#listen... maybe if your argument can be entirely contained within fandom

[sundogscoops]

Honestly cant hold on to grudges for very long especially now that im in my 30s. Like eventually you learn some arguments are really not worth burning bridges over.

After living some time you might run into a Very Unfortunate Type of Person(s) and it just kind of shifts your entire tolerance paradigm so likke..

Im only unwilling to fw 2 people on this earth for forever, one is an attempted murderer and one is a pedophile so y ee ah. !

YA LIVE AND LEARN AHYYUCK

Mending fences is always an option and i want to try more of that as i get older..

[arsonsara]

Acknowledging The Ostrelephant In The Room: A Breakdown of The Mag*psies, The Mistakes They Made, And How They Could Be Improved Upon.

(TW: Slurs [G*ypsie]. & Negative Representation of those in the LGBT+ Community)

[The Following Essay also contains spoilers for the game Mother 3.]

Mother 3 is my favorite game of all time. If anyone has known me long enough to talk about what games I enjoy or followed me on Social Media to see my occasional bouts of reblogging fan-made content for the series, this is an obvious talking point. I’ve been a part of the community surrounding Mother 3 ever since I was about 10-12 years old, with my old Acer Laptop playing through the Fan-Translation on a GBA Emulator. While I wouldn’t consider myself a Mother 3 Veteran, I have been around long enough for me to see how the community has changed and shifted through the years as well as how I myself changed through my perspective on the world around me and myself. 10 or so years later after having played Mother 3 for the first time I still stand by my statement that it is my favorite game of all time, without question.

However, I would be lying if I were to say that Mother 3 was not a flawed game. Arguments can be made that games inspired by the Mother Franchise have gone leaps and bounds above the original series in terms of narrative structure and gameplay. However from what I've seen from the community of Mother 3, none of that tends to bother them enough to hamper the experience of the game itself. Except for one thing. One group of characters that has the community tugging at their collars or just straight up ignoring their existence. While I can understand and even empathize with the idea of just straight up mentally retconning something, especially when said thing directly affects you emotionally due to any personal connections you might have with the connotations, there’s a certain level of unease I garner when I see people clearly side-stepping the situation. Choosing to pretend it never happened as opposed to acknowledging it for it’s flaws, properly criticizing it and even potentially putting ideas forward as to how the situation could’ve been improved. Time to stop beating around the Walking Bushie: Let’s talk about the Mag*psies.

Now let’s start off with what’s right in front of us. The first thing that hits you in the face as soon as these characters are mentioned by name, the thing that unequivocally is a black mark against Mother 3 as a game. Mag*psies. Yeah, it’s bad. Now for those unawares on what I mean let’s clarify something right off the bat: The term Gy*psy is a slur. Specifically a slur against the Romani people, a slur that originated in Europe upon the rising population of Roma migrating from their homeland to European nations. The slur came from an uneducated perspective that the Romani hailed from Egypt. With this slur comes the negative stereotypes that came from that same origin point: That Romani people were a nomadic people that consisted of criminals, ne'er do wells, and the dregs of society. Sometimes, mostly in media, they were even seen as wanderers who practice unsavory and unholy acts of magic. As well as the more uninformed, sensationalized version of “Voodoo” (which, when you put into perspective of how the Romani were mistaken for Egyptians and that Voodoo originated from Hati, really puts into perspective how xenophobia is born on blatant misinformation, scapegoat tactics and a really shitty grasp on geography.)

So with that in mind, the fact that this is the name that was chosen for this group of characters is bad. Although for most people, (I hope) this goes without saying. So why am I bringing this up? Because for a group of characters whose entire troupe are named after a slur that has real world connotations, the Mag*psie don’t outwardly express any malice or xenophobia against the Romani people. With how they’re characterized and presented, there aren’t really any clear connections to the stereotypes for those of Roma descent outside of a connection to magic, in this case PSI. And even than the Magy*psies being proficient in PSI seems more like it was intended as a genuine plot point then as a racial stereotype. So if that’s the case, why was that the name that was chosen? Simple: It was a case of misinformation.

One common misconception regarding the term G*psie is that it means being a free spirit, a wanderer, one with the world around you and mystically inclined. Of course this is all false and mostly stems from taking a negative racial connotation and turning it into a marketable buzzword for anything that seems ‘Mystical’ or ‘Free-Spirited’. In the same way that a Ouija Board is a tool for summoning and contacting spirits and demons that was manufactured by Parker Brothers for about 20$. So, it’s easy to surmise that the reason the name Mag*psie was chosen is because the developers of the game believed it to be an old-world term for someone of magical expertise or connected to the Earth spiritually. It also helps to keep in mind that Mother 3 was developed in Japan, and most people were more than likely unaware towards it’s true connotation. Hell, it wasn’t until a few years ago that people in the United States started to call people out on usage of the term and considering that Mother 3 was developed in the early 2000’s it’s easy to understand the confusion. Now, i’m not saying that this to excuse the use of G*psie in the game. Point blank, it shouldn’t have been used and is a legitimate flaw and mistake on part of the developers. But it also helps to keep in mind that the choice of word wasn’t out of malice, just ignorance. Does that make it better? No, but i’d like to imagine that if way back when, if someone on the development team found out what G*psie actually meant that it wouldn’t have gone into the game. Considering the core messages of Mother 3 and it’s tennants on the importance of companionship, family, community and love, It doesn’t make sense to have such a vile slur used within it’s context.

So what do we do with this information? Well, the Mother 3 community is oddly enough in the best state it’s ever been to fix this problem. Why do I say that? Because the game hasn’t been internationally localized yet. And let’s face it, the Mag*psies are one of the biggest reasons the game hasn’t seen an official English release. And maybe it’s just my overly-optimistic, dare I say, Pollyanna-esque point of view, but if a discussion were to start about the positive changes one could make towards the Mag*psies as characters and a narrative concept, the right people might just be listening in on the conversation and make the right changes for an international release or even a remake.  Now, considering how it’s been 14 years since it’s Japanese release, and soon to be 15 years in a few months, I can understand if you just groaned or rolled your eyes reading that. But on the same merit, what’s the harm? Let’s say we do have this conversation and Nintendo just doesn’t pay attention and Mother 3’s International Localization continues to be a pipe-dream. What do we lose? That’s the fun thing about Fandom, sometimes you can just toss out the bad things about something you enjoy and make it better and overall more positive for the community. We toss out the old Mag*psies with their slur-using titles and uninformed, sloppy concepts of gender expression (trust me, we’ll get to that second point later.) and have newer, better ones that we can use for fan-content! So in the end, we either change the tide of the franchise itself and turn them around, giving us a greater chance at localization than we ever did before on top of a group of characters of positive representation! Or we just have these nicer, more appealing versions of the characters for our own uses now that the franchise is pretty much finished. It’s a win-win.

So with that, I'll start by making what’s probably the easiest change to these characters anyone could ever make.

Mag*ypsies. Mag / ypsies.

Magi.

And there we go. Good as new! Plus, it still works as a title for a group of people who specialize in mysticism and PSI as Magi is the plural for Magus! So, from this point forward, I am going to be referring to these characters as The Magi. Baddabing, Baddaboom.

Now with that out of the way, it’s time we address the second issue regarding The Magi: Their presentation of their gender identity and the problems those bring. In Mother 3, The Magi are referred to by Alec as being “neither male nor female”, and it’s heavily implied that The Magi aren’t even human. That due to them being so ancient, wise and strange they can't fit into the binary of male or female, so they have the traits of both. This results in the characters looking like they’re all men in drag, acting overly flamboyant and flirtatious. This results in The Magi being seen as a negative representation of people who identify as Genderqueer or Non-Binary. The stereotype of being loud, obnoxious, overtly sexual and all placed under a single umbrella of a flawed perspective which just results in them all being poorly written “”Drag Queens””. Now that isn’t to say a character who dresses in drag is a bad thing. If anything I encourage the idea of a Post-Modern RPG having a Drag Queen or King as a plot important ally or even a party member! The issue lies in that, because all of The Magi are presented like this it implies that those who don’t fit within the gender binary of male or female are all like this. Even if that wasn’t the intention, that is what the subtext implies.

Part of the intention behind the creation of the Magi was to balance out the more gritty, action-oriented and “Macho” tone that Mother 3 had compared to Mother 2 and 1. The idea was that The Magi would be at the center of the conflict between Tazmilly Village, The Main Party and The Pigmask Army and to balance out the darker tones of the story they would be aloof, androgynous and accepting of the fact that they would pass as the story progressed. This way the characters would be able to balance out the darker story beats and lighten the mood. Although it’s easy to see how this viewpoint would result in a less than stellar outcome. While on paper, the idea of a group of characters hearkening back to the more light-hearted and out-there tone of the previous games to make it so the game is less bleak is a fantastic idea, the execution was botched due to how sloppily it was handled.

The Magi in Mother 3 are represented in such a dissonant way, especially at the start of the game upon their introduction. Not only are you slapped in the face with their appearance and unfortunate name choice, upon asking about the whereabouts of Claus after he went up to the mountains to fight a Drago as revenge for the death of his mother, almost all the Magi basically respond by saying “Eh, who cares, humans live such short lives anyways so what does the life of one kid mean in the grand scheme of things?” Seeing as the players are meant to see The Magi as sympathetic characters and eventually team up with them in the end game to arrive at the locations of all of the Dragon Needles, the fact that this is their introduction is not only a slap in the face to those who are being negatively affected by how their presented but is also just...crappy writing. And don’t even get me started on the scene where Ionia teaches Lucas PSI, that is just BAD. Like point blank, bold text, red color, size 46 font BAD. Like even if The Magi didn’t have their original name and weren’t sloppy representations of non-binary/genderqueer folk that scene would still be really uncomfy.

And yet with all of this going against The Magi in terms of their presentation, it’s still hard to pin them down as having any ill-intent behind them because of their importance at the end of the game and what they eventually stand for. Once the race for The Dragon Needles begin, not only do all of The Magi support you on your quest and show levels of genuine concern and compassion for the protagonists, but also end up fleshing out the world around them in a way that gives the player a sense of hope in a time of hopelessness. Whether it be Ionia and her boundless compassion for the party and Kumatora especially, acting as her surrogate parental figure and doing everything she can to support the party in a time of crisis. Or Lydia, taking care of a wounded Pigmask Soldier, someone whose job it is to rip the life from The Magi in hopes of awakening the Dragon to shape the world in their master’s image. That despite their motivations, they wouldn’t let a wounded man die in the frigid cold of the mountains. These characters are meant to be beacons of hope, characters to lighten the mood during dark times and become characters you genuinely feel for. And yet, the execution fell flat due to a shoddy introduction, sub-par writing and misinformed representation.

So, where does that leave us? This is obviously an issue that’s a lot more nuanced than just changing their name so where do we start? While I don’t claim to have the perfect solution for this, and encourage others to throw their hat in the ring and keep the discussion going, I do have a few ideas: First things first, remove the concept that The Magi aren’t human and are incomprehensible to “Mortals”. Instead, make it so The Magi are just humans from the past who were so proficient in PSI and Psychic Abilities they were able to survive the cataclysm from milenia’s past and are more akin to Buddhist Monks in how they’re perceived. That being said, I do still like the idea of their style being tightly connected to that of Magicant from Mother 1. Spiral Shell houses, pink hair, very sparkly and pretty, we can keep that aesthetic. It makes sense for them! By making this change, we humanize The Magi a lot more and make it so the players can connect with them better and empathize with them easier as opposed to them being the off-the-wall weirdos that the game tries to represent them as. Plus, if the game really wanted an off-the-wall weirdo that ties back to the previous games, just give Dr. Andonuts more screentime. Along with that change, make them more empathetic without sacrificing their all-powerful mysticism. For example, when Alec and Flint arrive at the party at Aeolia’s, instead of having them nonchalantly shrug off the potential of Claus’ death, have them actively participate in assisting them in finding their lost child. Instead of it being “We’re all powerful so the death of one person is meaningless in comparison to how we perceive the world.” it’s more “We’re all powerful, so assisting you in your journey to save your loved one is a simple task that will require minimal effort. If such a simple request can result in a good outcome, it shall be done.” Of course that begs the question of why they don’t just take care of everything, but I think that can be circumvented with the idea that they can’t intervene with the lives of others too much. That using their immense psychic powers too often would result in them misusing their powers and that they have to practice a certain level of restraint, or even that they’re so strong an overuse of their powers would result in devastation. Sort of like how a knight in a medieval fantasy story would seek guidance from an all powerful wizard, but the wizard can’t just solve the problem for them.

Now my next suggestion is turning a negative into a positive: Instead of having The Magi all represented as men in drag, The Magi are now all represented as different type of people that could fall under the non-binary or genderqueer spectrum! Now instead of all of them falling under the same umbrella, Aeolia can be purely androgynous and agender going by they/them pronouns, Doria is now demigender, partially identifying as male but going by xey/xem pronouns, having a big old pink lumberjack beard and a heartwarming smile, Lydia looks older and more aged with their physical appearance looking like that of an older man but using she/her pronouns and identifying with female presentation whilst feeling that they don’t have to be rescritced to said female presentation, Phygria could be genderfluid and upon each appearance they have they transition between genders, and Mixolydia falling under Genderqueer, having their own personal presentation of themselves and who they are! As for Ionia, I would actually argue keeping her the same! I say this because, if all The Magi are under the same umbrella representation of a stereotyped drag-queen, it’s a problem. However, if all The Magi are comprised of different, varied representations of the non-binary/genderqueer community it would make sense to have one of them fall under the representation of someone who dresses in drag!

Of course, these are all just my ideas. Whilst I have done as much research as I could while writing this, I understand that there are certain aspects behind those of non-binary expression that I am unaware of and ways that I could improve upon this idea. Like how changing The Magi in this way would still result in them all basically being a part of a big “Bury Your Gays” Trope due to them all passing away upon pulling their respective Needles, so i’m sure that there are plenty of other ideas other people could throw in! And I encourage that, I encourage people to look at this and tell me how this concept can be improved upon to create a more inclusive and positive representation of The Magi! Because that’s what we deserve! I can look at this years in the future and admit that there may have been something I missed out on or was just blatantly unaware of! But I’m hoping at the end of the day that this discussion can not only lead to a critical analysis of the wrongs behind the original Magi in Mother 3, but how they can be improved upon and made better. If not for Mother 3, or the Mother 3 community, for those who plan on making their own stories, their own games, so that they know to not make the same mistakes the developers of Mother 3 made and make something even better.

[musingsofsaturn]

Opening Up [Kristanna ‘Waitress AU] - Chapter Three

[Masterlist for this fic]

Fandom: Frozen/Frozen II

Ship: Anna/Kristoff

Side Pairings: Anna/Hans, Elsa/Honeymaren, Bulda/Cliff

Chapters: 10/10 [COMPLETE]

Rating: M

This Chapter’s Rating: M for scenes of domestic abuse

This Chapter’s Word Count: 2,000+

Summary:  Waitress and baker Anna Westergaard’s life changed forever when she discovered some startling news. Dr Kristoff Bjorgman didn’t anticipate liking his new patients quite as much as he did. For better or worse, the residents of the small town of Småby Bend were about to be changed forever.

Author’s Note: Trigger warning for this chapter: it contains a scene of domestic violence and verbal abuse. Please protect your mental health!

Some of you may notice that I've changed the rating of this fic. I was originally planning for it to be a bit smutty, but I've pre-written the chapter where that would be and actually thought that it was better without the explicit content. So it's mature, but it's no longer going to be explicit. Hope you continue to enjoy it nonetheless!

~ Saturn

[Picture from Where is my Spoon. This chapter’s recipe is for Treacle Tart - one of my absolute favourites!]

Anna walked out of the doctors’ office quickly. It was chilly, and she stuck her hands in her coat pockets to seek some warmth. Her fingers brushed against two pieces of paper, and she stopped walking, pulling them out of her pocket to look them over.

The alcoholism leaflet was designed to look unthreatening, but Anna knew that in reality it was a grenade with the pin pulled. She knew from past experience what happened if she dared to comment on Hans’ drinking habits, even in passing. It infuriated him, and his fury was always directed at Anna with savage words and strong hands. She’d quickly learned not to broach the topic.

If she brought home that leaflet, told him that he had a problem, and that he needed help, she knew he wouldn’t see it as a kindness. No, he’d see it as a humiliating attack, and would strike back, lashing out at Anna with all the aggression of a raging bull.

It wasn’t as if Anna wasn’t used to Hans’ anger. In truth, after the first few months of their marriage, not a week had gone by where he hadn’t shouted at or hurt her. She was a brave young woman; she could take it. But now, if she let him hurt her, she’d be letting him hurt the baby. A fiercely protective instinct inside her could never allow that to happen.

Walking towards the nearest bin, Anna tore the alcoholism leaflet in half, then into quarters for good measure, before quickly throwing the pieces away. Kristoff’s phone number was still in her hand. She gazed at it for a long moment.

‘If you ever feel unsafe, I don’t care what time it is, you can give me a call.’

It had been a genuine offer, she knew that. This phone number could be her lifeline. The next time she felt threatened, she could phone this man she barely knew, and he would do everything in his power to come to her rescue.

But what if everything in his power wasn’t enough? Then Hans would know that she had gone behind his back, and nothing would be able to stop his rage then. What if he hunted her down, killing her in cold blood and leaving her child to fend for themselves? Worse – what if hurting Anna wasn’t enough, and he resorted to harming the baby as well? No, she couldn’t risk it.

Anna felt the pinpricks of tears forming in her eyes as she shredded her lifeline in the same way she’d torn the leaflet. After tossing it in the bin, she sucked in a deep breath, and turned to head home.

The journey was a familiar one, and it took her less than five minutes before she arrived at the doorstep, swiftly turning the key and stepping inside. On autopilot, she turned to close the door behind her, closing her eyes and allowing herself a few moments more of peace.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Hans’ voice, cold and hateful, caused her to spin around.

“At the café-”

“-No.” He stepped closer, and Anna could smell the stench of alcohol rolling off his tongue in waves. “I called the café. They said you left at two thirty. It’s half four, Anna. So, where the fuck have you been?”

“I-” She wasn’t sure what she was going to tell him. Should she lie? Or would the truth be better? “I’m sorry,” she mumbled in lieu of making a decision.

Hans stormed towards her, shoving her backwards and grabbing her jaw firmly in his hands. She let out a yelp as the door handle jabbed into her back, but he didn’t let up. He twisted her head at an uncomfortable angle, and he leaned in close to her to shout, “Where the fuck where you, Anna? With some other man? Huh? You think you can fuck some other man and I wouldn’t know?”

“I didn’t- I wasn’t-” Anna felt panic rising in her as his other hand snaked into her hair, pulling it hard so she stood no chance of getting away.

“Don’t lie to me!” he hissed. His voice was full of venom.

“Hans, please-”

“You stupid fucking bitch! I give you a roof over your head, food on your table, clothes on your back, and you think you can just betray me?” He spat at her. Anna felt it running down her cheek but didn’t dare move to wipe it away.

He released her hair and jaw, but Anna didn’t feel any sense of relief. She felt only a sickening dread as she saw him pulling back his fist, which was aimed squarely at her face. Her eyes squeezed shut and her hands flew up to protect herself as she screamed out, “Hans, no, I’m pregnant!”

The blow never came.

Limbs trembling, Anna opened her eyes in time to see his fist lower. She followed suit, dropping her hands. “We’re going to have a baby,” she whispered. “I was at the doctors to make sure everything’s okay.”

“Oh, princess.” Anna couldn’t help but flinch as he reached for her, placing his hands on her stomach. “This is amazing.” She felt the urge to move away as he knelt down in front of her, giving her belly a drunken kiss. “This is going to fix us, princess, you’ll see.”

His words surprised her. She hadn’t thought that he was aware that the pair of them needed to be fixed. Maybe he could be a great dad after all. She sank to her knees as well, joining him on the floor. Hans’ pulled her into a hug, and she prayed to whatever God might have been listening that he hadn’t felt her shudder at his touch.

“I need you to promise me something.” Hans didn’t wait for her to answer. “I need you to promise me that you won’t love the baby more than you love me.”

Anna stiffened, and tried to recover herself before he felt it. He was too close to her now to allow her body to get carried away with its reactions. Did she love Hans? It was true that she had done, once. They wouldn’t be married now if that was the case. And she knew that she could love him just as much if he reverted back to who he was when they were younger – charming, sweet, and utterly devoted to her. But the version of Hans that she’d come to know was not the man she fell in love with. He terrified her.

She knew that there was only one answer that she could give in that moment, and she felt her fingers cross ever so slightly, out of sight. “I promise,” she whispered. In truth, as they embraced on the floor of the hallway, Anna thought that this was the closest to loving him that she’d felt in years.

“This is going to change everything for us, princess,” he whispered into her hair.

“Yes,” she murmured back. “I think it will.”

 ~

 Almost a week later, Anna was carefully arranging a display of pies in the chilled cabinet beside the till of The Snøffnug Café. She and Hans had no further arguments since she’d told him the news, and the subsequent contentment within her had inspired her to craft all sorts of sweet pies, which had delighted her customers.

Well, all her customers except Elsa, who was absolutely frantic with nerves for a date she’d arranged with a woman she met online. For as long as she had known her, Elsa had been a decidedly anxious woman, and the dating profile that Bulda set up for her a few months before had only elevated that anxiety. As Anna worked, she could hear Bulda talking their friend through her third panic attack of the day in the kitchen.

The bell chimed just as Anna finished slicing a key lime pie to place in the cabinet. She glanced up at the sound, offering the customer a quick greeting before she recognised who it was.

“Oh, Kristoff! Hi.” She wasn’t entirely sure why she felt so nervous, and given the curious looks she received from both Elsa and Bulda, it wasn’t just in her head.

She smiled warmly as Kristoff strode over to her. He really was very handsome. In an outfit as simple as jeans and a jumper, Anna realised he’d captured the attention of every woman in the cosy dining area. She couldn’t help but feel the warmth of pride as she also realised that out of all the women in the room, he was only paying attention to her.

“Hi, Anna. How are you feeling?”

“Feeling? Oh, with the- good. I mean, I’m feeling good.”

He chuckled, and she honestly could have kicked herself in the shin. Fortunately, he didn’t see the blush that crept to her cheeks, because he’d turned to the display cabinet and was admiring her creations hungrily.

“What can I get for you?”

“Get for me? Ah.” Anna couldn’t help the smile that came to her face as he so perfectly mirrored her confusion from earlier. “Actually, I came to give you this. Back. Give it back… to you.” Fumbling, he placed the cake tin she’d delivered the pie in the other day onto the counter. Anna thanked him, taking the container and placing it on a shelf behind her with other jars and tins on it. When she turned back to him, he was looking decidedly sheepish. “I have a secret to tell you, Anna. I finished that pie three days ago but I held on to the tin until today so you wouldn’t judge me for eating it all so fast.”

To her credit, Anna did manage not to giggle for at least two seconds. “Well, doctor, if you liked that Mermaid Marshmallow Pie so much, can I interest you in a slice of Treacle Tart? Seems like you love sweet things.”

“You got me,” he grinned. “Can I get that to go, please? I have an appointment in ten minutes.”

Anna swiftly placed the slice into a cardboard container, fastening it shut with a couple of snowflake stickers. She rang him up, and he moved to the door, before turning back to her with a smile.

“It was great seeing you, Anna. I’m glad to see you’re doing well.”

Then he was gone, and before she knew it, Anna was being bundled into the kitchen by a very excited-looking Bulda. Anna hadn’t realised that she and Elsa were even done with the pre-date anxiety attack.

“And just what was that?” she all but squealed. “Wait, first, who was that?”

“That’s Kristoff,” Anna replied, confused. “Dr Bjorgman. He’s my doctor. For the baby.”

“Well, judging by the way he was looking at you, Anna, I’d say he’s willing to take very good care of you.”

Shocked, Anna hit her arm lightly. “Bulda! That is so inappropriate! He’s my doctor.”

“He’s very handsome,” Elsa said wistfully.

Bulda let out a hearty laugh at her friend’s embarrassment. “Look, honey, you don’t see it yet, and that’s fine. But you will, Miss Anna. You definitely will.”

A shout from outside the kitchen got their attention. “Are you three gonna come back out here any time soon, or should I put on an apron and do your jobs for you?” Anna couldn’t tell if Cliff was genuinely angry at them. He could sound angry while cooing at a kitten.

Bulda either knew he wasn’t annoyed, or didn’t care if he was, as she snarked back, “You should. And while you’re at it, try on one of these dresses. You’d look lovely in blue.”

They shared a hushed laugh at Cliff’s expense, as they heard him grumbling something incoherent outside. “We’d better go, before His Majesty decides to come in here and drag us out by our ears.”

Bulda was still chuckling quietly to herself as she and Elsa left Anna alone in the kitchen to consider her earlier words.

Next Chapter

[agl03]

Hi! Thanks for all the time you take to write everything and asnwer all the Fandom asks!! This is my prompt : Jemma realizes she is pregnant after she is already deep undercover in Hydra. Or Fzzt happens after fs are already in a relationship. Whatever inspires your muse, thanks anyways. Have a good weekend!

Hi Anon,

I went with Door Number 1....Hope you like it.

Unexpected

Jemma did her best not to run to her apartment for fear if she was being followed by her current “employers” it would bring unwanted attention to herself.  

She’d been undercover in Hydra for a few weeks now and nearly every second of every day she regretted the decision to come.   Regretted listening to the Doctors who said she was making Fitz worse.  Regretted believing Coulson when he’d promised he’d keep her fully appraised of Fitz’s progress. Regretted that Fitz wouldn’t be at her side as she took what could be the most important test of her life.   

She and Fitz were still a bit unsettled.   The night they had been hiding at the motel they’d found comfort in each others arms.   With her crawling into his bed for the comfort of his arms.  His lips tentatively finding hers in the silence.   Then they fell together, mind, body, and soul.   She never regretted that night, if anything she regretted they hadn’t had another yet, but she did regret not being able to talk to him before the’d been abducted, before his coma, and before she left.  

She finally reached her apartment and locked the door with a satisfying click.  Finally allowing the tears to fall that had been threatening all day, the bag in her hand nearly pulling her to the floor with the implications within.  

With a steadying breath she pulled the boxes out of the bags and went into the bathroom..  Within ten minutes she was starting at found pink plus signs and digital display reading “Pregnant” back at her.

“Oh Fitz,” she breathed.

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

Fitz sat on the floor of Coulson’s office, the Directors desk torn apart in a few hundred pieces as he worked the complicated system that would hide Fury’s Tool Box within, and scowled at his own design.  It had seemed like a brilliant idea no two hours ago as it had come to him in a rare moment of clarity..  Now, in the middle of the night with his body and mind worn down it was all going to hell.  

“You should get some rest, start fresh tomorrow, everything will but much clearer with a sleep and tea” a soft voice said with a hand on his shoulder offering a small bit of comfort.  

Fitz closed his eyes and allowed himself to lean into the imaginary touch for a moment  before he let out a sigh of defeat.   

“I know,” he said already packing up his tools and trying to contain the chaos so Coulson could get a little work done on his desk in the morning.   

As he put the last tool into his bag he heard a buzzing noise suddenly coming from the many tablets on top of Coulson’s desk.      Fitz shuffled through the files and folders before he found where the noise is was coming from.  His blood running cold at what he saw.

It was Coulson’s private and normally encrypted tablet, the one he practically carried everywhere.  The screen was flashing bright red and a map flashing on a location.  

Agent J. Simmons in need of immediate extraction. Followed by a list of coordinates.

“Jemma,” he breathed.  Jemma was in danger and needed immediate extraction. 

Fitz tapped at the device trying to get more information but realized quickly he didn’t have the right pass codes or the time to hack it.  

Fitz didn’t hesitate what he did next.  First he used his phone to take a picture of her location before he dropped the tablet back on Coulson’s desk still vibrating in it’s alert.  Deep down he knew better than to do what he was about too, he knew he should go get someone, anyone, to go with him.  But all the hurt and fear of the last few months came crashing back.  How they didn’t know what to do with him and hid things from him.   

He knew if he got someone they’d make him stay behind and he may lose his chance to see Jemma.  She might not want to see him before he could apologize for being so horrible to her before they shipped her off again.  

He grabbed a go bag from the locker room before he went to the garage.   The adrenaline easily fueling his efforts to override the security in the garage and he got into the first SUV he could.

“Hold on Jemma, I’m coming.”

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

Jemma paced her small apartment with an Icer in hand as she waited for extract. Her other hand cradling her stomach that now when she inspected it had the slightest of bumps..  By her math she would be about twelve weeks along by now, her previous missed periods, weight gain, and sickness definitely not due to the stress of her mission as she’d previously thought.  

She’d activated her panic button precisely 129 minutes ago.  May had told her that a team would arrive for her in no less than 30 minutes after it was activated.  Fear gripped her that something had happened to the others that were preventing them from getting to her.  Or worse Hydra had intercepted the signal and was simply toying with her.   

She nearly jumped out of her skin when there was a knock at her door.   The knock wasn’t the coded one that Coulson or May would use when they stopped by, rather one that tore a sob from her chest, one that she’d longed to hear again, it was Fitz’s distinctive knock he’d had since their days at the academy.

Headless of the danger and numerous safety protocals she ran to the door and threw it open barreling right into Fitz’s chest.

“Fitz,” she sobbed clutching to him feeling more at home than she had in ages when she took in his familiar scent.  

“Jemma?” he said his own voice thick with emotion.

Jemma had enough sense to pull him into her apartment and bolt the door once more, all while never leaving his arms.  

Fitz went in with her easily and dropped his Icer and phone to pull her to him.  The speech he had been going through in his head the entire drive there completely going out the window in favor of “I’m sorry,” whispered into her hair over and over.   

Jemma savored being in his arms again unsure of why he was telling her he was sorry, she was the one who was sorry, she had left and unknowingly taken their unborn child into the bowls of Hydra as a result.  It was that thought that broke the spell and Jemma pulled back just enough to meet his uncertain eyes.  Those eyes she loved so much filled with fear and hope.  

“Where is the rest of the team?” She asked “Are they holding Hydra off while you get me out?”

“Hydra?” Fitz asked stunned.

Jemma felt another wave of anger well, they hadn’t told him where she’d gone or what she was doing.  

“Fitz, I’ve been undercover with Hydra,” Jemma said.  “I was able to get into their science division, they’ve had me doing grunt work, a complete waste of my talents....”

“They sent you to Hydra!” Fitz said his voice shrill.  “They thought you with Hydra was better than dealing with me?”

“Fitz no!” Jemma said and cupped his face.   “The Doctors and the team said I was making you worse and after I heard it enough I’m sorry but I started to believe it.  Then Coulson needed someone on the inside with Hydra and I felt it was the only option.”

Fitz was at a loss for words so instead he leaned forward and captured her lips pouring everything he couldn’t say into the the moment.

Jemma responded in kind and as usual in the end there were no words needed.   

This time when they broke away with their foreheads against one another’s and just savored the moment.   

“Missed you,” Fitz said as they finally pulled away.

“And I missed you,” Jemma said.  “I really do hate to break the moment but where are the others, I would prefer to get out  of here sooner rather than later and then you and I need to have a very serious discussion.”  

Fitz tensed at the mention of a serious discussion but knew there would be there were more pressing matters like what had caused Jemma to ask for an immediate extract.  

“There is no rest of the team, I kind of came on my own.  I was working on something in Coulson’s office when the message came in,” Fitz confessed and braced himself for what he knew was coming.

“Leopold Fitz!” Jemma snapped exactly has he’d predicted she would “You came to extract me from Hydra by yourself?  Have you been cleared to be back in the field even?”

“I didn’t know you were in Bloody Hydra,” Fitz countered but there was no bite to his words.  He knew what he’d done was incredibly foolish and Jemma was one of many telling off’s he was about to face.  

“Look you can finish telling me off later,” Fitz said picking up his phone and Icer again.  “We need to get out of here before whatever you hit your panic button about gets here.”

It was Jemma’s turn to become quiet.

“While we do need to hurry we have some time before the reason I pushed the button gets here,” Jemma said her hand going back to her stomach again.

Fitz looked at her confused but before he could question further the door just feet away was kicked in and Melinda May lead in a heavily armed trio of agents consisting of Trip, Skye, and Hunter.  

Fitzsimmons fell into each other, each one trying to protect the other from the threat.   

“Fitz!” Hunter shouted and lowered his weapon.

“What are you doing here?” Skye demanded  

“What does it look like I’m doing! Getting Simmons out of here!” Fitz snapped and clutched Jemma to him. 

May ended anymore argument before it even began.

“Everyone load up, we made enough noise coming in here that someone was bound to notice,” she ordered.   

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

Fitz had been right about being told off multiple times more.  Hunter, Skye and Trip had all had a turn a turn on the way back to base.  Followed by Coulson in his office when they returned to the base, May standing behind him scowling the entire time.  And finally Mack as Fitz walked back to his bunk so Jemma could do her debrief.  

He had tried to stay but one last single terrifying look from May send him back to his room.  He’d have a few minutes to regroup and them maybe get to finish the discussion he and Jemma had started earlier.   While he was wary of it  the fact Jemma had held his hand the entire way back to base and until the last moment before he was thrown out of the Director’s office offered him a fair amount of hope.  

There was a soft knock at his door less than an hour later and Jemma slipped in.  A happy sigh coming from her at the sight that waited for her.  Fitz had settled into his bed half attempting to read an article on his tablet.  He’d changed into his Pajamas and there was a small kettle steaming on the nightstand ready to pour two perfect cups of tea.

She couldn’t help herself as she ran across his bunk and practically leap onto his bed and into his arms again.  

Fitz tossed his tablet aside to gather her into his arms.  Thankful the awkwardness they had danced around after he woke up was gone.

“Missed you,” he said.

Jemma pulled back with a smile, the first real smile he’d seen from her since he’d woken up from his coma.

“I was only gone less than an hour,” she said happy with her decision not to go back to her bunk and change.  Sure she wanted out of these clothes but a couple of Fitz’s extras sounded a lot better than her own pajamas.  

Fitz just shrugged and pulled her close again.

“Now can you tell me what you were trying too earlier?” he asked.

Jemma shuffled around in his arms so her back was against his chest and she pulled his arms around her to rest on her stomach, her hands covering his own.  

“Do you remember that night in the motel?” she started feeling him take a sharp breath.  It was the first time either of them had spoken of it since it had happened.

“Best night of my life,” he whispered.

“Mine too,” Jemma said turning her head to meet his eyes, her hands pressed his ever so slightly into her stomach.  “In more ways than one.”

It only took a few moments for the pieces to fall into place.

“You’re pregnant,” he said in awe as he gently rubbed her stomach.

“We’re pregnant,” she echoed.  

Fitz leaned down and gently kissed her, never wanting to let her or their baby go ever again.  “I am the luckiest man on this or any planet,” he whispered again before he captured her lips once more.

There was still more to discuss and work out, but for now they would find each other again as they had twelve weeks ago.

[caiminnent]

glass houses [Shaun & Lucy with mentions of one-sided shaundes & deslucy, rated T]

Prompt(s): sleep deprivation (BTHB, 2/25) + 14

Summary: “We’re in love with the same person. Friendships have been built on less common ground.”

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed

Tags: College AU, Bonding, Pining, Unrequited Crush

2.3K || Also on AO3.

Forty three—no, forty two minutes left to have lunch, get his essay printed and rush to Leonardo’s office on the other side of the campus—and Rebecca is still droning on and on about the part next Saturday, because clearly the life he doesn’t have is more important than the grade he won’t be getting unless they pick up the pace already. Murder on school grounds would probably get him expelled, among other things, which is why he’s only contemplating it; but an under-slept, under-caffeinated man has his limits and he is approaching his fast.

“No, Rebecca,” he repeats on a deep sigh as they finally get in line behind a couple in matching PJ’s, seemingly having a heated argument through sharp looks and contained gestures in that way only couples can. “I do not want to come to the party, thank you very much. I’m not even invited, remember?”

“I could ask Lucy,” she offers, unfazed. “We’re having lunch with her anyway, I could mention it then—”

His stomach drops.

“—I’m sure she won’t mind. I mean, the more the merrier—”

Taking a deep breath through his nose, “We’re what?” he cuts in. The Couple glance over with raised brows and pursed lips, as if he sullied their petty issues by having his own.

She frowns. “What?”

He just shakes his head. Lunch with Lucy, Christ. Today just keeps giving. “You won’t ask her to invite me,” he says, pinning her with his I Mean It, Rebecca look. “Or don’t even hope for a single page from my notes ever again.” She rolls her eyes. “I’ll swear on anything, Rebecca.”

Fishing her phone out of her pocket, “Whatever,” she throws, fingers already dancing on the screen. His own remains suspiciously silent in his bag. “What’s your beef with Lucy anyway?”

The Couple aren’t even pretending not to listen in, half-turned in their direction as they are. He glares steadily at them until they get their noses out of his business and back into their own, although some of those meaningful looks are probably about him this time. Hell if he cares.

“I don’t even know Lucy,” he points out, rubbing at the throbbing spot over his brow—not that that’s ever helped. “Why would I have a problem with her?”

“You get weird whenever I mention her, man. Coulda thought you had a thing for her if I didn’t know better.” Pockets the phone again, shrugging a shoulder at his look. “It’s either that or hate.”

Oh for the love of— “I don’t hate her, either,” he says—the truth, too, no matter the disbelieving face she makes at him. He has no real reason to hate Lucy. He just... doesn’t prefer to share space with her if he doesn’t absolutely have to.

If he sometimes goes out of his way to make sure he doesn’t, well.

By some miracle—more likely, because they’re finally within reach of food—she drops the subject, shoving a tray into his hands and grabbing one of her own. His stomach curls into itself at the sight of half the containers, the other half he can’t even recognise beyond had it before and didn’t die.

He accepts a serving of each and trails off after Rebecca.

Once they push past the growing crowd towards the tables, scanning the sea of heads, “You should try to get along with Lucy, you know,” she pipes up—because Rebecca leaving anything alone would’ve been too much like good luck to happen to him. “You know who she’s friends with.”

“Rebecca.”

“I’m just saying. Sheesh, someone’s touchy today.”

And whose fault is that, he’s about to snap when he spots Lucy off to the side, dumping an ungodly amount of sugar into her coffee—from Creed Coffee, no less. His first stop as soon as he drops off his essay; he’s earned a treat.

Because it’s just that kind of day, Lucy chooses that moment to look up and catch him staring like a buffoon. She beams at him like there was no one she would’ve been happier to see, waving them over.

“There she is,” Rebecca says, taking a sharp turn in her direction. He follows suit, squeezing between tables she breezes through and almost spilling his chow all over people on three separate occasions until they safely take their places across from Lucy.

To his credit, when Lucy smiles at him again, he does try to return it. His face muscles ignore the command entirely.

The women have already jumped into conversation on nothing he particularly cares about; he tunes them out for the most part and buries himself into his ‘food’ instead, fielding Rebecca’s attempts to lure him in with one-word responses and the occasional grunt when he can get away with it. About twenty minutes left; he can make it if he hurries. Maybe. Hopefully.

“Ignore him,” she stage-whispers to Lucy—with ‘him’ sitting right next to them, thank you very much. “His coffee machine broke last night.”

The audacity. “She means she broke it,” he clarifies around his spoon. It’s not grumbling if he’s right.

“Semantics,” she waves it off, reaching for her coat. “I’ll fix it when I get back, promise.”

“Wait, where the hell are you going?”

Raising her brows, “To turn in our papers, like we talked?” Rebecca says, confusion so thick in her tone that he almost doubts his own memory—except he could recognise that glint in her eyes anywhere. “You’ll keep Lucy company while I’m gone, right?”

That meddling little—

“Right,” he says for Lucy’s benefit, who is glancing between them with polite curiosity, doing his best to convey you owe me so much for this with one look. “Of course I will.”

Rebecca dares to grin at him, dropping the pretence altogether. All of three seconds and she’s off, leaving only an unused fork behind.

Without her around, the table has gone alarmingly smaller, Lucy everywhere within his sight unless he stares straight down at his tray. Had he ever been alone with Lucy before? Alone alone, within speaking distance, without anything or anyone to hide behind?

He doesn’t even have coffee to hide behind now.

One slides in front of him.

Raising her hands, “You look like you need it more,” Lucy explains, that too-warm smile on her lips; he feels shittier the longer he looks at it. “No offense.”

“None taken.” He did catch a sight of himself on the way here—not his best moment.

The polite no, thank you he should say is on the tip of his tongue—almost impossible to get out with the warm temptation is sitting right there in front of him, right under his nose, smelling—well, sort of like a unicorn exploded in there and caramel. Not that he can afford to be picky.  

Besides, he’s survived vending machine sludge; it only goes up from there.

“Come on, take it,” she insists, honest-to-god batting eyelashes at him. “So that I can feel a little better about asking for your ComLit notes next week.”

He snorts and accepts the bribe, only too eager. It’s syrupy to the point of nauseating, not unlike those energy drinks Rebecca fills the dustbin with, except with a lot less immediate kick. He doubts there’s any caffeine in there, even.

Magic might be involved, however, given the way he’s already feeling a tad closer to human.

He nods his thanks. She returns it.

“You know, Shaun,” she starts slowly, with an odd sort of caution—or maybe he’s just not used to people who think before they speak anymore. “I don’t know what Rebecca threatened you with, but you don’t have to sit with me just to be nice. I know you don’t really like me.”

He can’t help a wince—then a deeper one, when it hits that this was probably among the worst ways he could’ve reacted to a statement like that. Leave it to him to put his foot in his mouth without even opening it.

“It’s fine,” she adds, saving him from himself. “I mean it. Not everyone has to be friends.”

That’s not it, not at all.

Thing is, under different circumstances, they could’ve been friends, he and Lucy. He doesn’t know her, not really; but by the electives they keep coming across each other in and the books she carries, he doesn’t doubt they could find plenty to talk about if, if, he could get his head out of his arse and get over—

Well. He obviously can’t tell her all that.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not you,” he allows, the closest thing to an explanation he can afford to give.

“It’s okay,” she says gently, those huge, impossibly blue puppy eyes of hers trained on his. “I know.”

Blood freezes in his veins.

It’s a simple phrase. It doesn’t have to mean anything beyond the face value. There’s no reason for it to; he’d been careful—more than, really—but that smile, all sadness and sympathy—

He swallows against the bitter taste in his mouth, a light burn all the way down his throat, pooling in the pit of his stomach. “You do?”

“I do,” she confirms, jerking her head somewhere to his far right. He follows her gaze to—

Oh, hell. She does.

“He doesn’t know,” she answers his unasked question, lowly enough that the rush of blood in his ears almost drowns out the words. “Don’t worry, you’re not obvious about it or anything.”

Clearly he is, if she noticed.

He risks another glance—he is sprawled on his seat with an arm resting on the other one, laughing at whatever bollocks story Cross might be telling, that stupid one-strap bag of his sitting on the table.

“You’re sure he doesn’t?” he has to ask, heart both at his feet and racing in his chest somehow.

She nods. “Positive. He’s the worst when it comes to this sort of thing, you wouldn’t believe it. He won’t notice unless you come at him with a brick that says I like you.”

Something at the back of his mind prickles like static.

See, past the initial shock, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out where he’d gone wrong. As far as social circles go, his and his are on different planes entirely. They don’t have mutual friends beyond the tangential; they don’t frequent the same places unless Rebecca drags him out to Bad Weather; they hardly talked enough for him to develop this… thing he’s been saddled with, even. He’d thought—as long as he kept to his corner of life where he doesn’t have to face them, he’d thought he could pretend his feelings away.

It had never even occurred to him that someone might notice him not looking. That someone might have reason to care why.

He’s fairly certain of the answer when he asks, his stomach heavy with dread, “Speaking from experience?”

Her face goes carefully blank. It’s as good a confirmation as any.

He takes a deep breath, locking the irrational sting of disappointment down and away, where he can pretend it doesn’t exist, either. What does it matter if she is the competition? He had decided not to pursue that line of thought long ago. What does it matter if he’d already lost?

“You’re not obvious, either,” he tries. She smiles, if that rueful little curl can be called one. “He doesn’t know?”

She shrugs, too nonchalant to actually be that. “Or doesn’t want to hurt my feelings. I dropped, like, a lot of hints; no one’s that oblivious.”

Would it be awkward if he kind of sort of maybe wants to give her a hug?

It would, wouldn’t it.

What even is his life.

“Anyway,” she sighs, glancing at her watch. “Time to leave. Vidic’s class.”

Ugh. That he doesn’t envy her for. “Good luck,” he offers, reaching for the cup again—a bit sorry to have taken it from her, now.

She makes a face. “Thanks.” She drops her spoon on her mostly full tray, Rebecca’s abandoned fork with it. “By the way, it’s his birthday next Saturday. We’re having a party at our place; you should come.”

He almost chokes on the next sip, saved by a stray half second. “Me?”

She raises a brow, a perfectly arched duh.

His brain stutters. Why does she—why would she want him there, if she knows? If she—

It makes no sense.

Lucy is still seated across from him, calmly waiting him out like there’s nothing odd to this. Just two friends making casual weekend plans.

Not all that sure it’s not the exhaustion fucking with him, he licks his lips. “So you’re fine with…”

“That you’re on the same boat?” She shrugs again, zipping up her jacket. “We’re in love with the same person. Friendships have been built on less common ground.”

Huh.

Digging into her bag, she comes up with a blue marker, reaching for the other cup. “My number,” she says as she writes on the sleeve and puts it back, written part facing him—all neat, efficient lines, because of course. “Let me know if you make up your mind.”

He nods blankly, for lack of a better response. She smiles, standing up with her tray.

She’s already halfway to the door when he remembers: “I’ll bring the notes!”

She winks at him over her shoulder, fixes her bag and disappears into the crowd.