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mostlymarvelsstuff · 2 years

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The Devil, The Witch and The Widow

Authors note: This one wasn't super popular on ao3, but it had a decent enough veiws. Thought I'd post it here to see how it does

Summary: Y/ns past comes back to haunt her and affect her relationship with her girlfriends (Nat & Wanda), and an old friend (Matt) steps in to help keep you in line, well as in line as a murderous ninja working for the Kingpin of crime can be kept.

Warnings: angst(happy end), hurt/comfort

Word count: 3513 WandaNat Masterlist Marvel Masterlist

Your heart ached, but as you re read the letter in your grip you knew what you had to do. You had to break up with them, it was the only way to keep them safe. You suck in a shaky breath as you shove the letter into your bag before you sling it onto your shoulder. You manage to fight off your tears as you walk into the living room of your shared apartment, the three of you had opted to rent a place of your own two months into your relationship when you had become serious.

Your girls are in their usual spots for this time of night, cuddled on the sofa watching sitcoms. They both look over to you as you enter, confusion washes over their features when they see your bag.

“Did Fury call you in for a mission?” the older of the two asks

You shake your head, “No. This isn’t an Avengers thing” your voice sounds broken and hollow. Wanda sits up from where she laid on the other womans lap, her brows furrow in concern as she gets a sinking feeling in her stomach.

“Detka(Baby), talk to us please. Tell us what's wrong.” she practically begs, tears threaten to fall from her eyes, she has a feeling she knows what's coming.

She doesn't want to watch you walk out of her life so she’ll do whatever she can so you’ll stay. Being with her girlfriends brought her a sense of safety and happiness. You and Nat were all she ever wanted, she thought you both felt the same but maybe she was wrong. But what changed, why didn’t you want them anymore?

“We’re what's wrong.” you say as you gesture between the three of you, and god what a lie that was but you had to do this.

Natashas face falls as she registers your words, “Did one or both of us do something to upset you babygirl? We can work this out, we can fix this.” she says, her emerald eyes filling with tears.

She hadn’t known what love was, not until you and Wanda showed up in her life and now that she knew what it was she never wanted to let that feeling go. You both made her happy, happier than she ever thought possible and she wanted to keep you both by her side forever. What brought this on so suddenly? Everything was perfect between the three of you, at least she thought it was.

You sigh and run a hand through your hair, “I can’t do this” you mutter, referring to pretending you were unhappy and breaking up with them, but you knew how those words would sound to them.

“I’ll be more open. About my nightmares, my feelings, and my past. Please Y/n, don’t leave.” Natasha tells you as tears fall down her face. The sight of her crying was already painful to watch, but to hear her talk like you leaving was her fault was even more so.

“I’ll talk more about my insecurities, and I’ll work on my overprotectiveness. Please, just stay.” Wanda adds as her bottom lip trembles. Hell this was harder than you imagined, it wasn’t her fault either.

You hated making them feel this way, you wanted nothing more than to just cuddle with them, tell them how happy they made you and how much you love them. But you couldn’t, you had to go. Tears escape your eyes as well now. You turn your body as your head looks to the door, they both see this and the panic of losing you sets in. They stand and make their way towards you.

Wanda grabs your hand, which gets your attention and makes you look at her, “Y/n, please. Whatever has upset you, we can work through it.”

Natasha joins Wanda at your side and grabs your other hand, “Stay, please.”

You reluctantly pull your hands from their grasps, “I-I can’t….I’m sorry.” you croke out as you bolt for the door. You don’t stop or turn around, you quickly hop on your motorcycle intent on heading to Hells Kitchen to stay with the only person capable of helping you in your current situation.

Natasha lets out a sob as she watches you leave. You and Wanda were the only ones to ever love her, for you to leave without giving a reason why or even trying to work things out with them really hurt her. If this was what love was like, maybe she didn’t want it afterall.

Wanda wraps her arms around her girlfriend and cries with her. She had lost people before, but to lose you and have you still be out there possibly finding someone else to be with, it caused a whole other type of pain.

Eventually Wanda drags Nat to the bedroom, intent on snuggling until sleep overtakes them both. But what she sees on the bed makes her heart feel like it got stabbed. On her side of the bed was your favorite t-shirt, she had always stolen it from you to sleep in. On Natashas side of the bed was the pair of sweatpants she always took from you after returning from a long or hard mission, she liked how soft they were. Next to each of those is a sweatshirt of yours for each of the girls, you knew how much they liked wearing them. Both of them put the clothing items on before crawling into bed, god were they really going to miss you. They love you.

You park your bike on the street before heading into the lawyers apartement, you were the only person to have a spare key. “Y/n? I wasn’t expecting you. What's wrong?”

Of course he already knew it was you, “I’m in a rough spot here Matt.”

He walks into the kitchen so you can properly see him, “Talk to me.”

“Fisk sent me a letter. He wants me back Matt, and he said if I decline his offer he would go after my loved ones.” you explain

He nods, “You're dating two Avengers, I think they can handle what Kingpin has to throw their way”

“Maybe so, but that's not the point. I don’t want my presence to endanger them, they've dealt with enough in life already and they don’t need the extra pressure, stress or enemies. Besides, I can’t let him release the dirt he has on me..” you tell him

“You already broke up with them, didn’t you?” he asks, but he already knows the answer

The tears fall freely and openly, you felt like you’d just torn your own heart out, “Yes. I had to protect them, distance myself from them. They won’t like what I have done or what I have to do and I don’t want them associated with this side of me.”

“Ok.” he nods, “What do you need?”

“If I’m going back to Fisk, I need the DareDevil to have my back.”

It's been almost a week since you randomly and suddenly broke up with both your girlfriends and all their attempts to contact you have gone unanswered, you haven't replied to any texts or returned any of the missed calls, they left you voicemails but didn’t know if you were even listening to them. They’re desperate to talk to you, to at least understand why you left if not work things out. So they decide to try to talk to you in person, which is why they’re currently searching the compound for you.

“Hey guys! What brings you here?” Clint asks as he sees them enter the living room

“She hasn’t told you?” Wanda asks, feeling even more hurt that you apparently didn’t find the break up important enough to mention

His brows furrow, “Who? What?”

“Y/n. She broke up with us last week without telling us why or even trying to work things out.” Nat answers

“So we came to talk to her.” Wanda adds as she nervously spins the rings on her fingers

He's both shocked and confused by this, he knew how the three of you felt about each other and he can’t believe you’d leave them, “Guys, Y/n hasn’t been here.”

Wandas brows furrow, “If she's not staying here then where is she staying?”

“I know where she is.” Matt answers from behind them. Normally he would have done as you asked and not tell anyone, but circumstances have changed.

Nats fists clench as she sees him, she knew the two of you had a past of some type together, you weren't very open with what that meant though so it's easy for her to become jealous.

“Where?” Wanda asks, rather bluntly. Obviously the same jealousy was coursing through her

“She's back with Kingpin” he replies

“No. She wouldn’t do that.” Wanda says

“You're lying.” Nat accuses

He shakes his head, “I’m not lying.”

“Ok, I’ll bite. Why’d she go back to working for that slimeball?” Clint asks. Matt stays silent. Which makes your girlfriends, well ex girlfriends, angry.

“I can look into your mind to find the answer you know.” Wanda tells him

“Look, she has her reasons for going back to him. That's all I’ll say.” he answers

Wandas eyes begin to glow red but Nats gentle hand on her shoulder calms her, “Then take us to where she is so we can ask her ourselves.”

“I can’t-” he begins before Wanda cuts him off

“Can’t or won’t?! Why are you being so stubborn about giving us information?” she questions

He sighs, “I can’t because I currently don’t know her location. She hasn’t checked in with me in almost two days” he admits

“What?!” Nat shouts. How was he being so calm about this? It wasn’t like you at all to not check in, no matter who you were working for.

“That's why I’m here, I was going to ask for Clint and Kates help in locating her. To make sure she’s ok.” he says

“You’re taking us instead.” the spy tells him, her tone is firm, a challenge for him to dispute her.

He nods, “Alright, let me go get my other suit on.” he says as his fingers undo his tie

Another few days pass and the three have yet to find you or any sign of where you've been. Chatter on the streets is suspiciously bare when it comes to The Hands dealings. Though Matt won’t admit it to your ex girlfriends and they won't admit it to him, they are extremely worried about you.

“Why won’t you just tell us why she's working for him again, it could help us find her!” Wanda shouts, this is already the fifth time they've had this conversation

“I promise you that information is not relevant to where she currently is.” he answers

“Will the two of you please stop?” Nat pleads

Wanda looks to the woman in confusion, “Doesn't it bother you that he's keeping information from us?”

“Of course it does, but he's a lawyer. He’s not going to break or let anything slip out.” she says. Wanda simply glares at the red clad hero beside her

Suddenly his head perks up, “Wait! Both of you should be quiet for a moment, please.”

They do as they're told and let his senses focus on what they've picked up on. In this case it's a heartbeat, a very familiar one. He smiles and turns to the side in time to sense you hop up onto the rooftop. The girls are so relieved to see you, they want to just hug you and beg you to come home.

“Talk of the town is the Devil brought a witch and widow in to deal with The Hand.” you tease as you walk closer to him

He smirks, “Glad to know I’ve instilled that fear.”

You glare at him as you get closer, “You must have really missed me Matt, why’d you involve them?” you hiss. You try to ignore the way they look at you, with love and want. Like nothing has changed.

“You missed check in.” he states as if it explains why your ex girlfriends, the two people you wanted to keep out of danger, were here looking at you in your Hand uniform

“Yeah, sorry about that. Unexpected business came up, had to travel to Japan.” you state nonchalantly, your gaze never leaving the blind man. He crosses his arms and you know you have to at least acknowledge the existence of the two women, or else he would hit you. You quickly glance at each of them, “Wanda, Natasha. I got your texts and calls, I apologize for not getting back to you. Japan was not a leisure trip, all business.”

“So you’ll talk to us then?” Wanda asks in a hopeful tone

“About everything?” Nat adds

You sigh, “I- there's nothing to talk about.” Matt sucks in air at that, he knows that was the wrong thing to say

“Nothing to talk about!? Y/n you left us, no explanation just gone. You're back with The Hand working for Kingpin, and you disappeared to a foriegn country for nearly a week without telling anyone! I think that's plenty to talk about!” Nat yells. She's angry, hurt and confused

“We just want to understand what changed, we want to know why you don’t want to be with us anymore.” Wanda adds, her voice is small and sad once again

Oh god, what were you supposed to do here, admit the truth to them now after what you've done in Japan or keep the lie going and hurt them even more. You pace slightly as you think about your options. Damn Matt, out of all the Avengers to involve in this he just had to choose them.

You open your mouth, about to say something when your phone rings. You give them an apologetic look before answering, “Sir…yes..of course….I’ll meet Elektra there.” you say before hanging up

“Elektra is back?” Matt questions

You nod, “Yeah, and I have to go meet up with her”

“No. You don’t.” Natasha states as she glares at you

“I really do though. Kingpin said she's expecting me.” you tell her

“And we are expecting answers.” she states

“Matt, get them home. If the witch and the widow are seen in Hells Kitchen again, The Hand has orders to strike.” you say as you turn your back to them

A hand on your wrist stops you from leaving, you turn to find stern emerald eyes staring at you with tears building up in them, “Don’t. Don't leave again.”

Your hands cup her face and you bring your forehead to hers, you can hear her sigh, content to have you close. She missed this, missed you. “Take Wanda and wait at Matts place for me. We’ll talk there ok? I really do have to go.”

“Promise?” she whispers

“Cross my heart. I’ll be there within the next two hours.” you reply. She nods and you let her go, Wandas eyes look from you to Nat, then back to you. You give her a smile, “I’ll see you in a bit.” you say before taking off, you don’t see how happy those words make her

It's almost been two hours now and even though you promised her, Nat had to admit she was nervous you wouldn't show up. Wanda was nervous too, but the way you had smiled at her gave her hope that whatever was going on was fixable. Matt could sense their unease.

“She’ll be here, you don’t have to worry.” he tells them, and if anyone knew it would be him, the equivalent to a human lie detector with the way he can hear heart rates and the intensity of ones breathing

As if on cue the window by the fire escape begins to open from the outside, your form sneaks in. You're back in street clothes now, god did they miss you.

“Sorry for the wait. Business was a bit….difficult tonight.” you tell them, Natasha catches the way your fingers twitch as your right hand moves to cover your bruised left knuckles. She hates that you're back to being one of Fisks thugs.

“Well, I should leave the three of you to talk. I’ll be on patrol if you need me.” he states, heading for the window

“Matt.” you say gaining his attention, “She's waiting for you. Corner of West 42nd street and 10th Avenue.” He smirks before he takes off, leaving you to awkwardly stand in his living room while your exs sit on his sofa.

Wanda nervously twists the rings on her finger, “Sit with us?” she asks, Nat pats the spot between them.

You nod and stiffly sit down. Unsure of what you're willing to admit to, you ramble, “Japan was beautiful. The food was so good, you would've loved it Wan. I saw a small seminar on Bushido, you would've liked it Tasha. It was very informative.”

Wandas hand gabs yours, her thumb gently rubs your sore knuckles, “Why did you go to Japan?”

Your gaze drops to the floor, like it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world, “Fisk had business to attend, he brought the finest Hand members to accompany him.” you say, omitting multiple key details

“Y/n…” Nat calls out from beside you, urging you to be fully open with them

“The Japanese finger has a new leader. Fisk was asked to attend a meeting with him as a show of good faith, I was chosen to go with him to prove my loyalty to the Hand.” you tell them

“And you went?” Wanda asks, still baffled that you would rejoin them

“I didn’t really have a choice Wan.” you reply

“You could've stayed with us, stayed an Avenger. Instead you went back to your old life and killed someone on foriegn soil, didn’t you?” Natasha asks.

You stiffen at her tone, this was what you wanted to avoid. The casualties of your past life following Fisk, the new sins you carried around on your shoulders. These were things you didn’t talk about with anyone and you hardly let yourself think about them, you knew where that road led. A downward spiral, not that this was any better.

“I did more than that.” you admit as you drop Wandas hand. “This was a mistake, I shouldn’t have told you to come here.”

“Please don’t say that.” Wanda says, “We’re just trying to understand what happened.”

Nat watches your shoulders tense as you breathe deeply, she can tell how stressful all of this is on you. She knows you didn’t like your old life, she knew you had hurt people and hated that, so what could possibly convince you to return? Oh. They could, their happiness, their safety.

“Fisk threatened us, didn’t he?” she asks, grabbing your hand and squeezing it

You close your eyes tight, “Not by name but yes. My loved ones were threatened, as was the release of all my past sins done on Fisks command.” you admit

Wand hugs you, “Then you still love us?”

“Of course I do. I could never stop, the two of you mean everything to me and I couldt let him hurt you.” you tell her as you snake an arm around her, holding her close

Natasha shakes her head, “I’m the worlds greatest assassin and she's literally more powerful than the sorcerer supreme. I think we can handle some ninjas and whoever else Fisk has employed.”

“I didn’t want to risk it or have you guys deal with that, enough has happened to the two of you.” you tell her

“Losing our beloved girlfriend was only going to add to that detka(baby).” Wanda says

“I-I didn’t think about that…I just didn’t want either of you getting hurt because of me. And I didn’t want you hating me once you found out what I did for him years ago.” you admit

The Russian hugs you, “We could never hate you.”

“We love you so much.” the Sokovian adds

“Wanda and I have both done things we aren’t proud of. Me for the Red Room, her for Hydra. Whatever you did for The Hand doesn't affect our feelings for you. It doesn't change anything about the you we met, the you that joined the Avengers, the you we fell in love with.” Nat states

“You didn’t judge us by our worst mistakes. We would never judge you by yours.” Wanda tells you

“We miss you. Please come back home with us?” Nat asks, you can sense the hope and vulnerability in her voice

“We can take on whatever Kingpin throws our way as long as we’re together.” Wanda adds

You nod as tears well up in your eyes, “I missed you both too. Let's go home.”

“Fisk doesn't stand a chance now.” Matt says, scaring all three of you as he helps Elektra through his window, “I got my girl, you guys got yours.”

Taglist: @wandaromamoff69 @when-wolves-howl @wandanatvoid @eonrioromanova @sayah13 @likefirenrain @chaoticevilbakugo @crystalstark02

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wandanat #wanda x natasha #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wandanat x reader #wandanat x y/n #marvel #marvel fanfiction #fanfic

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hawks-supremacy · 3 years

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Fairytale Soulmates

summary: you gave up on the idea of soulmate's being real when your parents split up, but the cherry blossom on your wrist says otherwise.

pairings: ushijima x reader

warnings: fighting, yelling, hints at abuse, a little angst, mostly fluff

word count: 2k

a/n: i'm thinking about doing a soulmate series, i just love the idea of soulmates. i also like reading soulmate au's.

You never enjoyed the idea of soulmates, to you it was a fairytale you heard the other kids tell during lunch break. Hearing them retell the stories their parents told about how everyone has a person that was made for them. How people were originally created with four arms and legs and two heads and faces, but fearing their power Zeus split them in half. Now people spend their whole lives looking for their other half. The person that finishes the other half of your soulmate mark. You didn’t believe the stories. Even as your half of a cherry blossom stares up at you from your wrist, you couldn’t bring yourself to believe in soulmates, and why should you?

Why should you believe in soulmates when your parents were miserable together. Constantly fighting and yelling, often ending the night in tears. If soulmates were real then why were you the result of two people who didn't love each other unconditionally like soulmates were supposed to. Why were your parents so unhappy just because they weren’t soulmates? If you couldn’t find your soulmate were you destined to be unhappy? All of your questions went unanswered as your parents avoided the topic.

You weren’t always like this, and neither were your parents. You used to be happy, a complete family who never fought and loved each other despite the flaws. Sure you noticed how your father had half a sun and your mother had half of a water lily, but they didn’t seem to care and you didn’t ask. They always laughed at each other's terrible jokes and cared for one another. You used to enjoy the stories of soulmates, listening as kids tell the stories of how their parents met. The stories of soulmates searching the other side of the world to find their other half.

Then one day your parents started fighting and the illusion of happiness ended. You weren’t sure what happened, but one day you came home from school and they were yelling. Maybe they’ve always yelled and screamed until their faces turned blue and they faked being happy for your sake. All it took was one day for all you believed in to fall apart.

You came home early from school on a half day, you were excited to go home and spend all day with your parents. You didn’t stay excited for long, walking through the doors you heard screaming coming from the kitchen along with glass shattering. Hesitantly you made your way to the entrance and poked your head around the corner to see what was happening. Seeing you home your mom wiped the tears from her eyes and greeted you as your dad walked past you and to their shared bedroom.

After that it seemed like the veil fell, the thin sheet protecting you from the real relationship your parents held disappeared. They stopped pretending to be happy, no longer laughing at dumb jokes instead rolling their eyes. You stopped eating dinner as a family, your dad eating before he comes home and walking straight to his home office. They tried not to fight in front of you, waiting until you go to bed to start their dispute, but they were never quiet. They kept you up at night with the shouting that reached your bedroom door, knocking like a reminder your family is no longer really together.

You sat at the top of the stairs listening as your dad left your mom because he found his soulmate. Listening to the rolling of his suitcase across the wooden floor as he walked out the door. Listening as your mom broke down sobbing as the door slammed shut. Listening to his car driving off as silent tears rolled down your face choking back sobs that you couldn’t let out. You never brought it up to your mom, a silent agreement the next day as you both had puffy faces from crying the previous night.

Now you were starting your first year at Shiratorizawa and your best friend Tendō refused to let you be pessimistic. He dragged you to the gym to sign up for the volleyball team manager. His logic being you can’t be pessimistic if he doesn’t let you, and if you’re constantly around Tendō it's the less time you can be a “debbie downer” in his words.

Tendō and you became friends in middle school when you ran into each other turning the corner. He quickly befriended you after learning about your pessimistic view on life claiming he was gonna turn it around so you’d be happy again. You rolled your eyes at his explanation for wanting to be your friend but let him anyway. Since then you’ve been inseparable, always with one another. Tendō was the best thing that could’ve happened to you.

So here you were meeting the volleyball team as Tendō all but skipped to the gym for the first practice. “This is gonna be so fun Y/n, we’ll get to hang out all the time. Now you’ll have no opportunity to go back to your dorm room and think about how much life sucks. Which it doesn’t by the way.” He said as you went to say something about him finally agreeing about your life sucking. “I know you’ve had some hard times but believe me, it’s not always gonna be that way. You’ll meet your soulmate and learn that happiness does exist for you.”

You shook your head at his blind optimism, you knew he wasn’t always like this. That he had his dark moments too and you were right there to pull him out of his dark space like he was you. “‘Tori, we both know I’m better now. I’m not 100% all the time but that’s fine. I appreciate you doing this though.”

He nodded, slowing his pace down so you could catch up to him. “I know you are, but you’re still on the fence about soulmates and I’m determined to help you find yours so you know they’re out there.” You sighed as you walked into the gym having been through this conversation hundreds of times with Tendō before. He’d keep having this conversation with you until you realize it yourself. Just because your parents didn’t work out doesn’t mean that soulmates aren’t worth it.

Tendō soon realized after that maybe you were right. Maybe your soulmate wasn’t worth it, maybe you would be better off just living with Tendō forever like you discussed in middle school. Maybe you were right because Tendō soon found out that your soulmate was Ushijima Wakatoshi. Tendō wasn’t sure if you noticed that Ushijima held the other half to your soulmate mark or not. If you had, you didn’t say anything.

Tendō spent the better half of middle school trying to convince you that your soulmate would be the best thing that happened to you. Then he spent the better half of first and second year listening to Ushijima say he didn’t believe in soulmates either, that his home situation was much like yours. His parents weren’t soulmates and ended up getting a divorce leaving him with his mom. He realized the universe was playing a cruel joke on the both of you. Making you both believe that the other doesn’t exist and if you do it’s some kind of fluke.

It was the start of your third year and you were moving back into the dorms after having a break for the summer. “‘Tori, why are you insisting I hang out with Ushijima so badly? He’s been your roommate for two years now and suddenly you want me to hang out with him? It doesn’t make sense.” Tendō had been trying to convince you to hang out with Ushijima because he couldn’t take not telling you anymore. It was eating him alive that your soulmate was right there and nothing was happening. It was your last year before you possibly never saw Ushijima again and Tendō would never be able to live with himself if he didn’t tell you. “I wanted to tell you, believe me I did.”

“Satori, what did you do?” You said, narrowing your eyes at him. “Ushiwaka is your soulmate. I was going to tell you but it turns out you have the same outlook on soulmates. So I thought maybe it was best if you guys never met, but I’d feel bad if I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry I just didn’t want you to get hurt.” Tendō said, speaking fast and pacing back and forth.

You sat on your bed rubbing your temples. “Are you mad at me?” Tendō asked quietly. You sighed and looked up, resting your elbows on your knees, “No ‘Tori, I Could never be mad at you. I wish you told me sooner, but I’m not mad at you. I’ll hang out with Ushijima but there’s no guarantee that it’ll work out, especially not if you say he has the same outlook as me.” You talked for a few more minutes before Tendō led you to his shared dorm with Ushijima.

Tendō walked in, “Ushiwaka! I have a gift for you!” He said before gesturing widely towards the door as you walked in. “My surprise is Y/n?” Ushijima said, confused. “Yes! Y/n here is your soulmate! Your other half! Now talk!” Tendō said excitedly before walking out and shutting the door behind him, leaving you two alone.

You glanced down at Ushijima’s wrist and saw the matching half to your cherry blossom match. You showed him yours as you sat down on the chair by his and Tendō’s shared desk, “‘Tori tells me that you have the same views as me when it comes to the whole soulmate situation. Don’t particularly believe in them, but ‘Tori’s been trying to convince me otherwise for about four years. I guess I don’t really know where you stand with all of this.” By the time you were done speaking you noticed that his eyes never once stopped looking at you.

“My parents divorced, yes, but they weren’t soulmates. Perhaps it’ll be different with us since we’re actually soulmates.” He said moving closer towards you. “You want to try the soulmate thing? You’re sure?” You asked sheepishly. You spent nearly your whole life swearing up and down that you didn’t believe in soulmates and now that you’ve found yours, you don’t know if you still believe that. “Yes I want to try, but I do get busy with volleyball so I might not have much time for us.” He said and you nodded. You knew that, you’ve been friends with Tendō long enough to know volleyball takes up a lot of time. You’ve also been the volleyball’s team manager long enough to know how passionate Ushijima is about volleyball. You knew you couldn’t ask him to put you first.

“And that’s how I single handedly got Ushiwaka and Y/n together. So you can thank me for this lovely wedding we’re all attending.” Tendō said after telling the story of how you and Toshi met. You rolled your eyes and you jokingly mouthed ‘thank you’ to Tendō. You turned to your now husband who had his hand on your knee while he was laughing at Tendō’s story and smiled. He turned his head and smiled back before giving you a peck on the lips, “I’m glad I met you Y/n.” He said lovingly. “Me too Toshi, me too.”

#ushijima headcanons #ushijima wakatoshi #hq ushijima #ushijima scenarios #ushijima imagine #ushijima hcs #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #soulmate au #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader

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yandere-sins · 3 years

Note

hi!! first of all i am big fan of your blog ✨

i see your request opens so.. can i request a yan kirishima with a pregnant darling (i was looking for you rules but idk if you write for that) if you not, please ignore this.

have a good day!!

Thanks for requesting, glad you enjoy my writing!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

The soft hums were all you could think about while his hands warmed your sore stomach. It was close to the melodies your mother would hum to you as a child, but Kirishima didn’t hit all the notes, butchering the attempts. He went out of his way to get the tunes from your family, yet, he didn’t have any success with them. You sighed, feeling incredibly exhausted and heavy as you sat up some more. The humming stopped briefly, his hands moving aside for you to make yourself comfortable. Saying he was considered was an exaggeration, but he made an effort.

“You’re doing so great for us,” he praised you after pulling you back into a hug, planting butterfly kisses along your temple. All you could do was sigh even more. No inch of your whole being was comfortable, and you were wondering if your baby felt the same.

Your eyes dragged through this hell hole that was your room. There were so many marks on the walls, the floor, the amenities, all from the times you could still stand for more than 5 minutes before getting cramps and collapse from the exhaustion. Triplets. Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to have a baby, let alone triplets.

Kirishima.

He was the root of all evil. Ever since he made you believe he loved you, whisking you away to this apartment that was closer to a high-security prison than a home, he had become your worst enemy and, now, the father of your children.

And you? You made him the happiest person in the world.

Pressing his cheek to your head, he let out a content sigh, one hand falling back to your swollen abdomen, circling it gently. “I can’t believe we’re going to be parents soon! It feels like only yesterday where I confessed my love for you under the tree by the school, and now we’re going to have three little babies on the way!”

That much was true. In a way, it did feel like only yesterday since you felt the joy of being loved, but now you dreaded it. Even if you still remembered going through the days spent crying and fighting, in pain or in exhaustion, they all became one big void in your mind, and tomorrow, this day too would be sucked into it. Even if he still loved you, you couldn’t say you had even a little bit of those butterfly feelings left for Kirishima. Now, you just wanted him to disappear from your life.

Part of you blamed yourself for not being stronger or more clever to escape your predicament. But anyone would tell you how it was his fault, how Kirishima ruined your life in a way you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to recover from. This man, holding you in his arms as gentle as a delicate flower, was nothing but a monster in disguise. A greedy one at that, never getting enough of you.

He may love you - or so he kept assuring you - but it wasn’t a type of love you’d wish to your worst enemies. It was obsessive, possessive, and deluded. A love that turned to fear to anger in a matter of seconds if you two disagreed. Kirishima didn’t fear you hating him, but he feared that you’d leave. That someone else could take you away from his side, so he decided he had to be quicker than anyone else. And because he couldn’t stop loving you in a twisted way, he didn’t listen to your ‘no’ and ‘stop’ and just kept going with what he thought was the best for your relationship.

Until you became pregnant. It should have been a time of joy, but you couldn’t see anything else but madness when he cared for you ever so tenderly. No matter what you did to upset him, he kept smiling, placing his hand on your bump and reminding you cheerfully not to stress yourself. Kirishima came home earlier, cooked dinner, and massaged your feet willingly, even forcefully if you refused. Fighting to make you understand his views ceased. Now it was only you and the babies being safe and healthy. Even if you made him run to the grocery store three times a night, he would always come back with a smile and ask if he can prepare your cravings for you. It was sickening! Absolutely sickening how he took all of these exertions and still managed to be happy to be of service for you. The lovesickness in his eyes was clearer than anything else, and now that you relied on him more, it made him happier and happier. You wondered if he felt remorse for his past actions now, having to see you suffer from the pregnancy and being even more unhappy than you already were. But you doubted it still.

“Us, forever,” he mumbled. Lost in thoughts as you were, he might have mistaken your silence for being asleep. “You, me, the babies. No one can take you away from me now. I’ll be with you until the end. I will do what I have to do to ensure you will be by my side forever.”

Even making me pregnant, you thought.

“Even making you pregnant,” he confirmed as if he had read your thoughts. “You can’t leave me now, can you? You need me just as much as I need you now. I’m so crazy for you, I hope you can understand one day I’d do anything to be with you.”

“That’s not very manly of you,” you muttered, and Kirishima gasped. “You’re awake?!” he asked, surprised, before chuckling, burying his face in your shoulder. “You’re right. That wasn’t very manly.”

With a deep breath, Kirishima collected himself before speaking up again, using his free hand to turn over your head to face him properly. “I love you. I love you more than anything in this world. I can’t wait to finally build a family with you. Don’t ever forget that I adore you. I would do anything for you, okay?”

Honestly, you were too exhausted to fight. You wanted it all to be over, the pregnancy, your kidnapping, and his love most importantly. If this had been a healthy, good relationship you two were having, you’d have been nothing but blessed with such a caring and doting lover, but all you had was this. This monster put on sheep’s clothing to fit into an illusion with you that he wanted. You knew you had to do something. If not for you, a least for the children that would be born into such a hostile life.

But it was too late now, your belly rumbling before you felt a tear in it, eyes widening as you stared at the father of your children. But only a broad, proud smile crept onto his face as he, too, realized what was happening. “Let’s be a family, okay?” he asked, and you had no answer to it.

Only a muffled scream escaped you as the contractions began.

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amor-immortalem · 3 years

Text

Can I Stay Up Here With You Forever Ch.2

Warning: abuse apologizing, mention of past physical abuse, implied manipulation, abuse minimizing

Taglist: @mediocredetective

“Here you go Solomon,” Asmo says as they pass the phone to the sorcerer. “Arella says she wants to ask you something. I’ll be back.” And with that the Avatar of Lust took his leave, leaving their older brother with a look of confusion as Solomon moved away from where he literally had the second-born tied down so he couldn’t move. He turned his lapis gaze over to his younger brother who merely shrugged as he went back to chowing down on a bag of crisps he had raided from Purgatory Hall’s pantry.

“Don’t ask me, I don’t know anything,” Beel said with a mouthful of crisps. “I’m going to head home too though. Dinner’s starting soon. Do you want me to try to save you some? It’s Lucifer’s night to cook.”

“Nah... it’ll just go to waste. Lucifer’s still probably mad at me so I doubt he’ll let me inta the house for the rest of the night.” The Avatar of Greed chuckles sadly. “So don’t worry. I’ll see ya tomorrow!”

The Avatar of Gluttony nodded as he left and Mammon impatiently waited for Solomon to come back.

“I’d offer you something to eat or drink but it looks like you’re... a little tied up at the moment.” Simeon tried to break the tension in the room with the unhappy demon.

“Why did ya have ta go ‘n call Arella like that, huh, Simeon?” Mammon asks, eyebrows knit together in frustration. “I told y’all I was fine, my arm was just a bit busted was all. I woulda survived without her knowin’ ‘n now she’s gonna go off the deep end thinkin’ I need ta be saved or some shit like that when I can take care of myself.”

“She loves you, Mammon. All she wants is for you to be happy and safe. You know that.”

“All of ya are makin’ it sound like Lucifer just straight up broke my elbow for shits ‘n giggles when it was an accident. I’m the one who didn’t wait for him ta let go a me before I started pullin’ ta get away, so really it’s my own fault that it’s broken.”

“Yeah, but things like this seem to happen between you and Lucifer a lot- and I mean a lot a lot.”

“Yeah but... he loves me though. He only does things like this because he loves me. I’m his favorite and he just wants me to learn my lesson is all. If I wouldn’t screw up all the time this wouldn’t happen as often- o-or at all even. ‘Sides it ain’t like I’m the only one who ever gets punished. The rest of my brothers all get their punishments too when they screw up. It’s all fair.”

Simeon gave the demon a doubtful look. “You seem to be the only one who gets any physical punishment though...”

“Yeah, but that’s only cuz I’m a blockhead who just doesn’t learn his lesson. I mean the physical stuff only started within the last century- that's when my dear ol’ brother got fed up with wastin’ his breath. You’d think I’d learn by now huh?”

The angel tries to find the words to say what he’s thinking but he can’t, so he just goes about it in a different approach. No wonder Arella worries about him like this. His brother has him completely manipulated into thinking this is acceptable.

“You... you can’t seriously think that, right?” Simeon asks incredulously. “Mammon, this isn’t okay. Regardless of whether your brother actually loves you or not,

“He does,” Mammon interjects.

“He shouldn’t constantly be putting his hands on you for even the slightest of transgressions- especially if it’s due to something you can’t help, like your sin.”

“Of course, it is. C’mon, Simeon, who’re ya kidding? We’re demons! Our morals are different from those of the Celestial Realm or the Human Realm.... That’s just the way things are down here. Do ya gotta like it? No, but y’all gotta accept it.”

“Don’t you think you sound a little... how do I put this... brainwashed?”

“Whaddya mean?”

“Well... I just think maybe you’re so blinded by your love for your brothers that-”

“Hi! I’m back!” Asmo called as they lugged a heavy suitcase behind them. They plopped down on the couch. “Miss me?”

The pair just sort of regarded the strawberry blonde-haired demon as they sat next to their older brother.

“Goin’ somewhere, Asmo?” Mammon asks as he eyes the suitcase, “Wait a minute is that my suitcase?”

“Hm? Oh no, I’m not going anywhere. You are.”

“Huh? I’m not going anywh-”

“Well it was nice talking to you, Arella. I’ll untie him now so you can summon him. We’ll talk in a few weeks, yes?” Solomon promptly reentered the space, “Perfect- oh look Asmo’s back too. I’ll let you go then.” The call ended as Solomon undid the spell binding Mammon to the couch with a wave of his hand.

As Mammon stood, a portal opened up in front of him. “I’m not goin’ through that.”

“And why not?” the angel asks. “I thought you’d be delighted to have the opportunity to go stay with your human for two weeks.”

“Alone. Might I add.” Asmo smirks with a waggle of their brows.

“Shut up, Asmo!” The Avatar of Greed turned a shade of bright red, “Of course, I know we’d be alone! Who else would be there? But....”

“Are you scared Lucifer will be upset that you’re up there without his permission, Mammon?” Simeon asks.

“No! I ain’t scared of Lucifer! What gave you that idea, huh?!”

“You do realize you’re being summoned right? You don’t get much of a choice in that matter. Now, get going before you end up getting pulled through and hurt your arm again.” The sorcerer takes Mammon’s suitcase and tosses it through the portal, leaving the demon to squawk indignantly as he chased after it.

“You suck, Solomon!” Is all that could be heard from the other side of the portal as it started to close and the silver-haired human only rolled his eyes, chuckling amusedly.

“Have fun in the mortal realm, Mammon!”

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The one thing Mammon hates about being summoned is how nearly every time he goes through a portal, he nearly slams into whoever it is that summoned him if they’re standing in his way which is exactly the situation he finds himself in with Arella right now- not a good look for his image, it's very ‘uncool’.

“Hey,” Arella smiles as she wraps her arms around him once they come to a stop.

“Don’t ‘hey’ me. I’m mad at ya.” The demon says with a deep scowl on his face.

“I’m sure you are. How’s your arm feeling? Does it still hurt?”

“I’m fine, Arella. Stop treating me like a kid.”

“Huh?” Arella asks, confused as she removes her arm from around him. “I’m... sorry?”

“Ya should be,” Mammon hums as he turns his back to her. “I told ya everything was fine. Ya didn’t hafta go ‘n do all this. I can take care of myself when it comes to my brothers so I don’t get why you think ya gotta get involved every time I get in a situation with one of ‘em.”

“I just thought... well I guess it doesn’t matter. You’re right.” She walked away headed to where the kitchen was to clean up the mess that had been left from the cup of tea she’d had before all of this.

“Huh? Whaddya mean by that?” The demon followed after her looking to continue their small spat.

“Exactly what it sounds like. You’re right. You can take care of yourself when it comes to your brothers and there really is no need for me to insert myself into the situation but I love you and I hate seeing it happen and not doing anything to defend you so... I’m sorry. If it offends you that much, I won’t do it again.” She says as she washes her cup and the other dishes she had left. “Do you want me to send you home after dinner?”

“I.... no- but not because I don’t want to go back and deal with Lucifer...” The white-haired demon takes a seat at the kitchen island resting his chin on his arms. “I only wanna stay cuz I missed ya...”

“I missed you too...” She rubbed his back as she leaned down to place a kiss on the top of his head. “I’m sorry you feel like I’m treating you like a kid... if you want to stay the whole time you can treat it... like a holiday of sorts.”

“Where are we anyway? I know ya said ya were sellin’ yer old house...but the air smells different. How far away did ya move? Are we still in England?”

“About that...” She looked away sheepishly, “I kind of told you a little white lie... I sold that house about a month or two ago. What I’ve been doing since then is house-hunting and all the things that go with buying a house in another country... We’re in Germany- Berlin, exactly.”

“You lied? Oh, you’re horrible.” The demon feigns a look of hurt as the human laughs. “But seriously, baby, why would ya move so far away?”

She shrugged. “Wanted a change. I can speak German so why not- it's not like I have any family to miss back in England, anyway.”

He nods at that. “So no one knows where we are?”

“Nope,”

“Not even my brothers?”

“Not even your brothers.” She smiled. “I told you: if we wanted to, we could disappear up here and no one would ever know.” She cupped his face in between her hands. “You don’t have to go back home if you don’t want to...”

“I don’t have to decide right now, do I? You won’t leave if I want to go home, right?”

“No, of course not. I wouldn’t ask you to choose between me or the Devildom- there's a lot to give up down there. You can think about it while we’re up here for the next two or three weeks and if you want to go home after then, then I will still be with you, okay? I just want to give you options.”

He nodded as he moved to wrap his arms around her in a tight hug. “Thanks, Doll.”

“Anytime, Baby.” She hummed.

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

Find more on my masterlist

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date?#obey me angst #mammon angst #obey me mammon #obey me simeon #obey me asmodeus #obey me solomon #obey me oc #arella

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in-tua-deep · 4 years

Note

20 for Vanya?

20. What-ifs/Alternate Timelines

I have a lot of what-ifs and alternate timelines for Vanya lmao, especially ones that prevent the apocalypse because I’m a sucker for a happy ending tbh

What if Vanya was included? Why not? Klaus’s powers weren’t useful for missions, Allison’s story for Claire was literally like “yeah Klaus got distracted by ghosts in the background lol” so it’s not like a kid without offensive powers couldn’t do it

you have rebellious Vanya aus, where she decides, like some neglected children do, so act out. If her father isn’t going to acknowledge anything good about her, she’s going to make him acknowledge the bad. Punishment might be the only time he pays attention to her, after all.

(let’s call this an au where the pills suppress her powers but not so much her emotions)

So you have an au where she sneaks out and joins the missions. She breaks into the mausoleum and picks Klaus up and stares her father down with a challenge in her eyes.

Five vanishes, and Vanya gets worse. She plays her violin at 2 in the morning. She refuses to eat her broccoli. she teams up with diego to see who can piss dad off the most

(her and Diego actually get along very well in this sort of au, honestly)

Vanya gets out and plays the violin and gets angry. She plays with fury and fire and gets second chair, because Helen is actually really very good. But she makes Helen work for it. Helen isn’t secure in her position, she always knows that Vanya is a step away from taking it from her

and maybe that should make them enemies, but it doesn’t. They’re rivals. Helen respects the hell out of Vanya, and Vanya can’t help but admire the woman who makes the most difficult pieces look effortless

(RIVALS TO LOVERS: VIOLIN EDITION)

Vanya writes her book. Except she kicks down Diego’s boiler room door and is like “DIEGO”

“WHAT”

“I WANT TO WRITE A BOOK ABOUT HOW MUCH DAD FUCKING SUCKS”

“I’LL BE RIGHT THERE”

as one of the rebel kids, Vanya actually got along well with Klaus as well since she helped him sneak out and 100% also smoked at least some weed with him because it would piss off Reggie tbh though she didn’t get into the harder drugs like he did

(showing up absolutely plastered to breakfast when they were sixteen was hilarious even if the laps they had to run around the block were not)

anyway Klaus crashes at her apartment sometimes, with supervision, because she loves Klaus but he has a problem and has stolen from her before but he’s still her brother but regardless

Klaus-Diego-Vanya sleepovers where they brainstorm the book to shit talk their father. Honestly it’s kind of a blast. They all get super wine drunk and end up watching Mary Poppins together with some Very Loud Opinions about nannies in general tbh

klaus throwing popcorn at the screen: BOO WHY WAS OUR CHILDHOOD NOT A MUSICAL???

diego: idk if you can have cheery musicals about child soldiers

vanya: i mean if they can have a musical about child labor in factories and the starvation of the workers in oliver twist you could do something with child superheroes

klaus: EXACTLY thank you vanya

they publish the book (luther is uNHAPPY, vanya dedicates her book to ‘all my siblings who survived the Reginald Regime but especially those who didn’t’, and she gifts Reggie a copy that says “fuck you lol” and is signed by her, diego, and klaus), they continue living, they go to the funeral when reggie kicks the bucket

and then five shows up, feral and aching

and five tells vanya about the apocalypse, and vanya thinks about their father saying time travel messed with the mind, and then she thinks - fuck the old man he was wrong about her (ordinary, fuck that, she’s Vanya Fucking Hargreeves) and he was probably wrong about Five, too

and Five is wholeheartedly believed

“Let me call Diego,” Vanya says when Five tells her about the eye, “I bet he could totally wear a police uniform and get info about the eye. And if not, I’m absolutely sure Klaus could improvise a solution. He’s good at that.”

“Klaus??” Five asks, vaguely suspicious.

“We don’t talk about the Sleepover of 2012.” Vanya intones solemnly, and refuses to answer any further questions on the topic.

Harold Jenkins comes to the apartment and tries to woo Vanya or whatever, and Vanya is kind of like... “Look, Leonard. I can be your teacher for violin. It’s my job. But I am in a relationship. And also like, super gay. If you have a problem with that then I am not the teacher for you.”

Actually scratch Diego and Klaus getting called, which they do, Vanya looks at them and her thirteen year old brother and is like “wait. actually i know someone infinitely better to crack this case wide open.”

“Who?” Five, Klaus, and Diego all ask

“My girlfriend.” Vanya says proudly, called Helen up.

And Helen walks into the building like she’s at fucking war and has such demanding confidence that they just give her the information she seeks and apologize for inconveniencing her.

“Hey Vanya are we still on for date night tomorrow?” Helen casually asks after, and Five kind of wants to be her when he grows up honestly after watching her verbally eviscerate Lance or whatever the fuck his name is

“Yeah.” Vanya confirms, “Unless there’s other apocalypse stuff to do?”

“You take all the time you need, honey.” Helen says warmly, “After all the more time you take the less you have to practice.”

“I’m gonna destroy the concert piece and you know it.” Vanya threatens.

Helen sniffs, “Okay, whatever you say second chair.”

and then they kiss and Helen ditches and the others just kind of look at Vanya judgingly

“In fairness, she’s very hot and very talented.” Vanya defends herself.

Klaus nods sagely. Vanya nods back. He gets it.

“Concert piece?” Diego asks, because he has priorities.

“Yeah, I’ve already asked for tickets for all of you and you will be attending Diego.” Vanya smiles prettily with all her teeth.

“When is it?” Five asks

“April 1st.” Vanya tells him, “And no that isn’t an April Fools joke. You will attend and you will marvel at my skill. And maybe run interference between Helen and Allison because I’m kind of afraid they’re going to rip each others throats out to establish dominance.”

“That’s the day of the apocalypse.” Five informs her.

“Not on my goddamn watch.” Vanya says, because her family will attend her fucking concert and they will make awkward small talk with her girlfriend and the fucking apocalypse has better lay down and get over itself because nothing can stop Vanya’s goddamn plans

“I can investigate Meritech more.” Diego offers, because Lance-or-whatever-his-name-is is clearly shady as shit, “I have police contacts I could go through. Hey Vanya, your concert tickets include a plus one?”

“They can.” Vanya shrugs.

“Sweet, let me see if Patch can come.”

“She’s way too good for you, bro.”

“Shut your goddamn mouth.”

Anyway the point is they all go home, and Diego goes to talk to his police contacts and Five is definitely at home for when Hazel and Cha-Cha attack the mansion, oops.

“Whomst the FUCK.” Vanya yells, kicking Hazel in the crotch because she’s Vanya Fucking Hargreeves she knows self defense thank you very much

“Ah.” Five says. “Hazel. How’s it going.”

“Just peachy.” Hazel wheezes, “Why’d you betray the Commission?”

“Well, you know. They cut the dental. That was really the last straw.” Five says, sarcastically.

“The dental.” Hazel echoes back, nodding very seriously, “I fucking know. You know physical therapy isn’t even covered anymore?”

“No shit?” Five says, “I mean you’d think with a job as physical as ours...”

“I know.” Hazel howls, vindicated.

“Five.” Vanya says, rolling her eyes, “The house?”

“Oh, right.” Five frowns, looking at Hazel, “I mean. Can you like, leave? And not come back?”

“‘Fraid not.” Hazel actually sounds somewhat apologetic, “You know what the Commission is like. They’re really gunning for you.”

Five nods, because really what did he expect, “Can you leave like, temporarily? I mean you’d pretty clearly outnumbered. I don’t even know where Cha-Cha is, but judging by the furious yelling she probably met our sister and brother and Luther is hard to kill. Trust me, if he wasn’t we would have killed him when we were like, eight. But for real, can you get out of our house? I mean. Storming the den? Seriously? What kind of information did they even give you?”

“They didn’t give us any information.” Hazel responds back, sounding appropriately outraged, “They didn’t even tell us you could teleport.”

“Well that’s just rude. You’d think they wanted you dead or something.” Five muses, “But seriously, get out of my house.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” Hazel admits, and leaves, because honestly Hazel is chill like that and knows when he’s lost. And Hazel also has a lot to think about. Like the fact that the Commission sucks and doesn’t even have dental, and how pretty the donut lady is.

and Vanya is just like... okay. Weird. Is that going to happen again? Probably? I mean. Okay, this day has already been so goddamn weird. This week, honestly.

And they keep getting attacked by the Commission. And Vanya finds out someone broke into her apartment and stole her meds. What the fuck.

“Did your shitty assassin friends do this?” Vanya asks, waving an empty pill bottle.

“Why would they?” Five asks, honestly confused.

“Because they’re assholes?” Vanya says, honestly outraged.

“You got me there.” Five admits.

The combined forces of Diego-and-Patch (because Patch is actually thrilled that Diego is asking for help regarding an actual fucking crime) figure out that the eyeballs are being sold illegally

Klaus is not kidnapped so he’s fine, just tagging along and living his best life, however this also means that Klaus does not steal the briefcase and Hazel and Cha-Cha are fine

Vanya keeps Five close at hand because frankly she doesn’t want him to leave again and she did really miss him. Also if she does save the world she can lord it over Helen’s head forever.

And so Five is around when Vanya’s powers manifest, probably because they just got targeted by commission goons again because they’re trying real hard to kill five and separate Vanya

“Holy SHIT.” Five says, very intelligently, “You have POWERS.”

“Wow. Gonna have to write a fucking sequel to the shit-talking-dad book.” Vanya says, honestly a little light headed.

And then Vanya finds out her powers are sound based.

“Oh no.” Vanya says, “Where the fuck are my pills. I am not relearning how to play the violin with-powers a few days before the big concert Five, what the fuck.”

“But you need to learn to control them!” Five protests, “They’re your powers!”

“They’re a goddamn inconvenience is what they are.” Vanya states, “I mean, what am I going to do with them? Stop a bank robbery with the Umbrella Academy? Yeah, no thanks, that ship has sailed and sunk to the bottom of the ocean Titanic style. I’ll figure them out when I’m not in danger of blasting the audience halfway across the continent.”

“Yeah.” Five admits, “That’s fair.”

“Besides, if I’ve been on that shit as long as I have, and it’s been a long time, I cannot even IMAGINE what quitting cold turkey will do.” Vanya points out, very sensibly, like a siblings who has watched Klaus go through withdrawal symptoms more than once.

“Maybe there’s extra at the manor?” Five suggests, “Pogo probably knows.”

“Oh yeah I bet Pogo knows something.” Vanya mutters maybe a little bitterly.

They go back to the mansion and the Commission is honestly pulling their hair out tbh, and they ask Pogo who kind of pales and is like “UHHHH YES I CAN GET VANYA EXTRA PILLS” and goes to get them from whatever stash

“Fucking sweet.” Vanya whispers, entirely done with this situation, “The only adult male role model I had and he hid my powers from me and betrayed me. Love that for us.”

Five shrugs, “I mean, you’re right. All of our adult role models were all kinds of fucked up.”

“You vanished when we were 13.” Vanya says, “Didn’t you find like, any other adults ever?”

“Oh let me tell you about the Handler.” Five says, and proceeds to do just that. Because let’s be real, the Handler was the only human interaction Five had after forty odd years alone it was pretty damn important

Vanya, on the other hand, has strong plans to eviscerate the Handler should the two ever meet because Five deserved way better than to be forcibly made into an assassin?? honestly fuck that woman

that’s it that’s the au

Vanya finds out she has powers and is like “i have a LIFE i don’t want to interrupt it with bullshit POWERS,,, also going cold turkey off my meds seems like a bad idea if I don’t want to deal with withdrawal symptoms during my concert for fucks sake, my gf would never let me live it down if i skipped”

so vanya takes her meds, does NOT destroy the world, makes every one of her siblings go to the concert and even invites Hazel and Agnes after Hazel betrays Cha-Cha to join team No-Apocalypse.

and then introduces them all to her girlfriend

“Holy shit Vanya.” Helen deadpans, “Your family is all kinds of fucked up.”

“I know.” Vanya says, aggrieved, “It’s been a long fucking week. Want to go camping and help me figure out my cool sound based powers? Bet they’ll make me a better violin player than you.”

“I think the fuck not.” Helen hisses, always up for a challenge, “Let’s do this. Me and my violin vs. you and your dumb baby powers. You’re on.”

“FAMILY CAMPING TRIP.” Klaus hollers, with all the enthusiasm in his little heart.

“Holy shit this is going to be such a disaster, I just know it.” Diego mutters.

“Shut up, it’ll be nice.” Allison says, elbowing Diego with her pointy pointy elbows.

“It’s going to be a shitshow.” Vanya says serenely, because it is. That’s just who their family is.

Wouldn’t have it any other way, though

#rebel vanya au #vanya is a rebel with a cause #she's GAY she's got POWERS and she's NEW IN TOWN #vanya discovers her powers and is like 'nope no thank you' the au #i mean vanya was ALMOST like that in canon honestly #vanya and helen are enemies to lovers 500k slowburn orchestra au #vanya plays an extremely complicated piece flawlessly and then helen makes out with her in the concert hall broom closet #helen: i can't NOT fuck her #helen finds vanya's competence and confidence extremely sexy and it keeps her on her toes #vanya is honestly the same tbh with a side helping of 'my girlfriend can DESTROY you'#diego and vanya have matching 'reggie sux' friendship bracelets #allison would like to have a sibling relationship with vanya #allison: you could do better than helen #vanya: hell yeah I can i will wrench first chair away from her #helen: OVER MY DEAD BODY YOU WILL #vanya: I HAVE POWERS NOW JUST TRY ME #and then they make out and allison is left going... what??#far tua long #long post #ask game #headcanon game #Anonymous

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birdsaesthetic · 4 years

Text

First impression

Summary: Post-series, Jeller and parenthood—not something perfect or shiny or promising. It’s troublesome, but it’s so realistic.

A/N: This idea is inspired from a similar experience I had with my nephew whom I had to take care of the majority of my time back in the days—worst memories. So I know how that exactly feels like; only the brave ones can get through it... I hope this makes you feel something, whatever that feeling might be. On fanfiction

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As she kept pushing, Jane thought that nothing could be any more painful than this, not whips or chains, not even gunshots, all of which she'd been put through before.

Moments later, newborn cries filled the labor room, and Kurt bursted into tears of relief and joy. He immediately turned his glossy eyes to his wife who was still catching her breath, and in a voice that was almost broken and shaking he told her that they had the most beautiful baby boy ever. Through her exhaustion Jane grinned at him, then she let her eyes leave his to take in her baby that was being carefully put on her bare skin. In that very moment, she couldn't help but cry the sweetest tears she'd never known, all the pain of moments before melting away. He might be only minutes old by now, their baby, but as his tiny mouth widened, he continued crying along with his mother, though his cries were much louder despite his tiny body in comparison to his mother.

All their friends visited later that day, brought gifts, and offered help when needed. And Bethany, with her mother, flew the hundred miles to New York only to see her brother and give him the softest of kisses.

The first two weeks for Jane after having given birth to Peter went so quiet. Peaceful. She spent most days either sleeping, snuggled in bed with her newborn baby pressed so close to her chest she could feel his soft, wet breath, or laying down in a rest position with her newborn baby being still close within her hand reach to anticipate his every need—though he didn't need a lot. Breastfeeding and changing. That was all.

As for Kurt, during those first two weeks, he took a vacation from his regular work to be willingly spending all his time and effort on nursing both Jane and his newborn baby.

"That's the least I could do," he told Jane one morning, as he brought her a fresh meal all the way to bed, to which she smiled before dotting kisses on his hand, that was big, almost the size of his newborn baby.

Peter seemed so quiet, often asleep and would flutter his eyes open maybe twice a day. And during these rare times his parents would circle up around him and gaze down with all smiles, making comments regarding his looks. "He's got your eyes!" Jane chuckled, and Kurt smiled then said, "It's such an honor to acknowledge that."

"For me, it's such a pleasure to acknowledge that I'll have another set of beautiful eyes resembling yours to look at daily," she said with a smirk, and Kurt blushed for a fraction of a second, then kissed his wife, then his son. Alternatively, the two planted soft kisses on the tender skin of their newborn baby, and slid their pinky fingers into his open hands and watched as he responded and curled his little hands around them.

They were the happiest little family, until those first two weeks passed, then they saw hell on earth...

Though healthy, good taken care of, and clean, Peter decided to erupt in prolonged, ear-shattering cries, completed with clenched fists, and flailing legs and an unhappy red face.

They checked his diapers and temperature every hour. They tried direct breastfeeding and got out the thermometer. They cuddled and cooed. They did everything that came to their minds that any newborn baby would need—except if their baby wasn't a normal one and had a supernatural power therefore had special needs or something!

Babies his age cry and fuss sometimes, it's known and normal. But the way their baby did it, never seemed to be anything near normal. It was as if he wanted to suffocate himself and die—for hours he'd cry and resist every effort they make to soothe his tears until his little face was red with his mouth stretching wide and the cries became unbearably louder.

It was stressful, overwhelming, and tiring daily, for Jane and Kurt. They—both of them, adults—couldn't even do anything that seemed to please him. Jane, already having afterbirth pains, had multiple breakdowns a day because of it, and sometimes she covered her ears with a pillow or cried along with him, out of hopelessness. There was a sense of shame and sadness and just those deep emotions that she was very not familiar with when her baby cried like this, nonstop. It was as though he was telling her that he needed help, that he was hurting, but she wouldn't even know how or what to begin with...

And Kurt, every time he tried to hold his crying baby close, bobbing and swaying to unheard music, humming a lullaby, quite composed, quite serene, he could swear his baby's cries got louder at all these attempts. He then would lay him down and make funny faces to get him to laugh, to simply make him feel something different, but still...

God, how could a four-kilo creature make such loud noises? It sounded like the screeching of an angry cat, only growing harsher and louder as Kurt tried his best to subside him.

Just recently, while Kurt alone stayed up the night to accompany Peter as he cried, the bell rang, to which Kurt cursed under his breath, having some ideas of who might be at the door this late hour. This time around, it was again their neighbor, a college student in his twenties who seemed impatient and annoyed as he complained about their baby's loud cries and how it was like listening to nails on a chalkboard.

"I have responsibilities and shit to do and classes to prepare for! I need to get some sleep. I need peace!" He rumbled and rumbled, because it was his right as a neighbor to be given that. Peace.

"Sorry. I know, sorry. He's just...a little sick," Kurt tried to explain himself, and his baby boy, fumbling in his words. Huffing in the other side of the doorway, their neighbor walked away then, and before Kurt closed the door, the urgency he felt was tremendously overwhelming. He wanted to sprint, speed, and hop into the car to zoom with his baby in his arms to the nearest pharmacy and find just the right medicine to cure the problem within him. What the cure was called and how much it'd cost mattered the least to Kurt.

Christ, he had to do something. There must be something serious with him, or else what would trigger this sort of crying? The noise the little one made included a falsetto trilling that did something to him. It seemed to reach into the skull through his ears, to grasp his brain stem, to shake the inner core of their being. Kurt looked down at his son, and although he seemed apoplectic as he cried and screamed, Kurt hugged him tight and promised that he'd do everything to help him as soon as possible.

This Monday evening, after having settled Peter down in his bed and gazed into his angelic, relaxed face as he finally slept, Jane sighed in relief. It was so quiet now, save for his breathing that was merely audible, which sounded nice, knowing he was breathing. Alive. She felt tempted to bend down and kiss each cheek, but she feared it'd make him fuss. Then, as she made her way to the living room, she got a call from Tasha, who'd been calling her every now and then these days, chatting and sharing motherhood tips and tricks.

"Hey! How is it going?" Tasha shouted in enthusiasm. And from the end of the line, Jane's voice came as a sigh, low and sad. "Not good."

"Is everything okay? Is Peter okay?" Tasha worried.

"No, he's...not okay. And we don't even know what's wrong with him. But we've already booked an appointment for him tomorrow's morning to see his doctor."

"What's it with him?"

"We don't even know! He cries a lot. All the time." Jane was at the edge of crying at this very moment, before Tasha rushed to say, "Ohh, your baby is probably colic, Jane."

"What does that mean?"

"It means your baby cries a lot as you just said!"

"But that still doesn't explain why!"

"For no reason, really! He just wants to cry, right?"

"Yeah, exactly! That's all it seems. But how do you know that? Is Scott—or was Scott like that?"

"No, I wouldn't say he was, but I know some parents struggle with that."

"Do you know what they would do to ease their babies? Kurt and I would literally do anything and everything only to..."

"Oh, Jane, listen. Every baby seems to be different. Don't worry about it! He won't stay forever like that! But you should still get him to the doctor to make sure he's actually and physically all fine, and if he was, you may feel relieved, because thankfully he'd only be colic."

"Thankfully?"

"I mean...that sucks, still. But you know that's better than something else. Sometimes serious!"

Jane was silent for a long moment, her mind working fast, and her body started sweating at the thought of Peter seriously sick, and his crying had been indicating something permanent.

"Hey? Are you still there?"

"Hey... yeah,"

"You okay? Or need company? I just snuck out of my place after Scott slept only to get some groceries, but if you need company, I'll be heading to you instead!"

"No, no. Thank you, Tasha. Kurt is actually coming within minutes. And honestly, we haven't had some quiet time together for—I don't even remember for how long! But judging from that, it must have been for a while... Anyway. Sorry, I forgot to ask you about Scott! How is he doing?"

"Ugh, he's fine. He's just addicted to sugar, loves chocolate and candy so much! That's why I don't bring him with me grocery shopping anymore—he knows where to find the chocolate there by now!"

Jane smiled. "At least it makes him happy."

"It actually makes him energetic and annoying at nights. But anyway, I should let you rest. Bye for now, and good night. Also, don't worry much!"

"Okay. Good night."

After some time, the door was opened and there was Kurt emerging through it with many bags of groceries hanging in both hands. "Hey," he greeted, stumbling on his way to the kitchen so he could put the groceries away. Jane watched him do so as she greeted him back with a low voice that he didn't probably hear.

Then, panting, Kurt approached her with easy footsteps. "It's quiet, rarely!" he commented, after having seated next to her on the couch.

"He's asleep."

"Good." Sighing, he shifted here and there until he was lying down, using Jane's lap as a pillow. She looked down at him with a frown as he closed his eyes. "Are you sleeping?"

"I had a rough day..." he mumbled, his eyes still closed.

"Get up, and tell me about it. I'm sure it's much more interesting than mine that I spent it literally just listening to your kid cry."

"When he cries, he's only my kid, huh? Also, don't forget that his appointment is tomorrow morning!"

"I didn't. And, um, I might know what's wrong with him,"

"What's it?" Kurt opened his eyes to the fullest now to look up at Jane. "Um, I was just talking with Tasha before you came, and when I told her, I almost thought she wouldn't believe me, but then she said that Peter might be colic."

"What does that even mean?"

"Meaning that he cries, a lot!"

"Why?"

"I don't know. For no reason? Or maybe it's something phenotypic?"

Kurt winced. "His doctor will know better."

They slept feeling hopeful that night. Ever since they booked that appointment, they had this promising sensation of hope, that they'd know, for sure, what was the problem, therefore fix it—well, or so they thought.

The hope continued to the next day while the doctor looked over their son and examined him carefully. Peter was awake and strangely calm at the time. He didn't have a fever nor had any other sign of illness, the doctor said.

"Just colic," The doctor then added.

Ha! Oh, colic. Great.

The doctor's casual dismissal contrasted with the parents' urgency. "So how do you cure it?" Jane asked impatiently, and she had to cover her mouth and grip then regrip Kurt's hand after the doctor said a cure might not exist, and they'd have to get through it.

The doctor further explained that, statistically, this happens to about one in every five babies in the world, most often in the evenings and nights than mornings in babies aged three weeks to three months. It happens more in countries that are developed than those that aren't, and no one really knows as to why—though at this point they were hardly listening, their inner voice screaming overpowered anything else around them.

They took their baby, went home, and spent the rest of the day listening to Peter wail while the earth spun and the sun set and rose on the other side of the world and wars were won and lost and revolutions happened.

The reality was tough to adapt to, however they were patient, put the maximum effort to give more and have less, of course. Though every time they looked down at him, hushing, his face was unrelaxed, his fists were clenched tight and his abdomen was tense from the discomfort he was undergoing all alone, a four-kilo infant. He really seemed like a very sad baby; there was no light in his eyes, only tears, which reflected on Jane and Kurt's souls, and made them sad parents, too.

They went to ask more pediatricians and friends for help, knowledge. They read more about Baby Colic, seeking any useful tips and tricks. They tried alternative treatments—Kurt swaying all around the apartment to unheard music while holding little Peter to his chest as he wailed, Jane messaging over his back with care and holding him with his bare skin against her own so close to allow him to feel contained, loved. Safe. And yet, it didn't stop. He didn't stop crying, deploying this tool of weaponized sound that was truly like listening to an alarm going off that could drive someone sane and resilient like Jane and Kurt crazy.

In the peak of it it affected their lives: Jane stopped her working-life completely, though she'd, in fact, intended to do so for the first few months of Peter's life only to be spending such a pleasant, lovely time with him in these early stages, and to witness every little change that'd happen to him—but she never had ever thought this would feel like a burden, and the most stressful thing imaginable. After all, she was the one to have mentioned wanting a baby first, not Kurt. What felt like years ago, she'd told him that she wanted a baby with him, that it was the perfect time to do it now, and Kurt didn't really say much in response. Instead, he exchanged loving gazes with her, brought her closer to him, kissed her so deeply she could still feel the staying power of it till this day, and then he made love to her right away. No protection for the first time. It'd been only her and him and pure desire but nothing else. And they'd kept doing the same thing until one day they got what they wanted.

It affected their daily routine: One slept at nights while the other watched after him in another room. They took turns and shifts, not even once they had the slightest sympathy toward each other when they interrupted each other's sleep in the middle of the night to begin handling Peter.

It affected their relationship: They needed each other right at that hard time, Jane and Kurt. But when Kurt came home from work and Jane was wrung out from listening to it for hours, needing hugs and back rubs and words of encouragement, support, instead, they fought. They fought because something horrible was happening to their son and they lacked the power to stop it. They fought because they were frustrated and exhausted. They fought because they were frightened and tense all the time.

More than once Kurt hated the idea of returning back home after work, which went against his every instinct as a parent. As a husband, too. But sometimes—such as this time on Thursday—he felt like, if he went home after this long, unbearable day at work, he might lose his mind. He seriously might. So he called home and explained to Jane that he had some extra pepper work to do and so he might come a bit late. Jane wanted to argue. She wanted to disapprove—because she needed him at home and needed his help immediately. But she wasn't in a position to do so, since Peter's crying voice overpowered hers though she was shouting on the phone as if she were calling from an outdated device from decades ago where the connection was primeval only so that Kurt could hear her...

She just snapped then, after a full minute of trying, hung up and let go of it. It was no use; she'd scream and Peter would scream even louder and Kurt would also scream that he couldn't hear anything of what Jane was saying and it would look as though they were all in a contest...

And then, Kurt, feeling like an asshole driving the car, went to a quiet place and had a few drinks on that Thursday evening, one after another until he felt light-headed, carefree. Of all places nearby he'd chosen a place that was so far away from home, as if trying to get away from his little son's screams, or maybe he was afraid of getting busted by Jane at any given moment.

When he eventually drove home, several hours later, and as he approached the front door, he could hear his own son's howls from outside. His own heart clenched to that, and he wanted to run away already, or close his ears, or simply just sit there at the doorstep and not have to face it.

He unlocked the door and, almost running, he followed the cries to his bedroom. He was stunned for a moment to see both of them crying, Peter hysterically, Jane quietly. What he did next, and without asking what was going on, was take them both in his arms and cry along with them, repeatedly whispering his sorrow in Jane's ear, that he was gone enjoying himself out there while she lived in this chaos all alone.

When Peter ultimately calmed down under his father's repetitive and soothing strokes, both Jane and Kurt had already calmed down. But they didn't say a word afterward. They didn't look at each other, either—she didn't want to see his face and he couldn't look at hers. Instead, they just stared down at him, their little baby, sleeping now. Snoring, even. After all that hysterical crying he let out, now he seemed somehow in ease, his cheeks rosy, his forehead unclenched, his fists open, and his chest rising and falling in a way that was so reassuring.

They kept admiring the rare, beautiful sight of him like that for a while, having almost forgotten about what just happened mere minutes ago, that they, the parents, were both crying along with their baby, that they were completely hopeless. And then, slowly but surely, Peter smiled the tiniest of smiles in his sleep. It was an unconscious smile, they knew, but it put a similar smile on their faces, to have captured that exact moment in the middle of the madness. It spread hope in the air between them, that genuine, small smile of his.

Still silent, still staring down at sleeping Peter, they await another smile to appear on Peter's tiny lips; it'd been something unmatched. But then he didn't. Jane ran a feather-like hand over his head and brushed his soft hair to fix its pattern to one side instead of being flipped in every direction. Kurt, then, reached out for the same hand of hers and took it to him, which made her look up at him, finally, dark circles under her eyes from the same exhaustion daily. It was an unwilling or rather angry look she gave him. But she had to flutter her eyes before shutting them close as he started kissing her on that hand, and inhaling it, and scraping his own growing beard against it.

As much as Jane wanted to withdraw from his touch, and as much as she was truly upset with him now, she tried to find some comfort in this approach. She couldn't remember the last time they had a quiet, intimate moment like this together, and doubted if Kurt could remember. They'd been giving more and having less. They'd been fighting each other and discouraged. They'd been waking up in the mornings to the sound of Peter's cries, and at nights sleeping to the same sound, Peter's cries, and in the hours in between barely catching their breaths. That'd been going on for months now.

She pulled her hand away, after a moment, not aggressively, just about reluctantly. And then she lifted Peter and gingerly forced him into his father's arms. "Go settle him down in his bed, and spend whatever remains of the night there with him," she ordered, her voice low yet demanding. Here, she'd absolutely meant to sting him and trouble him and bother him. Also, she thought, if he was about to say one word of protest, or simply just groan, or if his face twisted the slightest in displeasure, she would take a deep breath, gather her strength, and smack him hard enough on the face to leave a permanent damage there so when Peter would grow up one day and ask why did his father have this injury mark, Jane would dryly say, "Because once, when you've needed your father the most, he failed you, honey—and me."

But then he was calm, as he looked at her and simply nodded. "I will."

He departed then, and did, indeed, spend the remaining of the night with his little baby, the one he'd just failed, the one he'd also just promised that he would never fail again even if it'd bring his life to an end.

What really was so cruel about their baby being colic was that it was part of the first impression, and just from that they were tempted to infer that the rest of it, being a parent, was going to be even harder—that this was how difficult it is to be a parent!

But with a combination of patience, time and effort, the unexplainable, unceasing crying went away—it stopped. It was hell on earth—oh, God only knows—and then it was over. One night as winter approached, when Peter was four months old, he fell asleep and they got to talking and realized that he hadn't cried! Not tonight, nor the night before. A week went by, then two. It was a month before they really believed things changed. Just like that, it was over. That would've been great to be reminded of when they were in the middle of it—the fact that colic was temporary!

Now, Peter, five months old, smiled and giggled and only fussed when he actually needed something. He was responsive, too, when his parents brought him toys, or sang for him, or made funny faces to him as they fed him. Everything went back to normal, their lives, their routine, and most importantly their relationship. And with Peter in a perfect condition now, he bounded them together even stronger.

A/N: If you made it this far, please let me know what you think of it!

#blindspot #jeller #blindspotfic #my other fics

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the-phoenix-heart · 4 years

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How would you sort the cast from Miraculous Ladybug ?

(I was gonna hold off on posting this until I was absolutely certain about the sorting, because sorting this show is like pulling teeth. But then last night I had a dream about Lila trying to ruin Marinette’s birthday with the usual lesbian subtext you would expect from two girls who hate each other and when I woke I had this second ask in my inbox so I figure the universe is tryna tell me something)

This is a hard one. There are some things we have to consider with Miraculous Ladybug. (warning this gets long)

1. It’s inconsistent with its characters on a good day.

2. The creators are very much pushing an unhealthy-keep the peace and be nice to everyone including bullies and toxic people because they are people to-Badger primary narrative.

3. While it’s not unhealthy like the primary, the show also pushes a Badger secondary narrative. They like their Badger secondaries and what show wants to teach is that Pure Badgers are the best sorting possible.

So it becomes hard to see what is an actual character moment, and what’s the creators using a character as a mouthpiece. Marinette gets fucked over by this because the show deliberately has her do things wrong so they can enforce lessons. This is especially hard with Adrien because he is the show’s golden boy favorite which means he does everything right and almost always spouts out the lesson of the day. It’s safe to say that if Marinette and Adrien aren’t already Badgers they have badger primary models. Adrien because showrunners, Marinette because Adrien’s peddling it to her.

(I wanna make it very clear that I’m not insulting Badger primaries in this post, but unhealthy Badger primaries where bad people get away with bad things just because they are people)

So MARINETTE DUPAIN-CHENG/LADYBUG...I think she’s a burnt Bird. She can’t be naturally a Badger because she has to constantly be told by people to act like a Badger. Give Chloe a million chances even if she bullied you for years and is horrible to everyone around her and has no desire to change. Don’t expose Lila for being a liar who gives out false promises and also wants to destroy Ladybug and teams up with Hawkmoth.

It also explains her unhealthy Snake primary she has for Adrien. A lot of the time her motivation, her why, will be because Adrien! Why does she get Adrien to come with them on the trip to New York? Because if not he’ll be left alone with Lila and she’s jealous! And also I guess because Adrien should get to do fun things. Why did she choose Adrien to be Aspik? Because she’s in love with him and he’s perfect! But that’s not her, it doesn’t work for her. Part of that is the world telling her if she ever tries to pursue Adrien it’ll backfire in her face, but also it’s not natural for her. She fell for Adrien and because her primary is burnt she placed meaning in him, building a Snake primary for him-and then a drowned Badger primary model once he started lecturing her about it.

And yes I do think her Badger primary model is drowned. She gives her all to everything, and is always convinced that doing anything seemingly selfish is bad (which is weird because the narrative also has Alya constantly trying to convince her to be selfish and date Adrien). She won’t let herself confess to Adrien because that will literally lead to the end of the world. She also gives up trying to pursue Adrien because she wants him to be happy with Kagami. She gives up a job opportunity to help save Paris (which was the right choice but doesn’t disprove my point). She is told by Mme. Bustier that she has to be an example and that she has to stay calm and keep the peace and give everything for other people. She is slowly over the series starting to drown.

Now admittedly she could be a burnt Lion originally, we don’t ever see her before her burning. But, the reason why I say Bird is because she seems more eager for people to tell her what is right and what is wrong. What is true? Burnt Lions, I can say from experience, don’t like as much to be told what is right and wrong. They want to know of course, but there will be a part of them that is unhappy and when they are told by other people they’ll be more sad about it if it doesn’t gel with their gut. It’ll just be another reason why they’re wrong and they’ll stay burnt longer. On the other hand, Marinette is eager to be told what is true from people, she wants to know and when people tell her she takes it in and immediately follows it. I say she’s a burnt bird because she doesn’t trust herself to make the right decision unless it’s black and white, akuma v. hero. The snap judgements she makes are because she’s burnt and therefore she flounders when unable to ask what she should do and just does because if she thinks she’ll come to the wrong decision. So impulsive decision time. (Miraculous Ladybug is a really depressing show if you think of Marinette as a real person)

Or she’s a burnt Lion and I just went on a tangent for no reason.

Now you’d think think that sorting out her secondary would be easier, but NO. The only thing easy about her secondary is that she is definitely not a Lion secondary.

Now she definitely has a two models. One of her models is a Badger obviously. She takes on projects and works herself to death. She also takes on a caring role usually and works as a leader. She manages to charm people almost instantly and then she has them on her side for basically forever. I only say this is a model because her plans never really include other people or calling in favors.

But now I have to decided if she is a rapid fire Bird or a Snake originally and which one is her model. I wanna say that she’s a Snake originally. Her plans are usually incredibly under the fly. She’ll just look around the area, see what she has to work with, and then immediately have the plan. It’s not usually based off of prior knowledge (although that happens a fair amount to). She also does things like steal phones and bicycles a fair amount (classic Snake traits) and has on more than one occasion lied her way out of a situation.

Now her Bird model is not unimportant. I say she isn’t originally a bird because she never has a back up plan. Plan A fails and she has to freak out for a bit before she makes a new plan on the fly. Her bird model is something she used to play with before she became a hero I think. She gained many skills in the art world-especially fashion-, baking, gaming, etc. just for the fun of it. Then she became a hero and used that planning skill to good work. How do I defeat the akuma and convince Chat Noir that I’m not Marinette? Obviously I’ll shrink myself down into many versions of me wearing all the miraculouses so I can climb in the kwamis’ mouths, take Chat Noir’s ring from him, get sucked into the kwami pack so I can break it from the inside with the Cat miraculous, then I’ll make an illusion of me as Ladybug getting the akuma and me as Multimouse taking off my miraculous because I’m just such a goof and then when Chat leaves I’ll capture the real akuma and transform back.

Compare that to Chat’s plan of, say the school is a elementary school.

But honestly it could go either way.

Adrien is much easier to sort compared to Marinette’s spastic characterization.

ADRIEN AGRESTE/CHAT NOIR has a strong Badger primary model, which is hilarious because he sucks at it. The boy is actually a Snake primary just like his father (he ALSO has an unhealthy primary but we’ll get to that). Lila lying to his class-his community-and giving them empty promises? He doesn’t care, he wants to keep the peace! He’s gonna be nice to her and try to sway her the side of good from the sidelines-wait what’s this? Lila made his friend Kagami jealous which caused her to be akumatized and also tried to get Ladybug killed? What an outrage! He’s not gonna try to be friends with her anymore! Wait, Lila got Marinette expelled through bullshit?! How dare she! Now he’s going to force her to take it all back so Marinette can be happy!

He doesn’t get upset when his community is threatened, he only gets mad when his people are threatened. In Chat Blanc he is forced to choose between killing his father or killing Ladybug (who is his girlfriend because it’s another timeline), which is a classic Snake problem. Chat doesn’t think about how if he kills his father instead he’ll save all of Paris, he just can’t decide and ends up destroying the world with his indecision. “Our love [destroyed the world]” he says to Ladybug. That’s very Snake primary and seems to me like an unhealthy Snake primary. His dream is to move away to an island alone with Ladybug, which says something about the differences between them. Marinette’s dream is have a large family with Adrien.

His secondary is harder because I can’t tell if he has a Badger secondary or a Lion secondary. The thing is the way the shows treats the different identities is that Ladybug and Adrien are the masks for Marinette and Chat (I did not do this for Marinette though). That means that a more accurate reading for Adrien’s sorting should theoretically be looking at Chat. Chat definitely has a Lion secondary. His first instinct is always attack first attack attack attack. Most of the time the reason the battle drags on is because Chat is jumping in too soon. When he doesn’t jump in it’s because he’s pissed at Ladybug for rejecting him. Also, the one time we see him do a plan, the plan is dress up in a makeshift suit and attack the enemy.

But he definitely has a Badger secondary model. How will he make Lila stop antagonizing Marinette? He’ll act like he’s her friend and let her model with him. How does he try to impress his father, by taking a bunch of classes and modelling for him. It’s a model though, one I think he built after his mother “disappeared” to try and cheer up his father.

I know you probably wanted more so rapid fire:

ALYA CESAIRE is a Lion primary who makes impulsive decisions and only doesn’t when the plot needs her to. She’s got an immature Bird secondary as well, immature as in she gains a piece of information and her Lion primary then makes her go crazy over it.

CHLOE BOURGEOIS is snake primary who cares about herself and those closest to her until she doesn’t, and a Lion secondary who charges in because she’s stupid with a shitty Snake secondary model she adopted from her parents.

GABRIEL AGRESTE/HAWKMOTH is a Snake primary who cares only about his wife, sometimes Natalie, and sometimes Adrien. Also a Bird secondary who makes big elaborate plans that always fail.

NATALIE SANCOEUR/MAYURA is a Snake primary who does things for Adrien and Gabriel because she loves them, and another Bird secondary who has a very nice skillset and and helps Gabriel with his plans. She does also have a Badger secondary because she works very hard and uses herself as a weapon, but it’s not her go to.

(yes I know I didn’t sort Nino or Lila, but Nino is practically a non-character and Lila might have a Lion primary and I don’t wanna have to put much more thought into this post. Maybe later)

so...

Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Ladybug - Burnt Bird primary (maybe burnt Lion) with a drowned Badger model and an unhealthy Snake model for Adrien/Snake secondary with a Bird model (possibly switched) and a (possibly unhealthy) Badger model

Adrien Agreste/Chat Noir - Snake primary/Lion Secondary, double Badger model

Alya Cesaire - Lion primary/immature Bird secondary

Gabriel Agreste/Hawkmoth - Snake primary/Bird secondary

Natalie Sancoeur/Mayura - Snake primary/Bird secondary, Badger secondary model

Chloe Bourgeois - Snake primary/Lion secondary

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ivarthebadbitch · 4 years

Text

Strange things can happen

Chapter 3 summary: Ecbert has some advice for the newlyweds on the morning after. Ragnar makes an important announcement.

Canon divergent, everybody lives, arranged marriage AU after 4x14. Read this chapter on Ao3.

Previous chapters: [1] [2]

On Ao3: [1] [2]

Pairings: Ivar x OC, Ivar vs. basically everyone

Warnings: None

Word count: 1755

Tagged: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @nukyster-blog @bae-roman (let me know if you’d like to be tagged)

CHAPTER 3: You never know with Saxon women

Ecbert’s head hurt, but it was nothing that a little wine with breakfast couldn’t fix. The evening had been something of a blur after they had put the newlyweds to bed: all he could really be certain of was that Ragnar had taught him some sort of dirty song in his language, and that he had lost a shoe at some point, so on the whole he had to consider the night a success. Though he did need to confirm one thing to truly count it as a success.

“I do hope that Aldreda and Ivar will be here before their breakfast gets cold,” he remarked to his son, who had been quietly eating his porridge. “However...that may be a good sign. It is unusual for a newly married couple to conceive on their first night together, but—” he nodded at Ragnar on the other side of the table, who also seemed a bit hungover—“as we all know, Ivar comes from fertile stock, so I would say that the chances are higher than normal. Wouldn’t you agree, Aethelwulf?”

If it was possible to stir porridge in a resentful manner, then Aethelwulf had surely mastered it. “I suppose so,” he said reluctantly. He looked over at Aethelred and Alfred, desperately searching for a different subject. “Alfred, don’t push your porridge to the sides of the bowl. You aren’t fooling anyone and you’ll just be hungry later.”

“Sorry, Father,” Alfred said. He still did not eat his porridge. He stirred it. Resentfully.

“Father, before Aldreda and Ivar arrive, if I may…” Aethelwulf said in a low voice, leaning in closer to Ecbert. “I know a great deal has been invested in this marriage and...and everyone hopes it will be profitable and agreeable to all. But they are young and no doubt somewhat overwhelmed by these events, and so all I ask is that you show some tact and restraint this morning.”

“Oh, is that all?” Ecbert gave his son a reassuring smile. “I will be very circumspect, I promise you that. Ah, and here they are!”

Aldreda came in first, followed by Ivar, with his arms slung over the guards’ shoulders. They deposited him on the chair next to Aldreda, directly across from Ecbert. Both of them stared intently at their porridge. Neither of them made a move to touch it.

“Please, eat,” Ecbert told them in an encouraging tone. “Both of you must have worked up an appetite by now. I do hope last night was fruitful?”

“Father,” Aethelwulf said through gritted teeth.

Aldreda gave him a pained smile before looking at Ecbert. “We...know each other somewhat better now.”

“Hm.” That did not quite sound like the resounding success Ecbert had envisioned. “In a carnal manner, I hope. There is no need to be modest; we’re all family here. Though it is also good to become better acquainted on a personal level as well.”

Aldreda turned bright red. At her side, Ivar looked like he wanted to slide under the table and disappear into a hole in the ground.

“Of course, it can be difficult to be intimate with someone you have only just met,” Ecbert acknowledged. “You will grow more comfortable with each other over time. After all, you have many things in common, such as...such as your age. Yes. The two of you are nearly the same age. And...hm.”

“Thank you for the advice, Grandfather,” Aldreda said after a moment. Nobody seemed to want to speak after that.

As the silence lengthened, Ragnar suddenly cleared his throat. “I have an announcement,” he said. “Now that my son is married and our treaty is secured, I intend to return home as soon as the weather is favorable. King Ecbert, I trust that I may have use of one of your ships?”

“Certainly,” Ecbert replied. “You are quite welcome to remain as long as you like, but I understand you must have responsibilities to attend to in Kattegat. Rest assured that Ivar will be well taken care of.”

Ivar’s head shot up, his mouth hanging open in dismay. “What are you talking about, old man?” he asked his father in Norse. “You can’t leave me here with these people!”

“Shut up,” Ragnar answered as Ecbert pretended to not understand the exchange. “We will talk about this later.”

The boy sat back in his chair with a sullen expression, and Ecbert moved to intervene. So long as Ivar was sulking and unhappy, there would be little chance that he and Aldreda would conceive an heir. “Perhaps after breakfast, you would like to join Aethelred and Alfred in the training yard?” he asked Ivar. “Ragnar tells me that you have some skill with a bow, and the boys may learn something from your technique. Unless you wish to spend the morning with your bride?”

Ivar looked up at that. “Training,” he said in English, and Ecbert thought he saw Aldreda let out a small sigh of relief. He would talk to each of them separately later, if necessary. But Aethelwulf had made reasonable points earlier that the couple had perhaps been overwhelmed by the turn of events, and Ecbert was nothing if not a reasonable man. There was still time—so long as they didn’t make him wait forever.

***

Ivar finally managed to shake off the guards after dinner. The pair had evidently been tasked with dragging him around anywhere he needed to go—as punishment for something, he assumed—but it had been getting somewhat tiresome, and at any rate, he could get around perfectly well on his own. He ignored the stares he was getting from the passing servants and nobles as he crawled down the hall and banged on Ragnar’s door until his father finally opened it and let him in.

“You can’t leave,” Ivar snapped at him the moment the door was shut.

His father raised his eyebrows. “I thought I was clear about the nature of the agreement with Ecbert,” he said as he took a seat on the floor next to Ivar. “He allowed you to marry Aldreda on the condition you live with them. Me staying was not part of that. My brother Rollo remained at the court in Paris after he married the emperor’s daughter. It is a normal arrangement.”

“I thought Rollo was a great traitor.”

“Well, yes. But my point still stands.”

Ivar’s eyes began to well up with sudden tears and he turned his head away so his father would not see. But if you leave, I’ll be all alone here. “Mother will kill you if you go back without me.”

Ragnar laughed. “I’m willing to take that risk, but I think her heart will soften once she understands the benefits of our new trade agreement,” he said. He clapped Ivar on the shoulder and leaned in close. “Your task here is simple but important. All you have to do is please your bride. I assume you can do that?”

Ivar pulled away. “What sort of an idiotic question is that?” he asked with a scowl. “Of course I can. I will...I will...give her pleasure like she’s never had before in her life at this stupid court.” Even as the words left his mouth, he could feel his cheeks burning with embarrassment. How had his father failed to see through all his lies?

Rather than asking more questions about how exactly Ivar intended to achieve this, Ragnar grinned. “Excellent. Don’t tell your father-in-law, though. He is looking for an excuse to kill you.”

“Aethelwulf can go fuck himself.”

Ragnar positively beamed at him. Then he pulled out a flask, took a swig, and handed it to Ivar, who followed suit. “Well, boy, since it’s our last night together for some time, we can drink to that.”

From there, things became somewhat fuzzy. They both ended up lying on the floor at some point, with Ivar half listening as Ragnar somewhat incoherently recalled his past exploits. He had almost stopped paying attention entirely when his father suddenly said, “Oh yes, that was the time I was with your mother and Lagertha. Now that was a night worth remembering, though I think they enjoyed each other’s company more than they enjoyed mine.”

Ivar propped himself up on his elbows. “What?”

Ragnar shrugged. “Don’t look at me, it was your mother’s idea. She got Lagertha to go along with it. Lagertha would have killed me if I’d made the suggestion again.”

“Again?”

“Oh. Never mind that.” He sat up woozily, cleared his throat, and leaned closer to Ivar. “Listen, your bride must have lady friends, right? It might be worth asking. See if Aldreda would be interested. But you need to be delicate about it. You don’t want her to take it the wrong way.”

Ivar could feel his face growing hot again. “I don’t think she has lady friends. There aren’t that many women here for some reason. Just Aldreda and Aethelwulf’s wife. Some servants.”

“Oh, well, servants can be fun too, but I’m sure you know that.” Ragnar flopped back down on the floor. “You were just a child at the time, you wouldn’t remember, but there was this one slave back in Kattegat...beautiful woman, never seen anyone like her before, she was from...from...well, it doesn’t matter. But I sucked her toes once.”

Ivar stared at him. “She liked it?”

“I think so. Anyway, might be another thing to try with your wife. These Saxon women...you never know with Saxon women...”

Ivar supposed he did not know. He lay there on the floor next to Ragnar for a while, trying unsuccessfully to rid himself of the mental image of his father sucking on a woman’s toes, and then imagining what his life would look like in Wessex all by himself, surrounded by strangers. It wasn’t too late, he thought to himself. He could just tell Ragnar the truth and then Ecbert and Aethelwulf would be more than happy to be rid of him. Aldreda would certainly be thrilled to have him gone. All he had to do was swallow the humiliation of everyone knowing that, on top of everything else, he was incapable of doing a man’s duty. But at least he could go home.

“Father?” he said softly. “I need to tell you something.”

No answer. He turned his head to look. Ragnar was passed out beside him, limbs sprawled and his mouth wide open as he snored.

Great. This was just great. “Fuck you too,” Ivar sighed.

#vikings #ivar the boneless #fanfiction #fic: strange things can happen

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crystalirises · 4 years

Text

The Final Answer (36 Questions AU 2/13)

Second part.

ONE THING

Dream froze, the door groaning against its hinges as it slowly creaked open. He took a step back, hastily placing his mask back on as the face of his husband peered up at him from within the shadows of the cabin. Fundy had his arms crossed in front of his chest, a frown etched upon his face as those eyes – the eyes that used to hold nothing but love for him – regarded him with disdain. Dream wondered what he looked like to Fundy right now. A shivering and desperate mess in the rain or did he look as he usually did?

“I’m only letting you in so you don’t get eaten alive.” Fundy tore his gaze away, heart beating painfully in his chest. He couldn’t look into those beady black eyes drawn upon Dream’s mask. His hand gripped the brass handle of the door, resisting the urge to slam it on his ex-husband’s face. An inkling of fear settled in him as he stepped back to let the man in.

How did Dream even find him? He watched as Dream trudged into the room, clumps of wet sand and dirt scattering onto the polished wood floor.

“So… you’re saying that I won’t be eaten alive in the house?” Dream swallowed down the dry chuckle rising in his throat, the callous warmth of the house did nothing to assure himself of what he sought to accomplish. Fundy’s gaze turned towards the floor, irritation flashing across his face. Dream winced, feeling the bits of sands falling off his trousers. Well, this wasn’t the best way to start apologizing to your husband. Dream had until the storm ended, maybe this won’t end in disaster… He hoped it didn’t.

“Not by zombies.” There’s an underlying growl beneath Fundy’s words, an anger he thought he had quenched surfacing as he heard the liar speak. Fundy shook his head. No. No. No. Just happy thoughts. Drywaters Law #1: No Negative Shit. Fundy forced himself to look into those painted black eyes, the simple smile on that porcelain mask seemed eerie against the darkening land beyond the house. He gritted his teeth, a mockery of a smile. It would be rude of him to let the man die out in the rain, right?

“Please close the door behind you.” Fundy turned to walk further into the house, dragging his feet towards the living room. As much as he loathed his current and unexpected guest, he hoped he had a spare blanket to share. The man would catch a cold at this rate. Could Dream even get sick? Admins couldn’t get sick right?

“Hi, Funds― and he’s walking away.” Dream sighed, catching a glimpse of Fundy’s tail disappearing into one of the rooms. He grasped the door handle, trying his best to gently close the door behind him, wincing as it let out a loud screech.

This was good. They were together. In a house. With each other. Just the two of them. No one else. No L’Manburg. No Essempy. Just the two of them. Dream just needed to get his husband to forgive him. Easier said than done.

“He’s still mad, isn’t he? What can I do? Wait did I―”

“I can hear you!” Fundy scowled, gripping at the pitiful white sheet that he had found draped over the couch. It was a flimsy thing, thin and certainly not enough to block out the cold, but it would have to do. A squeak broke him from his annoyance, he looked up at the small bat hanging from the ceiling.

“Sorry. Did we wake you? Don’t worry, he’ll be leaving soon… No. No. It’s okay. Just keep yourself warm up there, alright? Wouldn’t want to lose you too―”

“Who are you talking to?” Dream had made his way to the room, the low hush of a whisper drifting through the air. He stared pointedly at his husband who… was talking to the ceiling? Not that Dream was going to judge him. His husband had… his own strange ways to cope and he didn’t want to get kicked out of the house by commenting about this one. Fundy spun on his heel, the hint of a smile on his face, disappearing as soon as their gazes met.

“I’ll ask the questions, what are you doing here?” Fundy tossed the sheet at Dream – who caught it without fail – walking past the man to rummage through one of the few chests he had in his home. Niki insisted he place a fireplace in the cabin, oh he didn’t expect he’d be using it under such circumstances. His fingers curled around a familiar object, flashes of burning cloth racing through his mind as he pulled out his old trusty flint and steel. His ears began to twitch. No. No. No. No bad thoughts. Just good thoughts, Fundy.

“Fundy, you know why― Is that a bat?!” Dream looked up. The blanket in his hand nearly falling to the ground as he sawthe black blur on the ceiling.

“Dream!” Fundy’s head snapped towards his ex-husband, his teeth clenched together so tightly that he feared they might crack. He was tired. No. He was exhausted. New life? HA! Fundy should’ve known that the peace wouldn’t last forever. Not when he got married to the literal god of― “Dream, you… Why are you here? I thought leaving the ring would have been a good enough hint for you. Did you… Did you follow me here? Why?”

“I didn’t follow you here, Fundy… I was worried. You can’t just leave without a note. How was I to know where you were? It’s a bad time, Fundy. The entire server is after my head. They would do anything to get to me, including―” Dream’s attention turned towards the flint and steel. He tensed. Fundy and fire… wasn’t a good combination. He moved closer, the fox hybrid shuffling to move away from him.

Dream paused, “Can you… put the flint and steel down? It’s very intimidating.”

“Wha― You know― You don’t― Like, do you actually know what you did – what you did to me – or have you lied to yourself so much you’ve developed selective memory?” Fundy shook his head, the word ‘memory’ a bitter taste against his tongue. He leaned against the cobblestone wall of the fireplace. The fire he had meant to start forgotten in favor of his ex-husband. He just wanted to get this over with.

“Dream… I already have an amnesiac dad. I don’t need another angst fest in my life, okay?” Fundy hid his face in his hands, his ears erratically twitching on top of his head.

“Fundy… I came here for you. Whatever I did… I can make up for it, I swear! Just… come home… please...” Dream wondered if Fundy could hear him, his voice barely a whisper. The fox hybrid’s ears were twitching so that had to mean something, right?

“For me?”

“For you?!”

“No, no, no. That’s not what I meant!” Okay that was the wrong thing to say, oh no. Dream turned his attention back towards the ceiling, wringing his hands together as he thought of what he could say that wouldn’t get him tossed out the already broken windows. Small brown eyes met his gaze, a small squeak echoing through the room. A bat. A BAT! That was a good conversation to have, right? Fundy liked to talk about his pets… He loved to talk about his pets…

“That’s… that’s a really cute bat.” Dream pursed his lips.

“Correct. Yes, they're the best bat in the world.” Fundy rolled his eyes, not missing the way Dream quickly changed the conversation. Coward.

“Where did they come from?” Dream held his breath, not missing the way Fundy spoke to him with such malice and hate. He messed up.

“I…” Fundy sighed, running his recently trimmed nails across the skin of his arms. He didn’t want to talk about this. Not with his ex-husband of all people.

“Their name is Batry and they’re here because I found them in a cave and invited them back here. They love flowers and have incredible comedic timing, and kind of my only friend right now, which I’m sure sounds insane to you but― you know what? I don’t have to explain things seeing as how you refuse to explain even the most basic things to me, like… did you even care for me?”

“Fundy, of course I―”

“You only care about the discs, right? What was that about, Dream? The wars were over! But you―”

“Okay, wait―”

“Do you even actually need food or sleep to function? Are you some sort of immortal god? Because I―”

“I wasn’t judging! They seem like a really chill bat.” Dream’s voice wavered, his breath quickening at the sudden confrontation. This wasn’t how it was meant to be.

“Well, they are very chill!” Fundy screeched, his hair bristling in absolute anger. Anger at what? Fundy… Fundy didn’t know… He didn’t want to fight. Not here in his newly made country of happiness, anyway.

“If they’re helping you get through this stressful time Fundy, I’m all for it. Really! I only came out here to ask you to do one thing.” Dream took his chance. He edged closer, hesitated before he placed a hand on his husband’s shoulder.

He held his breath as he waited for the fox hybrid’s answer. Fundy’s gaze turned towards the hand on his shoulder, “…one thing.”

“Yeah… one thing―” A loud crash rang throughout the house, the floor shaking beneath their feet at the violent intrusion. Dream quickly reacted, his hand moving to grip the back of Fundy’s jacket, pulling him closer as he summoned his sword to his hand. Fundy’s hat pressed onto the blade’s hilt.

“What was that?” Dream glared at the hall, expecting a zombie to emerge from the corner.

“That would be the sound of the shelf I just built, buckling under the weight of a hundred books.” No. Fundy did not appreciate being in his ex-husband’s protective embrace. Shut up.

“Oh.” Dream coughed, backing off immediately. His sword faded back into his inventory, and he placed Fundy’s hat on the sofa before he could accidentally rip it. Fundy would never forgive him if he destroyed it. Though Fundy did leave it out in the rain, what was up with that?

“You know this place…” Sucks. The word was on the tip of his tongue, but Fundy refused to say it. Why would he give his ex-husband the impression that he was clearly unhappy? The sharp crack of glass followed soon after,

“And there goes my collection of Ghostbur’s blue.” Fundy sighed, his tail curling around his waist as if he was trying to console himself.

“I… I know I’m not supposed to be asking questions, but… your entire family is here in the Essempy… Couldn’t they have helped you do all this work on the house?” The house was a mess, and Dream didn’t mean that lightly. He glanced at the misshapen windows, the floor made from different pieces of wood…

“They don’t know.” Dream’s head snapped to look at Fundy.

“They don’t know you’re moving?” Fundy winced at the accusatory tone. Did it matter if he had told them? No one would have noticed anyway…

“Moving is such a strong word…” Fundy flailed his hands into the air, his own nervousness betraying him. The smell of smoke filled the air, Dream freezing in place as he looked at something behind Fundy.

“Do you… Do you smell smoke?” Fundy sniffed at the air, wondering if he had accidentally left something on in the kitchen.

“Fundy.” Dream reached out once more, turning the fox hybrid to look at the small fire his flint and steel had caused. He nearly screamed when Fundy had flailed his hands, the flint and steel flying from his loose grip.

“Ah, yeah… that’s fire. Just stay calm. Just a small little fire, can you hand me some water?” Dream didn’t look up from the growing flames, holding out a hand towards Fundy.

“Shit― Uh, sure.”

He felt the heat before he saw it. He looked down at the bucket of lava on his hands, frustration bubbling to the surface of his mind. He placed the bucket down, summoning his own bucket of water. The fire died just as quickly as it had been born.

“Did you just hand me a bucket of lava?”

“What? Oh! Dammit I thought that was something else.” Fundy gripped the edges of his hair, groaning at the stupid mistake that might have destroyed everything he’s worked for.

“Well, as you can see, you’re timing, as always, is impeccable. I’ve now broken the first law of Drywaters, thanks Dream.” Fundy threw his hands in the air, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips.

Dream tried to keep his composure, knowing that a sliver of his own annoyance would lead to nothing but heartbreak. He needed to fix this. Now.

“One thing, Fundy. That’s all I’m asking for.” Dream tried to reach for Fundy’s hand, stopping as he realized he couldn’t.

“One thing…” Fundy sighed, falling onto the sofa, his head hidden in his hands. He couldn’t look at his ex-husband. Not if he wanted to keep his own resolve.

“I came out here for one thing… And that little bitty one thing…” He had tried so hard. He had stayed for a man who he thought loved him. He was wrong.

“…was to forget about you.” Fundy held back the sob in his throat. His fingers clung to the frayed edge of the couch, a momentary distraction from what was currently happening.

“But I guess I've learned something, that there's never really one thing.” The fox hybrid flung his head back, exhaustion taking its claim as he remembered… his tasks.

“'Cause pretty quickly one thing, evolves into two, or three, or more.” He didn’t realize running away from his responsibilities would mean… more responsibilities. This was unfair.

“For example… See the light in the hallway? It is always flickering. Ever since I installed it, it is always flickering.” Dream frowned. That wasn’t right. His star was an excellent inventor. There’s… there’s no way that one light bulb would be his great downfall.

Fundy couldn’t make anything… he didn’t have the motivation to.

“After three days here, it was unbearable. My list grew: Two, fix the light bulb, and one, forget about you…” Three days… Dream had only realized today… was that how long Fundy’ had been gone?

It had been a week since he left. Fundy would visit the house they shared in that week… hoping for a sign that he should stay.

“Went back home, stole a bulb. One of those new LEDs. Brought it home, put it in, but the redstones weren't connecting. Suddenly, they went on the fritz…” No… His star was a master with redstone…

Fundy couldn’t think straight in the past few days… not enough to make a simple light source light up.

“My list grew: Three, fix up the redstone. Two, fix the lightbulb, and one, forget about you…” Fundy wasn’t done. The long list flashing in his mind as he recalled every bad thing that had gone wrong.

“So, I went to the attic and to my utmost delight, there it is, red vines, killing me slowly each night... and I feel it's my duty to remove it…” Wait… red vines? Dream didn’t like the sound of that…

Fundy couldn't bring himself to take them down… he couldn't take them down.

“My list grew: Four, kill the red vines. Three, fix up the redstone. Two, fix the lightbulb, and one, forget about you―”

“Yeah, but my one thing is really just…” Did… Dream really just interrupt him?

“I'm not done.” Fundy raised a hand, gesturing out towards the hallway.

“See the tarp in the hallway? That’s meant to be a gallery wall, lots of pictures, super classy. Glad I had to make the call, but in scouring for vines, I had to take the place apart…” Fundy had wanted to place his most cherished memories up on that wall, the pictures he had taken with Ranboo… the one with Niki… maybe even the one with his father. Of course, the world really told him ‘no’.

“Because sometimes to solve a problem…” Their eyes met, a sickening suggestion hanging in the air as Fundy spoke those words.

“You follow it back to the start.”

Dream froze at the faint sound of creaking wood.

“Oh. Who's that?” Dream reached for the sword in his inventory.

“No one. It just does that when it rains!” Fundy hoped the house didn’t end up flooded by the end of the day.

“When I tried to rebuild the wall that I'd taken down, I discovered two holes burrowed right into the ground, and I didn't have the heart to kill 'em… So my list grew― But then, the cement that I found to fill in the gaping holes wasn't good, it didn't stick. Apparently, cement can get old?! In trying to fix one thing, I made everything worse…” Fundy screamed into a pillow, his rambling getting longer with each second.

“My list grew: Nine, steal new cement. Eight, take care of this bat I found. Seven, clean out the pipes for the bathroom and the kitchen. Six, rebuild the wall. Five, keep out the pests. Four, kill the red vines. Three, fix up the redstone. Two, fix the lightbulb, and one, forget about you…”

Nine. Nine fucking things. And he knows – HE KNOWS – it’s going to get longer. FUCK HE SHOULD ADD A HUNDRED MORE TO THE LIST NOW THAT DREAM WAS HERE―

“I think it's lovely… to see you fix up this new house, because you want it to be… nice for your own country…” Dream didn’t care that Fundy was making his own country. He just wished he had been told. He knelt down in front of the couch, reaching out to place his hand on top of the hybrid’s. He was happy for his husband. He was! But not if it meant losing his sanity for it!

“But I think maybe you're obsessing… over things you can control, hoping to control your feelings for…”

“What?!” Fundy withdrew his hand, his ears pressed against the top of his head as he stood up from the coach. The nerve― The actual nerve― He began to pace the length of the room, sparing a single glance towards the man who hadn’t moved a single inch from the couch. Feelings? Feelings?! Oh, Fundy had feelings alright. Just not those types of feelings. No, what he wanted right now was to burn something. But not his house because he worked so hard on this stupid cabin.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…”

“So… you came here, looking for one thing… and you're saying that one thing… was to forget about me?” It struck a chord in his heart. Dream picked at the frayed seams of the couch. He couldn’t bring himself to look into Fundy’s eyes.

How did he mess this up so badly? Their differing politics were supposed to stay out of their personal life… It never got in the way before… Even when they met on the battlefield.

“Well, all I am asking is for you to do the first thing, which could also be the last thing that you do with me.”

“These things needed to get done– okay, okay…” Fundy wrapped his arms around himself, tail curling onto around his right leg. He had so much to do, and with Niki and Ranboo off doing their own thing, he could at least try and― He froze, darting across the other side of the room as soon as he noticed Dream standing up to move towards him. Dream tried to follow him, but Fundy didn’t want to be near him right now. He held up a hand.

“Just… just… just stop moving towards me. Just stay on your side of the room―”

“Okay? So, we can talk this out?” Dream held onto that. He could salvage this, couldn’t he? They could talk this out, make up, and Fundy could forget about the whole… running away thing he’s currently got going on. They’d go back to the way it was. Though what that was exactly, Dream couldn’t really say.

“Well, listen… well, listen… If my friends are gonna be so nice to have me out here and respect my need to be alone during this really insane, crazy, impossible time of my life…” And by friends, Fundy meant Niki and Ranboo. He doubted anyone else would have noticed his absence. No one would notice if he just up and left, right? Well, New L’Manburg certainly wouldn’t have lost anything of value.

“The absolute least I can do is, you know, just… just go around and… and… and… and… and… destroy this house.”

Fundy was ripped away from his thoughts, a hand grazing the top of his shoulder. When did Dream get so close? Dream frowned, the expression hidden beneath the mask. Fundy’s eyes had glazed over, and Dream knew what that meant. In any other circumstance, he would have pulled the fox hybrid into his arms… but he couldn’t do that now.

“After tonight, you'll never hear from me again. If that's what you want. All we need to fix our marriage is one decent conversation. I'm asking for one chance.”

Fundy’s piercing brown eyes glared up at that porcelain mask, he should say no. He really should. But he never was the type to say no to someone he loved, was he?

“We'll do this one thing…”

“It is the first thing…” Dream needed to get this right.

“We're doing together…” Fundy wanted it to be over.

“Since…”

“You left without saying a word.” Dream never meant for it to go that far.

“I found out you are not who I thought you were.” Fundy never thought he’d ever feel this betrayed.

“We'll do this one thing…” Fundy wished it would be just this one.

“It could be the last thing.” Dream hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

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#fundywastaken #fundy #dream mcyt #mcyt

23 notes · View notes

thevioletcaptain · 4 years

Text

i just needed to rant a bit about fandom expectations.

under a cut because i don’t want to be out here popping anyone’s excitement bubble.

i’ve mostly been staying quiet on this front aside from a few vague tweets.

but... man. this widespread conviction that cas is definitely coming back, that dean will get a chance to directly respond to his confession, that there’ll be a kiss, etc.

guys, it’s making me so goddamn sad.

i mean. i get it. it would make sense for him to come back. it would be fair, to let cas finally know that yes, he is loved and wanted and important. initially, it’s what i expected as well.

y’all know that all i’ve ever wanted out of an ending for this show is for all of our boys to be together, and for cas to be told how important he is. so i’m going to be absolutely gutted if we don’t get at least the implication that they’ll reunite with cas somehow.

but all the things people have been citing as “proof” that misha filmed for the final episode are... thin at best. everything that’s come out since 15.18 indicates that it was his last appearance on screen.

and sure, maybe the show is doing an elaborate cover up to keep us in the dark like they did with that bogus abominable snowman movie back when they were keeping jim beaver’s involvement in party on garth a secret.

i’ll be fucking thrilled if that’s the case. though if i’m being honest... if that’s what is going on here, i’ll also be more than a little pissed that they put us through the unnecessary stress when this shit of a year already has us all clinging desperately to our last shreds of sanity.

but i digress.

the point is, fandom seems to have collectively decided to ignore everything we’ve been told by misha and everyone else who has referred to despair as his final appearance.

fandom also seems to have collectively decided that their hopeful speculation that cas is going to return is not so much speculation, but in fact, a foregone conclusion.

and honestly... that's the main problem. speculation is not foolproof. and pinning all of your hopes and expectations and anticipation on speculation is a one way ticket to bitter disappointment and anger, even when it’s just a random episode in the middle of a series.

doing it now? at the end? oooof. idk. i’m just worried i guess.

worried that people are only setting themselves up to be really hurt.

worried that a big portion of fandom is going to sour on the show and bail when the final credits roll and we haven’t seen cas come back.

anyway. i just needed to vent all of that, i guess.

given the amount of work that dabb & co have clearly put into this past few seasons in order to push dean and castiel’s part of the story as far as they possibly could, it would really suck to see people bail at the end.

based on everything else he’s done, i do think i’ll personally be satisfied with whatever dabb has written, though i’m deeply unhappy about the probability of cas not being present.

ultimately, i trust dabb to do right by these characters, even if the finale ends up taking a direction that i wouldn’t have chosen.

i’ll be here forever, regardless of what happens tomorrow.

i just hope that the majority of fandom will be, too.

#shouting into the void #fandom problems #the gist is this:#i'm carrying several tons of anxiety because of other people's cas-related optimism #and my own complete lack of optimism for his return due to the //gestures at everything//#while i'm also simultaneously optimistic about the overall ending of the show because i trust dabb as a storyteller #under a cut because i'm not here to police anyone #for their excitement or hope or anything else #just getting it off my chest #because i'm just shy of having a panic attack over my fear that fandom is going to eat itself when their speculation doesn't come true #and needed to vent

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misterewrites · 4 years

Text

Hellish Blitz (Welcome to the Underground)

Hey everyone! E here after a pretty long month. Sorry it's been a rough one and I've barely had time to actually write the next part down but it is here, it is ready and I hope you all enjoy it! I am very pleasantly surprised how well this original work is doing and I appreciate everyone who reads this story or shares with your friends. Thank you so much and I hope you keep enjoying it. Stay safe, wash your hands, wear you mask and take care of each other. E out have a great week!

Here’s the link if you wanna read it on ao3!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/73437030

Chapter summary: Now trapped in prison for a demonic hellspawn, Abigail and co. race to find the seal that will weaken the demon and prevent its a escape before it grows too powerful to stop. As Abigail and Oliver search for the seal, it is up to the forsaken paladin Fen and Archibald to distract the demon long enough for everyone to escape.

-----

“You’re terrible.”

“And?”

Abigail frowned, unsure how to respond to the simple matter of fact tone of that answer.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” She asked curiously.

“Why should it?” Oliver eyed her carefully.

“It might affect my opinion of you.”

“So?” Oliver began plucking books off their shelves and tossing them to the floor haphazardly “I don’t really care about your opinion.”

Abigail pursed her lips unhappily “You’re just the worst.”

Oliver kicked over a chair “Maybe but I’m exactly who I said I am. I’m not pretending and putting lives in danger.”

Abigail said nothing, opting to check under a rug for any sign of the seal.

“Besides what do you care?” Oliver shot back “It’s not like we’re not friends.”

“I’m trying to be polite.” Abigail mumbled softly under her breath.

“Don’t.” Oliver said simply “Speak your mind. You might not get a chance later.”

Abigail bit her lips, unsure if this was a trap or some other angle the bard had planned.

Oliver leaned against the wall, arms crossed and eyes focused on Abigail.

Abigail sighed and rose to her feet, brushing away the dust from her hands and pants “I think you are a jerk who has never learned manners ever. I think you get your kicks from pissing off people and making them feel miserable. I can’t get a bead on you and it’s frustrating! Every time I think you might not be that bad, you go and kick a paladin when they’re down! And now I’m going to die with you being an ass.”

“All better?”

“Yeah actually.” Abigail admitted, surprised how much anger and frustration she been holding in. Three days and she hadn’t really realized how much was eating at her.

“Good.” Oliver pushed off the wall, his eyes darting around for any sign of a hiding place “Let’s get a move on.”

“That’s it?” Abigail tilted her head “You’re not gonna say what you hate about me? How much of a goody two shoes I am or that I’m annoying?”

“Nope”

And like that Oliver disappeared deeper into the house, not another word escaping his lips.

-----

The creaking of the house did not help Archibald’s nerves as he and Fen moved silently through the unhallowed halls of the prison.

Archibald’s six months with the Swift Slivers brought him vital battlefield experience he never got as a recruit on the surface but nothing prepared him for this nightmarish situation: Hunting a demonic being from another plane alongside a forsaken paladin with the only goal being stalling long enough for Abigail and Oliver to find a well hidden seal and figuring out how to restrengthen it without any prior experience or knowledge. He didn’t have his family of warriors, clerics and Cecilia his basically sister. He was fumbling in the dark surrounded by strangers whose shared goal was trying not to die.

“Does your bard always make friends this way? Insults and disrespect?” Fen asked bitterly, lute locked in a death grip.

Archibald sighed. Fen had been poking and prodding about Oliver since they parted ways and always with a harsh tone.

Archibald wasn’t sure what to make of Oliver and while he only known him for a day, there was something about the bard that brought him an odd comfort. He was sharp and not just with his tongue. His quick decisive thinking had saved their lives and his firmness reminded him of Borrick. He saw through Fen’s deceit and within moments already figured out the severity of the situation and knew the paladin must’ve arrived with some sort of plan. He subtly pushed everyone into the roles he knew they would be best at: Him and Abigail the noncombatants searching for the seal and the fighters keeping the hellspawn occupied.

Archibald wasn’t sure if he liked Oliver but he knew as long as their goal aligned, he could trust him. Still wouldn’t pay to see him sing though. Too pitchy for his taste.

Out of all the terrain the archer found himself in his six months in the underground, this had been so far the worst. Nothing about this house made any sense: Halls seemed to stretch into impossible lengths, doors tilted and opened at odd angles with rooms changing each time he took his eyes off them. Fen told him the demon would regain more control of the house the more the seal weakened and was no doubt alternating any and everything it could to disorient and distract them. The good news that Oliver and Abigail should be free of such issues as the demon was more concerned with those hunting it.

“On guard” Fen firmly ordered as the pair stepped into a large dining room that no way should’ve fit inside this tiny house.

The room would’ve been spacious to move about if not for the long dinner table centered in the middle. Rusted cups and plates laid rotten and decayed across its surface as the dust swirled about in the air.

Archibald held his bow in one hand with an arrow at the ready resting between his fingers. The holy water vial was safely tucked away in his cloak pocket. He already dipped the arrow within the blessed liquid but he’d doubt a single arrow would slow the demon for long.

“Let us pray your bard is good as he claims he is.” Fen narrowed his eyes, searching through the dark for their prey.

Archibald could feel his skin shiver as the air turned hot and stuffy, a low growl faintly echoed from the shadows.

The beast asked something once more in its infernal tongue but Archibald had never been good at other languages aside common. Borrick taught him dwarvish curse words he’d never use though he desperately wished he could now.

“Steel yourself” Fen murmured unhelpfully

‘No shit’ Archibald thought to himself, notching the arrow in his bow.

-----

“So there’s nothing you believe in?”

Oliver sighed, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice as he pushed a chair onto the floor. The search was going poorly and little time remained.

Abigail rolled her eyes “I take that as no.”

“I didn’t say that, I’m just annoyed.”

“Nothing new then.”

“Well more so.”

“Just answer the question bard. I’m trying not to panic.”

Oliver paused thoughtfully, pursing his lip in concentration before answering “I’m really big in The Choir.”

Abigail raised an eyebrow “A choir? Isn’t that a little too tight knit for such a….solo act?”

Oliver shrugged “Sometimes you need an aria and sometimes you need the marching band.”

“I have no idea what you just said.”

“Yeah that’s par for the course.” Oliver sighed tiredly “We’re getting nowhere.”

“We need to think like the people who made this place.”

“No duh” Oliver scoffed “Okay. This is a prison for a demonic hellspawn.”

“Right.”

“So.” Oliver began to pace back and forth, the creaking of the wood thundering in the silence of the house “It would have to be hidden so the demon didn’t claw at it to break free.”

“Of course.”

“But they couldn’t just let it roam around here unchecked.” Oliver continued “they must’ve intended to come back periodically to check on the prison. Doesn’t matter that they suck at their jobs and forgot!” he threw his hand up in exasperation “Whatever. They needed it somewhere they could access it quick and easy.”

“I know you’re not actually listening to me but I feel uncomfortable just standing here.”

Oliver paused, Abigail could practically see his brain whirling and steaming as he tried to will whatever he was putting together into existence.

And into existence it came when Oliver let out longest unhappy groan Abigail ever heard.

“FUUUUUUU...”

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“...UUUUUUU...”

“Okay you can stop now, we don’t have forever. We don’t actually know how much time we have so be dramatic later.”

“...UUUUUUCK. It’s in the front.”

“What?! SERIOUSLY!?”

“Yes!” Oliver grunted before bolting down the hall “It makes the most sense!”

“Hey wait up!”

“Like you said no time!”

-----

“On your left!” Fen warned but Archibald already ducked under the wide swing of the demon, darting forward underneath its arm to clear some space for his shot on its backside.

The demon was prepared for this though: its arm elongated then bent itself backwards, twisting inhumanly with a sickening crunch of bones as it began to reach for Archibald.

‘Are you kidding?!’ he thought to himself as he dove sideways. He slid across the wide end of the table, knocking the various decayed silverware and plates to the floor as the arm snaked after him in pursuit. He braced himself against the wood and jabbed the holy water tipped arrow in his hand wildly.

The demon grimaced as the hand reeled back, smoke and the hiss of burning infernal flesh filling the room. Archibald scrambled backwards, allowing himself to hit the aged floor with a creaky thud.

“Regain your bearings!” Fen shouted from somewhere “I’ll distract the beast!”

Fen bull rushed the hellspawn and brought down his full weight into his swing. The demon’s face curled into something that reassembled pained surprise as Oliver’s lute crashed into its shoulder, the unmistakable sound of cracking bone filling Archibald’s ears. The demon stumbled back in a moment seemingly confused. Fen pressed the attack, chasing after his hated foe with reckless fury.

Archibald wished Fen focused more on fighting than trying to direct the archer. Any useful information he attempted to convey was already too late and pointless by the time he said it. It was clear he was not used to working in a team: In the Swift Slivers, Borrick more or less taught them to act with autonomy and to trust your fellow mercs. Fighters fought and kept the enemy distracted, archers aimed for the most dangerous foe and Cecilia blasted everything with arcane magic.

Archibald scampered to his feet, his eyes trying to readjust the chaotic back and forth of the battle: Fen fought as furiously as his opponent, trading vicious blows with the demon but making it almost impossible for Archibald to get a clear shot. The demon’s reddish skin contrast with the darkness somehow made it difficult to determine where the wall began and the creature ended. The stuffy air its mere presence created dried his eyes and impaired his vision ontop of everything else.

He gritted his teeth and backed away, arrow loose in his hand as he searched for the opening he needed.

-----

Fen could feel his body surge with the battle fury he hadn’t felt in such a long time. He felt like he had a purpose again, a calling and it was intoxicating.

Normally this infernal beast of hell would be no problem for a warrior of his caliber but at this moment he was no holy chosen of a higher being, he was merely a man and this hellspawn was not of this world.

The bard had not lied about his instrument. It bypassed the beast’s resistance to mortal weapons, bruising and batter more purplish splotches across its body as Fen laid into it.

Fen smashed the lute into its arm again, the crunch of bones heavenly to his ears. The demon snarled, swiping with its free hand but Fen brought his weapon up, the claws scraping harmlessly across the magical instruments surface. Fen countered driving the lute deep into the stomach of the demon. He winced as his wrist ached at the solid mass of muscles the lute ran into. He had forgotten this was not a sword but a mere bard’s instrument.

-----

The demon took advantage of this momentary lapse: It lashed out, trying to catch Fen’s throat. The paladin stumbled to the side. He flinched as the demonic claws raked against his aged armor, the sound of metal scraping against metal overwhelming him for a moment. He realized his mistake too late as he caught sight of the elongated arm snaked above him as it raced forward towards his head.

The demon reeled back in pain, its screams roaring like thunder across the house. The elongated arm retracted, its skin blackened and shriveled as the arrow embedded within blazed with holy light for a moment.

It shot a dirty look towards the archer whom was already prepping another sanctified payload. It growled angrily as it broke the shaft of the now normal arrow. Its skin bubbled and popped, dislodging the arrowhead from within as the demon focused on the archer.

The elongated arm swelled, the skin and muscle mass returning to normal as it launched towards the irritation with deadly intent. The archer had barely managed to dip the next arrow into the cursed water when he dove out of the way, the elongated arm barely missing the prey’s head as it dug deep into the walls.

The paladin yelled, throwing himself back into the fray with religious fever but it was not concerned. The seal weakened and each passing moment it regained more of its unholy strength. The blows from whatever the warrior was hitting it with hurt but sooner or later these human pests would be spent and all demons were well familiar with pain. It waited this long. A few moments more mattered not.

-----

Abigail could see the panic in Oliver’s eyes as he rushed back and forth, tearing the room apart in a desperate search for the seal.

Not that Abigail was much better: she was furiously throwing everything just as manically as Oliver.

They knew every second wasted was a second too long and there was still the task of actually figuring out how to strengthen the seal once more.

“THIS IS WHY I HATE CLERICS AND PALADIN!” Oliver shouted in frustration “WHY CAN’T THEY MAKE THIS EASY!? WHAT KIND OF GROUP FORGETS ABOUT A FUCKING DEMON ON A RANDOM SIDE PATH?! It’s kinda a big deal guys!”

Abigail said nothing, opting find the seal instead.

“We’re running out of time!” Abigail cried.

“No shit! Keep looking! It has to be something they could spot easily and get to!”

Abigail was about to angrily retort that she knew when she spotted something: A sunburst, same as the one on Fen’s armor, embedded in the wall near the front door.

“Oliver!” Abigail gestured hurriedly.

Luckily the bard was quick on the uptake. He made a mad dash for the symbol, eyes glowing with the soft golden light from before. Small fancy looking words surrounded the sunburst but Abigail couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

“It’s celestial.” He murmured more to himself than anything else “Of course it’s the language of the gods.”

“How are you doing that?” Abigail asked curiously as a way to distract herself “I know it’s a spell but…”

“Comprehend languages” Oliver answered honestly “Super basic spell. Normally I’d just cast it as a ritual to save energy but we don’t have ten minutes.”

“What’s it say?”

“The protection of heaven is granted by the sacrifice of pain.”

“That’s...oddly ominous. There’s nothing else?”

Oliver shook his head “And nothing’s scratched out. This is the seal they used but I’m not sure I’m getting what I’m supposed to do! This is oddly dark for the God of Redemption.”

Abigail paused for a moment, trying to remember the few sayings her family taught of the Solius. The protection of heaven is granted by the sacrifice of pain? That didn’t sound right.

“Wait” a thought came to her “Does the spell perfectly translate words? I don’t know about spells but if it’s super basic….”

“No!” Oliver cheered “It translates the most direct version of the words. So it’s not saying the protection of heaven is granted by the sacrifice of pain. It’s saying something similar.

“The path to redemption” Abigail quoted “is made by self sacrifice. That’s the closest quote I can think of in Common.”

“Give me your dagger.”

Abigail was unsure what Oliver had planned but did what the bard asked of.

Oliver took carefully and without a moment of hesitation, jabbed it directly into his palm.

“Oliver!”

But he didn’t responded. Instead he placed his bloody palm in the middle of the seal. The celestial words glowed with a soft gentle light as the blood slowly formed a circle of around the heavenly quote. The blood turned from a dark red to a pure white and the house hummed with a silent energy.

The sounds of battle, formerly unheard, now boomed from the next room. Grunts of effort and the thrashing of broken furniture echoing loudly down the hallway.

Oliver stood up “We need to go.”

“Oliver, your hand.”

“After” Oliver said with a hint of finality “When we’re all safe. Now let’s go get our solider boy. And the paladin I guess.”

The two broke into a sprint, resisting the syrupy urge to rest ebbed at their weary bodies.

“How did you know that would work? Why didn’t you tell me?” Abigail asked, trying to stay focus.

Oliver shrugged “Never ask someone else for something you won’t do. It needed to be done. If I asked you, I needed to convince you and it was going to be painful. Besides it’s about self sacrifice. It had to be willing. No hesitation knowing the freaking religion.”

Abigail said nothing.

With victory and safety filling their resolve, the two made their way into the dining room, Archibald letting loose an arrow towards some unseen threat.

Abigail sighed in relief as Oliver moved to call to the mercenary.

Their faces fell to horror as the demons elongated arm dug deeply into Archibald’s stomach, lifting him off his feet in some sickening display of victory.

“ARCHIE!”

#my work #welcome to the underground #my story #Original Work

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grahammasurian · 3 years

Text

Dumping Your Responsibility.

The dumpster outside my apartment building was completely overflowed. The truck missed a couple weeks for some reason and people just kept piling their shit on top regardless.

“My sin will be forgiven, the next sinner will go to hell!”

This came into my head whenever I thought of the garbage situation. I considered myself 99% innocent since I didn’t use the dumpster during these couple weeks. Unfortunately when disaster happens it doesn’t care how much you were involved, all it sees is your darkness.

What I could have done was call up our landlord. Maybe I didn’t add directly to the trash pile but I still could have brought attention to it. Unfortunately my mind gave me a great reason for not calling him, a wonderful why even bother type of belief. These curses will kill you but they provide immense relief.

He lives someplace nicer and keeps his back turned on this building, so if I don’t tell him anything he’ll keep believing whatever fantasy he’s living. Whenever I bring up something for him to look at he puts it off or conveniently forgets about it, can’t say I blame him. I'd love to do the same sometimes and then feel guilty about it for the rest of my life. It’s hard to convince myself that a life of eternal guilt is worse than a life of hard work. Maybe the simple solution is to just disregard the guilt and make everyone despise me, though I can’t say that seems like a good long term strategy.

I guess everyone likes to avoid responsibility too, don’t get me wrong I get it, because man it sure feels good to not take anything seriously, just sit back and relax through life, I’ll lay down in my bed and fold into a quarter circle. Pull my knees up to my chest and gently hold myself, like swinging in the breeze floating along to somewhere better.

Eventually some birds had a war over the trash that was at this point spilling everywhere, old food, old clothes, plastic shit, maybe real shit. It was a disaster but seemed to be an appropriate punishment for us. I watched a seagull pull apart a bag for 30 minutes, something about the completely boring and ordinary scene held a power over me. I imagined this feeling of our civilizations being consumed again by nature, it’s easy to forget that nature is constantly trying to integrate us more effectively. Integration with an ocean with a mysterious intention.

We could have salvaged things there, rescued some of our dignity and just accepted responsibility for what we did by not doing. I sat some nights debating whether or not I should just go out there and clean up everything alone. I didn’t mind the day, but at night I just loved how things seemed to come to life inside me. There was a power that I didn’t have access to during the day.

I decided it wasn’t worth cleaning up, after all I don’t really care what these people think of me, unless they express it to me. Plus I felt like I fit in better with my environment as a lazy drifter. When I run into the people that live here occasionally there is enough willpower on all our parts to say “Hi” and then move on our way. The two people that live under me, man and wife, maybe around late 50’s early 60’s always give me a glimpse into a possible future. The guy looks like his soul has been sucked out and not in a good way. It scares me for a moment and I tell myself I’ll keep it in mind but my actions don’t change.

The next week after the missed pickup and our experiment with apathy, something happened.

It was 12:33 AM, I was laying down in my bed with the window open, listening to the wind and feeling the slight breeze on my skin. Sometimes I’d lay there for hours listening to music or in silence, using drugs of course. The sounds of the night combined with distant sounds of the city created the backdrop for the worlds I explored in my mind. I break away from the atmosphere and write some ideas down in some form then go back to my mind.

I heard a familiar sound, the mother of this girl screaming in that resentful kind of way. Whenever someone talks that way to me my stomach gets sick, I see this person is using me to escape from something. You know instantly that this isn’t about you anymore, it's about them.

I hated the way this mother yelled at her daughter, I didn’t have kids of my own but I didn’t mind them, I generally see children as innocent beings until they gain awareness. When they become aware they turn into wood, hopefully they make it through and become real but many don’t. Some play as the twisted craftsmen, shaping the world with design. Night after night I’d hear this poor girl being molded into something that will make her unhappy for the rest of her life.

Even though it’s hard to feel connected with darkness, you still elicit feelings for things of the night. You react more on principle and not bigger picture at night, this mother was injecting venom deep into the mind of her daughter. Like a jackass I sat there each night it happened and listened to it like music.

Being man enough to walk down there one day and call her out on her shitty behavior was always in the back of my mind, but then I would think some more and figure what difference would it make? Sometimes I snap out of my delusions and wake up, I see who I am from up here.

Just look for the right words.

It didn’t happen every time but sometimes this warped girl would dash outside, slamming doors and shouting behind her. Most times I’d hear her small steps pace around or walk down out of earshot then eventually I’d hear her again coming from the other side of the building, maybe doing two or three laps like that before cooling off and gaining enough strength to go back. She feels like she just wants to give up but chooses to continue to face that fate which shows just how much courage she had.

This night the young girl made her usual escape, something about the scene caught my attention. Normally I just ignored it for the most part, but tonight I felt worried for her and listened to see if she was okay.

The shriek of her screaming scared me sober. That kind of pitch that you can only get when you feel real terror.

Confusion at night amplifies fear to a level that can go beyond anything you’ve ever felt. Sometimes hearing a loud noise randomly in the middle of the night only to realize it was something conspicuous is an interesting moment of tension and release of tension. When you listen to death it creates tension that doesn’t go away unless you force it to release.

I couldn’t see much but the sounds made up for the rest, I looked on in horror as this poor unfortunate girl came running towards the front door to come back inside. She must have forgotten to prop it open a little this time like she usually did. The door was shut, she couldn’t escape through there and it was the only chance she had time to try.

This whole thing happened so fast it was as if my mind refused to think about what I was seeing, this bear that must have smelled some food nearby came across her instead.

Hearing someone produce screams that come from a dangerous place, sends a painful shock through you. It would have been nice if I was one of those people that got off on that kind of thing but unfortunately I had to deal with the feelings of misery, dread, sadness, fear, anger, all at once.

A little bit slower than what should have been immediate there was incredible energy from all around, people coming out and making noise, not too many but enough for me to be impressed.

The general sentiment at the time was:

“Oh My God!” A big fat lady wearing a shaggy blue sweater screeched out. There were many other intense shouts, deflated yelps, sobbing murmurs, all mixing together slowly creating the atmosphere for a tremendously horrific scene.

All these half awake people, semi-disconnected souls felt something deep down within them for once. For the first time in decades some of these hopeless people felt alive, they acted without thought calling back to our primate ancestors. They witnessed a driving force, without realizing the lesson unfortunately.

Some of the people approached the girl to try and attempt some kind of help and others stayed away, accepting the situation or too afraid to know how bad it really was.

Some sobs were heard throughout the night as people came and went, voices that sounded defeated, voices that sounded ready to give up and heavy with guilt.

“Emily! No!” The mother cried. Obviously still drunk. Obviously deluded into thinking her daughter is anywhere close to alive.

“Please baby I’m so sorry! Please wake up baby!”

I had great disdain for this mother, but at that moment I felt bad for her. This woman made mistakes and in the end all it causes is suffering.

They came for her daughter, whisked her away into the abyss forever. Black cloaks riding into the stars on their skeletal horses. I wasn’t sure whether or not the constant beating I was hearing was a drum or my heart. We summoned these demons with our ritual, the choices we made were acts of incantation that brought forth monsters with the power to possess mortals, the possession was the final step in ensuring resurrection lest one of us snap out of the hypnosis and rescue the rest from the gaze of Medusa.

Then some downcast EMT workers took away her body, from the low looks and words after immediately coming upon the scene it was clear that hope didn’t exist anymore. I never saw the aftermath personally, where the actual attack happened was obscured to me by the awning over the door. Sometimes imagination makes things worse.

The mother followed her daughter into the darkness 3 weeks later.

#creative writing #short story #tale #journal #writeblr

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