled. The symbiote's interest was surprising to Eddie. Typically it more or less jumped on board with Eddie's attraction, even if wasn't always easy to untangle that way. But it liked Morbius itself?

Like him better than Beck or Anne.

Ouch. Well, the memories of both those relationships put a firm stop to Eddie's Weird Stuff thoughts.

Sorry.

Why was the symbiote so interested in Morbius? Not that it shouldn't be—and not that Eddie wasn't, too—but it was unusual for Eddie to be the one following the symbiote's lead. It was typically slower than Eddie to show attraction outside of that-would-make-a-nice-host attraction. (The symbiote was mildly alarmed to discover Eddie recognized when it was doing that. Eddie pointed out that it was hard not to notice when the symbiote was making eyes at someone with a cozy-looking rib cage when it was using Eddie's eyes.) So why was it so interested in Morbius?

Because Venom looked normal to Morbius. Because Morbius understood what it was like to have a hunger he needed to control in order to fit into society and that made other humans fear him. Because Morbius looked at the symbiote—the symbiote, independent from its host, independent from anyone else—as a monster, but to Morbius "monstrosity" didn't mean it needed to be contained and controlled, but sheltered and protected.

"Of course," Venom said quietly. Of course. Not that Eddie hadn't noticed and appreciated those things, but... he hadn't quite realized how rare they were. And they were rare. Weren't they?

Plus his fangs were hot.

A grin stretched across Venom's face. "His teeth aren't quite as impressive as ours," they said, "but they are cute."

Cute. Not a thought Eddie would have expected out of himself, once upon a time. To think, the first time he'd gotten married he'd thought he was straight. It wasn't until the second time he got married that he realized how... how small and arbitrary and meaningless the narrow boundaries he'd once lived in were when it came to love. It had taken falling in love with someone with no shape and no gender before he had gradually been able to look past the shapes and genders humans came in.

He still sometimes wondered whether his other had helped him realize something—something latent, or something suppressed perhaps—within his own psyche; or if its influence had changed him somehow, rewritten something in his mind to view other humans more like the way the symbiote viewed them, the same way it minutely changed his body chemistry.

Didn't rewrite your mind! The symbiote paused. Probably. Not on purpose. Never tried to.

If it had, wanting to kiss a vampire wasn't the strangest urge the symbiote had accidentally given him.

Some small part of Eddie still saw those separate categories of humans that were arbitrary to the symbiote; women still caught his attention more frequently than men. Maybe that was another reason why, this one time, his own interest had developed more slowly than the symbiote's.

But it had developed?

"Yes," Venom said. "We both like him."

So ask him out!

"We don't know if he likes us."

We'll find out when we ask him!

"But if he doesn't—"

"Buddy," said a man leaning out a window onto the fire escape, "you've been talking yourself in circles over this guy for an hour. Either go ask him out or go brood somewhere else so I can sleep, will ya?"

Venom started, getting off the railing to stand on the fire escape properly. "Uh. Sure."

"This neighborhood, I swear..." The man slammed his window shut.

Venom shot a web line across the street and swung away. Okay. They'd ask him. At some point. Once they thought up an appropriate approach.

But first, they'd see how this visit to Monster Metropolis went.

###

Crossposted to AO3, link in my description. (If you're on mobile, you've gotta go down to the ask/submit/etc links and scroll sideways to reach it.) If you enjoyed the fic, I'd appreciate a reblog or comment!

#venom #symbiote #venom symbiote #eddie brock #morbius #symbruary #fanfic #my writing

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darkhymns-fic · 4 years ago

Text

You had it coming

"Useless boy, newly-turned eighteen, with barely a gald to his name now, and all he had left was a Stain over his heart. Not even broken, but diseased."

Fandom: Tales of Crestoria Characters/Pairing: Aegis Alver/Vicious, Aegis Alver/Queen Rebecca Rating: M Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: Warning for mentions of trauma, suicidal thoughts, and some dubious consent. Basically, Aegis is not having a good time.

It is said that a knight must protect his lady. But Aegis simply listened as best as he could.

And besides, she was not his lady.

The Queen could not leave her chambers for very long, even if it was with Aegis, so proper and upright. For he was the very same knight who trained so early in the morning, his spear work unparalleled to many except for the curved sword of Leon’s. But even the palace could get cold and dark, filled with guards who went lax in their duty, and whom Aegis would not reprimand until the very next day. Although lately, that had barely been an issue.

“You will listen to me blather the whole night through?” she had asked once. She had been seated at a small dining table, placed near one of the great stained-glass windows of a small library that she regularly visited. Its depiction of Kasque refracted moonlight through its panels, making it difficult on one to stare at it for very long. Perhaps that had been its very intent.

“I will do whatever it is that you ask of me, Your Highness,” Aegis said, standing at guard, one hand clenched into a fist as he kept it level with his chest, just right over his heart. “If you need to speak whatever is on your mind, I will lend you my very ear.”

“Ah, but Aegis,” she said, and he heard the shifting of her dress. Heavy and laden with jewelries that her king had bestowed her, some of them on the very day that he had made his proposal. “You listen, yet, you will not meet my eye.”

He swallowed. For he was turned away, standing guard as he stared at the door that led to the library’s exit.

“I simply do not wish to disgrace you.” He bowed – not at her, of course, with the direction he was still facing. “I understand it can be painful for one to share their grief like this. As a knight, I will not be privy to your tears, for they are yours and yours alone.”

The sigh could be heard so well in the quiet, the space around them so wide. “And yet… have I ever asked you to turn away?”

At that moment, he did not know what to say. His arm aching as he kept his pose, he stared straight ahead, into the stone walls and the door, its iron handle glinting from the light within the room.

The tales she would tell him of her old home, in the outskirts of Medegal, where the seasons could be so much harsher than in the city with its walls. Aegis had already heard her speak of the crops she had helped grow, the way the dirt would bury within her fingernails, working on her family’s farm. Aegis had not seen her when she first appeared at the palace, but it was said, through whispers and frantic gossip that Aegis immediately punished anyone for spreading, that she had still been wearing her brown smock from working in the fields, her burnished hair in disarray, but her eyes as bright as the many rings the King wore.

Aegis had only seen her as his proper Queen, a woman who occasionally missed her home, even if it was in the poorer stretches of the kingdom.

“It is not proper,” he simply said. After all his training, his studying, his devotion, he should know something as simple and straightforward as this.

There were times that he had heard her weep, and it was at such times he would do all he could to keep his fight-or-flight responses down. How shameful it would be of him to leave her at her most vulnerable!

Thankfully, she was not weeping now. But… again, that soft sigh that pulled through the night.

“As your Queen, Sir Alver, I could order you to look at me, through times like these.” There was a sternness to her tone. It was very becoming of her, he thought. “That it would be your knightly duty to help comfort me as proper, when your Queen suffers.”

Of course that was true. Aegis cleared her throat, his polished shoes shifting on the marble floor. “I apologize, Your Highness. Then I will simply-”

“But I am not asking as your Queen, Aegis,” she whispered, stopping him in mid-turn. “I am asking as your friend.”

The doubt festered in him like stage-fright. He tried to not let it leak through his voice. “But, our stations…”

“And all this time, I have called you by your name!” She laughed, and it was then he was weak and finally turned to her. His Queen was still seated, hands placed on her lap, one curled over the other. Stained glass around her, the moonlight making it shimmer, so much so that she didn’t even seem real for that one moment.

Aegis could believe those who could not understand her beauty, how it must have shone through the mud and grime on her first day in Medegal.

“Could you humor me, dear Aegis, and call me by my own?”

Queen Rebecca would not blame him when he stated he must be at his knights’ quarters, before the hour ran too late. She would not blame him when he delegated another trusted soldier to walk her back to her chambers, separate from the King’s.

She would not blame her knight for anything.

These sinners had their very own Nation, and all that they would do was fish, cook, and mend their wooden boardwalks that extended over the tempestuous river that they had made their home.

Aegis was not the only one to be shocked.

“And you all call yourselves transgressors?!” Vicious had kicked away at a crate full of dead fish, the stink carried heavily in the wind that brought it straight to Aegis’ nose, even as far away as he was. He covered his mouth while a man went to the cargo and tried to retrieve before some flopped straight back into the river.

“Hey! What’s your problem?! This is dinner for tonight!”

“Unless those are man-eating piranhas, you shouldn’t be wasting your time with it!” Vicious scoffed, glaring at the man as if he had personally just knifed him in the chest without even a warning. No one had ever looked so out of place than he did, even in a city full of what was supposed to be his fellow ne’er do wells. Black hair, streaked with red, seemed to rush from his head like fast-moving tar. “What were you even guilty of? Sitting your ass on the toilet too long before your wife called the Enforcers on ya?”

“The hell? I don’t even have a wife!”

“Blah blah, whatever.” The Great Transgressor gave a great sigh, as if it pulled down his very bones to sink into the water. “I feel too depressed to even drink.”

Aegis just wanted to be away from it all. To be sitting in a den full of transgressors who had evaded punishment, to have had to disobey his very oath as a knight, to his king and to his-

A sharp pain in his chest. I can’t think back to that.

Seated near the edge of a stall, seemingly abandoned, Aegis had evaded much of Kanata’s frustrating attempts at being so-called comrades and was even grateful to the clearly deranged girl he was with to drag him away. He had no escape, unless he could merely just swim out of here, but he knew it would be no easy feat, not with whatever means they had done to get into the Nation of Sin in the first place.

He shifted back, heard the clinking of glass suddenly. He turned to find a crate full of colored bottles. Alcohol? Does this so-called Nation also have a brewery? Such petty sins would indeed make sense to them. He only reached forward to see just what exact quality it contained-

“Hey! Gimme that!” Vicious knocked Aegis roughly aside to the boardwalk, snatching the bottle from his head. “Hehehe, finally!”

“E-Excuse me!” Aegis shouted, his balance completely ruined as he struggled to at least sit back up with some form of decorum.

“What? You wantin’ some, knighty boy?” Vicious grinned, shaking the bottle by its neck at Aegis. “That’s not against your moral code? Actually, you even old enough?” A cackle. “Either way, I get first sips.”

“That is not the issue!” Although, drinking alcohol so ruthlessly, without any regard to responsibility, was an issue all on its own, but that wasn’t the point!

The Great Transgressor took a swig, head back, one hand on his bare hip. It was like he showed off that Stain of Guilt of his so gleefully, imprinted over his navel and carved deep into the flesh like a brand.

When it came to transgressors, this was what Aegis pictured. One who showed no remorse, no sympathy, and paraded around their sins like a banner. Nothing like the people who lived here, their own brands like unassuming tattoos.

Meanwhile, Aegis’ own still burned underneath his vest. To think he could be in the same category as-

Vicious grimaced just then, followed by a sputter straight into Aegis’ face who took the frontal assault of the spray of alcohol that the Great Trangressor spat out. “Ugh! This stuff’s weak!”

“Y-You-! How could you-?!” Aegis stuttered, wiping away at his brow in pure disgust.

Vicious glanced to the ex-knight. “Oh, still here?” A low laugh that traveled through the chest. “If you wanted to share, you should have just said! You can have the rest of it. Seems perfect for your type.” He tossed the bottle at him with all the effort of a bored bartender.

Aegis only barely caught it in time, tipping up the head accidentally to have it soak through his uniform. “I, I didn’t want this!”

“No need to thank me!” Vicious grinned before bending down, hands at his hips. That searing grin, too close, and Aegis once again lost his composure and flinched back. “But if you’re gonna drink your sorrows away for lost love, you should just get it over with.”

Aegis was silent, only hearing the swaying of the water at the docks, thick and overbearing. A fist tightened over the bottle.

“Ah, not gonna admit it still? Fine, fine.” From how close he was, his Stain of Guilt continued to burn within the sunlight. It was hard to look away, despite the disgust building within Aegis like a sickness. That was what it was. That was it. “You’d probably fit in with the rest of these nobodies then. Such a pisswater place…”

“I am not…one of them,” Aegis blurted out, but with hesitance still. And…yet…

The smile on Vicious was stinging, not like a dagger, but something worse. It could still draw so much blood all the same. “That’s not what the good people think,” he said. He lifted up his hand, thumb and forefinger out as he pointed it at Aegis’ face. “Show them a different angle, and they turn on you faster than you can fucking blink.”

Aegis was not sure why Vicious was talking with him, or why he was letting him be this close. Still, the water sloshed beneath them, rushing against the wood of the docks. “And that is the same with you?” he challenged. “Your reputation isn’t deserved?”

“Ha! Nah, it’s deserved very much. But you know, people still don’t get things right, and that gets a little frustrating after a few years.” Vicious’ grin was just a permanent fixture on his face, like a crack made within stone. “People are still fucking cowards in the end, but you know that.”

It didn’t mean anything, and it shouldn’t have set something awful in Aegis’ throat, the bottle still held in his hand. But before he could say anything back, Vicious stood up, already giving a wave.

“See ya! Make sure to take in slow sips. Don’t wanna get those hiccups.” And the darkness that was him moved, but still Aegis kept feeling the shadows shift.

Still, he couldn’t escape it.

The Queen had specifically requested for him, he was told.

“She sounded distressed,” spoke one of his knights, head slightly inclined, his eyes half-covered by the helm he wore. Many of his men were obedient, letting little sway them, but he could admit that at times, it unnerved him, that obediency. But that only meant he had more to learn and strive for.

“I will go to her then,” he reassured. After traveling to the palace, passing underneath the painted windows, Kasque looking down on all, Aegis was soon at the door to the Queen’s chambers. Plush carpet of the hallways softened his footsteps, but the occasional clang of his spear echoed within the confined space.

“Aegis…” he heard his Queen call out, before he had even knocked and announced himself.

“I apologize, Your Highness. I hope I haven’t frightened you. I heard you have been unwell?” Aegis cleared his throat, the hallways particularly dark as he set his spear against the wall.

“Please…help me…”

The voice was weak and pleading. The disturbance moved him to further action. “Your Highness!” Just a moment of hesitance before he reached for the handle to the door, pushing inward. Already unlocked, he noted. The room inside was so dark. What if the Queen had been attacked? Was her intruder still here? “Are you injured? Hold on!"

He moved fast and impulsively, nearly tripping over a bundle of clothes from what he could see in the hallway light. But there was no body within them...

“Aegis.” Always calling him by his name, despite their stations. Her voice was nearer. He raised his head.

They said that the Queen’s beauty was unparalleled, for that is why the King had sought her. Raised in mud and toil, she would no longer be held down by such lowly things anymore. The King had raised her up so that she could be more befitting a role that fit her appearances.

Aegis’ eyes adjusted to the dark to find the Queen standing before him, her form completely bare. She no longer even wore her crown, her hair falling along her shoulders in waves, as dark as the earth she must have dug through for her family’s farm.

He had no idea what was happening.

“Your…Highness?”

She shook her head, a rapturous smile on her face. “Please… even now… you won’t call me by my name?”

He did not understand. His mouth was as dry as the summer air outside.

“I suppose it is hard to break old habits…” She walked forward. By then his eyes continued to betray him, roaming across a form that only the King should be allowed to witness. “Aegis…” her whisper, sliding through his head.

When she reached out for him, a hand brushing against his immaculate vest, trying to unearth a button from its clasp, it was like a spell had been broken. So close, she seemed as unreal as the figure in the palace’s stained-glass windows.

“Your Highness!” he shouted, taking a step back. He had nearly tripped over the clothes ( her clothes?! ) that still lay in a heap on a floor, like discarded rubble decorated in golden filigree. “Wh- I-I don’t… You’re not dressed!”

A curious look passed through her eyes. Still, the hallway light just barely touched her, gliding over thighs and the shadow of breasts. “Yes… It is for you, Aegis.”

“I don’t-! You…are not well. A…. a doctor, I will get a doctor-” And as Aegis turned, he felt a hand, like steel, root him to the floor.

“Why? Why do you still refuse me? You desire me, don’t you?”

His shivering was enough to send his breathing into erratic patterns. He could barely think. “Your Highness, you are unwell.” And like a fool, he faced her again, met with eyes that felt so sharp. He instinctively covered his vision orb with his free hand, shutting it away as best he could. “You are distraught… You are not yourself-”

“I am more myself than I have ever been!” Her voice was raised, just enough to stun him, to let her continue. “Why don’t you let yourself do the same?” Another step forward. Her other hand reaching to stroke his cheek, his hair.

Still, he could only say, “Your Highness…”

“Even now, I can tell you want me. Please, Aegis. Please, look at me…”

She was going to kiss him.

The panic took hold of his body like a parasite. He gripped her shoulder and shoved her back, just enough so that he could breathe. “Your Highness, I’m sorry, you are unwell, I’m…”

He was not brave enough. He rushed out of her chambers and slammed shut the door. The spear he had left to stand by the right wall waited for him.

Hands clenched around its smooth surface. He would not be privy to her weeping.

When Aegis had weathered through grueling tests for the knighthood, his parent’s gald that he carried to Medegal quickly running dry, he knew that to waste such effort and possibility would be the greatest tragedy. It quickly became about focus, about drive, about morality.

He had let her die right in front of him.

The Enforcer was not human, a being cloaked in white, hood covering a face that did not exist. He could feel the thrum of energy that made up its existence. The people cried out for justice, and thus an Enforcer was born, ready to carry out its one sole purpose. Even so, Aegis tried to look into its face, tried to see if it held anything else within it.

He heard the rapid footsteps of the man he had saved, moving away. Aegis lowered his spear. It felt too heavy, along with the Stain of Guilt on his chest. “Just do it,” he muttered, knowing the Enforcer would not hear him. It would not need to. It would do what it was meant to do, pushed on by the will of the people. They wanted him to die.

The gunshot had felt like it had been right next to his head, blasting his eardrum, making his head ring. The Enforcer’s cloak billowed, light streaming, a cry that was once again not human, leaking into the air.

“You just gonna continue being dead weight?”

Aegis was clutching his left ear, glaring at Vicious. But the Great Transgressor wasn’t smiling now. The expression was foreign on someone like this, who was boisterous and reveled greatly in his heinous existence. One of his strange weapons was slung over his right shoulder, finger just hovering over the trigger.

“Should have left you back in those tunnels if that were the case, eh, big-shot knight?”

His headache was already dimming, but his anger was mounting. With a growl, Aegis grabbed what he could of Vicious’ collar. But the man barely wore anything that made sense, so his fingers grasped at sweaty skin and tangled black hair, and only got enough of whatever made up the other’s coat. Only then did the hint of a smirk appear back on Vicious, suspect and calculating.

“You had no right to do that!” He shouted too loudly, so much it scratched the back of his throat. “You don’t get to decide!”

“You types shouldn’t get to decide for others either, yet here we are… Bit of a tragedy, isn’t it?” Vicious tapped the edge of his gun to Aegis’ chin, lifting it, the upturned bit of it pricking his skin. He could feel the heat from it, still brimming with whatever ammo was used for its chamber. “I told ya to drink your sorrows away. Not to let it eat you up inside until there’s nothing left.”

“You don’t know. ” Aegis could still feel the warmth of her blood in his hands. It didn’t help that Vicious was warm too, the heat radiating off him like a bonfire. The laughter that had rung out before, followed by terrible bangs in the air that sent off each heartbeat in Aegis shuddering. “I have no more purpose…Not after that.”

He swallowed, feeling the solidness of the gun, how it pointed directly to his throat. He nearly wished Vicious would just shoot him right here and get it over with. Let it be over.

“Your purpose is what you choose, you fucking idiot.” The guns dissolved into red mist, taking away its hint of a promise. Aegis gritted his teeth. “You wanna own your sin? Make something of it worthwhile? Or let it own you and die without even a struggle?”

Aegis didn’t know how to answer. His fingers still kept their grip on Vicious’ collar, or his neck, his hair. He wasn’t sure. But whatever had made him rush to save everyone living here, it wasn’t something he could ignore, even with the pain.

Vicious finally grinned, inclining his head just a few inches. “Or is this your way of wanting to kiss me?”

It was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on his head. “Wh- I’m not-!” Aegis immediately let go of Vicious, who only cackled. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“Hey, I didn’t hear a 'no' there,” and more laughter spilled through Vicious’ words. It was infuriating, even as something else morphed into his hands. Something red but chaotic, it moved like something living, erratic in its pace. Not like the Enforcer’s light that simply pulsed like an electrical lamp. “But if you wanna have fun, now’s not the time. You gotta own up to what you are. No escaping that.” A sharp grin. “Believe me.”

Even through everything, Aegis felt the drive in him to protect. But you didn’t protect her, came the thought, dark and all around him. Or was that just Vicious, close to him again, his sin engulfing all who stood too close.

Aegis couldn’t remember agreeing, but he must have, for whatever Vicious stabbed through him shifted through his blood. It set fire to his heart, where the Stain hovered over, despite all that he could do to cover it up.

And as Vicious let whatever manifestation of sin rush through him, Aegis couldn’t help but think that this must have been what Rebecca had felt, her eyes fixated on him as the sword came down.

Why was pain the only thing that connected them both?

“I must apologize to you, Sir Alver.”

Aegis was part of a retinue with the Queen, their march echoing across the stone streets of Medegal. “I’m afraid I do not know what you mean, Your Highness. We are only a little further until the capital building.”

The knights of the retinue didn’t physically respond to the Queen’s question. They didn’t respond to much of anything. Perfect soldiers, obedient to a fault. Aegis would quell down his uneasiness. As long as they did their job of protecting her, professing their loyalty to the end, it did not matter.

Still, he saw the Queen’s uneasiness, but he had to keep his gaze forward. Looking back, he would be assaulted with images he had no right of knowing.

“I was not acting proper with you. It is just,” she said before she took a pause. The circle of guards were around them both, but they felt so far away, as if they were simply a wall of armor. “Perhaps I had misjudged?”

Aegis felt the panic begin to seep through. Why here? Why now? Did she not understand where they both were? “It is through no fault of your own.” He saw the citadel of the building once they turned a corner. “This way.”

“But you have always looked at me, Aegis. Is it not what you want?”

Her words made his heart stop, despite the lively throng of city folk around them. He was a frightened animal trapped within a corner, with a hot torch being held to his face. He couldn’t face this. “Your Highness-“

“Stop running away from your feelings!”

He finally turned and-

-she was on the ground. The sword was lodged into her stomach, one of her loyal knights standing over her with a blank expression on his face, eyes hidden away by the void of his helmet.

Her crown was scattered to the other side, pushed against the wall of the tunnels. Dark here except for the torches that lined the way. The air was musty, kept within for years, of dust, of cobwebs. He couldn’t breathe.

The spear he held was dangled in his hand, useless.

“Aegis…please tell me…”

He tried to rush to her side, but a hand stopped him. It was hard and powerful, and the fingers dug into his skin like knives. He only barely stopped himself from crying out.

“Stop. There’s nothing you can do for her now.”

Vicious, rooting him to the ground, keeping him upright. He was so close to falling.

The hand kept him away from the blood that seeped across the floor like a vastly-forming ocean. No matter how much he struggled, he couldn’t free himself from that grip. (Or are you just not trying hard enough? You never wanted to touch her anyway) . Aegis could only watch the Queen’s skin turn pale, such stark contrast to the dark blood around her.

(Even now, you can’t even say her name?)

Useless boy, newly-turned eighteen, with barely a gald to his name now, and all he had left was a Stain over his heart. Not even broken, but diseased.

“Aegis, slow down!”

Kanata’s whining voice had a tendency to pierce right through, but the knight only continued marching forward. There was already a storm brewing up, and while that might be to their advantage to keep any future Enforcers coming their way, it was best not to take chances. Sinners didn’t get to avoid justice forever, as what had been demonstrated quite vividly back in the Nation of Sin.

He couldn’t save the people there either.

“How you have been able to elude anyone for this long, I’ll never understand,” he shot back. Kanata and Misella were still quite a ways off, with Vicious trailing along. He was always behind them now, like a long and snaking shadow, and Aegis hated how his own eyes always traveled there. It shouldn’t have mattered. The only way was forward if he wasn’t allowed to die.

Aegis didn’t slow, walking more as the thunder rumbled overhead.

“Come on!” Kanata whined again. Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught the boy trying to brush his bangs out of his eyes. “Meatkyu can’t even keep up!”

Somehow, it was the mention of the little animal that made him pause. The clouds above him broiled endlessly, endlessly. Aegis clenched his fists, stopping. Just like that, the little animal had skittered right up to his boot, mewling pitifully.

All that they had left, with a name brought on by a young girl’s voracious hunger. He sighed. “We’d need shelter if we’re stopping.”

“Nah, just go lie underneath a tree or something.” And like a ghost, Vicious was right next to him, laying an elbow on his shoulder as if he was a piece of furniture. The way he leaned against him, the way he smiled, a wolf in wolf’s clothing. “Really gets ya in touch with your animal side, right? That’s what me and the kids have been doing.”

“And we’d get splinters every night,” spoke Misella in a monotone, while Kanata tried to calm down little Meatkyu with occasional petting.

“Just burn ‘em up! Shouldn’t have to tell ya.”

Aegis took a step away, leaving Vicious’ side, not wanting it. He. Did. Not. Want. It. “I don’t care what any of you decide,” he said. “Do what you want.”

“Hey, knighty boy! Forget you’re one of us? Or did you leave your Blood Sin behind?”

Aegis didn’t answer. He wouldn’t just leave them completely, not when he was stuck, not when he was cast into the role of sinner, of transgressor, of the man who couldn’t even do his one simple task. He only went off to the side, all as the storm continued to build up, the scent of rain in the air.

His chest ached, just over his heart. Did each pulse set the Stain on him shining? He clutched at the vest, wanting to wrench it off. But then he’d have nothing else. Still, his hand remained.

Ever since then, this was all he felt.

He wasn’t sure how far he walked, or if the others wondered where he left to. It was hard to care, even after getting rid of their Enforcers. It was only temporary anyway. They’d be coming after them again, and with the Nation gone, they had no safety at all.

The thunder snapped above him, and Aegis flinched, feeling just the hint of raindrops over his hair.

“Afraid of loud noises?”

The voice made his heart jump (diseased, worthless, but not broken) , made him turn to find the so-called Great Transgressor near him. So close that he hadn’t heard his footsteps, but maybe because of the storm.

“I’m not,” he said, realizing his mistake in even answering such a question. He could see it in the way Vicious smiled at him, enough to get his face hot in embarrassment. “What are you doing here?”

“Making sure you don’t, oh, accidentally trip your neck into a makeshift noose around here. Happens all the time in these types of places.” Vicious shook his head, tsked so gently at the very concept. “Gotta watch over you kids.”

“Don’t call me a child!” Aegis shouted, and he hadn’t meant to. But the storm was getting louder, the rain pouring harder. He was only trying to be heard. “I don’t need any of your help.”

“Heh, interesting, since you’ve been needing it since we’ve met.”

Aegis gritted his teeth. The best decision would have been to turn and leave, but no, he had to walk up to Vicious, had to face him again, despite the other’s taller stature. The rain continued to fall, damping that black hair, stitched with red in-between, to fall over his shoulders like a shroud.

“Then don’t help me next time! I’ve done fine without you – without any of you! And if you hadn’t been in the city, none of this would have even happened. And Rebecca would have-”

He stopped. The name felt so strange on his tongue, like it wasn’t meant to be held there.

Vicious kept his smile, but it turned unkind, more so as he moved in closer. “Say that again.”

Aegis was tempted to take a step back, but that would be admitting something weak in him, even if he already was. He knew he was weak. “She would have still been alive if….”

A black-gloved hand took his chin. He expected to see a gun pointed at him the very next second, hear the soft hiss of it being summoned from Vicious’ own Blood Sin. The red would engulf his vision, and the last thing he’d see was Vicious’ smile, so close, so close.

“Listen, kid, I thought we been over this. I'm not dealing with you and your knights’ little power trips of passing off the blame to the innocent ones, poor little shits that don't know any better. Lucky for you, I ain’t either of those. Still, it’d be kinder if you just stabbed me in the chest instead of trying to push off your guilt onto mine.” The grin looked ready to bite his face off. “I asked you if you were gonna own your sin… So are you gonna add lying to your pretty sin list?”

Aegis was shaking, and the Stain over his heart kept burning. He wondered if his skin would be charred after this, yet the rain kept falling, kept the fires down. “You stopped me from going to her!”

A raised eyebrow. “Only after she was dead.” Closer, and somehow that scent of blood was everywhere. It was inescapable. “Right?”

He didn’t want to think on that, he didn’t want, but the hand on his chin held him so tight, made him raise his head to the sky, made the raindrops sting his eyes.

“Let me take a quick fucking guess, you don’t even know if you cared about that woman, did you? Maybe you were using her? Is that it? Using her to make yourself feel all good and righteous and oh so full of justice, because that’s what all you knight-types are. You get off on feeling you’re doing good for everyone while you throw some poor sap to the Enforcers just to get eaten alive. Am I getting it?”

“Stop it,” Aegis was pleading, but Vicious kept holding onto him, kept talking.

“The funny thing about all this, you couldn’t even lie to her, huh? Not even a little bit! Oh, but you can lie about everything else!”

Vicious shoved the other into a tree. His clothes scraped against the bark, but still he kept his gaze forward, into that smile, that smile. “You can lie to the big bad Transgressor for ruining your life, and to yourself for having to deal with all of this. But you couldn’t lie to her for one little second until after she passed on. Cruel bastard.”

Another shift back, Aegis feeling the tree now brushing against his scalp. “Now, if it was me, I’d have given her roses to lay on her deathbed, held her hand ‘till the end, all that romantic crap. Poor woman probably never got half as much.” Narrowed eyes, so sharp. “Or, ya know, I’d just not let her die in the first place-”

Aegis couldn’t see any more, not when he grabbed Vicious’ wrist, wrenched it forwards to bring him close. He tasted salt, and that was all he could taste at first when he clumsily pressed his lips to the other's. Something choked left his throat, but it was drowned out by the thunder. No one could hear him.

He barely left, catching his breath, before Vicious took over again, giddy laughter spilling from him. “Haha, so that’s what you’re into!” And then it was Vicious taking his mouth this time, and it was as searing as the sin he had plunged straight into his heart. It made him writhe, made him nearly scream every horrid thing against his teeth and tongue. He could feel the grin over his lips, followed by something that just took.

Please, look at me, came the words, and he drowned in it. The rain that fell down too hard, that rushed down his neck, that he could taste between their lips as a tongue moved so deeply through him.

“I’m n-not…like…” he stuttered out, falling back against the tree. It hurt. The kiss bit into him and he only opened his mouth for more of it.

Vicious lived up to his name, at least with the way he touched Aegis, the fingers still biting deep into his chin. Once Aegis’ knees felt weak, letting him slide down the tree, Vicious was over him, leaving him no room to move or breathe, but it wasn’t like he deserved that, now did he?

“You gonna lie about this too?” Vicious challenged, running a tongue over his lips. Voice low, enough to send something shivering through one’s spine but only if they were this close. “I’ll take whatever lies you have left and give it back.”

“What do you even mean by-” Aegis started before there was another kiss, and he wondered then if Vicious would kill him just then. Could he just do it, could he just get rid of this pain except it was only making it worse, kissing him was making it worse and yet Aegis couldn’t stop wanting it. He reached out with his other hand to grip Vicious’ waist, and once again he could barely grasp the coat. Only skin, drenched by the rain.

At some point, he more or less laid on the ground, with the mud coating his once immaculate vest, and Vicious was over him, still holding his chin, still kissing him so hard, and then Aegis felt something press just between his legs. It made him arch up, and only a brief glance caught a knee that was now nudged there, pressing so insistently that only served to confuse Aegis on why it felt this good. Not when everything else burned.

“What is it?” Vicious breathed, and the rain stuck his black hair to his cheeks. It made Aegis stare, captivated, even as part of him knew he should turn away. “Perfect knight, and you never done this before?”

At that, some brief anger. He gripped the waist harder, pulling him down. “I know enough!”

“Oh, so you wanna show me?” And Aegis tried to shut that out, tried to just get lost in whatever this was. If kissing Vicious could just pull him away from himself for even a brief second, if just grinding against him like an animal would do anything at all to make him forget, just make him forget, but her blood was everywhere , but he didn’t mean for it to be his fault. He could have just run away like she asked. But I had never thought that, or had he? Or was he too stupid to think it beyond anything else?

Vicious was moving so close, his mouth leaving trails of heat that soon pressed into his neck. Teeth that bit into skin and it hurt, but it was different at least. Even as the Stain of Guilt over his chest continued to pulse, faster, as if on a rush of adrenaline.

“Go ahead, knight. Show me already.” The knee Aegis moved against stayed in place. He heard Vicious chuckle. “Unless this is how you like it, when I’m not even doing much.”

But, Vicious was doing this. He was, he can’t lie to him. Aegis shut his eyes and tried to kiss Vicious again, furious in his action, a cracked moan leaving him. The ground felt so damp and slippery, but something within him was feeling too hot to ignore or care, and if he could just get to that place, if he could just get it over with…

“You trying to forget?” said Vicious, finally letting go of his chin, but now to press his palm over Aegis’ chest, to the place where it still burned inside him so much. “You still won’t own it.”

“Gh!” Aegis felt something shaking, even if Vicious wasn’t doing much like he said, but it can’t just be me. Then when something released, making him hot, weighing down his limbs, all as he kept moving against Aegis’ knee until his body shuddered with the unfamiliar, he thought, I’m not like this.

In that space where his mind hit a blank, when he tried searching for Vicious’ mouth once more, it all happened too much. Not like this, Aegis, Aegis, Aegis at least tell me you love me even if it’s a lie could you just do that-

In the midst of everything, Aegis pushed Vicious off, letting the rain hit his face. He scrambled back against the tree to lay against. His fingers dug through his hair, grabbing onto what they could.

The pain only felt so much worse.

“Go away!” he shouted, even as he heard Vicious get to his feet. He dared a glance, finding the other already turned away. He barely had a stain on his clothes, the raindrops pattered against his black coat, making it shine.

“Not complaining if you need something to use,” Vicious said. He couldn’t understand that tone. He couldn’t even picture what kind of face Vicious was pulling right now. “But you still need to own to what you did.”

Aegis turned away, gritting his teeth so hard he thought they would break. “Shut up.”

The laughter that followed was almost welcoming. “Well! Can’t say I tried.” He heard him walk away this time, when before he had heard no one come forward at all. “Don’t get lost out here, knight.”

It didn’t matter. He didn’t care. He only hoped the rain would wash everything away. He only hoped that-

Even if it’s just a lie, please-

Aegis stared upwards, and still the rain could soothe nothing in his head. “I’m sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..”

If the other words stalled in his throat, if they were even there to begin with, he still had no way of knowing. Yet he told her, a knight’s every word is a promise.

He never meant to act so kind.

#tales of crestoria #aegis alver #vicious #queen rebecca #fanfiction

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sometimes-love-is-enough · 4 years ago

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do you have any spicy hot takes you wanna drop 👀👀?? i will drop one as well, i think that everyone got carried away with the whole sympathetic and unsympathetic stuff -💫

okay so i read the first sentence and i was like ‘fuck yes time to talk about the sympathetic/unsympathetic thing’ and then i read the rest of it and yeah okay so we’re on the same page here. i have a feeling this is going to get extensive so if you don’t want to hear me complaining about stuff that you may or may not like don’t go reading under the cut. Also it's not going to be very coherent

disclaimer: i am not trying to police the fandom or trying to tell anyone that they can’t write stuff. i do my best to stay in my lane and read/consume content that i want to. these are just. feelings i have.

so on the one hand i sort of understand where the whole concept sprung from. it’s hard to write interesting longform stories without a villain of some sort, it’s not as if there’s all that many characters in the first place, and sometimes using the Dragon Witch doesn’t quite cut it. and honestly if you take away the whole ‘they’re all part of the same person’ thing it would’ve been pretty easy to assume that Deceit was the bad guy when he first showed up. he went the whole ‘ominous smirking, evil laughter’ route because he’s a dramatic little bastard, and some people were like 'my son, I love him' and others went 'evil man! Evil! He's planning bad things' and on a purely mechanical level having tags that distinguish people who think a character is good vs people who think a character is evil is a good thing, it helps you distinguish content you want to look at from the content that you don't!

HOWEVER. I think the idea of characters being 'sympathetic' or 'unsympathetic' in the way that this fandom uses those terms is innately flawed. It's black-and-white thinking and it veers close to the whole puritan thing that tumblr is so fond of. And in most cases 'unsympathetic' is just an excuse to write characters as toxic, abusive, and just downright cruel without having to explain yourself. Which is. Hm. And also just lazy writing.

This bit might be tmi but: Patton actually used to be my favorite Sanders Sides character. But back when i initially got into the fandom, I hadn't quite worked out how to filter the content I looked through yet, and I just kept seeing this... constant stream of stuff involving him being abusive to the others in a way that was hm how shall i say this. Uncomfortably familiar. especially with a lot of religious guilt themes. It's not anyone's fault, precisely, but it did tinge a lot of my fandom experience, and it maaaay be why i'm not great at writing him. Doesn't matter. The point is... There wasn't a point. I'm just still bitter about that and wanted to mention it. Maybe i'm angrier about this than i thought i was. Let's not talk about that. Let's move on with this discussion.

You'll notice that i used Janus as an example up there at the top. I can't be sure (and actually it grimly fascinates me so if anybody who's been around here longer than I have has any info on this send it over, I'd love to know) but I think that Deceit's appearance in CLBG may have marked the beginning of this whole unsympathetic/sympathetic split in the fandom. It seems a safe enough bet, anyway, especially since the earliest example I can find of any fic being tagged 'unsympathetic' in the AO3 archive is from 4th February 2018, literally the day after CLBG went up. (damn, guys, moving fast).

The first occurrences of the 'sympathetic' tag crop up about a month later. Tumblr is impossible to search so I don't know if there was any discussion about terms, or if it was just a kind of snowball effect with people seeing the tags and tagging their own fics as appropriate (and this is a fascinating phenomena in itself!) but either way - i have absolutely no idea what happened to make people go from 'we're divided on whether this character who presents himself a villain is actually doing bad and detrimental things to the other sides/thomas/the world as a whole/innocent puppies' to 'hang on what if the other sides were kicking puppies also?'

So now this has turned from a rant about terminology into me being genuinely curious about this whole thing. I will put the rant on pause while I go scour AO3 to see when the first occurrences of the tags popped up. Please hold.

Okay. I'm going to ignore the unsympathetic tags for anyone who's not a side because i don't hate myself nearly that much (but uh for the record. There is a part of this fandom that thinks the LITERAL CONCEPT OF SLEEP IS EVIL and i'm not sure if i should be impressed or horrified. What? What???)

All of these numbers are up-to-date as of 17/06/2020, which is when I'm posting this. I'm probably not going to update that, so keep that in mind if you're reading this in the future.

In order of chronological appearance:

Unsympathetic Janus ('Deceit' at the time, of course) - first appears 12 March 2018, 191 works Unsympathetic Roman - first appears 10 February 2019, 102 works Unsympathetic Logan - first appears 24 June 2019, 59 works Unsympathetic Patton - first appears 2 July 2019, 228 works Unsympathetic Remus - first appears 17 July, 2019, 121 works Unsympathetic Virgil - first appears 31 July 2019, 71 works

...I genuinely don't know what I expected.

The fandom was much slower to spark with Unsympathetic Remus content after he first showed up, which is kind of interesting. Unless they just didn't bother to tag it? Like, I'm working with the assumption that everyone's tagging all of their content, which might not always be the case

I thought there'd be so much more Janus and Remus-tagged fics than there actually are.

It does not surprise me that Patton has the most in this category. It makes me sad but it doesn't surprise me. Why are you guys so intent on making him evil

And on the opposite side of the sympathy spectrum (similarly chronological):

Sympathetic Janus - first appears 7 March 2018, 1920 works Sympathetic Remus - first appears 2 July 2019, 965 works Sympathetic Patton - first appears 31 July 2019, 71 works Sympathetic Virgil - first appears 1 August 2019, 69 works (nice) Sympathetic Logan - first appears 8 August 2019, 41 works Sympathetic Roman - first appears 20 August, 56 works

It's actually wild that 'Sympathetic [Janus]' seems to have appeared several days between Unsympathetic Jan made any appearance.

There were several Remus fics that were backtagged to before DWIT was released. I ignored them because it was throwing this off a bit. there may be other problems to this effect in any of the other stats, but i’m too lazy to go back and check those all one-by-one

Sympathetic tags in general seem to be used as, hm, there's a word here i can't quite think of. Basically, 'Sympathetic' seems to be the default setting for characters like Virgil, Patton, Roman, Logan (the 'Light Sides', although i take issue with that terms as well. This isn't the time for that, though. Statistics!!) which 'Unsympathetic' used to be the default for Janus and Remus. That's become slightly more elastic of late, though. Basically if you're using the Sympathetic tag for anyone who's not a 'Dark Side' you're usually doing it to make a point of something. e.g. if you have other sides who aren't usually unsympathetic as such and you're trying to clarify that yes, these specific ones are Okay. Or if you're just being thorough. Anyway that's why LAMP seem to have less works tagged as Symp than the other two.

All the sympathetic tags for non-Janus characters seem to have sprung up in quick succession over a short period of months! I have no idea what this means but it's strange and cool to look at

If you're wondering about the discrepancy between this information and my earlier note that the first appearance of 'unsympathetic' as an AO3 tag was the day after CLBG came out - that fic in question had a general 'unsympathetic dark sides' tag, no specific tags mentioned.

Okay statistics segue over. The only point of that apart from scientific curiosity was to try to puzzle out where the fuck this all stemmed from. I still have no answers.

I need you all to understand that 'Sympathetic' no longer looks like a real word to me.

So. Remember how i mentioned how this fandom managed to make unsympathetic!Remy/Sleep a thing? Yeah. That baffles me. I haven't seen unsympathetic Dr Picani anywhere yet but I know it's only a matter of time and that lowkey horrifies me. But that's not really the most baffling thing because, uh

Well. earlier this week I accidentally stumbled into a corner of tumblr that's dedicated to unsympathetic character Thomas content. If you're a fan of that, i'd advise you to click away from this post now because i'm about to get very angry about that and i don't want to make you upset. Thank you.

What the fuck. literally all of the posts in this corner of tumblr are about c!thomas abusing the sides and being a terrible person??? ??????? ????? WHAT? can we just take a step back and. WHY? WHY are you doing this? Are we watching the same show? from a psychological standpoint, that's self-abuse and self-harm and i suppose it might be interesting if you explored it as such but APPARENTLY NO. apparently that's not what this is about. This is just about writing about someone being abusive to other people for the sake of it. there were so many posts about him 'abusing the sides by telling them they're not real people' and. OKAY so a) he wouldn't do that b) THEY AREN'T. THEY LITERALLY AREN'T REAL PEOPLE WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT

[deep breath]

so actually i think that kind of leads me back to the point of this whole thing. I had a point, what? It surprises me too, don't worry. The point is (roughly) that writing characters as 'unsympathetic' isn't something that i have an objection to at all. Everybody has the capacity to be cruel! Nobody's perfect!! But with the sympathetic/un labels it seems to enforce this strict dichotomy of good vs bad. Either Logan is an abusive monster OR he's a perfect angel. Guys. That's not how it works. And it's not INTERESTING if you do that sort of thing because then you've got people being unnecessarily cruel and evil for the sake of it. They turn into 2-dimensional caricatures that only exist to be bad people.

People make mistakes! I write about characters making mistakes all the time! Janus and Remus pulling the whole trolley problem thing in Pick A Side definitely wasn't a great thing for them to do, but I didn't tag them as unsympathetic at the time and i have no plan to do so because i don't want to write them as two-dimensional caricatures who are only capable of one of two settings on the morality meter. (same goes for the next chapter, whenever that comes up but... let’s talk about that when i post it, maybe)That's boring. If you're going to take characters and make them into antagonists just because you can't think of anyone else to fit the role, and you're doing it by stripping away everything that makes them Them, then you might as well just stuff a paper bag with straw and cast a scarecrow as the villain instead because buddy. You're making a strawman. That's what you're doing. You can't have Patton without kindness and well-meaningness, just as you can't have Patton without the mistakes caused by those two things. Same goes for the other sides and their flaws and strengths.

And then there's the other thing that's definitely more specific to this fandom, which I think was best summarized with something i said in the comments section of Pick A Side with len at like ten minutes past midnight that one time:

(...) and not necessarily related to anything you said, but - this fandom is kind of unique in that... there's no actual bad guys or villains. (at least that's how i perceive it.) The Real Villain Is Your Poor Mental Health. people are always like 'unsympathetic deceit' or 'unsympathetic patton' and point to different points in the videos as evidence, ('i give you permission to think those thoughts' patton's being controlling - that's abuse) but like. it's all the same guy. he's giving himself permission. he's doing it to himself. imagine if we tagged other fandom characters with like 'Unsympathetic Harry Potter' when he was being mean or critical to himself. wild.

So yeah. In conclusion: obviously people should write what they like. If they see characters one way and they want to write about them being two-dimensional monsters that's fine. I kind of wish you'd put more thought into it and make it at least interesting if you're going to do that sort of thing, but you do you i guess.

That being said. If I see any more unsympathetic!Patton content I will start crying. i want to love Goofy Dad Man the same way i used to

#asks #min goes off the rails #this turned into an essay. apology for incoherence and my tendency to jump around wildly!#Anonymous

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