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cocochannel00 · 4 years ago

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Only Wish (This Year)

All Y/n wants for Christmas this year was Harry to be home... so what happens when Harry can’t make it? (a part of the ‘Christmas song fic challenge’)

Word count: 3k Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

A/N: hello my loves! This is my submission for @goldenbluesuit’s christmas fic challenge, Christmas is literally my favorite holiday of the year and I’m so happy I got a chance to do my first fic writing challenge based on the absolute bop that is Britney Spear’s “Only Wish (This Year)”. If you want to read more great Christmas fics by some amazing writers checkout the Christmas Song Masterlist Here and if you want to read and more of my writing check out My Masterlist Here. I hope you enjoy!!

"Love I think the tree looks a little crooked"

"No, it's not! It looks fine," you grumbled as you tried to fluff one of the branches that was limping to the left a bit. You had just gone out with Anne yesterday to the Christmas tree farm to get it. The two of you spent nearly two hours walking around the field looking for the perfect tree to put in the living room and after your fingers and toes had officially gone completely numb the two of you gave up and settled for the lanky one in the corner of the field that no one wanted. The tree towered over you quite a bit and had a bit of a tilt, but it reminded you a bit of Harry and this Christmas that was what you wanted, him.

"The reindeer you just hung up is about to fall off, Love" he mumbled from the screen of your computer as he face-timed you from the studio in LA. Rushing over to the left side of the tree, you scooped up the ornament quickly just as it was beginning to slide off of the scrawny branch you had placed it on earlier. As you less than gracefully began to pick yourself off the ground, you heard a wolf whistle come from your husband.

"On second thought, if you keep bending down like that I think I might actually like this tree" Harry stated with a smirk as you gave him the middle finger. "Your mom and I picked it out yesterday cause we thought it looked like you. A little lanky, a little scrawny... looks like he just rolled out of bed" you replied with a laugh.

"I'm going to spare my ego and pretend you didn't just compare your beautiful, loving, and supportive husband to that sad drooping tree you have in the corner."

"(Y/n) is that Harry you're talking to in there? Tell him he better be making it home for Christmas Eve dinner or I'm going to be having a stern talking with Jeff" Anne shouted from the kitchen where she was finishing up some cookies for when Gemma and Michal' today.

You could see the color drain from Harry's face as he scratched the back of his neck. You and Harry have been married now for a little over a year but had been dating for well over three, so you know his every tick and giveaway and when Harry begins to scratch and rub at the back of his neck you know it's bad news.

"I've got this really good chorus started with Mitch, but were still trying to figure out whether-"

"Harry"

"We spent all of yesterday working through the tracklist and I think I've narrowed it down to-"

"Harry"

"I think I'm going to end the album with the song I wrote on our honeymoon. I tweaked the melody but it's still-"

"Harry" you whispered for the last time before he finally stopped his rambling. You could see him by the way he was avoiding your stare that he didn't want to say the words you both were dreading. He isn't coming home for Christmas. You both knew it was a possibility when he flew out to LA nearly five weeks ago to finish the album before the new year. Despite Harry's offer of having you come to LA with him, your job didn't allow you the luxury of taking off that much time especially during one of your busiest times of the year. You had held out hope that Kid Harpoon and Harry could tie up all of the loose ends ahead of time, but clearly, that wasn't going to happen.

"I tried baby, I really did. There are just too many little things that need to get done here. I promise I'll try and make it back next week, we can have our own little Christmas together in London" he stated trying the lighten his crushing words. This was supposed to be your first Christmas as a married couple together so to say you were disappointed would be an understatement, but you knew that if you let Harry know he would be on the first flight out to London.

"It's ok, we both knew this could happen. I'm sure Anne and I will spend way too much time fussing over Adelaide to even notice you're not here" you replied back trying to lighten the mood a bit more by mentioning Gemma's adorable two-year-old daughter.

"Stop rubbing it in" he joked as Jeff called his name in the background. "I need to get back in before they all have my head for keeping them here past midnight again. I'll try and sneak another call later tonight if you're still up"

"So good, H. I love you"

"I love you too, (Y/n). See you soon" Harry replied back as he hung up. You closed your laptop and continued your quest to finish decorating your slightly distorted Christmas tree. Securing the lights onto the tree had somehow become the hardest part of decorating the tree, so while you were wrapped in a mess of bulbs and strings you didn't even notice Anne come in with two cups of hot chocolate.

"Oh dear let me give you a hand" Anne muttered as she placed the mugs on the coffee table before rushing to your side, delicately untangling you from the lights while placing each string perfectly in its place. You gave her a quick thanks before you walked over to the couch to admire your work.

"He texted me to check up on you, that crazy son of mine. Swear I love him, but sometimes he's got just no sense of priorities. Leaving his wife all alone for the holidays, just not right" Anne said as she passed you a mug and sat down next to you.

"I appreciate you belittling your son on my behave, but reset assured that I am ok. I'm sad we won't be able to spend our first Christmas together as a married couple, but I'm sure we'll have our own little Christmas once he gets back. Besides, I still get the full week off of work and I get to spend time with you and baby Adelaide for the next couple of days and it will be great!"

"Well if you ever need me to put him in his place you let me know, ok sweetheart? Can't have my favorite daughter-in-law feeling upset" she said as she wrapped her arms around you.

"Thanks, Anne" you replied as you gave her a tight squeeze, placing a kiss on her cheek.

"Anytime dear. Now quick, turn on channel Hollywood Gossip before Gemma shows up, she never lets me watch this show. I heard Lily James was spotted with an ex-boyfriend again"

The two of you spend the next hour catching up on some gossip and making lists of everything that still needed to be done before Christmas in two days. If there was one thing you were certain about, it was that you were going to make the most of your situation and try and have the best Christmas possible

**********

It was Christmas eve and you had spent the entire morning cooking and prepping for the large family meal you and Anne were hosting for Gemma and Michal and a couple of close friends. The two of you had been absolutely buzzing and Christmas tunes had been playing throughout the house since you both woke up bright and earlier at 7 am. You had scoured your suitcase for the perfect Christmas outfit but after spending 20 minutes trying on outfits in the and had settled for one of Harry's red cardigans and some dark washed jeans. The smell of the vanilla candle that smelt just like Harry that Anne had left in your room last night made you miss him even more as you finished getting yourself ready just in time to hear the doorbell ring downstairs.

You peeked out the window and saw Gemma and Michal standing at the door with little Adelaide at their feet and quickly ran to the door to greet them. Once you opened the front door a pair of small arms wrapped themselves around your legs as Adalaide screamed your name.

"Well hello, my sweet girl. I missed you so much! Did you miss me?" you asked as she nodded quickly. You picked her up carefully and smothered her face in kisses just as Anne came over to greet everyone. The five of you made your way out of the foyer and into the kitchen as Gemma wrapped her arms tightly around you and dragged you to the far end of the kitchen.

"Good afternoon my favorite sister. How is the married life treating you? Any surprises I should be worried about this Christmas?" she asked as she stole a Christmas cookie off of one of Anne's various dessert displays.

"It's been very nice, thank you. I don't think you'll be having any surprises from me this Christmas"

"Pitty I was hoping they be able to be in the same class as their cousin could go to school together," she said nonchalantly smirking at you as you stood there confused.

'What do you mean cousins? Adelaide already in day-care and I don't-- Oh my gosh Gemma are you -"

"Shh don't say it out loud, but yes. About eight weeks along, but we haven't told anyone yet. I'm telling you because last time I told you everything went well, so I think you're my good luck charm... and I need you to drink all of the shots Chloe tries to feed me tonight" She mumbled as you laugh and give her a big hug.

"Well congratulations Gem, I wish you both the best. Hey Adelaide, did you know what special person is going to be joining you really soon?" you asked the little girl in your arms as she played with the butterfly necklace Harry had gotten you for your second anniversary together.

"Santa"

"You're right baby Santa is coming tonight. Why don't you help me and Nana Anne finish decorating these last cookies before everyone gets here"

**********

The night was fantastic. After all of the guests had arrived, you all sat down to eat the wonderful roast Anne had been making all day. The room was filled with laughter and smiles as people recounted their most embarrassing Christmas stories. Your favorite was Michal's who as a child got so excited about seeing Santa at the mall that he actually peed on Santa's lap while telling him what he wanted for Christmas. Gemma discreetly slid her shot glass to you numerous times throughout the night and despite the questioning looks coming from Chloe, no one questioned Gemma's excuse of being the designated driver this year. Overall it was by far one of your favorite holiday meals to be a part of, you only wish Harry could have been there to share it with you.

"Me pants are about to explode, but does anyone fancy a little Christmas Eve stroll outside?" Michal asked as he cuddled a sleeping Adelaide to his chest.

There was a chorus of agreements and your large group slowly began to clean up their placemats and prepare themselves for the trek out in the snow. You helped Gemma load the dishwasher as Anne distributed Tupperware for everyone to take leftovers home with them before running upstairs to grab your winter jacket and boots. After everyone was all bundled up, you all headed outside into the snow, Gemma, and Michal leading the way as walked along the sidewalk. You watched the way Gemma placed a snowflake on Adelaide's nose and waited for the little girl to giggle before quickly wiping it off just to do it all over again. You continued to watch the interaction with a yearning in your heart at the thought of having your own kids with Harry and being able to take them on walks and show them ordinary things like snowflakes. Just as you had begun to drift off into your subconscious world Anne came up next to you and wrapped her arms with yours.

"That will be you someday, I can just feel it" Anne stated as she squeezed your hand tight. You gave her a small smile and nodded your head.

"I hope so. Just have to get your son to stay in one spot long enough" you joked as you rubbed your hands together for warmth.

"That man worships the grown you walk on, Love. If you tell him you want kids right now he'll drop everything"

"Hopefully when I get him back next week we can talk about it all a bit more" you replied as Anne nodded her head.

Your walk lasted about a half-hour until Adelaide began to cry saying she was tired and wanted to go to bed. You all preceded to head back into Anne's home for a bit to warm up before everyone would drive back to their respective homes to continue to celebrate their Christmases. Being the busy body that you were, you began to make tea for everyone in the hope of avoiding the dreaded interrogation about Harry and your's relationship that always came towards the end of these gatherings, but it never came. You think Anne must have warned them that you were feeling somewhat sad about Harry not being there because they managed to avoid the topic throughout the rest of the night. Just as the clock struck midnight everyone slowly began to say their goodbyes and exchanging any last-minute gifts that needed to be given. You helped Anne gather everyone's things and waved your last goodbyes before heading into the living room to relax a bit.

"I'm a bit wiped out dear so I think I'm going to head to bed early. Will you be ok here by yourself?" Anne asked cautiously as you scrolled through some pictures Harry had sent you the other day of him at the studio.

"Yes, I think I'll be ok. Have a good night Anne and thank you for a wonderful Christmas"

"No thanks needed dear, you're family now and always will be. I'll see you in the morning".

You waved a quick goodbye as Anne left upstairs to her room. The silence downstairs was only making your feelings of missing Harry worse so you decided to put on the TV and watch a Christmas movie to lift your spirits a bit as you cuddled Harry's picture to your chest. You know he was having Christmas Eve dinner with Jeff's family now and you didn't want to bother him so you decided that you would suck it up and wait until tomorrow to call him and tell him how much you really miss him. All you wanted this Christmas was to have him sitting next to you, sipping on a couple of hot chocolate and making fun of your weirdly patterned socks.

You hoped that flipping through the tv channels would help distract you but the minute you started channel surfing and Love Actually popped up on the screen in front of you, the waterworks began. You cried because you missed Harry. You cried because you didn't get to share all of your happy memories of today with him. You cried because you could cuddle him to sleep and wake up to his delicious scent. There you sat in his childhood home wrapped in a fuzzy blanket crying. You sobbed into the blanket as quietly as you could in the hopes of not waking up Anne and after what felt like an eternity, you finally fell asleep on the couch

*********

You were peacefully asleep on the couch until the sound of music blasting from the kitchen speaker startled you awake.

“I signed my letter that I sealed with a kiss I sent it off, and just said this...”

"Oh, fucking shit. Stupid fucking Tom calling me at..." you heard as a crash came from the kitchen.

You jumped from your curled up position on the couch and turned around to see where the noise was coming from. As you sank deeper into the couch hoping not to be seen, you saw a silhouette moving around the kitchen searching the drawers. Your pulse began to race as you start to run all of the potential ways in which this intruder could kill you right now. Just as you were about to reach for your phone to call 999, the intruder turned on the light and you saw a familiar head of curly hair.

"Jesus fucking christ Harry nearly gave me a heart attack" you stated as Harry nearly jumped out of his skin.

The two of you stared at each other for a while before you finally processed what was going on. Harry was here. Harry had made it. He was here for Christmas. He came. You all but sprinted off of the couch and launched yourself at him, hearing release gasp as you latched on to his body like a koala.

"Nearly gave me a heart attack there, love" he stated as he wrapped his arms around you and ran his hands through your hair.

"I could say the same thing. Who comes home after midnight and doesn't say anything, especially when said person said many times that they weren't going to be to make it home"

"Wasn't supposed to be home but then mom said you looked upset after our call yesterday so I told Jeff I would finish the rest in the London studio and zoom call any last-minute details. Excited to have me home?" he asked with a smirk.

"No" you stated trying to hide your excitement.

"Come on Love, don't lie to me. I'm excited to be home. Get to spend Christmas with my beautiful, smart, kind, amazing wife. Get to shower her with gifts. Best Christmas ever"

"Definitely best Christmas ever" you mumbled back as you leaned in and kissed him, savoring the taste of his lips after so long.

"I have one more surprise for you that I think you'll like" he stated as he broke away from the kiss.

"What" you whined as he laughed at you.

"Told Columbia that I'd make the record, but that I'm not releasing it till the end of next year. Want to settle down a bit more, gain more stability in case..." he trailed off as he cheeks turned pink.

"In case what?" you asked innocently even though you knew exactly what he was insinuating.

"In case you want to try for a baby like we talked about on our honeymoon. Said you wanted more stability from me before we started trying so this me giving you that. Don't want to pressure you or anything and this is your choice and I don't- "

"Yes," you whispered.

"Yes?" he questioned before you nodded your head and wrapped your arms around his neck.

Tears appeared in his eyes as he spun you around the kitchen. You laughed as he chanted "baby baby baby" quietly as to not wake Anne but the joy in his expression spoke volumes. You were both ready for this next chapter in your life and whatever happens next, as long as you were together, you knew everything would be ok.

“Hey babe” you whispered as Harry continued to cheer quielty.

“Yes, Love?”

“Is Britney Spears your ringtone?”

“Maybe... It’s festive!” he defended as you laughed

“Ok love, whatever you say”

Hope you all enjoyed and happy early Christmas to all who celebrate and a Happy Holidays everyone!!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles masterlist #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #Christmas #harry styles x fluff

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batarangsoundsdumb · 3 years ago

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hae interrogationes multae respondeant quia demens .

if you read this entire ask post you deserve a gold star and financial recompensation

Um, Obviously because when you’re adopted by a white guy you automatically become white duhhh

this is about this post lmao and yeah youre absolutely right, you have to hand your poc card in when you get adopted by a white guy.

Do you think Cass would listen to Yanni, the YouTube channel epic symphonic rock, or some other stuff? There's some cool mashups but idk if that's up your alley, I kinda feel like I'm pushing it with my weird taste of music by recommending an orchestra cover of metal, but i just love that sort of thing and mashups :P @harvestyourcherries

i haven’t heard of that? but in my personal (correct) opinion steph listens to classical music, and then both modern and older, and then also stuff like black sabbath, iron maiden, but also hardrock and hardcore. i like the idea of cass just liking the most extreme screaming songs full of noise and then also listen to pachelbel’s 370th sonata yanno? THANK YOU for the rec tho

speaking of ur cass playlist hc...reminds of the time (yesterday) i found 2 playlists randomly on spotify from the same user. one was abt 3 hours of instrumental/classical "dark" & "nostalgic" music. the other almost 11 hours of nothing but hardcore bass/synth/electronic music. just an incredible tightrope act to put on in public. the synth one was also called like "psalms for synth sluts" which is Also incredible

tbh i LOVE synth SO MUCH like for no reason at all but then also cannot handle a poppy electronic beat lmao. but this seems like the kinda thing i’d do but just in one (1) playlist bc i just sort songs by vibe instead of genre? that’s how i end up with britney spears and billy ray cyrus in the same playlist.

Oh, I want Kate Kane playlist next! It would be amazing if you could do one when you have time and will 🙏

how rude would it be of me to just say no? like sorry kate but idk you and also you seem way too keen on the us military for an institution that homophobically targeted you? (and also commits war crimes) but let’s unpack the fact that the institution that caused the death of your mom and sister and also got you blacklisted for being gay is still one you align with???

'yes i am' 'no you're not' 'yes i am' 'no you're not' 'yes i am' 'no you're not' 'yes i am' 'no you're not' 'yes i am' 'no you're not' 'yes i am' 'no you're not' --- when i tell you i fucking screamed LOL!!!!!!! i can imagine the cameraman not knowing if he should cut to commercial or keep it on these two weirdos fighting on stage (bruce definitely ruffled dick's hair/noogied him right??

about this post but yeah lmao. this cameraman just turns to like the audience to get a reaction and it’s just multiple moments of CLEAR shock.

you are the only funny person on this hellsite

how egotistical is it for me to say that i get this ask multiple times a month? bc it literally happens so often it’s hilarious to me.

Wish there was more john/Bruce content 😔😔😔 was so hungry I actually looked at canon media 😔😔😔 (Justice League Dark babeeeyyyyyy)

check out batman: damned for some mediocre content but at least it’s john/bruce (also very interesting story and stuff, just got very >:( over this weird part where harley quinn tried to r*pe bruce or something? it’s not for everyone)

dick grayson but he's nicki minaj

his anaconda don’t want none,,, unless......

Dick Grayson was never a cop, he played Marshall on Paw Patrol

you are SO right. also paw patrol is a fucking good show idc. that shit could’ve been the new steven universe on this hellsite.

https://www.instagram.com/p/CS1lI0bLI7-/?utm_medium=copy_link

...

why do people keep reposting my CONTENT. if you are not funny yourself don’t just grab shit off of tumblr and post it on insta,,, get a life. sidenote: should i start an insta and get all these ppl to take my content down that would be funny as hell.

Might I suggest for a Gotham City Meme: something about the true crime fandom thirsting for the rogues gallery

ok can i just say something slightly controversial?? no? i don’t find true crime ppl who are into criminals funny, that shits disturbing irl im not gonna bring that into my very chill universe.

i may have never seen a 'jason cleaning guns in sink' fic but i do know he WOULD

THANK YOU

bestie im sorry to say this to you but while you can, and people do wash their guns in the sink, that is a lot of lead in a very vital part of the kitchen.

people tend to do it in the bathtub.

WHY???? like damn why do you even have guns

i dont think i read many gun sink fics exactly but i have read lots of fics where jason cleanes his guns in the living room. usualy dissembles them and cleans them with a rag i think

lmao fair enough, like i think that’s a large part of what i remember as well.

if you say you've seen/read gun sink fics I believe you. I think those of us who didn't see them are lucky or maybe didn't search for fics by tags or something idk

i mean ive never sought them out but i HAVE seen them,, like definitely i know almost for certain.

saw your tags and I'm interested in Steph/Kara now. They would be the most chaotic couple <3

literally thoooo, i have a wip where they get together in a zombie apocalypse and like UGGGHhhh i am so in love with them.

I am the Breece anon. Thanks for the recommendation; am reading now. I’ve always been a hardcore Superman fan because I love my pure himbo farm boy. My logic is, if one Bruce is a Broose, then multiple Broose are a herd of Breece. And this is a hill upon which I will perish.

fair enough,,,, like moose, meese, goose, geese, bruce, breece. i get your logic and i stand by it as well. (glad you enjoyed the comic recs!!!!)

It's a beautiful day in Gotham, and you are a group of horrible Breece

OH my god dude lmao

there only being 42 fics on ao3 for tim and bernard is honestly so sad i need more

it’s like twice that now!!! we did it lads. (tho very sad that my fic isnt number one but like number 4 :(((( )

i'm too late you already did the poll lol but may i suggest bethy (bernard + timothy)

shit dude that wouldve been so fucking funnyyyyy. think ppl have just stuck to timber tho, tim/bernard kinda died down recently and i think it’s too bad, they’re a great couple and i love them.

Wait, hear me out

Bernothy @redlightofdawn

great recommendation (lmao this ask is from like a month ago) but very sorry to announce that NARDTH is the superior shipname

Wait, we know that bernard likes milfs (Tim's step-mom) but what about dilfs? gilfs?

Wait no, I regret sending that ask

these were two seperate asks and they’re HILARIOUS. in my personal opinion tho,,, milfs, gilfs, dilfs are just about vibes and bernard is just attracted to sexy ppl who may sometimes be milfs, dilfs, or EVEN gilfs.

crime in bludhaven would drop to half if nightwing had a boob window. in this essay i will-

WHERE’S THE ESSAY ANON, WHERE’S THE FUCKING ESSAY

Wait if Barbra and Tim r at opposite ends at all times what happened to Barbra once everyone’s Tim’s ever love before started dying lol

she won a lottery ticket and spent 2 weeks on a resort in the bahamas before returning home and finding out that the joker was arrested for tax evasion and then spent a month staying at her big tiddie goth girlfriend’s house before conner came back to life and she broke her pinkie playing table hockey.

Why is the opposite end thing so funny and compelling to me. Tim comes back from his depression quest for Bruce and Babs is now a literal god

lmao when tim loses his spleen barbara reaches nirvana.

Are you still taking music recs because I have three songs that remind me of Jason that I think you'd like

send to me or lose a toe

🌸 ⭐ put this star into the inbox of your favorite blogs. it’s time to spread positivity! ⭐🌸😋

thanks, i wont tho on account of i wont.

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMduBy3Sr/

⬆️

This is the whole of Blüdhaven and everyone anywhere.

Nightwings ass alone saves more people in a calendar year and does more for so society than most heroes do their whole career.Also u are one of the funniest tumblr pages out there. The vibes are unmatched and the memes and tags ✨send me✨.Thank u and goodnight @julia-flow

fanksss also lmao.

That's going to be a little bit difficult to explain, but

There's some music that you listen to and you think, "oh my gosh, I can perfectly imagine Dick Grayson singing this song, with the same voice as the singer because that voice matches with Dick Grayson"?

oh yeah totally lmao. i have a lot of songs that i think are just entirely dick grayson yanno? kind of all of my playlists have that vibe, but i really find bleachers to fit with dick? idk.

"Lois lane/Superman" fics this, "Lois lane/Clark Kent" fics that, (/lh) let's get into the real good stuff. Some people ship Lois, Clark, and Superman as a throuple. Most popular fic tag for sure

yes totally, i think they’d be absolutely killer on ao3 and clark gets so fucking embarassed about it.

I miss your post, hope you’re doing okay!!

haha this was like 2 months ago, but i was doing fine then too! just didn’t have a lot of inspiration in terms of content.

Doot doot!

noot noot

I’m confused. What did DC do now? Like with nightwing? And another sibling? Please spoil everything for me

lmao they gave him a secret sister plotline where they had his dad cheat on his mom with tony zucco’s wife, bc dick’s life wasn’t traumatic enough yet.

sorry but it's so funny that batman is called "the dark knight" when the gotham city baseball team is called the gotham knights. it'd be like if a vigilante was running around new york called like "the scary yankee"

lmaooo no. but like yankee comes from dutch names or something so wouldnt it be HILARIOUS if gotham knights came from like german names and bruce would be running around called the dark KLAUS UND NIEK @graysonnightwing

(not a batcest shipper) it’s so funny to me that the responses are “i’m a batcest shipper because i can differentiate fiction from reality and and it doesn’t bother me personally, but i understand why you oils think it’s weird” to “i wish all batcest shippers a very fucking die”

yeah lmaoo. i personally basically flipped my entire stance around to ‘i dont care please leave me and everybody else alone’ bc i think there’s really no point in starting a moral dillema over some fucking fandom bullshit. Please just,,, go home,,, log off, find a nice forest to have a little walk in and remember that somewhere in history, somebody probably died in the place you’re standing. and you will also die someday, and somebody will have to look at your internet usage and see you fighting multiple people anonymously while being named ‘nightwingsbuttchin200186′ like... calm down, we’re all gonna die this is not the thing to worry about.

so since like "wards" don't really exist in modern society almost all the batkids are foster kids, right? i used to work in the system and imagine: monthly visits from social workers and guardian ad litems, bruce having to get permission to take the boys anywhere out of state, calling their social worker at like 8 a.m. like "yeah dick broke his arm again... a gymnastics accident this time...." their poor social worker. bruce send her a huge bouquet and box of chocolates every month to stay on her good side

i imagine the social worker just getting into the case like ‘yeah let’s get this kid a good guardian’ and then ending up having to work with 22 y/o bruce wayne and his 50 y/o dad. and so this social worker is like ‘okay we can work with this, this is the best home i can find’ and then like it ends up landing on its feet and then the kid gets adopted and then they get a call a year later like ‘uhm so hi, this kid tried to steal my tyres can i adopt him?’ and like 3 years later. ‘okay so basically, my neighbours’ kid imprinted on me and now they’re dead, can i keep him?’ two years later it’s like ‘okay so this assassin child-’

ever since I saw that one post of yours, the meme that's something like "I know that abba's backup dancer got me" with a picture of discowing, I've been haunted. Every once in a while I'll be minding my own business then the image of abba's backup dancer dick grayson aka nightwing aka discowing will flash in my mind and I'll be frozen in place. Today at work I was in the middle of folding clothes and suddenly once again discowing entered my mind and I suddenly lost the ability to see anything except He. Thank you.

wow. the IMPACT.

Braver than any US marine man props to you🤝

this shit is about the time i wrote an article on batcest, like man,,, the fact that i didn’t get cancelled is MIRACULOUS. also like,,, uh if anybody on here did gossip on me,, send screenshots i’d love to see it.

Hello, just wanted to say your article was great. Thank you for taking the time to provide an unbaised answer. It should provide people with nuances they couldn't possibly conjure on their own.

May I ask where your username originates from?

yes you may (also thanks!!!) i thought it up when i was trying to find an original username bc i didnt want to be called like ‘timdrakes something something’ or ‘jason todd something smoething’ or ‘dick grayson something something’ yanno? so i thought batarangs, they sound so dumb and that’s my username story... now it’s my whole entire brand lmao.

yno that bit in kick ass where red mist asks kick ass if he wants a hit of his blunt, was that the inspo for stoner tim

no? it’s bc i think stoners are hilarious and drugs are great. (dont do drugs tho)

How would u feel if someone actually wore one of those bruce or ollie pride shirts u edited

fenomenal next question.

Dick as lil huddy and Jason as James gave me radiation poisoning and now I’m screaming crying throwing up so thx for that

(Rico suave as Tim is perfect tho literally no changes needed)

i was so funny for that shit wasn’t i??? lmao i loved those weird ass fancasts

You're doing the Lord's work by providing us with all these Gotham/Metropolis citizens memes, thank you for being so relentlessly funny @nellethiel-aranel

you’re welcome!! i really enjoy making memes, but getting validation for my content and my memes is REALLY nice.

Bruce is such a slut in your memes and honestly i love that for him @rhodey-rhudert-rhodes-main

he’s that much of a slut irl too dw.

Bruce and Alfred have an emergency pride flag for the batkids. Oliver Queen printed an emergency "I love my gay son" t-shirt and as soon as Roy told him he was dating Jason, Oliver started wearing that shirt everyday and Roy always cringes when he sees it. Oliver also has an emergency "I love my lesbian daughter" shirt just in case for Cissie.

lmao YES i had a post like this bc like all of their kids/family members are so gayy

stop bringing back batfam fancasts it is not real it is not real it is not- 😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀

oh yes it is my darling.

did discowing burn down the notredam because he hates the bees? @allulily

no he did it bc fuck the french.

im gonna beg for 1 thing and 1 thing only. please please please put physical by olivia newton john on dick's playlist

okay then beg. bc i wont. physical reminds me too much of glee and that hurts me mentally.

your playlist is sorely missing some Madonna. Specifically Into the Groove, Like a Prayer, and Vogue

i’m scared of madonna that’s why she’s not on there. she haunts me in my dreams.

suggestion: son of batman by aaron dews for dick’s playlist🤩

sorry, i listened to it and the vibe didn’t agree with me.

Hear me out, metropolis citizens sending rare pair fics of Clark Kent x Superman fics to Lois to edit

yes, absolutely hilarious. even more funny if they send like physical copies, no address attached and lois sends it back marked with red ink, SOMEHOW

Imagine all the smut Clark must of read editing the fics

clark reads smut confirmeeed

NOT LOIS READING SUPERBAT PORN AND EDITING IT A 2AM

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

hc that alfred is a meta that boosts healing factor of the people around him. if the bats are injured as much as they seem to be they would be doing bat stuff MAYBE half the year. no one including alfred knows about this. whenever the kids move out they inexplicably dont recover from injuries as fast and feel better whenever they visit the manor they just chalk it up to homesickness. bruce just thinks he heals really fast. alfred thinks everyone doesnt take care of themselves properly @finchcollector

that’s actually such a great idea, but i think that alfred would find out and learn how to concentrate it better so he can help more people, bc he’s great and i love him.

One of your dickfast posts reminded me of that tweet that goes: 'so you've had sex how many times? Yeah technically that's not a bromance' lol that's dickwally or dickroy

literally tho. like that’s all of dick’s friendships. once it gets past a certain time dick is like ‘wow i wonder what it would be like to make out with wally, wally come make out with me’ and wally’s like ‘we’ve done this like 40 times, dick, you know what it’s like’ and dick is like ‘sorry are you complaining?’ and they just make out.

superfam and batfam associations??

-batman and superman

-dick/barabara and supergirl?

-conner and tim

-jon and damian

pls enlighten me I am confused

nope,,, uhm batman and superman, but dick and superman as well, and then conner and tim, jon and damian and steph + babs with supergirl

I came across a fic in which Wonder Woman calls Batman "Stella" (like Stellaluna, the children's book) and I can imagine the batkids hop on the trend and maybe copies of the book appear at random places (aka, everywhere Bruce frequents)

sorry can’t reciprocate that was the name of my high school chemistry teacher and it gives me nightmares to think about.

good human what are your pronouns?

wouldn’t you like to know?

I need me some gothamites preferring harley over joker memes

everyone prefers harley over joker youre just very fucked up if you dont

don't understand why people try to add like veteran policy to the batfamily

dick pulling out his veteran batfam member card so he can eat first: step aside, peasants

Do you know the song Simmer by Haley Williams? It (the first verse anyways) reminds me of Jason? It's about rage.

damn yeah i LOVE HAYLEY!!!! youre right thoo

Okay so I like listen to your stoner Tim Drake playlist 24/7 but would he listen to skegss? Also I keep adding songs mentally it’s killing me 😩✋🏼 Anyways,, I literally love and worship your playlist 😃🤞🏼 And uh yeah have a good day ✨

stoner tim drake playlist is lyfeeee. also dont know who skeggs is? i’m stupid? have a good day!!

All the Robins (and Batgirl) decide to trade costumes for one night just to fuck with Batman and all the villains in Gotham. @subspacecadet

batman knows it’s them youknow but like,,, what does he call them? he’s like ‘red hood?’ and 3 people answer and he’s not about to compromise some identities so he’s just Pissed.

I aspire to treat cops the way my dad treats them. This man is a 45 year old Asian immigrant to the US and the treats them like his pets. He talks about them like unruly children. Sometimes he pays off local cops to shut up and stop acting racist. And usually it works. I don’t know why but I can see Oliver Queen doing this

vibes... and also yes? oliver queen handing a local cop a donut to shut the fuck up lmao. but yanno i commit enough crimes to not really want to ever see a cop ever, so they kinda scare the everloving fuck out of me.

seeing as tim hasn't aged in years, that means he was 17 at peak emo tumblr era. im back on my emo tim bullshit and im not letting it go

emo tim had a wattpad account send tweet

People seem to think that batman is so dark and serious when the rainbow batsuit is right there. He wore it with no shame.

dude the 60s were a DIFFERENT TIME

dick grew up in a circus, jason grew up on the streets, and tim was probably raised by the internet

all of them cuss every other word and you cannot tell me otherwise

bitch i KNOW but dc has to change to an 18+ rating if they want to sell comix with swear words in them so we gotta deal with imagining the swear words in ourselves

thoughts on teen titans and young justice

haven’t seen teen titans on account of havent seen it and young justice was LITERALLY my favourite thing ever, tho i do gotta admit it’s not at all similar to the young justice comics unfortunately. i really wouldve liked to see timmy bart kon cassie and cissie animated on tv!!

ew ew ew how to delete batcest shippers I genuinely digust them

log off tumblr?

Okay as poc who was called racist for calling an Italian pastabrain: in the batfam are Italians bit Damian just yells various insults about the others being Italian. Just him yelling “What are you doing you moronic spaghettihead!” At steph etc

huh? i meant real italians. homeboy is telling steph he hopes she chokes on her fucking garlic.

I think it's dumb as hell to pull the batman is the best fighter in the batfam argument because like it's just irresponsible of Bruce to let his kids fight when they couldn't possibly be on his league or something

fair enough, but also like who cares they could all kill you just sit down and take a beating.

lady shiva, thalia al ghul and Selina Kyle are all milfs @notanothertimburtonenthusiastugh

unfortunately, i have to admit,,, you’re right

why tf didn't someone give joker a death sentence already? like he's a mass murderer...give him the electric chair treatment wtf

idk i think plenty of people would have tried to murder him already (boring answer is: he is a popular character so they can’t kill him off bc he brings in lots of money)

There’s no such thing as “ copaganda”.

all american media is propaganda. happy to clear this up for you

is it bad that I find lady shiva owa owa

no. find her as owa owa as you want.

aight I'm guessing the order of your favs in batfam:

1. tim

2. Steph

3. dick

4. Duke

5. the rest

you’re wrong but it’s cute that you tried, i generally don’t have favourites, but i have a special place in my heart for steph, tim, dick and cass. bc they were like my introduction to batfam. but damian, jason, duke, bruce, babs and alfred are NOT FORGOTTEN OR UNLOVED

oh my god i was literally just readily willing to believe that italians werent white ty for clarifying it was a joke im so dumb sdkvjskdfs

i mean some italians aren’t white? italian is a nationality as well as an ethnicity, so like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

since I saw so many people doing headcanons about the nationalities of batboys, I see Dick as an Italian.

dont know if youre serious or not, but sure.

super random but

jason 🤝 damian

old english

lmao fair enough.

tim absolutely has 1 gay uncle and his parents shit talk said uncle all the time so after bruce adopts him he specifically reaches out to this uncle to be like "heyyyy just so you know you majorly influenced my life yes i know i havent seen you since i was 5 and at the family reunion yes i know you dont remember my name idc thank you im gay too" and then they never talk again.

yuppp lmao that’s definitely something that could happen. i can also consider tim having no family members, like none. until he does like a dna test and he realises he has like an aunt living barely 2 miles away from him who’s like some illegitimate child of his grandpa.

I dare you one of them sends clark superman/clark fic and clark corrects the shit out of it and then goes like ps his dick is not that big, just telling as someone who has seen it. internet either explodes or goes who tf did he not fuck at this point.

i think everybody would call clark a buzzkill and try to cancel him over that.

so you're telling me Tim Drake wouldn't buy Starbucks?

no. dunkin donuts all the way

One of my favorite things is imagining people finding out jason came back from the dead and being like "oh no does he have magic powers now?!?!?" and he just pulls out a gun and tries to shoot joker

now he doesn’t even have the gun :) lmao

my favorite batfamily fanfictions are the ones where they use their shitty codenames, unironically, in any context

bruce gets codename ‘ugh’ everytime. he hates it.

crazy that tim being a 17 y/o ceo and a stoner who does brand deals are all actual canon things written in detective comics comics and not made up for shits and giggles by you, tumblr user batarangsoundsdumb @rowdeyclown

SO CRAZY HUH?

batman au where everything is the same but his utility belt is bright pink

absolutely, but i raise you, his boots light up like sketchers when he kicks people.

unbeknownst to the superhero fandom writers in the dcuniverse, clark and BRUCE are one of the most prolific fanfic writers in the superhero rpf tag on ao3. clark writes the best lois x superman angst, full of unhappy endings and scenes that are a so detailed you'd think you were in the middle of a superhero beatdown. bruce made an ao3 account to fuel "the do the butts match" thing, and makes batman/bruce fics from time to time. he wrote a superbat fic as a joke but ended up making it REAL porny. @concrastinator

dude they’re WAY too busy for that. Oliver Queen and Hal Jordan on the other hand are the most prolific fanfic writers in the superhero rpf tag writing what is Mostly porn.

When the dining table topic gets to politics, Steph says "eat the rich" as the solution

bruce just silently takes away her fork and knife while she’s talking.

#literally if you got through this i just respect you #this is mainly just for the people who sent me an ask in the past few mask #i hope your ask is in here :)#sorry for everybody else #ask #bataranswers #this took me 4 hours to do so i hope youre happy #also sidenote #does anybody know the latin translation for 'to become'#bc i just used future of 'esse' but it could be a different verb #who cares tho latin is a dead language #big congratulations to everyone who translates my sentence #here's a bonus sentence: tuam matrem futueram

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sodone-withlife · 3 years ago

Text

i know who i am

summary: really, he never saw himself ever willingly letting anyone in on his broken past, but here he was, sitting in across from Waipo in the tiny cramped office at the back of the shop and nervously sweating about what he was about to tell her

read it on ao3: chapter 1 is the original version with Mandarin, chapter 2 has everything translated into English

the movie really hit me hard as an ABC, and I really wanted to write something for it. even though she barely had any screentime, I loved Waipo—she reminds me of so many of my relatives—so I decided to make her be one of the most important people in Shangqi’s life, and it turned into this wonderful mess (i had to stop writing this for a bit because I literally made myself cry). there is mandarin in this, it's kind of intended to be a physical manifestation of how my bilingual brain works (i did put the English-only version first, the original version with Mandarin is under that one but the formatting for it one is better on ao3, so i suggest reading it from there). apologies for my shitty mandarin; I have mediocre language skills, but I'm still so excited to be able to incorporate it in my writing. in regards to the character's names: I only know for certain the Chinese characters used for Shangqi and Wenwu, but for Xialing, I'm going to go with what it apparently was in the hong kong release (夏灵, with 灵灵 as the nickname)

English Translation:

“Waipo, do you have a bit of time?” Shangqi stood in front of Katy’s grandma, fidgeting nervously as fluent Mandarin rolled off of his tongue with an ease he's never felt in any other part of his life. “I want to talk to you about something."

She pinned him with a knowing stare. “Does it have anything to do with the trip you and Katy went on this past week?" she asked, Not waiting for his answer, she got up from the shop register and beckoned him into the back office. Feeling oddly like the first time he came into the store years ago as a teen—when he first met Katy’s family who had since taken him under their wing—he followed her into the familiar, cramped space.

He wasn’t exactly sure what within him prompted this interaction. He had come to San Francisco for a normal life, to get as far away from his father’s reaches as he could and to outrun the blood that stained his footsteps.

Never did Shangqi imagine that he would end up claiming the ancient rings that now sat in a heavy-duty (thanks to Xialing, with whom he now keeps in regular contact because of the promise they made to each other before he left the compound because he already left her behind once, and he’s never doing it again damn, my baby sister is running the Ten Rings now, and she’s trying to turn it into something better) and a very well-disguised (thanks to the sorcerers in the New York Sanctum and holy shit he’s in contact with famous superheroes now) back in his mess of a studio apartment.

Never did he imagine letting anyone in on his broken past, and even though his hand had been forced when it came to telling Katy, here he was going to the second person who truly saw something in him when he first started his new life and planning to tell them everything.

(Okay, fine, Shangqi wasn’t actually planning on letting anyone else in on it after telling Waipo, not even the rest of Katy’s family, but he really didn’t want them to be so involved yet—he still had no idea what he himself was doing and he wants to preserve what normalcy he can.)

(Also, he’s been reliably informed that anyone close to a public figure is bound to be targeted for attacks—which he figured out when the mercenaries attacked on the bus because yes, Lingling, he does have brain cells thank you very much.)

“Little Dragon, what’s on your mind?”

Little Dragon.

He started at the nickname, the one originally given to him by his mother. Somehow, it had completely slipped his mind that Waipo also called him that, starting a few weeks after he first met the Chen family. He barely kept it together, the long-unused nickname dredging up memories he had thought left him forever.

You have the heart of a dragon, she had declared firmly when he asked her why she decided on that particular nickname.

(That was exactly what his mother had told him right before she died, and yet he stood by, hidden behind a door, and did nothing while the men beat and killed her, the heart of the family.)

(He would carry the guilt with him for a lifetime.)

It was a while before he could bring himself to visit the family again—there were a lot of awkward excuses before Katy reluctantly backed off—and it took even longer for him to get somewhat used to the name again, but he eventually started seeing it as a gift with each faint impression of happier days that he got every time Waipo called him that.

Old, weathered hands gently covered his own, which were shaking and clammy with nervousness. Shangqi wondered how Waipo would react to the darker side of the lost boy she had basically adopted all those years ago, wondered if the legends of Ta-Lo and the Great Protector were known outside of the rather insular communities that continued to tell the stories, wondered if she had heard about his father through the stories that were passed down for thousands of years, from generation to generation…

(It can’t be wrong to miss him, can it? Even with the years of hell Wenwu had put him through, he was still his father. Shangqi still faintly remembered the man his father had been when his mother was still alive, the happy times they shared as a normal family…)

(But those times were long gone, ripped from their grasp by the past Wenwu wanted so badly to leave behind. Grief had shattered the whole family, and it ultimately led to the children fighting the father who had been driven to near madness in his denial, in his quest to put his broken family back together again.)

Mom, I miss you so much.

(And now Wenwu is dead, just like his beloved wife.)

(But just as she died to protect her children, he did the same. Now, his children are reunited and in contact again, getting ever closer despite living as far apart as they did, and he was reunited with his love in the afterlife.)

Finally, he straightened his posture and took a deep breath, looking directly at Waipo, who he’d come to view as the grandmother he never had.

“Waipo, have you heard of the legend of the Ten Rings?”

And Shangqi told her everything.

He told her everything and more,

She listened.

She listened as he described the legends behind the Ten Rings, Ta-Lo, and the Great Protector; his father’s history; his own history, from witnessing his mother’s death to ripping open the throat of the man who killed her when he was barely a teen, from leaving Lingling behind to seeing her again in the fight club she built from the ground up, from returning to the compound after a decade away in San Francisco to the battle in Ta-Lo…

Finally, he fell silent and stared at his hands but it wasn’t long before Waipo moved, slowly standing up with one hand on her cane. He made to help stabilize her but was quickly waved off with a stern look. He sank back into the chair and felt her move behind him. The shaky weight of her hands on his shoulders as she gently pressed down and straightened his posture was familiar, even after years of not having his posture deliberately—so gently—fixed like that every time he saw Waipo.

“You are the legacy of all who came before you, but you are your own person.” she finally said gently, and the tension in his shoulders slowly loosened under her familiar touch. “You decide your own fate.”

~~~

That night, Shangqi knelt before the altar he had in his apartment, the only part that was carefully maintained in all the years he had lived there. But now, two smiling faces stared back at him, a joy reflected in their eyes that he knew would disappear in less than ten years after the photo was taken.

Am I still your pride and joy? Lingling grew up, but I didn’t even take care of her like I should have.

I swear to you, I will never abandon her again

Even as his life got even more unbelievable as the years went by, the altar and his copy of his parent’s wedding photo would remain a constant. He and Lingling dove deeper into their family history—of the Ten Rings, of Ta-Lo, of both the good and bad—and both worked to carry on their parents’ legacy.

(With all of the proper discretion agreements and threats when needed, of course.)

Lingling is dating my best friend now, and they’re so happy together. Mom, I know you would have loved Katy. Dad, I know you didn’t like her much, but she really is a wonderful person.

Life went on.

There were the good days, when he went out with others and could almost feel normal, and there were the bad days, when phantoms pains plagued him and he woke up from a restless sleep expecting to see bruises mottling his body like they did so often when he was younger.

(Also, he was considered a superhero now and holy shit that’s still insane, even years after he first got in contact with the Avengers and the sorcerers in New York. Now he was going all over the West Coast, to help the locals take care of whichever crazy supervillain decided to wreak havoc that day.)

Dad, I hope you find this story as funny as I did: I helped a group of American superheroes yesterday. They’ve never been to San Francisco before and were extremely unfamiliar with the roads, especially Lombard Street. They spent half an hour trying to drive down the street, but I ended up driving them down myself.

(San Francisco was still home, and he had found a life there with all his friends and Xialing whenever she visited. He had a job now, too, at the local youth center teaching martial arts and self-defense, teaching and guiding the youth in a way he wishes his father had with him.)

People came into his life; some stayed, some left, and some even got together.

Mom, Dad, Lingling and Katy are getting married today and everyone is so excited for them. I’m taking over the Ten Ring within a month so Lingling can take a break. She’s led the organization for so long, it’s my responsibility now. I hope I can live up to her standards, she’s done really well. She’ll be back in a few years, but even after, I’m going to be much more involved to lessen Lingling’s workload.

Shangqi walked the path knowing who came before him and who was still with him.

Most importantly, he walked the path knowing who he was—demons, flaws, strengths, and all.

Mom, Dad, don’t worry. I’ll take care of them.

I hope you’re happy together in the afterlife.

~~~

Don’t be afraid, Shang-Chi, for you have heart of a dragon and the power of the Ten Rings.

We will always be with you and Xialing.

Original Version w/Mandarin

“外婆，您有没有一点儿时间？” 尚气 stood in front of Katy’s grandma, fidgeting nervously. “我想告诉您一些事情。”

She pinned him with a knowing stare. “是不是跟你和瑞雯这前个星期去的旅行有关？” Not waiting for his answer, she got up from the shop register and beckoned him into the back office. Feeling oddly like the first time he came into the store years ago as a teen—when he first met Katy’s family who had since taken him under their wing—he followed her into the familiar, cramped space.

Never did 尚气 imagine that he would end up claiming the ancient rings that now sat in a heavy-duty (thanks to 夏灵, with whom he now keeps in regular contact because of the promise they made to each other before he left the compound because he already left her behind once, and he’s never doing it again and damn, my baby sister is running the Ten Rings now, and she’s trying to turn it into something better) and a very well-disguised (thanks to the sorcerers in the New York Sanctum and holy shit he’s in contact with famous superheroes now) back in his mess of a studio apartment.

(Okay, fine, 尚气 wasn’t actually planning on letting anyone else in on it after telling 外婆, not even the rest of Katy’s family, but he really didn’t want them to be so involved yet—he still had no idea what he himself was doing and he wants to preserve what normalcy he can.)

(Also, he’s been reliably informed that anyone close to a public figure is bound to be targeted for attacks—which he figured out when the mercenaries attacked on the bus because yes, 灵灵, he does have brain cells thank you very much.)

“小龙，你有什么心事儿？”

Little Dragon.

He started at the nickname, the one originally given to him by his mother. Somehow, it had completely slipped his mind that 外婆 also called him that, starting a few weeks after he first met the Chen family. He barely kept it together, the long-unused nickname dredging up memories he had thought left him forever.

你有神龙之心，she had declared firmly when he asked her why she decided on that particular nickname. You have the heart of a dragon.

(That was exactly what his mother had told him right before she died, and yet he stood by, hidden behind a door, and did nothing while the men beat and killed her, the heart of the family.)

(He would carry the guilt with him for a lifetime.)

Old, weathered hands gently covered his own, which were shaking and clammy with nervousness. 尚气 wondered how 外婆 would react to the darker side of the lost boy she had basically adopted all those years ago, wondered if the legends of Ta-Lo and the Great Protector were known outside of the rather insular communities that continued to tell the stories, wondered if she had heard about his father through the stories that were passed down for thousands of years, from generation to generation…

(It can’t be wrong to miss him, can it? Even with the years of hell 文武 had put him through, he was still his father. 尚气 still faintly remembered the man his father had been when his mother was still alive, the happy times they shared as a normal family…)

(But those times were long gone, ripped from their grasp by the past 文武 wanted so badly to leave behind. Grief had shattered whole family, and it ultimately led to the children fighting the father who had been driven to near madness in his denial, in his quest to put his broken family back together again.)

妈妈，我太想你了。

(And now 文武 is dead, just like his beloved wife.)

Finally, he straightened his posture and took a deep breath, looking directly at 外婆, who he’d come to view as the grandmother he never had.

“外婆，您听说过 ‘十环’ 的传说吗？”

And 尚气 told her everything.

He told her everything and more,

She listened.

She listened as he described the legends behind the Ten Rings, Ta-Lo, and the Great Protector; his father’s history; his own history, from witnessing his mother’s death to ripping open the throat of the man who killed her when he was barely a teen, from leaving 灵灵 behind to seeing her again in the fight club she built from the ground up, from returning to the compound after a decade away in San Francisco to the battle in Ta-Lo…

Finally, he fell silent and stared at his hands but it wasn’t long before 外婆 moved, slowly standing up with one hand on her cane. He made to help stabilize her but was quickly waved off with a stern look. He sank back into the chair and felt her move behind him. The shaky weight of her hands on his shoulders as she gently pressed down and straightened his posture was familiar, even after years of not having his posture deliberately—so gently—fixed like that every time he saw 外婆.

“你是所有在你之前的人的遗产，但你是你自己的人，” she finally said，“你决定你自己的命运。”

You are the legacy of all who came before you, but you are your own person. You decide your own fate.

~~~

That night, 尚气 knelt before the altar he had in his apartment, the only part that was carefully maintained in all the years he had lived there. But now, two smiling faces stared back at him, a joy reflected in their eyes that he knew would disappear in less than ten years after the photo was taken.

我还是你的骄傲吗？灵灵长大了，但��也没好好照顾她。

我向你发誓，我再也不会抛弃她。

Even as his life got even more unbelievable as the years went by, the altar and his copy of his parent’s wedding photo would remain a constant. He and 灵灵 dove deeper into their family history—of the Ten Rings, of Ta-Lo, of both the good and bad—and both worked to carry on their family’s legacy.

(With all of the proper discretion agreements and threats when needed, of course.)

灵灵跟我朋友最近开始谈恋爱，他们俩可开心了。妈，如果你还在我们身边，我保证你会喜欢她。爸，我知道你一开始不太喜欢她，但她确实是一位精彩的人。

Life went on.

爸爸，我希望你跟我一样觉得这个故事很好笑：我昨天帮了一组美国超级英雄开车。那是他们第一次来旧京山，对道路非常陌生—尤其是 Lombard Street。他们开也开不好，花了半个小时慢慢的开下去。最终，我把他们的车开下去的。

(San Francisco was still home, and he had found a life there with all his friends and 夏灵 whenever she visited. He had a job now, too, at the local youth center teaching martial arts and self-defense, teaching and guiding the youth in a way he wishes his father had with him.)

People came into his life; some stayed, some left, and some even got together.

妈，爸，灵灵她今天会跟我最好的朋友结婚，我们都很兴奋。我一个月之内开始接管十环的业务，让灵灵休息休息。她干了多少��了，现在是我的责任。我希望我能辜负她，她管的非常棒，帮了许多人。她几年后会回来继续当领导，但我好像在领导方面发挥更大的作用。

He walked the path knowing who came before him and who was still with him.

Most importantly, he walked the path knowing who he was—demons, flaws, strengths, and all.

妈，爸，你们放心吧，我会照顾他们。

我希望你们俩来世都幸福。

~~~

尚气，你别怕，你有神龙之心，十环的力量。

我们永远会在你和灵灵的身边。

#i’m so sorry if the mandarin is shitty #the format is better on ao3 #but i’m so excited to be able to at least try it #shang chi spoilers #shang chi and the legend of the ten rings spoilers #shang chi fanfiction #shang chi #shang chi and the legend of the ten rings #marvel fanfiction #mcu #shang chi imagines

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scullydubois · 4 years ago

Text

Only the Light: Ch. 21

Hello, here is my ‘I didn’t plan for updates to take two weeks, but it always works out to two weeks’ post, right on time. Almost finished with this journey, thank you for sticking around <3

As Mulder helps care for his ill partner and her child, he enlists the Lone Gunmen to investigate the circumstances surrounding Scully's diagnosis. He and Melissa pay a visit to the three men, then Mulder gets an unwanted surprise back at apartment 42.

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As Scully’s world has shrunk, the amount of love in it has grown. This is small consolation for the hell she’s enduring, but it is the only antidote. She realizes this now that she’s staring down the abyss: all the knowledge in the world won’t save you, and wealth is nothing but a false comfort. What will live on are the parts of herself she’s left with others. Her goal for her remaining time, however long that may be, is to hold tight to those she loves...not to slip away until her heart stops beating.

This is hard when she already feels like less of herself. She’s doing chemo twice a week at Georgetown, and it’s brutal. She knew it would be...her only other choice is to get that gravestone of hers re-engraved.

Meanwhile, Mulder pushed all other work aside to get in contact with the Mufon women. It only took him one day to do so, but Scully doesn’t know that, and for now, she doesn’t need to know. He’s keeping what he’s learned so far to himself...Betsy Hagopian is dead and has been since shortly after Scully saw her. Penny Northern is sick and not responding to treatment. A handful of other women, abductees like Scully, have developed rare cancers too.

It’s not something he knows how to talk about, such despondency. His world has always hinged on hope. That’s what his work on the X-Files is to him, one big leap of faith toward his sister. Or was, before Scully came along. It’s not that she diverted him from Samantha...no, she turned a very personal quest into something larger than him. Or her, or any one person they worked with. She pared it down to its core value, its overarching mission: the truth. Because the truth may hurt at first, but given time, it heals. And it is the only path to healing. This is what he’s learned from her. And now, he’s got to do everything he can to pass the revitalized world she’s shown him onto her.

The arrangement falls into place without any friction: Missy handles the chemo run on Monday mornings, and Mulder leaves work early on Thursdays. Emily spends Mondays with her grandma, and Thursdays too when Missy works the night shift.

Thursdays become something of a spiritual day for Mulder. The hours of approximately 3-10pm are spent doting on his partner--in her apartment, and then his car, then the hospital and his car again, and finally, back to her apartment. Mama Scully brings Emily back around eight, and if Missy’s not home, Mulder gets the honor of the bedtime ritual. The domesticity of it all tethers him to reality, maybe for the first time in his life. He’d give anything to change the circumstances, but it’s humbling to feel--for once--that he belongs on Earth.

It is on one of these Thursday evenings that Mulder could swear he feels his whole life trailing behind him, leading him to the present. The end of the year is creeping up in its usual fashion, which means the outside world is a blanket of darkness before the stoves of countless suburban homes have even been started. Having settled her comfortably into bed with a pile of pillows, Mulder carries his partner a glass of water and pulls the wastebasket to her side; this is their routine now.

“You doing okay?” he asks, lingering as she takes a sip of water. It will soon be time to make himself scarce so she can sleep.

She nods, gurgles a garbled affirmation. Mulder turns to go, and her heart leaps to her throat. “Will you stay?” she spews, embarrassed by her need.

“Of course.” She’s unaware, apparently, that when he leaves it’s for her, not him. He approaches her bedside, lowers himself carefully beside her knees. “Any particular reason?” he murmurs, examining the sunken spaces beneath her eyes.

“I just...wanted to talk to you,” she says, and Mulder thinks there might be a bit more color in her cheeks than there was yesterday.

“Okay.” He leans in and sweeps a strand of hair off her forehead so lightly that Scully doesn’t even feel it. She’s apprehensive about being touched these days, and he has taken this knowledge to heart. She is grateful, and to show the extent of this feeling, she strokes his hand, allows him to take hers in his. He runs his thumb over each finger as they continue.

He wants to ask what she’s thinking about, what it is that has so graciously extended his stay in this room. But he knows that she’ll get to it, that she has nothing to keep from him now.

There’s a sincere serenity on her face that he’s never seen. And after a minute or two, she begins. “I didn’t think it could happen--and it certainly doesn’t make much sense-- but right now, I am happier than I have ever been.”

A string on Mulder’s heart, tightened to its prime, bursts without warning.

She caresses the back of his head. “It’s so trivial, Mulder. So much of what we call life isn’t living at all. Or at least not the important kind.”

He lifts his gaze, eye contact conveying more than he could with words.

“But I’ve thought about the parts of my life that are living, and all of them, in some way, come back to you.”

Mulder shakes his head, feeling too flattered. “That’s not true…”

“You can believe whatever you need to,” she whispers, “but it is the truth, and I am eternally grateful that you happened to me.”

He tries to cough away some tears, which works about a quarter as well as he hoped it would. “Hold on, little lady.” He pats her hand in response to her smile. “I think you happened to me.”

Scully’s chest flutters in laughter. “Did I?” These subtle things have always been so important to them.

“You walked into my office, remember.”

“Well, I guess it would depend on who changed the most due to the other’s influence then,” she reasons.

Mulder just gives her a look.

She smirks. “Okay, so maybe I happened to you, but you…” she chews her lip, and this could be any other day of any other year if she weren’t bedridden. She picks out her words-- “You completed me.”

Mulder spills forward, finding his footing and spinning into the middle of the room. “Holy fuck Scully, are you trying to kill me?”

“We’ve been searching for the truth. That’s the truth, Mulder. I wanted you to know.”

He sets his jaw. He won’t burst into tears in front of her, not when she has all the reason to cry and yet has been so strong.

“You should get some sleep,” he tells her, hoping to expedite his exit from the room.

“I will. And it’s okay to be sad, but not for me. My life is as whole as ever.”

He nods, though he doesn’t agree (what’s new?). He knew Samantha for eight years and has been sad for twenty. He’s known Scully for half that--so he gets at least a decade of mourning.

“Sweet dreams,” he says, resting his hands on the door frame. “I’ll bring Emily in when she gets here.”

“Okay.” She closes her eyes, smiles. “Love you.”

“Love you too, DKS.” He blows a kiss and slips out, heat flooding to his face. This is the first time she’s said that unprompted, and is that what the threat of imminent death does to you? Pries you open?

He wonders. Whose love is saving who?

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The primetime line-up is flickering over the television when Mama Scully arrives with Emily, passing her granddaughter to Mulder like the family heirloom she is. They exchange a few words in short breaths, reserving the air supply for their dear Dana. Mama Scully agrees to come see her daughter this weekend rather than interrupt her much-needed rest now, and Mulder is suddenly single parent-slash-babysitter; the specifics elude him.

Perfumed with baby powder from her grandmother’s overly enthusiastic hand, Mulder concludes that Em needs neither bathing nor changing. She doesn’t seem very keen on sleep either, seeing as how her little voice keeps calling out Moldy! and her little fists clobber his shoulders. Still, he will keep his promise. He carries her into the room she shares with her mother, stepping lightly lest the floorboards creak.

As he circles the bed to lay the child beside her sleeping mother, he winces at the mess in the trash can. Good thing he moved it into place though Scully had seemed okay. He hadn’t heard any retching, and it saddens him that he wasn’t there to hold her hair back. He settles Em into place, makes a mental note to rinse the can on his way out.

Her characteristically light sleep lightened further by her illness, Scully stirs from the shift of Emily’s weight against the mattress. She rolls toward the free side and flutters her eyelids open. Her smile is reflexive.

“Hello baby girl,” she purrs. She lays a hand against her daughter’s polka-dotted onesie. “Did you have a good day with Grandma?”

Emily answers with some fluttery babbling and gropes for her mother’s nose.

“I don’t think she’s very tired,” Mulder remarks, hands in his pockets. He smirks. “We should really find out what your mother feeds her.”

Scully pulls her lips into a grin, exhibiting a great deal more effort than she did just moments before. She blinks, rubs her eyes, and seems to go out of the world for a second. Then she sets her gaze on Mulder and speaks dreamily--”Will you tell us a bedtime story?”

“Oh!” Mulder scratches his chin, having expected his dismissal. “Do you think that would help…?”

Scully presses her head into the pillow. “I’m not gonna be able to fall back asleep until she does.”

That is a yes, served with some condescension.

“Okay, well, let me think.” He perches on the side of the bed. “Regrettably, I did not get my degree in bedtime stories.”

“Just say what you know,” Scully mumbles. “We’re the only ones listening, and the goal is to put us to sleep.”

“I hope that’s not a comment on my conversational skills,” he teases, smoothing the sheets.

Again, there’s a look of otherworldliness from his partner. She is somewhere else.

“Go on, tell us a story,” she hums, her surprising lack of impatience attributable to an equal lack of wakefulness.

“Let’s see…” He stretches out, perching on his elbow by Scully’s feet like she did in the first motel they ever stayed in. Emily sits herself up and grasps for him. He laughs, lets her latch onto his fingers.

“There once was a little girl who loved horses and bugging her brother,” he begins. “Now, I’m sure she sounds like just about any little girl out there, but I promise, she was as unique as they come.”

Scully closes her eyes and tilts her head back to listen.

“She always said she wanted to be a butterfly when she grew up so she could spread her wings and fly. And her parents would scoff and tell her that would never be possible, but she believed. She believed it would happen.”

Emily babbles along, adding her own colorful commentary.

“I know, I know right?” Mulder muses to the little girl. “The parents were such jerks.”

He tickles Em’s stomach, then remembers that he’s supposed to be helping her go to sleep. He kisses her temple and begins stroking her knee, hoping to achieve a hypnotic rhythm.

“And so one day, this little girl...well, this little girl got to go on an adventure. She left behind her house and her family, and she got to go up to the sky and see the stars, and it was everything she wished for.”

Scully opens her eyes slowly. Mulder’s focus is centered on Emily, who stares up at him with the awe of a museum-goer seeing the Starry Night. It is as if they are the only two in the room, and this gives Scully great comfort, for she can imagine them having a life after she is gone.

“The girl’s family was sad because they didn’t know where she went. The girl’s brother missed her the most, but it was okay because the girl was happy. She got to fly through the sky like a bird or a plane, and she achieved the dream that her parents thought would never come true.”

Em’s breathing begins to slow into sleep. And thank god, cause he’s running out of story to tell.

“Lay down, little girl.” He guides her onto her back so she can drift off without difficulty, then clears his throat softly.

“Some say that if you see a light in the night sky, that’s this little girl, floating among the stars, living her dream. And her brother, well, he’s pretty fond of that thought. He just wants her to be happy.”

Silence falls over the room like a throbbing sensation of unknown origin. Emily’s eyelids struggle between open and closed, and Mulder knows she will soon be out. Scully’s baby blues, meanwhile, peer at him with such unflinching intensity that he suspects she has fallen asleep like that. It is haunting, but it becomes much less so when she blinks and he realizes that she’s looking at him, that she heard the whole story.

“Is that what you wanted?” he whispers, half expecting her not to answer.

“It was beautiful, Mulder. Samantha lives on.”

He smiles from his eyes...oh, of course it was obvious, his little tribute to his sister. Scully said to work from what he knew, and this myth is something he’s used to keep himself going since his family realized that there would be no happy reunion with Sam. He’s happy to share his fantasy; such escapes are needed now.

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Melissa’s heart leaps when she opens the apartment door to an empty living room. The TV drones out its slapstick laugh track, contributing to the ominous atmosphere. She’d expect to see Mulder taking up a restless refuge on the couch, or maybe sneaking a late night snack to Em. Her sister should be fast asleep by now, her little world able to slacken its hold on her. Unless she is no longer afforded such luxury…

Missy rushes toward Dana’s bedroom, her purse still on her shoulder. In the doorway she slows as her eyes adjust to the lack of light. And thank goodness because three silhouettes catch her eye; a medium one buried under the covers, a large one strewn diagonally across the bed, and a small bump barely visible on the far side. A snore of unidentifiable origin is the only disturbance. Missy smiles to herself. All the missing persons are accounted for and well. She can continue with the blissfully bland routine of her night.

She washes her face and brews some chamomile before settling on the couch with the week’s issues of Mad Magazine and Vogue. Yes, she contains multitudes. She’s up to the Spy vs. Spy comic when Mulder strolls in, yawning.

“I guess my bedtime story was effective.”

“Mmm.” Missy scoots her mug over so he can prop his feet up. Dana hates feet on furniture, but she’s got a child in the house now, so she’ll have to let go of those judgments. “How is she?”

“Oh shit.” She’s jogged something in his memory. “I meant to grab the trash can on the way out.”

Missy knows what this means. “I’ll get it in a second.”

Mulder nods in silent gratitude, relaxes back into his spot. “She seemed livelier than usual when we got home.”

It hits him that he said home, not back. And well, it is Scully’s home. What about him? He sleeps on the couch and he doesn’t pay rent...that’s how he lived at Oxford, though he gets the feeling that it’s not as evergreen at thirty-three years old.

These days, he only goes to his place on Sunday nights to get (what he considers) a week’s worth of clothing--two work outfits (hey, he never really sees anyone but Scully anyway) and one casual outfit that doubles as pajamas. He bought a bunch of fish feeding tablets so all he has to do is drop a few in on Sunday and the fish are set for the week. As far as he can tell, at least. None of them have floated to the top of the tank yet.

“And Em is all good?” Missy confirms.

Mulder nods. “Your mom takes good care of her.”

“I think I know the answer to this, but do you want some tea?” Missy asks, flashing her mug.

“No, no, save it for yourself.”

“Alright.” She flips a page in her magazine. “Just let me know when you’re ready to kick me out. Since I’m kind of in your bed and all.”

“I should be telling you that,” Mulder counters. “You don’t mind me staying here, do you?”

“Not at all.” Missy lays the magazine on the table. “It’s important that you’re around.”

“Really?...For what?”

“For who,” Missy corrects. “Emily needs you to give her balance, and Dana...she just needs you. You’re the safety net under her tightrope.”

“Oh.” This metaphor grounds Mulder better than gravity ever has.

Missy seems to sense this and takes the opportunity to profit off his vulnerability. “So what’s gone on between you?” she asks, an eyebrow arched.

Mulder squints at her. “Huh?”

“I keep waiting for Dana to kick you out or get irritated about you being around all the time,” Missy says with honest simplicity. “But instead, she lets you take her to chemo and fall asleep in her bed…”

“Well, I think the former is more ideal than the alternative, which is that I watch her child,” Mulder replies. “And I fell asleep on the bed, not in it.”

“Okay.” Missy sips her tea, keeps her eyes on him.

It’s pointless for Mulder to try to keep secrets anymore. He wrings out his hands. “If you must know, when you dropped her off at my apartment after her appointment, we... came to a mutual understanding.”

“Ah.” Missy is not surprised by any of it. Of course it happened. Of course her sister hasn’t mentioned it.

“Why are you just asking about this now?”

“Cause I expected my suspicions to be proven wrong, and that hasn’t happened.”

Mulder nods, taps absentmindedly on his knee. “Actually, I have something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” She’s intrigued. The enigmatic Fox Mulder, divulging on his own accord.

“Don’t get excited, it’s not good.”

Damn. Missy reels herself in. “About Dana?”

“About what happened to her or...what is happening to her. It’s about the Mufon women.”

Missy curls her legs beneath herself. “You reached them?”

He nods. “Well, Penny Northern’s hospice nurse picked up when I called. She’s got stage four tumors throughout her body that migrated from her nasopharynx.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah. Apparently most of the other abductees have cancer too. And Betsy Hagopian--the woman who Scully saw in the hospital last spring--is dead.”

Missy’s gaze drops to the floor. “So the invasive procedures that the abductors did are killing these women.”

“One doctor’s treating them all--he’s supposed to be a specialist--but it doesn’t look like he’s having much success.” Mulder pauses, his mouth partially open.

“What?” Missy presses.

“The Lone Gunmen and I have been looking into him, and we think that he might have been involved in the abductions.”

Missy barrels forward. “You think he did this to them on purpose and now he’s letting them die?”

Mulder nods solemnly.

“Well, we have to stop him. We can’t let any more patients go to him, especially Dana…”

“I know. I’m going down to see the Lone Gunmen tomorrow after work if you want to join me.”

Missy contemplates. “I have the lunch shift tomorrow, so I could. What would we tell Dana?”

“I’ll say that Skinner is keeping me late to go over some paperwork. You could say whatever, she’s not going to question you.”

“I hate to leave her alone for so long, but...yeah, we have to do this.” She leans back, takes another look at Mulder. “You might just save a lot of women, you know.”

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Missy feels unseen eyes bore into her as she and Mulder approach the basement entrance of a helter-skelter building. She doesn’t recognize the part of town they’re in, and she doesn’t ask.

Mulder hits the button on a call box beside the door. Before he can speak, a voice leaps out at them.

“Howdy Mulderoony.” Mulder recognizes it as Frohike’s voice. “Glad to see you made it safely.”

A variety of locks and chains are undone, the door pulled open.

“Join our ménage a trois,” Frohike says, ushering them in.

“We can’t stay long,” Mulder tells them, squinting as he adjusts to the darkness of their realm. “You guys forget to pay the electric bill or something?”

“We’re conserving electricity,” Byers says, a shadow in the corner of the room. “It’s good for the environment.”

“I didn’t realize the environment was on your list of concerns.”

“It should be on everyone’s list of concerns,” Byers throws back matter-of-factly.

Mulder slides his hands into his pockets. “Touché.”

Ringo comes forward from the darkness, his hair as tressed and greasy as ever. “Well lookie here. Dana Scully in the flesh.”

Frohike inserts himself between them. “You can’t be serious, pool boy. That’s not her, I’d know her anywhere. It is, however, an equally lovely woman.” He takes Missy’s hand and kisses it. “My lady.”

Missy participates with amusement until Mulder brushes Frohike aside.

“Okay boys, lay off. This is Scully’s sister Melissa. And I believe she’s taken.”

Frohike bows. “A lucky man.”

“Woman,” Missy corrects.

“Oh. Excusez-moi."

Tucked in the darkness, Byers scoffs at the childish antics. “Come on, let’s cut to the chase. Lives are at stake.”

“I’m glad to see someone has a brain around here,” Mulder quips.

Ringo pats Mulder’s shoulder. “Not all of us got a full-ride to Oxford, but hey, I’d say we’ve done pretty well for ourselves.”

“Calm down, Ringo. You’d still be the smartest member of the Ramones.”

Like an unleashed dog, Ringo lunges forward, and Byers and Frohike pull him back. They are quite used to this.

“You can insult me, but never speak ill of the Ramones!” Ringo growls.

Mulder puts his hands up, smirks at the permission he’s been given. “Happily.”

Missy clears her throat, her amusement wearing thin. She’s like her sister in this way.

Mulder gets the memo. “Right. Can the trash talk, we’re here to catch a criminal.”

“If he is, in fact, a criminal,” Byers remarks.

Missy frowns. “Haven’t you proved that?”

“We’re connecting the dots, but we haven’t completed the picture yet,” Byers replies.

Mulder circles around to Byers’ monitor. “What have you got?”

“This doctor, Scanlon, isn’t just an oncologist,” Ringo begins, as if Mulder asked him. “His name is associated with the Lombard Research Facility.”

Mulder and Missy both give him a look. More, more!

“A high security medical research center in Allentown,” he clarifies.

“We’ve hacked into some of the security cameras,” Frohike tells them. “We’d have to get in to see for ourselves, but the activity is rather suspicious. The same men, in and out, at odd times. Whatever they’re storing in there, it’s significant.”

“Then let’s get in,” Mulder emphasizes. “You be the eyes and ears, I’ll be the legs.”

Ringo nods. “We’re working on it.”

“We need to observe their weekend patterns before we make any moves,” Byers insists. “We don’t set up our missions to fail.”

“Fine, but as soon as you’ve reached your confidence threshold--”

“We’ll call you,” Ringo promises.

“What are you expecting to find?” Missy asks, frenzied. “Will it help Dana?”

Frohike drums his fingers on the desk. “That’s the plan.”

Byers nods. “We can’t be sure exactly what we’ll find, but the connection is clear: Scanlon was involved with the abductions, and he’s exploiting these women for his own benefit.”

Melissa shivers involuntarily. “It’s amazing that you’ve figured this out.”

Ringo twirls a pencil through his hair. “We have a lot of free time on our hands.”

Mulder takes a shot at the mini-basketball hoop they have, misses. “And you’d better use it all to implicate Dr. Scanlon’s ass.”

Frohike does a two-finger salute. “Aye aye captain.”

Mulder thumbs toward the door. “Now we’ve gotta get out of here before the smell sticks to us. Scully will know exactly where we’ve been,” he smirks.

“Can’t argue with that.” Frohike shows them to the door. “Give the lady my regards.”

“Will do.” He turns back, exchanges a serious glance with each man. “Sort this out, boys.”

Just as quickly as they came, he and Melissa step out of the chambers and ascend back into the sun’s dominion. Entrusting those three with the well-being of a woman they love so much is far from ideal, and yet, they’re throwing all their faith into it.

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Mulder slides his key into the door of apartment 42 shortly after seven on Sunday evening. He hasn’t been in for a week, and yet a vivid scent of...smoke sticks about the place. And a wrinkled mess of a man to go with it.

The old man lifts his chin. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Mulder is no longer naïve enough to be taken aback by Cancer Man’s ambush. He shrugs and slides his coat off. “Well, you are in my apartment.”

“I’ve heard that your partner is very sick,” CSM says, his steps so clunky that Mulder wonders whether the downstairs tenants will complain.

“What grapevine did you get that from?...Or are you the one growing the grapes?”

“It saddened me to hear. Agent Scully is a valuable member of the Bureau.”

Mulder nods. “You here to pass on your condolences? Cause I’m pretty sure you could just send a card.”

“I’m here to propose a solution...The doctors say your partner’s sickness is incurable. This is not true.”

“Smarter than the doctors, are you?”

“In this case I am.”

A bitter laugh rises from Mulder. “So I’m supposed to believe that you were involved in sickening Scully, yet you want to save her?”

“We all have our regrets.”

“And I have no reason to trust you.”

“Upon learning about her child, I feel a deep need to intervene.”

“Mmm.” Mulder begins to pace. “And by learning about her child, do you mean when Scully’s ova were removed and fertilized without her knowledge? Because I have a hard time believing that you didn’t know a thing about Emily until Scully got custody.”

“Certainly I did not foresee Emily ending up in her mother’s custody.”

“What was the purpose then, of Emily? To terrorize a woman by taking away her bodily autonomy?”

CSM shrugs. “That’s not my area.”

Mulder scoffs. “Okay you old freak. Tell me how to save Scully’s life or get the hell out of here.”

The wrinkled man folds his hands. “She had a silicone implant removed from her neck. Put it back in.”

Mulder freezes. “Are you serious? That’s your miracle cure?”

CSM nods. “It is the only way to save her life. Removing the implant is what caused the cancer in the first place.”

Mulder steps forward, getting in the old man’s face like a middle-school bully. He’s ready to throw a punch--honestly, ready to kill the man--if need be. He could do it. Easily. He could.

“What does the implant do, Cancer Man?”

“Believe it or not, it is meant as a sort of inoculation. It offsets the negative effects of any tests performed during the...time away.”

“Uh-huh, and what do you get from it?”

“Who says I get anything from it?”

“How else would you know that she had it removed?”

“I am everywhere, Agent Mulder.”

Mulder loses his thinly-veiled calm, wraps his hand around the man’s saggy neck. “You fucking pervert, I’ll kill you! I’ve killed a man before just like this. Tell me the truth.”

“This is the truth,” CSM wheezes, not intimidated by his rapidly deteriorating air flow. His cold, hard eyes stare into Mulder’s. “You wouldn’t kill a man over nothing, would you?”

Mulder squeezes harder, his fingers gripping the man’s pulse. He watches the light drain from his victim’s eyes. All the old bastard does is smirk at him.

Angered by this more than anything, Mulder releases the man so suddenly that his bony body is thrown into the wall. He keeps his footing, stumbles forward.

“Get out,” Mulder growls. When he doesn’t respond, Mulder pokes his finger at the door. “Get out now!”

CSM dusts himself off and walks out, the pompous smirk never leaving his face. Mulder slams the door shut behind him.

There are certain truths he cannot escape. If Scully has made him believe in Heaven, CSM has made him believe in Hell.

#sincerely hope i did the lone gunmen justice lol #also i feel like this chapter is...a normal episode amount of angsty instead of the slow paper cut of the last chapter #the x-files #only the light fic #missy and scully fic #txf #txf fic #fox mulder #dana scully #melissa scully #mine #eww this looks weird w/the tumblr update!!#read it on ao3 lol

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popwasabi · 4 years ago

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“Who are you?” The scene that defines Chadwick Boseman’s legacy

Yesterday, the world lost a bright and promising, burgeoning talent in Chadwick Boseman.

I had wondered privately for a while if something was wrong with him, as others had as well online, as he appeared increasingly sicker with each interview he gave over the last two years. I thought maybe I had been looking too much into it, not wanting to jump to conclusions about who he was but now gravely we all know why.

The much too young star of films such as “42,” “Marshall,” and of course, “Black Panther” had been fighting a largely private battle with colon cancer for four years.

It was devastating hearing this news yesterday, the man who undeniably left behind a legacy of playing prominent black heroes, both historical and fictional, passed away just as he was starting to truly hit it big. When you begin to realize the man was dealing with cancer as he performed physically demanding roles in the MCU you begin to see the character and determination of a man unwilling to quit in the face of true adversity.

But he clearly wasn’t just doing it for himself when he continued making and promoting NINE more movies despite his diagnosis, afterall no one would’ve blamed the guy for taking it easy these past four years. He’s had many scenes that define his legacy over his all too short career but I feel it can really be summed up in one particular moment from by far his most famous film; “Black Panther.”

Those who know me or have read my work know that I have a fairly cynical relationship with the Marvel Cinematic Universe. While I would not say most of them are “bad” per se, I would say a ton of them are largely interchangeable action comedies with pretty straightforward messages about good vs evil for general audiences. They are largely popcorn escapism and though there is nothing technically wrong with that, I was starved for an MCU film that was sincere about its story finally and had something real to say.

Enter “Black Panther” in early 2018.

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“Black Panther” was everything I had long been waiting for in the MCU; a film with a real sense of vision and theme, a killer soundtrack, great supporting characters, a complicated and nuanced villain, and a story that didn’t feel the need to add a joke after every single scene like more typical MCU movies. The tip of that spear of course was Chadwick, who had already proved to be a great Black Panther in one of the few other sincere Marvel flicks “Civil War.” His natural charisma, physicality, and dramatic presence in this role made him a huge standout in frankly the best ensemble cast of any superhero movie ever.

The scene that truly sums up not just the mark “Black Panther” left on Hollywood but Chadwick’s own legacy comes at the very end though (the first of three, of course. It’s an MCU movie, afterall).

T’Challa has defeated his usurper cousin Erik Killmonger, his rule restored in Wakanda but clearly a changed man from the story’s beginning as he reckons with the complicated legacy of his father. He travels to Oakland, the birthplace of Killmonger, with his sister Shuri who he explains the crime committed by their father in this place and how it set off the events of the story. He turns to Shuri, tells her that he has decided to help this afflicted community by creating a Wakandan outreach center for the youth to give them a new hope in life. As he says this he decloaks their ship nearby, surprising the youth already in the area who are immediately in awe of it. One of the kids turns to T’Challa, smiling, a sense of inspiration and intrigue brewing inside, and asks “Who are you?” to which the young King simply smiles, then the credits roll.

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It’s a simple scene but it truly speaks to the impact left behind by Chadwick and the importance of representation.

“Black Panther” is hardly the first starring vehicle for a black man, it’s not even the first black super hero movie but what it made it different is it was the first blockbuster to truly lean unapologetically into its African identity to focus on the inspiration of a story centered around that culture. It showed Hollywood that an action blockbuster not just centered on a black star but centered on African culture had vast widespread appeal.

White kids will never have a shortage of white superheroes to grow up with on the big screen; a diverse palette of Supermans, Spider-mans, Captain Americas, and shit we’re even getting our sixth new Batman actor since 1989 soon. But Chadwick gave black kids their first real Superman of their own.

In the years since this came out, I have seen the influence, at times, firsthand among the youth. I work part-time as a kids martial arts instructor and each Halloween party we’ve held I’ve seen a few more T’Challas among the costumes represented. When I ask kids, black, white, or Asian, what their favorite superhero is, it always warms my heart to see a kid light up when they say “BLACK PANTHER!”

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(Seriously, cute AF)

This goes beyond just my anecdotal observations of course; the film grossed a billion dollars, and there are countless videos online of kids yelling “Wakanda forever!” at the top of their lungs while rocking a Black Panther suit or reciting one of the movie’s memorable lines. It’s beautiful because it speaks to that last scene’s key message; inspiration.

Growing up myself, as a half Asian American, there weren’t a ton of role models who looked like me to take inspiration from. I didn’t really understand how much this could affect me until I finally did start seeing people like myself occupy positions of influence. I didn’t start caring for baseball until I saw a slugger named Hideki Matsui smash a couple dingers in a Yankees’ uniform in the early 2000s. I didn’t care much for martial arts, outside my very early youth, until I witnessed a half Japanese Brazilian named Lyoto Machida KO Thiago Silva at UFC 94 in 2009. I didn’t care much for soccer until a striker named Keisuke Honda played out of his mind in the early rounds of the 2010 FIFA World Cup.

Sometimes you gotta see something happen in order to believe and be inspired by it and it’s easier to visualize it when you see someone who looks like you do it. That’s what representation means and why it’s important.

It’s easy for white America to dismiss the need for representation in media when theirs is so saturated in the culture everyday. Cries of “wHaT aBoUt wHiTe HiStORy mOnTH?!” delivered unironically while their history is proudly given front seat consideration in all forms of media, film, and influence every day. This is why it drives me so crazy when a white person tells me “representation isn’t important” because apparently, they “don’t need it.”

Well motherfucker, of course you don’t need it. You fucking got yours already!

(What every non-white person wants to say when confronted with this tired, out of touch argument...)

“Black Panther” delivered a superhero that not only black children could be proud of and love but someone they could draw inspiration from. Kids are going to want to become film directors cause of this movie, actors, stuntmen, martial artists, scientists, engineers, and so many other different things that the world of Wakanda proudly showcases and it’s all thanks to Chadwick’s leading man performance that made it possible.

Some jokes I’ve heard frequently on the internet is that Chadwick was on somewhat of a quest to play every major black role in story-telling history, what with performances as Jackie Robinson, Thurgood Marshall, James Brown, and of course Black Panther. But I think his 2018 speech at his Alma Mater of Howard really explains why he kept looking to play these major positive black roles.

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(I encourage you to listen to the whole thing but the part that’s important here begins at 21:55)

Hollywood likes to pigeon hole certain demographics of people (aka non-white) to play stereotypical roles forever until they are proven to be lucrative in different ways (Qualified Immunity of film-making if you will…). Black people largely could mostly play thugs and drug dealers, Latinx can only be gang bosses and poor servants and gardeners, Asians are either kung fu masters or some other offensive perpetual foreigner. And in worst cases no role at all, instead whitewashed for general audiences (aka white folk).

Chadwick took a stand that the color of his skin did not define who Hollywood narrowly believed he could perform as and set out to play characters and people who could inspire a new generation of African Americans and show the rest of the country that they were more than a stereotype.

When that young kid in that final scene asks, “Who are you?” and T’Challa smiles its because he knows he’s already changing hearts and minds for the future, just as Chadwick did playing this truly inspirational role.

“Black Panther” is not a perfect movie. I could discuss the ways it could’ve been better and even, less problematic in parts on a different day, but the legacy it leaves behind is one that’s undeniably positive and Chadwick was able to make that a reality. Perhaps he understood that if the world knew his diagnosis it would blunt the impact of “Black Panther’s” release, that if little kids and African Americans alike knew their superhero was already dying it would mar the film’s positivity and influence. I can’t speak for the dead obviously, and in no way am I saying one should just push through a cancer diagnosis and keep it secret, but I can see Chadwick understanding what it would mean for the audience if they just believed for as long as possible that they would have their king of Wakanda forever.

As Robert Downey Jr. said on social media last night “He leveled the playing field while fighting for his life.”

Though I will never know him personally, by most measures Chadwick seemed to be exactly the kind of hero he showed up to be on the big screen and his legacy will ultimately be that of one who looked to inspire others, particularly the next generation until his final breath. If that doesn’t make him a hero, I don’t know what does.

Rest in power, King. Wakanda Forever…

(Via BossLogic)

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kiatheinsomniac · 4 years ago

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Unwoven Fate V

[MASTERLIST OF CHAPTERS]

The trip with the courtesans had been a long once and she was glad that she had arrived so early in the morning at Monteriggioni or else she would have missed them. It was nice to have company. She shared her story with the girls along the way; from the attack on her childhood home, being raised by her Aunt and Uncle and that life-changing eavesdrop to her travels across Tuscany.

The young woman did her best to keep her body moving on the horse, trying to stay warm after she had lent her cloak to Lucrezia, an hour into the journey, who had been shivering violently and cursing the bitter cold. The courtesans were good company: they kept good conversation and were an entirely new type of people to (Y/n).

Her Aunt had told her that they were vile women, taking the easy way in life, that (Y/n) should be proud to be unlike them. (Y/n) had acknowledged that this was her Aunt's opinion but had never formed one herself, never having met a courtesan until this day. They had been kind and they paid her respect too, it seemed. And it was a different kind of respect, one she had not experienced before: it was not the obligatory respect that came with her family money and her fancy outfits, it was a respect that she had earned herself by respecting these women in turn, by sharing her generosity with them regarding her cloak and letting some of them ride her horse when their feet grew tired.

The rented horse was stolen by now: she had known that she wouldn't be back in the promised time when she rented it but now a part of her felt bad for taking it away from its owner. Either way, she needed the creature - until she reached Rome, anyway.

Upon arriving, some more girls were waiting at the gates to help carry bags of belongings and lead the courtesans of Monteriggioni to their new workplace in Rome. (Y/n) trailed along behind them, looking around as she travelled. Those same guards were here: the red uniforms with the bull crest. Those bull flags flew from towers, Roman ruins, homes and shops too.

Bull. . . Bull! The papal Bull! She resisted the urge to smack herself in the head: how had it taken her so long to figure it out? Was the Pope on a quest to conquer Italy? To divide or to unite?

Either way, she followed the courtesans, the group of girls patiently waiting as she left her horse discreetly in a stable, not wanting to pay to have it watched. Her money was running thin as it is.

After a while of walking (hearing the calls and whistles of men for the girls all the way), they arrived at a grand building, covered in Roses and seemingly recently restored. Courtesans waited outside and Lucrezia stopped at the threshold to hand (Y/n)'s woollen black cloak back to her.

"Thank you for your kindness and company, we've all enjoyed you coming with us." The blonde smiled, leaning forwards to give her an amiable hug. (Y/n) froze for a moment before returning the gesture, wrapping her arms around the woman and squeezing for a moment before they both pulled back.

"It's not a problem at all - I'm thankful that you let me come with you. Now the Auditores. . . ?" She replied, looking around the brothel to see courtesans and men all around, the place smelling distinctly of sleepless nights and roses.

"Who are you looking for in particular?" She quizzed, "Ezio, I assume?" Lucrezia replied, gesturing her hand to the hidden blade on (Y/n)'s wrist.

"Mario, actually. That was the name in the letter." The blonde woman's face dampened for a moment, her smile fading.

"He was killed in the attack." She replied sadly, "I'm sorry, I didn't realise that you were looking for him or else I would have told you."

"He mentioned some other relatives in the letter: a sister-in-law, niece and nephew. Are they alive?" (Y/n) questioned, biting her inner cheek and starting to pray that she had not come to Rome for a fruitless journey.

"I should hope so." A matured voice spoke up from the staircase. There, stood a woman in her late-middle-ages. Her hair was dark and streaked with grey, crows feet at her dark eyes. Her hair was styled up and she wore the sort of dress that (Y/n) was so accustomed to wearing herself. "What business do you have with my family?" The young woman assumed that this was the in-law.

"It's a bit of a long story. . ." She began, approaching the woman and bowing her head with respect, "I've travelled from the countryside near Forlì. From there, I've been to the city itself, then Firenze, Monteriggioni and now Roma."

"Then your journey has been a long one." She turned around and started walking up the stairs, "Come, rest in the office and tell me your tale." (Y/n) followed behind, hearing the faint sounds of the women working behind heavily closed doors.

The office wasn't too small, with a desk in the light from the back window, a bookshelf and a long screen dividing the room, seeing the posters of a bed behind the screen.

A young-looking woman, but older than (Y/n), was sitting at the desk with a quill in hand, a letter in another. She looked up upon the arrival of the two new women.

"Mother, who is this?" She asked politely, giving (Y/n) a small smile before continuing with her work.

"She says she has business with our family." The older woman replied. So this was the niece, (Y/n) concluded. The in-law gestured for (Y/n) to take a seat before taking one herself.

"I'm going to have to give you a bit of my life’s story for all of this to make sense but I'll try to keep it as short as I can." She began, looking between the two Madames of the brothel. "When I was a young child, my family home was attacked. My mother put me into the maid's arms and told her to run but I saw the attackers kill my parents. My Aunt and Uncle took me in after that and raised me as their own. But, a few days ago, I was walking past the room where my Aunt, Uncle and their guests were and I heard her. . ."

She took in a shaky breath to compose herself, the words wounding her just as deeply as the moment she first heard them, "I heard my Aunt say that she'd had my parents killed. . . And that she thought it was the best thing she had ever done." She could see the shock on the women's faces after saying this. "Since then, I travelled back to my childhood home in Forlì where I found a secret compartment containing this-" she showed her hidden blade and pulled Mario's letter to her parents out of her pocket, placing it on the desk, "-and this. I don't know anyone else who knew my parents except my existing family and Mario. I'm sure you can see why confronting my family was out of the question." Claudia had read the letter by now.

"Your parents were Assassins too?" Claudia spoke up and (Y/n) nodded her head.

"I never even knew until I read this. . ." She bit her cheek to fight the tears that threatened her eyes, "And suddenly I feel like I don't know anything."

"I think it would be best if you speak to my son, Ezio." The in-law spoke up, catching (Y/n)'s teary eyes, "He is acting as the Assassin Brotherhood’s leader at the moment and if he isn't already informed of your parents then one of his contacts will be."

"Thank you. . ." (Y/n) trailed off, looking between the two strangers and realising that she did not know their names still.

"Maria."

"And Claudia - I am sure that you know our surname well." She smiled, giving (Y/n) back the letter from Mario. She could tell that she was sad to let something go that had been written by her passed uncle, "My brother can be a hard man to contact but I have a meeting with him in three days, I can take you with me and you can discuss things with him then."

"Thank you." (Y/n) replied gratefully, "Until then, do you know any places nearby where I could rent a room?"

"You can stay here until then." Maria offered, "We will close off a room for you. There's one downstairs that serves as more of a supply cupboard than a workplace, I'm sure you'd prefer that."

"I'll take whatever you'll give." She replied gratefully and heard her stomach rumble, inwardly cringing and hoping that the other two hadn't heard her. It was now becoming evening and she hadn't eaten since Florence yesterday.

"There is a baker's nearby though." The younger Auditore woman smiled amiably, getting up from her seat, "Come, I'll take you."

⚜⚜⚜

The past three days had been spent at the brothel: spending much time talking to Claudia and understanding her job in the Brotherhood as well as the courtesan teaching her a few Assassin tricks: blending in, pickpocketing (it had felt very dishonest to (Y/n) but the last of her money had been spent on food and she knew that she needed it to get by - she also found that she was also very good at it). She was small and went more unnoticed than others when she bumped into someone and her fingers were quick, nimble from her years of violin-playing.

"We're heading to Isola Tiberina." Claudia had told her that afternoon. Claudia was wearing a fine red and gold dress and (Y/n) decided that she didn't want to feel underdressed compared to her, slipping on the deep blue silk dress that she had kept in her bag, the one not given away to that bastard tailor in Forlì. She kept her hair in the two dutch braids which had now become much more comfortable for her as they were easy to do, held fast and kept her long tresses out of the way.

She followed Claudia through the streets of Rome, keeping close and trying to memorise each detail in order to learn her way around the city by heart. Some streets were narrow and there were staircases that looked like an alley but turned out to be a door, tunnels were scattered around too and there were some small gardens here and there. Eventually, they reached a river and Claudia led the two of them over a bridge. (Y/n) looked up to a tall building that had a pigeon coop and stood in front of a small square of sorts.

Merchants and craftsmen called out to passers-by and the Auditore woman led (Y/n) down to a doorway, holding it open and motioning for (Y/n) to make her way down the stairs. Upon arriving, she could tell that the place was newly occupied: sparse furniture that looked as though it could fall apart at any moment, lots of repairs that needed to be done in the plaster and cobwebs in the rafters. But she could hear the crackle of a fireplace nearby as well, a sign that they were not too uncomfortable here.

"Claudia." The man gave Claudia a warm hug in greeting while (Y/n) stood by silently, waiting to be introduced. Though, someone else addressed her first.

"Emma?" The man was much older than (Y/n) and dressed mostly in browns and yellows. (Y/n) could feel her breath hitch in her throat. She hadn't heard that name in so long that it both killed her and brought her to life at once. Her mother's name. "No, you're far too young. . ." He glanced down at her wrist to see the dull metal of her hidden blade, "Who are you?" His eyes flickered between hers, brows narrowing. A tension seemed to fall over the room and suddenly everyone was suspicious.

"I'm her and Lorenzo's daughter. I. . ." She found herself stammering. This man had known her mother's face and clearly, (Y/n) had grown into it well. Her Aunt had never mentioned that. "I came here looking for answers." She cast a glance over her shoulder to Claudia, now accompanied by the man who had hugged her in greeting. All of the older people in the room seemed beyond astonished. The man spoke up once more, killing the silence that had now hung over the room for a long time.

"I think we would like some answers now too.” He answered solemnly as whispers broke out among the elders of the group.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean: you're supposed to be dead."

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planetsam · 4 years ago

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Michael Sanders prompt: could you do a follow up where Walt makes Michael go to college?

Follow up to THIS

Walt isn’t surprised to see Alex waiting there alone.

Alex looks heartbreakingly young but still every bit the stubborn punk whose defied his father enough times to be sent away. Walt wishes he could say he’s disappointed Jesse isn’t here to see his son off, but he expected that from him. No, Walt realizes the person he’s disappointed in his own son. Which he’s planning on dealing with in due time. But first things first. He puts the truck in park and tries not to watch hope and then disappointment fall over Alex’s features.

“Don’t look too disappointed.”

“Mr. Sanders,” he says respectfully, “I’m sorry I thought—“ he stops and Walt remembers that the military is about as understanding as Alex’s father, “Sorry.”

“You don’t gotta apologize, I saw you waiting here, figured you might want the company.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Alex says.

“It’s nothing. Apparently my son was an idiot last night and punched out Wyatt Long’s tires,” Alex’s face falls and Walt realizes he’s not the only one disappointed in Michael’s behavior, “I gotta go knock some sense into him.”

Alex pales and Walt realizes his mistake instantly. He’s never raised a hand to Michael in his life and he sure as hell isn’t about to start, but it’s a sore subject. Especially for someone like Alex. He looks like the kid in the principals office. It breaks Walt’s heart to see him looking like that.

“Shit I didn’t—“

“I know you wouldn’t,” Alex says. Walt nods, “I have to go,” he adds abruptly, “this is my chance, you know? I don’t want to but—“

“I know,” Walt cuts in, “you should take your chance,” he adds, “It doesn’t mean anything about that,” he adds, “you’re both young anyway, you got lives to live and shit to figure out.”

“I don’t need to figure that out,” Alex says.

Walt hates it when he’s proved so epically wrong about something. He’s always tried not to judge Alex but he’s never been the boy’s biggest fan. He remembers his family too well for that. But he’s going to have to make an exception. He hasn’t had this big of an “I told you so” since he put down the bottle all those years ago. Right down to the headache.

“You know he’s doing this so he doesn’t have to say goodbye,” Walt says. Alex nods, “doesn’t mean you have to forgive him right now, he should be here, but in his own way he’s trying to say how much he cares.”

“He’s also saying how hurt he is,” Alex adds. He straightens up more if possible and turns to him, “you know he’s spiraling right? You can stop him can’t you? I tried but—he won’t listen to me.”

Walt doesn’t think there’s anyone on either planet that can make Michael do what he wants but that sure as hell isn’t going to stop him from trying. But Alex’s worrying is another point in his favor, not that he needs more of them. Walt’s got no frame of reference here, is he supposed to approve of the boys Michael brings home? Is that even a thing? He digs into his pocket and pulls out one of those business cards Michael made up to help compensate for his people skills. He scribbles the number on the back and hands it to him.

“I’ll deal with my boy, but if you need anything that’s my cell. Damn social worker said parents needed to have one and I never bothered to shut it off.”

Alex looks stunned but nods, quickly putting the card in his wallet. They both turn to look at the bus that pulls up. Walt wants to tell them to fuck off but he remembers Michael’s drying out in a cell, if he shows up they’ve got bigger problems. Alex gets up. Walt wishes he had something wise to say but he’s never been that kind of guy.

“He’d want you right now,” he says, “but no boy of mine is being with someone who hasn’t graduated college or proved himself in some other impressive way so I’m convinced to approve when he asks in person—so you’d better go make something of yourself and come back here, you hear? It doesn’t count if you die.”

“Yes Mr. Sanders,” he says, “can you tell Michael I said goodbye?”

He nods.

Alex gets on the bus.

He looks for Michael the entire way until it’s a speck in the distance, never once giving up hope.

Walt drives to the police station. If he wasn’t mad before, he’s damn near livid when he forks over bail and is presented with his son. Michael stinks of alcohol and acetone, like he got drunk in a beauty parlor. He stumbles out with a stupid grin that falls the moment he sees it’s not his brother. Max feels guilty still about them being separated, Walt can’t hold that against him. But when Michael gets ugly mad that doesn’t stop him from using it. Walt’s got no such leverage over his head.

“I thought you were Max,” he says.

“Well I was in the neighborhood seeing Alex off, so I guess we’re all having a shit disappointing morning,” he says, “get in.”

Michael clenches his jaw. Walt doesn’t blame him for wanting to say no, but he’s also not doing this. Michael stares him down for a moment, then he wisely gets in the car. Walt slides in too. Michael reeks worse in the closed space. Walt’s never had to wonder how much it takes to get an alien drunk, Michael isn’t that kind of kid. But the answer is apparently ‘a lot’. He looks ahead as Michael slouches in his seat, like he’s on a quest to annoy him as much as possible.

“I want to know what happened.”

“Alex left—“

“Bullshit,” Walt cuts in, “you think I was born yesterday because you managed to hide some boy behind my back for a few months?” Michael looks down, “what happened?”

“I can’t tell you,” Michael says finally.

Apparently Alex isn’t the only one whose trying to look young. It’s like looking at Michael when he first came to him. He was all broken edges then. Now he just seems broken. It’s not something Walt wants to see. He’s never been the best parent but at the moment he feels like a failure. A part of him wants to let Michael have this, but the rest of him refuse. Letting Michael go or have his secrets has never served Michael well.

“You got words don’t you?” Walt says, “or should I call Isobel?” Michael’s jaw clenches, “okay so this involves her. You want to spit it out or should I keep playing 20 questions.”

“I’m not a kid anymore,” Michael says stubbornly.

“Then stop acting like one,” Walt shoots back, “you’re a man. A man takes responsibility for his actions,” Michael’s jaw clenches, “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on—and don’t tell me you don’t want my help. I’m your father. You being an adult isn’t going to change that.”

Michael stares ahead but the stubborn clench of his jaw softens and his straight spine slopes slightly. Michael’s always worn his heart on his sleeve. Walt can see him starting to crack, even if a moment later he’s back to sitting up straight with a clenched jaw. Walt knows he’s not gonna be able to just pry what happened out of Michael. But he can’t exactly let him just take his sweet time if he’s in real trouble. Not after letting him take his sweet time resulted in him being maimed. He figures lightening the mood will maybe get him to let his guard down.

“Come on, it’s not like you murdered someone.”

Michael folds.

The boy doesn’t have much of a poker face when it comes down to it. Not with people he loves. Walt stares at him. He may not have fully succeeded in raising Michael to be an outstanding member of society but he sure as hell thought he got him over the ‘don’t murder’ part of that curve. Walt’s spent the past decade evading the law on one level or another, depending on how you looked at it. But Michael murdering someone is a whole different story.

“Shit,” He says.

“Yeah,” Michael agrees. He glances at Walt out of the corner of his eye, “I guess I should—“

“Just wait a damn minute,” Walt snaps as he reaches for the door, “let me think.”

“You’re not going to turn me in?” Michael asks.

“Just wait,” Walt repeats.

This isn’t something he thought he’d have to weigh. He almost feels sympathetic to Jim Valenti, though nothing Kyle did in their school days comes close to full on murder. Still Jim was stern but he stood by him. Walt didn’t think he was going to have to feel sympathy for what happened there.

“Walk me through what happened,” he says. Michael stares at him, “everything. Every damn detail,” Michael looks at him, “Now, Michael.”

“It was Isobel,” he whispers.

Walt’s glad he’s sitting down because otherwise he’d be on his ass with relief. It’s a horrible thing to feel, someone got murdered and Michael was somehow involved. But finding out your son isn’t a murder is relieving. And makes a lot of sense. Michael would trust him with everything except his siblings. Walt knows that there’s a difference and he’s always done his best to respect that.

“I—“

“Shut up and let me enjoy the fact I don’t have to be sympathetic to Jim Valenti,” he says. Michael raises his eyebrows. But he keeps quiet until Walt straightens up, “now tell me what happened.”

“Isobel killed them,” he says, “she blacked out and she killed them. Max and I made it look like a car crash,” he swallows tightly, “I told her I did it so she wouldn’t feel bad.”

“Shit,” Walt says finally.

“Yeah, shit,” Michael echoes.

“There anything else?”

Michael shakes his head. He’s gone back to looking small and miserable and Walt finds himself torn between hugging him and shaking him. It makes a damn lot of sense why he’s been acting the way he has. Like lying, subtly has never been Michael’s forte. He looks exhausted too but Walt can’t tell if that’s the hangover or the fact that the weight he’s been carrying is less.

“Right,” Walt says, “here’s what we’re gonna do—“  “Isobel can’t go to jail,” Michael says abruptly, “I have the most control. I can figure it out.”

“No-one is going to jail!” Walt cuts in, “none of you belong there. What’s wrong with your sister is—a problem for another day,” he says. It’s not like Isobel can go to the doctor or anything, “but you sure as hell ain’t going for her.”

Michael doesn’t like that answer, but Walt’s used to Michael needing to protect the people ehe loves no matter what. He’s too hungover and a murder is the biggest thing happening but Walt’s not stupid enough to think that Alex leaving is just going to be brushed aside. It’s too much happening at once, but they have to start somewhere. He puts the car into gear and figures home is a good place to start. He’s not cruel but there’s no way to get there without passing the damn bus stop. Michael peers out the window just like Alex did.

“Bus came about an hour ago,” he says, “but you knew that.”

“Did you see him?” Michael asks quietly.

“Course I saw him,” Walt says, “I wasn’t going to let him ship off standing there alone,” Michael cringes, “you thought his dad was going to see him off?”

“I didn’t deserve to say goodbye,” Michael mutters.

“Alex’d disagree with that,” Walt says, “not that it matters but he earned that goodbye from you,” Michael gives a slight nod, “instead he had to make due with me. I told him he wasn’t getting near you until he went to college or did something impressive,” he says, “since his dad isn’t going to say it, I’ll say the same thing to you.”

“Say what?”  “You aren’t getting within 100 feet of him without going to college,” Walt says.

Michael gives a miserable sort of smile.

“They probably took back my acceptance,” he says, “I got arrested.”

“Then you’re going to reapply,” Walt tells him, “it’ll probably put you and Alex graduating at the same time. If that’s any incentive,” he clears his throat, “in the meantime, you can work in the yard.”

“I already work in the yard,” Michael points out.

“You gonna undo everything I say?” Walt demands.

Michael shakes his head.

Walt feels relief coursing though his veins. He might not drink but he sure as hell is going to need some coffee to get his head back on straight. He’s damn proud of Michael for a lot of things, but mostly he’s relieved it looks like his boy is back. Still Walt’s not about to commend him too much and risk it going away. He claps Michael on the shoulder instead.

“Good,” Walt says, putting the car into park, “I got a car they just brought in that needs some new tires and an apology.”

#walt sanders #michael sanders #alex manes #roswell new mexico #malex #Michael guerin #malex fic #roswell nm #roswell nm fanfic #roswell nm fic

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sonofjeddah · 3 years ago

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Why Superheroes still matter in Arabia

The pop-culture segment in general and superhero segment in particular is the least considered in Saudi Business community (local and international players included). Toy companies, Entertainment houses, Media production companies and even FMCG companies still consider kids (esp. tweens) as primary audience of these properties that have inspired, excited and entertained old and young for more than eight decades

While the society has shown tremendous interest in activities organized by General Entertainment Authority since 2017, the consensus within the business community is antithetical to the wishes of this niche segment of 5 million plus. Shocking as it may seem, the level of interest, fan following isn't restricted to cosmopolitan centers (Riyadh, Jeddah and Dammam/Khobar); in fact, regions such as Hail, Qassim and Al Jouf are among the top 5 out of top 10 regions with most search queries in the country concerning these subject(s)

The Quest for Superhero Content: Saudi Arabia vs The World

Saudi Arabia:

Worldwide:

Search Queries: Marvel Cinematic Universe (Blue), Marvel Comics (Red), Shang Chi and the Legend of The Ten Rings (Yellow)

While for me this information isn't new as I've been mining data on Google and Facebook since 2013, I chose today to talk about it in the form of an article. I did so because at this moment in time, the biggest happening in the world of heroes is not being led by DC Comics flagship characters like Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman or Justice League; nor it's being led by Marvel's flagship characters like Spider-Man, The Avengers or X-Men; nor by Star Wars, Transformers or Game of Thrones for that matter. Instead, it's being led by a highly underrated superhero of Marvel who was created in the 70s thanks to the Kung Fu craze (mainly because of Bruce Lee) during that time. His name: Shang Chi, the first Asian/East Asian Superhero

Both graphs show us that audiences in Saudi Arabia show a higher level of interest than the rest of the world combined. Both MCU and Marvel Comics related queries/searches are half as much popular or more (vs Worldwide audience), the underrated superhero Shang Chi is reaching the same mark. Of course, one can't ignore the superior marketing tactics deployed by Marvel Entertainment and Disney plus the character's movie has been released yesterday. The million dollar questions here are:

Why would audiences in the Kingdom show incremental interest in a character whose animated series never existed nor broadcasted on Saudi Channel 1 or 2 in the 70s, 80s or even 90s? (Reminder: Bruce Lee VHS were available for rent and David Carridine's Kung Fu series was on air throughout the 80s on Saudi Channel 2)

Why would audiences here be interested in a character whose Arabized comics never were part of Amlaq Digests or reprinted editions of Marvel that were available in neighborhood mini-markets or imported comic books at Star Markets, Sarawat Supermarkets or Tihama Bookstores (distributed by Al Khazindar)?

Before attempting to answer my own questions, we need to understand that Shang Chi is one of those characters who may not have long-running series in the comic book world that span decades but because of their appeal and strong following, have been part of some of the best stories ever written but with the age of diversity, inclusion and online media, he is important for winning over new audiences of East Asian origin around the world, not just China!

If this is the impact of an underrated character, imagine what happens when Spider-Man: No Way Home is released in December

Superhero Content & the Arab

Before Content Strategy & Marketing were a thing, comic book publishers were doing it even before World War 2. Over the decades, what was being published was resonating with audiences not just in White America but across the world. In the Middle East, the 70s was the starting point for countries such as Iraq, Syria, Lebanon and Egypt but the trend made inroads into the Gulf region, especially in Saudi Arabia in the late 70s

The values shared in American superhero comics resonated with Arabs because of their own history of rich story telling as well as adaptations. Just like the Arab folklore, real historical figures of the region were presented as heroes; in fact superheroes in some cases. Another reason for this is that most of the characters produced in the Golden as well as Silver Ages of comics were created mainly by individuals who came from Abrahamic households. Their story telling borrowed heavily from the Biblical accounts of Prophets and other noblemen (who are also mentioned in Quran) regarding Good vs Evil, Light vs Darkness, the virtue of Doing the Right Thing. It was inevitable that such Western creations would resonate with Arabs

The seeds were planted and once an idea or interest takes root in the hearts and minds, it's hard to let it go

And now, the Superhero Content is being published in over-drive mode. Just check Youtube, Facebook, Instagram for starters and you'll see that the Arab content is there; driven primarily by creators in Saudi Arabia, UAE, Kuwait and Bahrain; ranging from comics to collectibles and even cosplays. This...is the Aladdin Effect

Aladdin was actually Chinese. Thanks to Abbasid Ruler Haroon Al Rasheed, he became an innate part of Arab Literature

Businesses in Saudi Arabia are losing out

Like the community of Anime fans, the superhero community has been there for decades. It came out with full force during Comic Cons that happened in Jeddah and Riyadh between 2017-2019. The first Saudi Comic Con saw a whopping attendance of 20,000 geeks during 3 days of festivity. It wasn't surprising to see a father attending Stan Lee Super Con Riyadh (2019) with his daughter and son waiting anxiously to meet Lou Ferrigno (the star of 1970s Incredible Hulk series). A Saudi Gen-X Father with his millennial daughter and his Gen-Z son (all fans of the Hulk) or Expatriates travelling to Riyadh to attend the festivity and participate in artist alleys and cosplay comeptitions. No wonder this community was referred to as 'Buried Talent' by Arab News

As they say: Data is the new Oil. Unfortunately, international brands and local businesses in Saudi Arabia haven't taken this segment seriously. The collection that's available at an international 'Megastore' in Saudi Arabia pales in comparison to its sister outlets in Dubai. Toy stores, international or locally owned, are still adamant to sell toys to kids instead of focusing on key collectible properties which are being ordered from US market by Geeks in Saudi Arabia thanks to Amazon. Gaming console companies organize impressive launches of their Superhero game in neighboring Gulf countries but nothing as such takes place here. Dairy brands are still using Superheroes for their "Got Milk" approach. What's needed is to take a look at Data that's available on Google and Facebook's Business Suites, for the very least

While young entrepreneurs with limited resources have opened up shops (online and offline) in major Saudi cities (Examples include: Jeddah's Konami licensed Gaming Lounge, a proper Comic Book Cafe in Dammam) and Riyadh having hosted the world's major Toy Fair as well as Stan Lee Super Con and Saudi Anime Expo BUT more needs to be done. The data is there. Action is needed from the Private Sector

The starting point would be with seed investors and venture capitalists who are currently obsessed with re-inventing the wheel by investing in ride hailing apps, food delivery apps, online baqalas, fintechs while a niche segment's wants mostly remain unaddressed

#superheroes #saudi arabia #mcu #marvel comics #Shang Chi

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seavoice · 4 years ago

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rewind

hey ever write something super weird that only you can understand (until you write the actual story that goes with it?) and impulse post it? hmm yeah :( but its ms levesque so 💖🥰 as usual link to ao3 in the title!

Death was cold, but so was winter, and that was the reason Hazel didn’t realise she was being trailed by it until it was too late. Not that it would have made much difference to her, really. Being as old as she was, she had been waiting for this day for quite some time now. And well. It was December anyway, a dead month if there ever was.

Still, if nothing else, Hazel should have been alert enough to realise who the footsteps belonged to before she looked up from her sketch, unprepared and caught off guard. She put her pencil down and rose to her feet. If she was to die today, clad in pyjamas and completely weaponless, she would do it on her feet at least.

Death looked as beautiful as ever.

Death also seemed content in coming through the door. For months after the quest to Alaska, hell, for years after the Prophecy of the Seven, Hazel had imagined this moment taking place in a multitude of ways, a hundred different scenarios. Thanatos — or maybe even Letus, his Roman form — would sweep in with the evening shadows, melted into the darkest shade of the largest trees. Descend from the heavens with his multicoloured wings. Just appear before Hazel one fine night on the Argo II, come to take her back to the rightful place in the fields of Asphodel, an eternity of forgetfulness. Maybe even done right this time.

Then she had outgrown the fear of her teenage years, outlived her first life by years and then by decades, and the scenarios grew kinder. More softer around the edges — death would come, but it came to those her age anyway. It came with heart disease and cancer and kidney failure, rather than bloodthirsty monsters, and it came at the end of a long well lived life. Maybe, she even dared to hope, enough time had passed that she would see the rolling green of Elysium instead of the colourless poplars.

But in no scenario did Death simply twist the doorknob to her house in New Rome and walk in with his kind eyes and grim brow.

In every scenario though, Hazel knew what would happen next, and she jutted her chin out defiantly, trying to ignore the burning in her eyes. She would die on her feet, and she would die with her dignity.

“Come for me at last?” Hazel tried to keep her voice as even as she could, but her hands shook despite her best effort to the contrary. “And over here I’d been thinking you’d forgotten me.”

Thanatos’s smile was cold, but not unkind. “That would have been to your credit, Ms. Levesque.”

It wasn’t a joke, but Thanatos’s eyes seemed to soften with his words.

“Many escape death,” he said. He didn’t say anything else, didn’t phrase it as a question, but it was clear that he expected Hazel to have something to say to that.

Hazel didn’t have anything to say to that.

Thanatos took the hint. He repeated, “Many escape death. But no one as well as you. I didn’t think my attention would have done any great favours for your case.”

Hazel hadn’t known that dying took so much time now. Thanatos had never been the type to loiter. There had been no kindly, infuriatingly pensive death gods at the site of her first death. Only her mother, pressed into Hazel, face in her hair and body wracking with suppressed sobs. She still felt the warmth of her mother’s tears, the broken echo of her apologies.

Decades of living a full life, a full second life, and the jagged edges of the first still managed to cut her up. Centuries apart now, and Hazel was older than Marie Levesque ever got to be, and she still missed her mother.

“But you’re here to take me now,” Hazel said. “I finally caught your attention.”

“I never thought you would have regrets,” Thanatos said. “Not after the life you’ve led. Eighty years is far more than most people get. Decades unimaginable to demigods, let alone children of the Big Three. You cannot tell me you have regrets?”

“No regrets,” Hazel agreed. Her hair was grey and she found new smile wrinkles in the mirror every day. She hobbled to her friends’ graves when she could, laid flowers on the family she had found, and then lost. Nico’s grave never went a month without fresh lilies, despite her brother being dead for over ten years now. She had lived long enough to hear her joints creak and her gait wobble. Long enough that her life had meant more than waiting for a monster to do her in. Long enough that it had been more living than surviving. “At least, not...many.”

Thanatos inclined his head. “I have heard that’s the best mortals can hope for.”

Greeted by death as a friend . Hazel guessed he had a point. Hazel might have been interrupted mid-sketch, and she would never get to say goodbye to the sweet Ceres kid who had inherited Arion from her. She would not get to visit her brother’s grave one last time or stroke her horse’s luscious mane and offer a goodbye — but a death in old age, a death heralded by the god of it himself...not many were as lucky as her.

A lump rose in her throat. No one had been as lucky as her.

In death at least, she would be reunited with her friends. Roman emperors, car crashes, heart attacks, vengeful monsters, cancers...it had picked them off one by one until it was just Hazel alone.

She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes despite her best efforts to keep them at bay. “I’m not — I don’t regret it. I’m ready. I’ve...I’ve lived a good life. Lives. I got more chances than I thought I would, Even...even unfairly , you can say.”

Thanatos didn’t say anything. He just met her eyes, expression unreadable. “”Fair” is the most useless word in matters of life and death, I’m afraid.” He raised his hand. “But regardless. We have spent too much time talking, Ms. Levesque. Far more than I ever spend with the souls I collect.”

Hazel nodded. “I’m ready.” She knew it was useless -- it didn’t matter to Thanatos whether she was ready or not. But it steeled her own bones.

She could feel his coldness seep into her own limbs, at once comforting and frightening. His hold was so icy it burned . She watched Thanatos’s form flicker like a dying candle, and with it, her own soul.

Hazel Levesque would die for the second time, face judgement for the second time, enter her father’s kingdom for the second time. She found herself floating away from consciousness and dying, dying, dying , closing her eyes—

She opened her eyes on a white sand bank. Beyond her stretched green fields. Elysium.

Elysium. Had she been judged? She couldn’t recall who her judges had been, what their verdict was. Elysium? You’d think she would remember getting sent to eternal paradise.

And then she saw the river separating her from the green fields of the blest. The Styx cut an angry line before Hazel, bubbling with broken oaths and shattered promises and discarded dreams.

She was on the other side. Not in the Elysian Fields like she had thought but instead…

She turned behind in recognition and sure enough, millions of poplars and grey shades dotted the scenery. The endless Fields of Asphodel, as dreary and terrifying as she remembered it.

Her heart sank. Asphodel. After it all. Asphodel? A second chance squandered and she couldn’t even remember the verdict. She raised a hand to her aching head, a hand that was unwrinkled and soft, and — unmistakably a thirteen year old’s .

Wait.

A shadow crossed her periphery. Hazel lifted her eyes to a flash of black iron, a Stygian sword raised as a torch. A young boy no older than thirteen was bundled up in a black overcoat several sizes too big for him, dark hair unbrushed and falling into his eyes.

Hazel was looking at her dead brother, a brother who looked several decades younger than when she’d last seen him, when she’d pressed a kiss to his wrinkled cheek in the New York hospital room.

Nico looked very much not old and very much not dead and very much like he didn’t know her yet. Not properly.

“You’re different,” he said, and had he ever sounded so young? His voice was cracking, and was that a zit above his right eyebrow? “A child of Pluto. You remember your past.”

“You’re alive,” Hazel said. Her voice sounded ragged even to her own ears. She longed to reach out and cup his cheek, hug him so hard that she would never let go. She had missed him so much.

But Nico didn’t seem to even know her.

“I’m Nico di Angelo,” he said, young in a way she didn’t remember. But those words she did remember, as if it were yesterday when she had heard them and not more than sixty years ago. Her heart sank further. “I came looking for my sister. Death has gone missing, so I thought…I thought I could bring her back and no one would notice.”

#hazel levesque #nico di angelo #thanatos pjo #heroes of olympus #pjo #hoo #voop fic #rrverse

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jarienn972 · 5 years ago

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A Simple Spell - Chapter Eight

A Captain Swan Supernatural Summer Tale

I’m a tiny bit late getting this latest chapter of my @cssns story posted this evening but I'm going to try my best to get back on track with posting updates every other Monday as long as the real world doesn't get too crazy.

The last chapter had Emma reacting to learning she was related to the Mills sisters, angrily lashing out at Regina about keeping such a huge secret from her before getting drunk and having a heartfelt talk about it with Killian. As she settled in to sleep off too much rum, Killian was rendered unconscious by an invisible attacker. This chapter picks up the next morning and by the end of this installment, you'll have a good idea who the real villain of this tale is and an inkling of what Emma has gotten herself into.

As always, I want to thank the event organizers for all of their hard work. Definitely looking forward to the completion of all of this year’s stories and for the newly announced 2020 event! I also want to extend huge thank yous again to @lassluna for all of her help as a beta reader and to @cocohook38 for the incredible art work featured in the header.

Catch up from the beginning on AO3, FF.net or here on Tumblr: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven

The morning sunlight filtering through the break room mini blinds was every bit as unpleasant as Emma had expected when it hit that perfect angle to land directly on her face. Her head throbbed from her over-indulgence in rum last night, but she had no one to blame but herself. Tossing the blanket unceremoniously over the back of the sofa, she pushed herself up to a sitting position just as a somewhat bewildered Graham strolled in to brew his morning coffee.

"Emma? What are you doing here?" he asked, face scrunched in confusion. "Did you sleep here?"

"Yeah," she replied groggily as she stretched and forced her feet to the floor. She stood up to find the room only spinning slightly but increasing her nausea. "Had a little familial disagreement so after a few drinks with a friend, I came here to sleep it off."

"Must have been one rough night…"

"You don't even want to know…" she insisted as she made her way into the locker room in search of a change of clothing. She'd learned a long time ago to always keep a clean shirt and a pair of jeans on hand for emergencies. This way, she knew she had something available to make herself feel a little more human and look at tad more presentable before she embarked on her quest to confront those who'd kept her mother's real identity a secret from her. "Are you making coffee?" she called out to Graham as she changed from yesterday's attire.

"Just starting it now."

"Think you can make it extra strong?"

"I think I can manage that," Graham replied as he fished two mugs out of the cabinet mounted above the break room sink. He placed the mugs on the counter, knowing better than to ask anything else about her night. He'd slept off his own drunken benders in some unusual places too, so before switching on the coffee pot, he removed the bottle of aspirin that they kept in the cabinet and placed it next to her mug. He knew she'd appreciate it.

Emma emerged a few minutes later sporting a clean, rust colored tee shirt and blue jeans, eagerly inhaling the enticing aroma of the fresh brew. Graham was no longer in the break room but she immediately smiled when she saw the aspirin bottle atop the counter. Coffee and a few pain relievers were just what she needed right now before she set off down the street to have a chat with a squirrely pawn shop owner.

**********

Fueled by caffeine and a reinvigorated desire to get some answers about her mother's mysterious past, Emma stormed her way across and then down half a block of Main Street with Gold's potion booked clutched tightly in her left hand. Since the aspirin hadn't yet had time to kick in, her head was still pounding which was leaving her in no mood to take any crap from the pawn shop's owner.

Gold had opened up the shop for business at exactly 8AM, mere minutes before Emma shoved open the entrance door and stomped her way to the counter where the proprietor stood. She dropped the book onto the display case in front of him, almost hoping that the glass would break. Unfazed by her action, Gold glanced down at the potion book resting on the countertop then back up at the deputy's irate face.

"Good morning, Deputy Swan," he greeted her with little emotion in his voice and showing a considerable lack of interest in the very item that he'd requested her to retrieve for him.

"I found your book," she informed him very matter-of-factly, patting it with her fingertips to ensure she had his attention. "Found the little surprise inside of it too…"

"Surprise? Whatever are you talking about, Ms. Swan?" She wasn't the least bit surprised that he'd feign ignorance of the photograph and letter and she wasn't buying it.

She flipped open the book's cover to reveal the photo of her mother as a child and the faded, handwritten letter from her grandfather. "I suppose you're going to deny that you knew these were inside the book?"

Gold shrugged nonchalantly as he carefully lifted the aging photograph to examine it. "I loaned this book to Cora a very long time ago. I certainly can't speak for what she might have stuck inside it's covers."

"But you knew…"

"Knew what, Dearie?" he rudely interrupted her statement.

"You knew that Cora and my mother were sisters," she stated, undaunted by his apparent disinterest. "Why is it that everyone in this town thinks that it's such a horrible thing for me to know who I'm actually related to around here?"

"I would suppose it is because they weren't certain how you might react to learning the truth about your mother."

"And I suppose that it should have been left up to me, not them!" she countered, raising her voice angrily. "I've had it with all of the secrets! I want those items that belonged to my mother as I kept my end of the deal and I want you to spill what you know about my history!"

"Do you think you can handle the truth about your lineage?"

"I'll let you know. Now, why don't you start telling me what the big secrets are?"

"Fine," he relented as he made his way over to the ornate cabinet where he'd stored the items belonging to Ava Nolan. "You fulfilled your end of our deal by returning my book so your mother's items now belong to you." He tugged open the cabinet door and removed the small box and books he'd shown Emma the previous day and then placed them atop the counter. "I will answer some of your questions as a courtesy to your mother as well, but not out here. How about we go have a seat in my office where it will be more private for you to interrogate me?"

"Lead the way…"

Gold held the heavy beaded curtain aside as he gestured for Emma to pass through the doorway to his office and storeroom that lay beyond the sales floor. The decor of this not-for-public-eyes area was even more eclectic and disturbing than the shop itself but since she wasn't here to debate his decorating choices, she withheld commentary. She was only here this morning to learn about her mother, not discuss interior decorating.

"Have a seat, Ms. Swan," he said, directing her to a fancy upholstered chair that was probably as old as the town itself. Emma sat down on the offered chair, but she didn't allow herself to get too comfortable. She wasn't planning this to be a long, social visit. "I don't have all of the answers you seek, but what would you like to know?" he asked as he took a seat to her right on a burgundy divan.

"I guess we'll start with the same one I've been asking since last night - why was my mother's identity and place in this town such a secret?"

"That was a choice made by your family, I'm afraid. As you know, Storybrooke is a town with an unusual pedigree that they sought to protect. How much of the history of this town do you know?"

"I know a little. I know it was founded by the Blanchard family after the Civil War, in the late 1800's."

"That is correct - your great-grandparents founded the town in 1872, selecting this remote area of Maine to create a safe haven for those who wished to practice the magical arts, both dark and light. They welcomed fellow witches and warlocks and opened a portal across the bay to connect to other magical realms. However, the magic that Storybrooke was founded upon came with a price. To secure the magic that supports the town's infrastructure, your great-grandparents formed a pact with a very powerful warlock from a distant realm. That warlock agreed to share his extensive powers with the town of Storybrooke in exchange for an agreement that he could return whenever he chose and demand a duel for the powers of any practitioner he chose. Should his chosen competitor lose, he would gain their powers, Should the opponent win, the warlock would consider the debt paid and leave forever."

"That seems like an awfully big price to pay just to have magic in this town, but I don't get what that has to do with my mother…"

"I'm getting to that," he assured her, frowning at the young woman's impatience. "The warlock has returned to Storybrooke twice since the town's inception and has won the challenge both times. Your mother was his unfortunate second victim."

"She lost her powers?" Emma asked, partially for clarification, although she'd understood Gold's explanation of the warlock's competition, so she already knew the answer.

"She did. Her challenge caused her to be tricked into making an ill-advised choice, but that's really all I know of it. After losing her magic, she attempted to stay here in town and live a normal life. She married widower Robert Nolan, had you, but then one day, something changed and she took you and disappeared."

"When I was growing up, she never once mentioned that she'd had powers of any kind," Emma stated as she attempted to process all of this new information. "I always thought that she'd run from something bad, maybe something abusive, but after meeting David and learning about our dad, that didn't make sense anymore and now it makes even less sense… What caused her to run away from her home and family?"

"I'm afraid that you'll need to ask those questions of your family. I can't tell you what pushed her away or why they kept her identity a secret from you, but now, if you don't mind, I should be getting back to work."

"I understand. One last question though," she began as she stood up. "Do you have any idea what ill-advised choice she had to make?"

"Afraid not, dearie. All I know is that the warlock came into town and weaseled his way into her life, leading her to that decision. She chose poorly."

"What the hell did she have to choose?" Emma repeated the question to herself while exhaling a deep sigh.

Gold shook his head and shrugged as he ushered her out of his office. "I don't remember much from that time, but from what I do recall of your mother, it likely involved a man."

"What?" she exclaimed as she crossed the threshold back into the main shop. "What do you mean by that?"

"Growing up, your mother had very bad luck with the men in her life. Your grandfather died when she was still rather young and she had a string of boyfriends but few serious relationships. Perhaps your brother or your cousins will remember more?"

"Well, this just keeps getting better and better…," she muttered under her breath as the old man disappeared behind the curtain without another word. Befuddled, she gathered up the few belongings her mother had left with Gold, collected the photograph of her mother and aunt along with her grandfather's letter and wandered out to the sidewalk completely lost in thought. She now had the knowledge that her mother had once possessed magical powers but lost them after being on the losing end of some sort of challenge from an evil warlock - a challenge that had involved some sort of choice - but what? By Gold's description, this challenge had taken place a few years before her mother had run away to Boston so it didn't seem as though the loss of her magic had been the catalyst that caused her to bolt. So, what had it been? What choice had the warlock forced her to make? Had it actually involved a man like Gold had suggested or was there more to it?

She was anxious to see what was inside the mysterious box Gold had held onto for all of these years and to learn more about the books that accompanied the box. First though, she had to take a break and feed her grumbling stomach. The coffee had been a good way to start the morning, but she needed to fuel her growling belly and Granny's was tantalizingly close… Three or four more cups of industrial strength coffee couldn't hurt either.

She took a step into the street, barely noticing the car parked curbside in front of the pawn shop and too distracted by her own thoughts to realize that there was another person in her path. She walked straight into that unseen pedestrian, the collision sending them both tumbling to the asphalt. Emma managed to hold on to her mother's box, but the books fell from her grasp.

"I'm so sorry…,' she began to apologize profusely to the man she'd collided with. "I wasn't looking where I was going…" She pushed herself to her knees and began to gather her belongings, almost afraid to look to see who she had so awkwardly run into. "Are you alright? I hope I didn't knock you over too hard…"

"It's alright, Emma…," the familiar voice said with a chuckle. "This isn't exactly how I planned to run into you, but I'm not going to complain." Recognizing the voice, she flushed with embarrassment. It may have only been Walsh, but she would rather he not see her this flustered.

"Walsh, I guess we literally ran into each other," she said with a shy, awkward grin. "I'm really sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going."

"No worries. I wasn't really paying attention either. I was just heading over to visit Mr. Gold and see if there were any updates on my incoming shipment. What about you? I thought you were off today but that intensity in your gaze says otherwise."

"Oh, I was just returning a book to Gold in exchange for this old stuff that used to belong to my mother. Now I'm heading over to Granny's to get some breakfast and take a look at this stuff. Wanna join me? I'll buy to make up for getting your suit all dirty…"

"I just might take you up on that offer," he said as he brushed some invisible dust off of his dark, coffee bean brown suit. Yeah, she had coffee cravings on her brain again… "Let me finish up my business here but I'll stop over when I'm all done."

"Sounds good," she replied with a hopeful smile. "I'll take my time. After last night, I'll probably need to go through a couple of pots of coffee…"

"Last night? What happened last night?"

"Let's just call it an interesting night that ended in a few too many drinks after having way too much unloaded on me too quickly…"

"Ah… I have heard that the full moon can lead to some overwhelming revelations around here…"

"Oh, just a few revelations… But I'd better let you get back to business. I'll save you a seat if you decide to take me up on the breakfast offer."

"Sounds great, Emma. I'll try to keep things short," he offered, not exactly promising that he'd make it but leaving her hopeful that she might gain some company for breakfast. She had so much to process and she hadn't even gotten to the relatives yet. Maybe it was best to have someone to share the discoveries with her instead of sitting in the diner alone?

Walsh held the smile on his face until as Emma continued (cautiously this time) across the quiet street towards her intended destination of Granny's diner. Once her back was fully to him and he was no longer in her purview, he straightened his sport coat and reset his composure. Projecting a decidedly more business-like demeanor, he entered the pawn shop to seek out its owner.

Alerted by the jingle of the bell attached to the door handle, Gold knew that someone had come into the store, but believing it to be the deputy returning with more inquiries, he responded before poking his head around the curtain.

"If you're back for more, there's not much else I can tell you," Gold said as he stepped around the room divider to see that the person awaiting him in the lobby wasn't Emma Swan, awkwardly finding the face of Walsh Gibbons instead.

"More about what?" a confused and curious Walsh asked as he noted Gold's reaction.

"Mr. Gibbons. My apologies. I thought Ms. Swan was returning with some additional questions about the items she just obtained from me." Gold did his best to conceal his embarrassment over his faux pas of making the statement before confirming his audience.

"Ah, yes, she mentioned that she'd traded for some old items of her mother's."

"A few small things," Gold said, not intending to go into further detail. "So, how can I help you today, Mr. Gibbons? As you're aware, the ship carrying the items you desire isn't due into port until Monday. The captain expects to be in the harbor around noon should fair winds prevail."

"Yes, I'm aware of that delay. I'm actually here for something else, specifically some assistance with a particular potion…," Walsh informed him as he reached into the right hand pocket of his sport coat, withdrawing a folded slip of paper that he slid across the glass countertop to Gold. "Think you can put that together for me?"

The pawn shop owner picked up the paper warily, slowly unfolding it to see what was being requested of him. "I believe I have all of the ingredients for this but whatever do you need it for?"

"That is my business," Walsh replied with haughty tone. "Your business is to make it for me, right?" Gold found himself reminded of his conversation earlier that week when he'd assured Emma that his dealings with Walsh were strictly business. Clearly word had reached Gibbons who was now throwing it back at him. "How long will it take?" Walsh asked to snap Gold back to the present.

"If I have everything required, I can have it to you in about an hour. Let me take a quick gander at my storeroom."

"Please do. I'll wait."

Gold vanished behind the heavy fabric divider while Walsh waited impatiently to learn if the potion could be completed in a timely manner. The shopkeeper was out of sight for less than two minutes when he returned with his response. "I do have all of the necessary ingredients. The potion will be ready for you in an hour."

"Perfect. I guess I'll go take Emma up on her breakfast offer while I wait," Walsh grinned. "See you in an hour."

Gold stood silently behind the counter as Walsh exited his shop. He'd made many potions for Gibbons over the years they'd been doing business together, but this latest request had him puzzled. It was unusual, even for Gibbons, but business was business.

**********

Elsewhere in Storybrooke, (at least he hoped he was still in Storybrooke) Killian Jones had awakened in near total darkness. His last recollection was of walking a very tipsy Emma to the Sheriff's station then returning to the Jolly Roger - but how long ago had that been? There was no way to know if it was day or night or whether minutes or hours had passed. He vaguely recalled a choking sensation that he might have dismissed as a dream were it not for the lingering ache in his neck.

He knew he was no longer aboard his ship as there was nothing familiar to any of his senses - no gentle rocking and swaying on the bobbing waves nor any scent of marine air or teakwood. No, wherever he was, it was dank and dark. There was no light filtering in through any crack in the stone or cement walls of this chamber and there was a musty, earthy odor to his surroundings.

Where the hell was he?

Using the nearest wall both for support and to gain his bearings, Killian pushed himself upright, immediately realizing that he was missing something - his hook. He knew he'd been wearing it when he'd left Emma but now its familiar weight wasn't there. He still wore the brace that secured it yet the prosthetic implement itself had been removed.

A renewed vulnerability washed over him as he inched his way along the wall in the inky blackness yet he was determined to take stock of this prison. His hand felt for any recess or crack that might signify a possible exit as he made his way to the chamber's first corner. He continued moving to his right along the second wall discovering that it was little more than an arm-span distance between the corners. Whatever this awful hole was, it was narrow.

The third wall proved to be only slightly longer than the second which provided him a rough estimate of the room's dimensions - approximately six or seven feet wide and perhaps nine or ten feet wide. It would be about the size of a small storage room or closet - or even an actual prison cell.

But at least there was some hope. As he reached the next bend, his hand came in contact with wood. A door frame. A doorway. At least if the room had a way in, there was a chance he could find a way out, although that might prove a tad more difficult without his hook. His hand surveyed the frame and door in search of a key hole or some type of locking mechanism but he found neither. Whatever purpose this chamber served, it was secured from outside which left him with the chilling realization that it just might be a prison cell and he was its unfortunate occupant.

Questions flooded his brain as his psyche tried to make sense of his situation. Where the hell was he and how the bloody hell did he get here? He didn't remember leaving the Jolly Roger, at least not willingly. He'd sensed no one else on deck with him and a skirmish would certainly have drawn the attention of his crew.

Someone had brought him here and locked him away in this miserable, lonely pit, but who? He'd barely been in this port for a week but had he unexpectedly crossed someone unwittingly? There was so much he needed to know…

"Hello?" he shouted in the direction of the sealed door, unsure if anyone would even be listening. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

Hearing nothing except the echo of his own voice and the pounding of his heart, Killian slumped against the nearest wall. He knew he needed to think this through and to conserve his energy. There was no indication of any water or provisions left here for him so either his captor planned to bring him sustenance or he was intended to slowly starve to death - the latter being an option he wasn't prepared to consider.

#cssns #captain swan supernatural summer #cs ff #cs au ff #cs ff au #witch emma #a simple spell #and that spell will come back into play in the next chapter #but for now the mystery deepens #well - for emma at least

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valmos · 5 years ago

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Hey @neothebean, remember that horrible fanfic? Well the author finally updated!

Author’s Note: The ending of last chapter has been retconned slightly. It has been two years! :3 Sue me.

Miu took a bite out her half of Hart’s sandwich as she listened to him talk the bizarre abandon courtyard at the school. She was about to take her second bite, as Hart mumbled something about a poor attempt at drawing a parallel from an alternate dimension, when she sensed it. Someone was climbing the stairs! Are we even suppose to be up here?! Miu questioned if this dork got her in trouble on her first day as she sprang to her feet.

A boy wearing a red plaid shirt, a jean vest, that looks it was once a jacket, and motorcycle boots came crashing through the door. To Miu’s surprise, she know him. He was on the Bergard High School’s wrestling team during their freshmen year... that is until he was kicked off for cheating. She couldn’t remember his name though.

“Figured you’d take the lost pup up here, Carhagh.” he said with a proud snarl. Hart slowly rose to his feet, he was obviously trying to stay his normal calm and cheery self, but Miu was able to see the worry underneath. “Oh, hi Perry!” Hart said has he finally stood up and placed his hands behind his neck. “Pecarry...” Miu mumbles to herself now remembering. “IT’S PERRY!” Pecarry screams with a flourish of his hands. An expression crossed Pecarry’s face that looks like cold water just trickled down his back, Miu guess he realized he shouldn’t be yelling and drawing attention to them.

“I’m here to welcome you, lost pup,” Pecarry said, much quieter then his earlier speaking voice, as he cracked his knuckles. Miu wasn’t scared; her father had taught her self defense and she was able to beat him in wrestling even with him using illegal moves. Well she wasn’t scared until Hart got between them, urging them not to fight. A sudden sharp intense filled Miu’s head and she feel to her knees, Pecarry had used the distraction to throw a rock at her.

Perry advanced on his prey, despite Hart’s pleas. “Out of the way, Carhagh!” But Hart did not get out the way, in fact he got more in the way and pushed him. “Oh so you want to adopt the bitch, huh? We’ll see about that.” Perry grabbed Hart by the deer shirt and dragged him to the edge of the roof and dangled him over the side, over the abandon courtyard.

Miu’s senses were starting to return to her. She could hear a mocking filled voice, demanding what someone wanted to do with her... her? Her Miu? With her vision starting to unblur, she realized the sight before her. Rage began bubbling within her. Hart had nothing to do with this. Before she could even think she was already right behind Pecarry. She grabbed him and pulled him, and Hart, to the ground, away from the edge. Miu found herself on top of Pecarry, raining blows down. She felt someone grab her left arm, without missing the tempo of her punches her right arm swung and found purchase on the one who would dare stop her.

“...Miu...” The quietness, shock, disbelief, and pleading nature at which her name was called gave her pause. The red haze was lifting from her eyes. She looked at Hart, her fist still pressed against his stomach, pain plainly showed on his face. Hart’s hand found the top of Miu’s fist, “...Stop...” Miu glanced at Pecarry, when did she even get on top of him? She had broken his noise. The white haired girl turned back to Hart, who shot her a pain filled smile. Miu recoiled from Hart’s touch, what had she done? She was on her feet and running before she finished asking herself that question. Miu still didn’t have an answer by the time she finished running all the way to her bed.

((Meta Author Note: I had actually plotted out a Pecarry confrontation on the roof, complete with Hart being dangled and Miu saving him, for the first one of these, but I ran out of the time I set for myself. Doubt it would have turned out like this though haha))

Chapter 2: The Lost Goat

A young girl of about eight got off the school bus and waved good bye to her new friends. Her head turned this way and that, clearly looking for something, but with a shrug it was clear the brown haired girl didn’t find it. Hima was sure her sister would be waiting for her, but perhaps she had to use the bathroom? So she made the small walk home, alone.

When she finally reached her door, after pausing to look at an ant hill and some flowers, and contemplating if she should take a very interesting rock or to leave it for others to enjoy (she left it), she found it locked. She was so happy her mother agreed with Miu when she argued that Hima should get her own key. Letting herself in, she noticed Miu’s shoes were by the door. A quest to find Miu it was! But quietly, in case she was asleep.

Through the open plains, past the firy volcano, and into the cave, Hima checked to see if Miu was at watering hole like she thought she might be. Miu-less. Perhaps upstairs? She retraced her steps and climbed the arduous mountains and head into the caves to the left. No Miu here. Only the Wolf’s Den left to check. As Hima approached she heard it... crying. If Miu was crying so openly, even if she thought she was home alone, it must be something really bad. Hima slowly pushed open Miu’s door.

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

Miu sat in her bed, knees to her chest, crying as she never had before. What happened to her? Why did she do what she did? It was like her body went on auto-pilot and she lost herself. ...And then there was Hart... Pecarry deserved his broken nose, but Hart... sure she kinda wanted to, lightly, punch him in the arm for being so... annoying? She still wasn’t sure exactly how he made her feel, but whatever it was, he didn’t deserve this. His face when she came to her senses... How can she ever face him again? After being so kind to her, this is how she repays him? ... Also how can she face him again, literally? Her first day at a new school and she was already involved in attacking two people, was in an area she probably wasn’t suppose to be in to begin with, and skipped her after lunch classes. She would be lucky to see him again... or maybe it was lucky that she most likely won’t. The white hair girl felt a pang in her stomach as she thought that. What was tha..!! Miu did have time to contemplate the pang as she saw her door move and Hima appearing a moment later.

Sign. If it had been anyone else she would have been mortified, but she always felt like she could be herself around Hima. Miu dried her eyes on her bed sheet as Hima climbed into bed with her and began speaking. The words washed over Miu, calming here, grounding her. Sometimes, Hima seemed like such an old soul that Miu wondered if she was really her sister and not some mystical spirit that decided to settle down with her family.

“...the scary lady wanted to keep her, but the agent father and daughter insisted that they help get her home.” Hima said. “Is this the same goat person that visited the bunny people?” Miu interrupted. Hima looked at Miu, “Yes, her name is Stick. Now where was I..” Miu looked at the clock, it was already so late... dinner would be ready soon. Any moment now the phone would ring to inform her parents of what she did. Dinner came and went without a single call. It was already past twelve-thirty by the time Miu decided she needed to stop staring at the clock and get some sleep. Closing her eyes and leaned back into her pillow, her thoughts drifted to the goat person from her sister’s stories, Stick, far from home and in strange lands, the unknown never seemed to bother her. She didn’t know what tomorrow ... or today, she guessed, was going to bring, but as sleep overtook her she had the feeling that she was going to get through it.

Chapter 3: Getting Through It

Miu stood before the steps of the school, head held high and ready to accept her fate... at least on the outside, on the inside she was curled in a ball, mind racing trying to figure out how she could get out of this situation. With each step her heart quickened. Soon she joined her heart at the door, with a quicker inner sigh she pushed through, and standing right there was the principle. Step by step Miu progressed, ready for the blow she knew would come. “Miss Tazino,” Miu felt her blood run cold, “Try not to lose track of time today,” the principle said with a slight smile. A slight sure was all Miu was able to get out, completely stunned she made her way to her first class, not even hearing the slight jeers aimed at her.

“Miu! Hey Miu!” And then there was Hart, she wished she wasn’t there then. “Hey Hart, about yesterday...” Miu started, but Hart cut her off. “We can talk about it later. I know you didn’t mean to get all crazy violent, and that you feel bad about, so that means you are willing to work on your angry problems! Don’t worry about it” A large smile shot across Hart’s face as he placed his hands behind his head. Miu searched his soul orbs. She didn’t understand what made him tick, nor tock for that matter. “Also don’t worry about getting in trouble, Perry is always getting in a fight and he never tells anyone with whom, and I hid in a bathroom till after school and told the principle I lost track of time... she seemed to have expected that. I still need to copy the notes I missed from my friend, Brush, but I should have them by third period. See you then! Have a good class!”

Miu was speechless. Wha... what just happened... She realized how much of an idiot she must be looking like just standing in the middle of the hall and quickly rushed into her classroom. Spotting her, very tired looking, teacher at her desk, Miu goes over to find out what she was responsible for. Taking the desk the teacher pointed out, unpacks, and pulls out a book to read while waiting for class to start.

The bell rings. Miu puts her book away and starts taking notes. About three minutes into class, her desk is kicked from behind. Thinking nothing of this, Miu continues absorbing her lesson, but then thirty seconds later, another kick jostled her desk. Again and again, nearly clockwork, every half a minute her desk would be hit, and just like clockwork, tick by tick her annoyance was raised. She didn’t dare look back, knowing if she did the chance of her making a scene was too great. No, she bottled it up and hope whoever was doing it would get bored. They did not.

When the bell rang to signal the end of class, the teacher was the first one out of the door. Miu swung her head to look behind her to see a bored looking girl with dark hair, except for a streak of firetruck, packing her bag. She paid no mind to the girl in front of her staring daggers in her direction, and started to get up.

“Why did you keep kicking my desk all class?” Miu demanded. “Oh, was I?” she replied with a tone that said she knew what she did and dared Miu to do something about it. With gritted teeth, “Yes, you were.Please don’t do it again,” Miu manged to say. “Sorry about that,” without a trace of being sorry, “I was trying to think of a new cheer routine for next week when we beat you red-eyed puppies next week. I guess I got carried away.” She paused for a second to study Miu’s face before flipping her hair and exiting the class to join two girls who were waiting at the door for her.

Miu realized who the kicker was now: Cari, Cheerleader Captain of Bergard. A powerful enemy to have on the High School battlefield, but she wasn’t expecting to have nothing but enemies coming to this school.

She made it through her second class of the day without incident. When she was done talking to her third teacher and turned to find a seat, Hart was already flagging her down to sit next to him. With a large internal sigh and a small external eye roll, Miu made her way to the seat next to Hart. “Hey! How were your first two classes?” Hart greeted her with a lazy smile; Miu replied with a shrug.

“Brush missed class do to football practice, so I had to ask Mouse...” Hart’s expression darkened for just a moment, but it was enough for Miu to catch. He then offers her a notebook, “Anyway, here are all the notes you should need. Feel free to take a few days to copy it.” She accepted it, noting the cover was filled with stickers of animals, mainly deer and otters. Her expression must have changed because Hart chimed in, “Oh those just represent people I like. A little silly I know...” Hart trails off into one of his big grins that she ... “Okay class, please open your books to page 123, today we will be studying...” Saved by the bell.

Chapter 4: It’s Better Than Without A Light

And so she got through it. A couple of weeks go by without much incident, other than an ever more antagonizing Cari and mean glares from Pecarry, Just school stuff and Hart’s enigma iron-willed attempt at being her friend. She meet Hart’s friend, Brush, who was the quarter back for the Bergard’s football team. He seemed okay the few times she meet him, except he always seemed like he didn’t want to be around her. Which was fine with her, she didn’t need friends, if only Hart would feel the same way. ...And she meet Mouse, Miu would have gladly taken a hundred Cari’s over a single Mouse.

At lunch, Miu’s phone goes off, “Now open your eyes, put yourself together. Now you should accept this, it is over. Now keep your eyes on this confusion. C’mon, yes, you should watch this transformation,” she checks said phone. It was a text from her father reminding her to pick up her sister at school at 4:00. She looked up to see Hart’s questioning face, “Oh that was my dad...” “No, not that, that is none of my business. Was your ringtone from The World Ends With You?” Hart interrupted. “Yeah it is, Transformation.” replied Miu.

Quicker then she has ever seen Hart move, he pulled out his Nintendo Switch. “Have you played the final remix version? It has co-op, would you want to play during lunch?” Miu only got an, “Um, sure.” before she had a joycon in her hand. “Remind me later,” Hart requested,” to show you an amazing easy-listening cover of Calling by Secondhand Sharks.”

That was lunch for the next couple of weeks. They would talk and found out more about each other. “So you mentioned your dad earlier, what does he do? My mum is a cop and my da is in construction,” Hart asked. “My mother manages some sort of coding project from home, she is still getting set up at our new house,” Miu hesitated, “and my father works at Phoenix.” Hart turns to look at Miu, “Phoenix? That research place a few miles out of town?” “Yeah, he is part of the staff there. In fact that is the reason why I changed schools, he wanted to live a few minutes closer to work.” Hart was quiet for the rest of the day.

Chapter 5: Fuzzy

Miu was sick; she had been for a week. It was Friday again, she had felt well enough to go to school that morning, but her mother insisted she stay home and fully recover. Besides you might still be infectious, she had told her, I will not have the school asking why I let a sick child go to school. So in her room Miu stayed, trying to keep her mind off the mountain of school work she was sure had accumulated during the week. If only she could have gone to school today so she could tackle it over the weekend...

Ding-dong. Blinking, Miu’s eyes fluttered open, must have fallen asleep. What time was it? Judging from the light it was about mid-afternoon, glancing at her clock she confirmed this as it was 3:33. Did Hima forget lose her key? No, she reminded herself, her sister was going to be sleeping over at a new friend’s house tonight. She could hear voices downstairs, her mothers and one that sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quit place with the distance and her still being sleepy. She heard the door close, but their conversation did not. Miu sat up slightly in bed as she heard her mother climb the stairs.

With a soft knock, Yumari slowly opened the door, “Oh good, you are awake. There is a boy named Hart here to see you,” she paused and raised a single eyebrow as her daughter suddenly sprang fully into a sitting position at the mention of Hart, “He says he brought over your school assignments. Should I send him up?” With a small smile on her face, placed by watching her daughter’s vigorous nod, Yumari left to fetch Hart.

In an even gentler voice than normal, “Hey there Miu! I brought over this weeks school work. How are you feeling? Are you okay?” With a huff, “Do not talk to me as if I were a wounded animal! I am perfectly fine, I just had a little stomach bug,” but gentler, “But thank you for bringing my assignments... Did the principal ask you to deliver them?” “No, I asked if I could bring them. I know you were stressed about having to make up work when you transferred. I wanted to bring it over after just three days, but was told that you or parents slash guardians had to request it. I guess after a couple more days of nagging them about it, they decided it was simpler this way,” Hart smiled widely as he pulled out a folder and his notebook and handed them to Miu, “The folder has all the worksheets and assignments in it and the notebook has... well notes. haha” Trying, and failing, to repress a smile, Miu thanked him.

Miu was flipping through the loose pages in the folder, giving them a quick scan to see what was required of her, when Hart said, “Hey, um, you said you were feeling better, if you are up for it, and if you think your mom would be okay with it, would you want to play some The World Ends With You? We are super close to the end!” With a smile, Miu closed the folder and put it and the notebook on her nightstand and made a grabby hand motion at Hart.

They played for a little over an hour, Yumari “casually” checking on them a couple of times. When they finally beat it, Hart noticed the time, “Oh bother! I need to get going! I had told my Ma I was going to come over but I didn’t expect to stay this late. ... Hey Miu, thanks. I really missed you this past week...” Miu stared into his blue(?? What color are his eyes? The wiki is down and I am too lazy to get up to get the book. Someone tell me down in the comments) orbs, the windows to his kind, gentle soul. She started to feel lightheaded... her mother was right, she hadn’t fully recovered from her illness. “Yeah.. I missed you too.” With that Hart was gone, she heard him talking to her mother downstairs, and the door opening and closing.

She sat there for a couple of minutes, afraid to move, in case the sickness flares up again. Eventually she grabs the folder and notebook and starts going through them again. After getting a good idea on what she needs to do, she starts turning to the section for this past week’s science notes.. but she doesn’t get to them. She stops. There on the divider between sections, amongst the other stickers was a fuzzy white wolf sticker. She sat there, just looking at it. Then, gently, she reached out and gave it a little pat and smiled.

#neothebean #Happy Birthday!#... or maybe unhappy birthday? because this is probably a punishment...#It takes a good writer to write enjoyably bad and I am a bad writer...#I also used up most of the bad fanfic tropes I know last time.#but I do think I got Miu to be further away from in-character aligned #Anyway I do hope you find some enjoyment out of this #Will there be more? Will I ever read back past the last sentence I just wrote? Will I do any research ever?#Will characters sound different from each other? Will there be a plot? Did I even attend a high school? Or interact with another human being #The answer to all this and more is: probably not

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robbiwrites717 · 6 years ago

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Master list of my Davekat fic recs. This is long so keep reading for the entire list. Also, unless a fic was explicit I included it on this list so be aware and still read the tags! I wanted to include my thoughts about each fic but it’s been well over a year since I read most of them and it would have been exhausting to read back through all of them so i just included the authors’ summaries instead. I have major respect for every fic and author on this list, seriously they’re amazing <3 Happy Reading

A Bump in the Road - by leopharry - Daycare AU (teacher Karkat/gaurdian DAve/kid Dirk) - Ch 1/1 - 10260 words

After earning his Master's degree in education, Karkat can't find a teaching job, so Kanaya gets him a job as a toddler teacher at a daycare, much to his chagrin. Dirk is his quietest and most behaved student; in fact, Karkat has never heard him speak, and he's curious. What kind of person could raise such a child? And just how long will Karkat's patience last in a room full of two year olds?

Alpha Rats Nest - by sicklekind - Meteorstuck - Ch 1/1 - 9911 words

Dave and Karkat have a long overdue, late-night discussion about the upcoming final battle (and lots of other things, too).

AMC Gremlin - by PeachBriseadh - Coffee Shop AU - Ch 1/1 - 2267

A drive through window is probably not a good place to confess your feelings to the boy of your dreams, particularly when said dream boy is working it.

Apple Juice, Chips, and Bandages - by Weevilo707 - Humanstuck/Convenience Store AU- Ch 2/2 - 5338 words

Every time he comes in he gets the same three things. A bottle of apple juice, a bag of chips, and bandages.

Astronomy in Reverse - by PunkZucchini & sicklekind - Pen Pal AU - Ch 9/10 - 53857 words

Dave and Karkat are intergalactic pen pals, originally paired together for an extra credit school outreach project. Now, three years of correspondence later, they're best friends... and Karkat is finally immigrating to Earth.

Blood Dragon - by Corvid_Knight - Fantasy AU - Ch 8/8 - 11609 words

Fantasy-set homestuck AU in which Dave has a shit life, but he just managed to rescue a dragon...who also happens to be a nice guy. Now he's just got to keep his brother from finding out. Good luck with that, Dave.

Breathe - by Lilith_In_The_Garden - Highschool AU - Ch 31/? - 54700 words

Your name is Dave Strider, and there's nothing good about John and Rose changing schools.Without your twin sister and best friend, you've been left socially crippled at school, and barely coping at home. You're nearly certain that your mental health has been slowly spiraling downhill. You have no clue how you'll last the year to high school graduation. In all this, there's just one single ray of light.Your name is Dave Strider, and there's nothing good about John and Rose changing schools. Except for meeting Karkat Vantas.

Book Covers - by me ( cuz im an egotistical asshole) = College/Guardian AU- Ch 28/28 - 136611 words

Karkat has had a shitty life and has had to bust his ass for everything he has. He has no patience for spoiled, delusional, lazy people and this is exactly what he thinks Dave Strider is. They get paired up together for a project in their college English class and when Karkat accidently learns that Dave is fighting to keep custody of his younger brother Dirk, he learns that he may have been completely wrong about Dave and shouldn't have judged a book by it's cover. A story of two damaged boys coming to each others rescue and growing as people. <3

Broken - by Aurellyn - Pale Romance/Moirallegiance - Ch 1/1 - 18911 words

This has been an increasingly common occurrence recently. Maybe it’s because you’ve got so much time to just sit around and really think, maybe it’s because you don’t really have anyone to talk to, you don’t know, but you’ve been feeling literal oceans of insecure.It’s like someone ripped a bandaid off of an old wound, or broke the dam or some shit, because lately all you can think about are things you never wanted to think about literally ever again. You’ve been thinking about your Bro, your life before the game, and it was only yesterday that it really, truly dawned on you that you’re actually really scarred by it all. The strifing, the constant tiptoeing around the one place that you should feel safe, paranoia of being stalked by a God damn puppet.It haunts you, and it’s maybe had more of an impact on you than you want to admit.

Cold Desert - by gidgit - Neighbor AU - Ch 7/? - 48493 words

Curiosity killed the cat.It probably just wasn't as good at being nosy as Dave is.

countdown until the end of the world - by divingred - Alpha Session/Memories AU - Ch 6/6 - 17291 words

You’ve seen them before, in countless dreams like this, but this is the first time they’re so clear. They’re so big, they seem almost inhuman, not to mention their color. Deep black pupils against golden, almost glowing, sclera. Even though they’re nothing like a pair of human eyes, there’s a softness there. This is someone who cares about you. You don’t want to look away.Your name is Dave Strider and you feel like you’re forgetting something important.((au where alpha dave picks up a certain troll))

Demon Eyes - by Corvid_Knight - Demon/Hunter AU - Ch 28/28 - 84335 words

In which Dave goes in to kill a demon for his bro, and things...don't exactly go as planned. Really, absolutely nothing goes as planned, but that's...somehow okay. Mostly.

Don’t Forget the Sun - by Weevilo707 - stranded Alien AU - Ch 23/?(DISCONTINUED) - 204539 words

Karkat Vantas always accepted the fact that he was not going to live past nine sweeps. It was just a certainty of his sad, miserable life. At least, that was until his friends found out and decided to hatch a plan to get him out of the Alternian empire. A plan that actually worked.Now, he was stranded on an alien planet, at the mercy of some strange creature that was either trying to help him or going about some freaky ritual of flirting with your food before you eat it.Also, aliens have sunglasses.He was better off dying on Alternia, wasn't he?

falling in love's a struggle - by divingred - college AU - Ch 4/? - 7784 words

“What. The. Fuck,” You manage to spit out, “Kanaya, did Terezi just bring a human?”Who the fuck is this guy anyway!? You stare daggers at the guy. He’s tall… pale, with light hair, wearing an obnoxiously bright red jacket and black skinny jeans. He’s even wearing sunglasses at night, what a complete fucking douchebag. The complete opposite of you.--or alternatively titled; falling in love with your ex-girlfriend's new awful boyfriend

File It Down, Polish It Up - by introsquirrel - Ch 1/1 - 20713 words

Trolls have some weird priorities. They can’t bring themselves to invent conditioner, but they have automatic manicure kits and gossip about which blood caste produces the best in claw hygiene. Dave has never really given much thought to the state of his nails. His time is better spent memorizing lame movie quotes and actively *not* flirting with the grumpy troll version of the Second Coming.On an unrelated note, being a teenage boy is hard. Literally. (Insert dick joke here.) It’s hard and having a hot sister doesn’t help in the slightest. Not that Dave finds his sister attractive in any way.Nope, not going there.

Fortuitous - by Java_bean - meteorstuck - Ch 21/? - 111066 words

Dave and Karkat build a pillow fort and an unexpected chain of events occurs.

Hard To Stay And Watch You Walk Away - by LandofMistandSecrets - Meteorstuck - Ch 1/1 - 7502 words

I thought too hard about scenes that happened in the GO timeline that we never saw the retcon version of and then this came out. The "will we still be able to be best bros" conversation re-imagined for post-retcon. Somehow Karkat is even more insecure. Also I always wanted Rose and Karkat to talk in canon so hey have a bunch of them too, thanks.

hey there bright-eyed mister melancholy - by attentionmerrymakers - Meteorstuck - Ch 1/1/ - 2338 words

This is why you are sitting in Can Town making your fifty-sixth scale replica of a sheep.

how...did you tell your friends - by sburbanite - post sburb/sgrub - Ch 4/4 - 7906 words

Unfortunately, you don't fancy your brother's suggestion on how to break the news to John...There's no other way out of it, you're going to have to just tell him.

If I Lose Everything In The Fire - by HexMeridan (myrainbowshoelaces) - pacific rim AU - Ch 20/22 - 108975 words

The Kaiju - or Horrorterrors, as the trolls call them - first invaded Earth through a transdimensional rift at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. Serving the Condesce in her quest to add Earth to the Alternian Empire, these monsters have terrorized humanity for twelve years. With the help of rebel troll factions and the adaptation of Alternian mind integration technology - The Drift - the Interspecies Defense Program has fought back as the last line of defense between the Kaiju and Earth.Karkat Vantas was a Jaeger pilot, fought for freedom in the Assault on the Breach that brought trolls to Earth. The loss of his co-pilot left him bitter and full of rage, but desperate times have lead to him being recruited to join the fray once more.Dave Strider is the best and brightest the Interspec program has to offer. Jaeger Restoration Project Head, highest simulation score on record, and younger brother of the Deputy Marshal - except he's not allowed in a Jaeger.Nobody expects them to be Drift Compatible

Improvidence - by biodigitaljazz - Meteorstuck Series - Four separate multi chapter fics

Part 1 - Your name is Karkat Vantas.Your life is unnecessarily complicated. Part 2 - Your name is Dave Strider.You’re the baddest MC this side of the meteor and damn do you know it. Part 3 - Your name is Karkat Vantas.And you are the most beautiful and superlative specimen of complete and total relationship failure in the history of everyone and everything. Part 4 - Your name is Dave Strider.You really wish you could remember everything.

Locked Up - Weevilo - Meteorstuck - Ch 1/1 - 9272 words

Dave had always been the one best prepared for the game. He was able to handle the shit it threw at them and push it down a lot better than everyone else could.It might have fucked up everything else about him, but that didn't matter.He was fine.He was always fucking fine.

Love in the Time of Juggalos - by sburbanite - Alpha timeline AU - Ch 37/37 - 80521 words

Alpha-Dave has everything anyone could want: fame, fortune, legions of adoring fans, and a shitty hatchback car.

But behind the shades is a man who knows the world is ending, and who wakes each morning expecting to see a lover who isn't there. Someone he's never even met.

M.C. Escher that’s my favorite MC - by Unda - Soulmate AU - Ch 42/? - 587474 words

Dirk has a plan, when he's 18 he's going to take Dave and get him the fuck out of their terrible lives and start over. Until then being the barrier between Dave and Bro is his only job, his soulmate is just going to have to wait goddamnit. Dave has a plan, it involves getting internet famous and not going gay, easy right? Karkat also has a plan, to repeatedly track down his dumb as rocks soulmate and get him to actually talk to him for fuck's sake.

Palisades, Palisades - by magicites - Summer Camp AU - Ch 4/4 - 46,422 words

In your memories, you see Dave Strider, fourteen-years-old and made up of lean muscle and awkward limbs that he would still need a few years to grow into fully. Crows surround him, all cawing impatiently, vying for the chicken sandwich in his backpack. He swears loudly as he swings a stick at them, trying to get them to leave him the fuck alone.“Stupid feathery assholes,” he’d always complain once he finally shooed them away.You tear yourself out of the memory. You miss him, and you hate yourself for it.

Perspective - by MsGeekNerd - Meteorstuck - Ch 85/85 - 63833 words

In which Dave Strider and Karkat Vantas are Bored as Hell and Eventually Grow Close to Each Other in Multiple WaysKarkat wants nothing more then to be entertained, Dave can supply that entertainment.A story of friendship turned crush between my favorite dorks

Purrbeast - by wittykitsune - Meteorstuck - Ch 1/1 - 1140 words

Dave takes a dare to pet the grumpiest troll on the meteor. Instead of violence he is met with a very different reaction.

Reclassify - by notwest - Meteorstuck - Ch 1/1 - 2917 words

warning: this is a highly cliched, self indulgent first kiss meteorficyou know you love it though

Songs Made on the Meteor - by apocalypticTaco - Meteorstuck - Ch 3/6 - 11752 words

Once the train of aimless tree blabber has left the station, you remember why you agreed to meet up in the first place. Leaning forward to sit up properly, you turn to Dave.“So,” you say, “what did you want to show me?”“Oh! Yeah, I forgot about that, sorry. The topic just fucking strayed from me like some kind of toddler seeing a candy store and waddling away from mom. Chubby little bastard gets me this time. Here.” He plops out one of those music tables onto his lap, and motions for you to come closer.

(It's music, and along the way they fall in love.)

Sun - by mintboy - highschool Au - Ch 8/? - 14205 words

I’ll never be able to do what other teenagers get to do. When the world robs your health from you, robs your face from you, they rob from you everything else you’ve ever wanted. Because people are fucked up. And all they see is what’s on the outside.Inspired by the book Wonder by R. J. Palacio.

The Calm is Terrifying When the Storm is All You’ve Known - by happikatt- no-sburb AU - Ch 39/39 - 178722 words

There were two kinds of trolls who went to Earth: rich shitheads with too much money and free time, and desperate assholes who couldn’t survive on Alternia, even with the best efforts of the young Condesce. Karkat hated the planet almost immediately, but with his home planet too dangerous for mutants, he really didn’t have any choice but to hide out on this weird little diurnal planet. At least he’d be safe. Or so he thought, right before blundering his way into an accidental friendship with the son of an anti-troll terrorist.Slow burn, shifting perspectives; romance really isn't the focus here but it'll still play a significant part; extra content warnings will be posted with each relevant chapter

The Highlights of being a Split End - by Introsquirrel - Meteorstuck - Ch 1/1 - 7381 words

On the list of "Things Karkat Needs to Remember To Pack for Surviving This Fucking Game, In Order of Priority," hair styling utensils fell somewhere between "rubble that crushed my lusus" and "last sweep's decomposable trash, recently unburied from the back lawnring, along with all those bodies of the undead I had to kill." In other words, somebody needs to give that boy a brush.

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Lost and stranded on a ship millions of miles from Earth, Dave wants nothing more than to stay hidden from the crew until he can get somewhere safe. But then he runs into another fugitive and suddenly things become a lot more complicated.

the sun coming through - by astrogyaru - College AU - Ch 11/? - 98804 words

You're not sure what to expect when you go to college out of state, in a place that you've never been to before and where you only know one person. Awkwardness, definitely, and a little bit of homesickness, too. Falling in love with your internet buddy's best friend that you kind of hate, not so much, but somehow it happens anyway.Or: Dave and Karkat fall in love, from both of their perspectives.

Time Travel and Troll Grubs - by Corvid_Knight - Earth-C - Ch 16/? - 24723 words

AU in which Dave has An Idea and follows through with it, leading to him and Karkat raising a shitton of grubs.

“Truth or Truth?” - by assumare - Meteorstuck - Ch 1/1 - 4799 words

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Waffle House - by notwest - humanstuck - Ch 4/? - 15487 words

Dave Strider is almost 18 years old. His hobbies include avoiding Bro and eating at Waffle House.In the worst moments of his life, Dave finds comfort in a run down restaurant, the family he never knew he had, and in one particularly cranky waiter.

What To Do When Your Boyfriend Is Too Hot - by ayyyy(RosaAquafire) - Earth C - Ch 1/1 - 6846 words

Moving to a new universe and a new paradigm brings a lot of changes. And Dave kind of likes the way things were before, back on the Meteor, when he had Karkat all to himself and didn't spend sleepless nights waiting for the shoe to fall.

Within, Without - by reinkist - Meteorstuck - Ch 37/37 - 78311 words

Dave just wants to be left alone. What's the point of anything when what's broken can never be completely fixed?This is the story of Dave Strider and Karkat Vantas, on the longest journey of their lives.

Your Interpersonal, Intergalactic Relationship: A Beginner’s Guide - by sicklekind - meteorstuck - Ch 1/1 - 8342 words

A beginner's guide to playing hopscotch, overcoming internalized homophobia, and falling in love with your alien best friend.Disclaimer: results may take up to three (3) years to appear.

#non sfw coming soon ;)#fic recs #fic rec list #davekat #davekat fics #dave strider #karkat vantas #homestuck #and i know i forgot some fics in here #so ill probably do a second list sometime

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whatdoyouthinkmyjobis · 6 years ago

Text

Hunters on the Hellmouth

masterlist

first chapter

previous chapter

TW: Discussions of rape and miscarriage. Major feels. Here’s a cheat sheet for keeping track of the Potentials.

Chapter 39: The Walls Came Tumbling Down

Spike bit his fingernail down to the bed, spilling blood on his lips. He spit on the floor, repulsed by the memories.

Buffy had been missing for three hours. He’d tried to follow her immediately after she disappeared, but couldn’t get any further than singeing his shoes. The portal was Slayers only. To pass the time, he read the spell book Buffy had given him. It explained that “finding the path” wasn’t a vision quest, but a portal. The gibberish started to weave together a coherent story, though still not one that made sense. The Witch, it explained, had ousted the King, who by all accounts was a philandering, temperamental murderer. The Witch had help from the Huntress. Later the Huntress was struck with remorse for the King -- her father -- and tried to bring him home. For this act of betrayal, the Witch put the Huntress to sleep and locked her away.

“Fairy tales,” Spike snorted. But then, the shadow casters were only supposed to work for the Huntress, and they had worked for Buffy. If disappearing for hours counted as working. For all Spike knew she was being tortured, punished for the crossing the yellow tape. He started chewing the nails on his other hand and considered getting Dean.

There was a pop like air rushing into a vacuum. The writhing men comprising the shadow figures flew apart, leaving a soaked Buffy on the ground in their place. Spike gathered her into his lap, her wet hair and clothes seeping through his shirt and jeans. “Hey! Hey, Goldilocks. Did you find anythin’ you liked at the Bears’ house?”

Her eyes flew open and she punched him in the nose. Bone crunched and blood spewed from his face. Then she kicked him in the head. Everything went black.

After throwing Buffy out, Dawn and Willow had clutched each other and cried, using phrases like tough love and the right thing, though neither of them felt convinced. Now that it was morning, Dawn’s head still pounded, her empty eye socket raged.

She wanted to set the world on fire. She wanted to cry. She wanted her sister back.

Dawn stood at the top of the stairs listening. She listened to the Impala’s purr as Sam and Dean left at daybreak to look for bodies in the rubble of the winery. To Andrew worrying about Spike not coming in last night. To Xander and Anya arriving with more food and medical supplies. To the Potentials padding up and down the stairs to use the bathroom, and when they tried to talk to her, she pretended not to hear.

She couldn’t see them on that side of her anyway.

Downstairs, Dawn could hear the Potentials debating the veracity of what Dean had told them. The Potentials had insisted on knowing what was going on. (She couldn’t blame them for that; though she blamed them for everything else.) After watching Buffy ousted from her own home, Dean delivered a no-holds-barred, fire-in-the-belly speech including everything from angels trying to force God to return to what the demons did to Sam.

It seemed they were stuck on the part about alternate dimensions. Some believed in them. Some didn’t, despite Anya having explained about hell dimensions in her introduction to demons lecture. However, she had also told them demons were poor, misunderstood creatures.

Downstairs, a girl asked, “D-do you think Lucifer brought any h-hellhounds with him?”

Dawn closed her one good eye, rested her head against the wall, and let the voices of the girls downstairs mix into an unintelligible buzz. After a while, she sensed someone was sitting on the step by her. Peeking through her lashes, Dawn saw Wook staring into space.

“Did you tell her?” Dawn asked. “Did you ever tell Sophia how you felt?”

For a split second, horror took over Wook’s face. Then she shook her head. “Sophia...she was not like me.”

The crush had seemed obvious to Dawn and several other people. “You should talk to Willow. You could probably use a good cry and --” Dawn pointed at the bandage over her missing eye “-- I’m only up for half a cry right now. I hope it helps.”

Dawn slowly walked downstairs. As the Potentials noticed her, a wave of silence fell over the room. She curled up in a chair by the window, fixing her one good eye outside. When it was clear she didn't want to speak to them, the girls resumed their whispers.

“Maybe the angels?” asked Steph. “If they brought the Winchesters here, maybe they’ll come help us?”

Dark circles around her puffy eyes, Maya curled her lip in disgust. “Are you joking? They sound bloody terrifying, like cosmic toddlers throwing a fit for daddy.”

“The angels aren't coming to save us,” said Dani. “God is out of the game. No one is coming, but maybe we can move home field.”

“Move the fight off the Hellmouth?” asked Karen.

“Bigger,” said Dani. “Lucifer is only here because he followed the Winchesters, so let's move the Winchesters back where they belong.”

Dawn stifled a snicker. She couldn’t imagine any of these girls making the Winchesters do anything. When Dean returned, she’d share Dani’s plan.

“You have a magic portal in your pocket?” Betje asked, rolling her eyes.

“Well, no, but --”

Keisha held up her hand to stop Dani from continuing. “I can't even begin to tell you how upset I am about what Dean said. I'm a life-long church girl, and this is not my Heavenly Host. However, I am not about to sell out Sam for my own safety.”

Kate squeezed into the circle. “It's not about you or Sam; it's about saving everyone.”

“I think the people in their world would disagree with you,” Karen countered. “A Slayer’s duty is to save people, not pick and choose lives.”

Dani threw her pillow across the room and released a frustrated growl. “We’re out of options! Either everyone dies or half the people die.”

“It’s not like they’re real, not like us,” Kate added.

“Then we go down fighting!” said Keisha, matching Dani’s volume. “Maybe Buffy was right yesterday? Maybe we just have to attack as much as we can?”

The room disintegrated into bickering about Buffy’s leadership, the realness of unmet people, and the blame the Winchesters bore. Again, a hush fell over them. Someone hovered by her.

“Hmm, Dawn, you’re missing something.” Xander’s hands were shoved in his pockets as he casually inspected Dawn’s new face. “Rumor is, pirating requires a beard. Or a parrot. Both would be better, but you have to have at least one.”

Despite herself, Dawn felt a small smile trip across her lips.

“Good news though! No beard means it’s easier to eat this.” He handed her a candy bar, one of the good ones with chocolate and peanut butter.

It was ridiculous and exactly what she needed. She unwrapped it slowly. “Willow tells me I can get a glass eye. I could get something that totally matches my other one, and then, like, pop it out on Halloween to scare kids.”

“That’s the spirit!”

“Not that we’ll see another Halloween with this bozo army.”

“And the spirit is gone.”

Dawn took a large bite and glanced out the window. “Shut up! Buffy’s outside.”

Xander and Willow’s hearts were heavy but happy as they crossed the street to talk with Buffy.

Buffy stood staring at the neighbor’s lilac bush as if she could set it on fire with her mind. She plucked a heavy bloom. “They love me. They love me not,” she said as she pulled the petals off.

“Buff, that’s not fair,” Xander blurted. Not the foot he’d wanted to start on. He was still uncertain if he hadn’t spoken up in her defense out of cowardice or agreement. The bruise on his cheek felt like the latter.

“We love you!” said Willow, reaching out to rub Buffy’s arm. “We just think you need a break. All the stress is affecting your judgement.”

“My judges are the guy who left his fiance at the altar and the woman who tried to burn the world? Both less than a year ago. What do you know about stress?” Buffy asked as she crushed the flower in her fist.

“A hell of a lot,” said Willow in a low voice.

“You’re not the characters I came to Disneyland for. Where’s Dean?”

“He and Sam went to deal with the bodies at the winery.”

“Then you two can Hi-Ho your butts back in the house, and I’ll wait here,” she said with coldness in her eyes.

“I know you’re mad and all, but come in for some --”

“I’m not here for you,” their friend snapped. Her eye twitched. “Not yet. Now go back inside or I’ll give you more than a bruise.”

To Dean’s surprise, other than missing doors and a blackened entrance, the winery was still standing. “Two cans of gas and a building full of alcohol.”

“Wine doesn’t have a high enough alcohol content to burn, so it probably put the fire out,” Sam explained.

“Wow, even the things you know about booze are nerdy.” Although, Buffy would be relieved to know his anger-move hadn’t been any more effective than her plan.

“We going in?”

The dark maw of the building stared him down. Less than a day before, that place had claimed five of them and incapacitated even more. A chill ran down Dean’s spine. “Can’t afford it. Let’s go.”

On the way back to the Impala, his phone rang. Xander wanted to warn him that an angry Buffy was waiting for him at the house. Angry. Crying. Dean didn’t care. He needed to see her.

Haloed by the purple flowers in the neighbor’s yard, Buffy looked stunning. Her hair was in loose, natural waves, and her face bare of makeup. It was her soft-with-sleep, content-in-his-arms beauty, though he doubted she wanted to be held.

When he gently called to her, her icy resolve melted away. “Dean!” A smile blossomed on her lips as she breathed out his name. "We need to talk.”

“Buffy, I'm so, so sorry for the shit I said.” He took her small hands in his; it was the first time he’d touched her in what felt like forever. Exhibiting no hesitation, she lightly squeezed his fingers. He’d never been so thrilled to hold a woman’s hand. “I hope you believe me when I say I didn't want any of this. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She nodded, the light catching on the fan of her lashes. “It’s hard for people to see a bigger plan in the moment.” Looking up at him with curious eyes, she said, “Speaking of, do you have a plan for Lucifer?”

“It was a bitch of a night, sweetheart. Treading water as fast as we can, but look around you.” Every house on the block was empty. “The tide’s comin’ in.”

“Do we head for the hills with the girls?”

“Of course not. We’re the line between him and the rest of your world. We gotta hold it so the world doesn’t go all I Am Legend.”

Worry swelled in Buffy’s eyes. She opened her mouth several times, but said nothing. Finally, she swallowed and said, “What about Michael?”

“Michael? I don’t think that douche even knows we’re here.”

The worry washed away. She gazed into his eyes and appeared surprisingly happy for knowing it was the end of the world. “It’s like a burn one, get-one-free special.” She laid her head on his chest, her arms encircling his waist. Dean embraced her, content that if they were going to die at least they would die together.

She shifted, and he started to let her go. “No,” she said, “keep holding me, baby.”

A shout down their deserted block drew his attention. Blood streaming down his face, Spike ran at them yelling something. Confused, Dean looked down into Buffy’s black eyes.

He fell back in terror, numbness taking over his body. Everything seemed to slow down and speed up all at once. His brain screamed, No! No! No!

“Hey baby, surprised to see me?” the demon inside her cooed. She grabbed him by the arms and tossed him into a flower bed.

Spike jumped her, but she threw him over her shoulders.

“I thought I killed you.” Buffy pulled a knife from her boot. Spike blocked the blow to his chest, leaving a gash on his forearm.

Dean pulled her off, causing her to whirl back on him and slash his cheek. “Gonna cut your pretty face --”

Then she stopped. Stopped talking. Stopped moving. The black in her eyes swirled wildly. Buffy trembled, then collapsed in a heap. Behind her, Spike stood holding a bloody rock.

Buffy didn’t know where she was. It was so dark, she couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or closed. She tried to feel for a wall, a door, a light, but she couldn’t move her arms. It was like fighting off a deep sleep.

She wasn’t alone. Someone -- some thing -- was laughing. It sounded like broken glass, like a punch knocking teeth loose, like being lost and alone; yet somehow Buffy knew it was a laugh.

I like it in here, said a voice that was a cross between a bark and a hiss. So many toys.

Suddenly, Buffy was in bed. Angel’s hands slid from her breasts to her thighs as he kissed her neck with tantalizing slowness.

That laugh.

Buffy was at her high school. She was holding a gun. Angel stood before her, pleading. Shaking, she pulled the trigger.

That laugh again, like cold water running down her spine.

Now Buffy was struggling on the bathroom floor, tired and terrified, trying to push Spike off of her.

Fuck, this is fun.

Then Buffy could see. She could see Dean standing in front of her, saying something she couldn’t hear. Buffy tried to say something, anything -- he was right there -- but no words came out. Then he was holding her. It was bliss and torture all wrapped together.

The voice practically sang, Gonna kill your boyfriend. Gonna make you watch. Gonna snap his neck. Oh yes! Oh yes!

Whatever this thing was, Buffy wasn’t going to let it win. She managed to loosen her grip on Dean, but she heard her voice ask him to stay. For a brief second, she felt the thing look away, distracted by something Buffy couldn’t see. She seized the moment, and threw Dean away from her.

Blackness and laughter. A flash of Spike and blood. Buffy tried to move, tried to scream, but she could see her own arms lashing out with a knife. Now Dean was in front of her, blood on his cheek. Buffy focused on his eyes, those deep green eyes. She pulled up all the love inside of her, everything she had done and hope to do with this man, and shoved it to the front of her mind.

The laugh was cut short. Buffy’s body was holding still.

Then everything went black.

This was a nightmare. If Dean opened his eyes, he would see Buffy sound asleep with little pillow creases on her face. Instead, Spike, his face a sickly shade of purple, sat sprawled on a chair while Anya sewed up his arm. The mysterious book Spike had brought consumed Giles, who looked like he’d aged ten years.

The kitchen was packed with everyone who cared about Buffy. And the guilty, Dean thought, bitterly surveying their downcast faces.

“How’s Dawn?” Xander asked Willow when she returned to the kitchen.

“Sleeping.”

“You put her under?”

“I hate to use the word hysterical -- because sexist, but it applies. She was hysterical and crying, which isn’t helping her heal. She kept saying this wouldn’t have happened if we hadn’t kicked Buffy out.”

The Potentials averted their eyes.

“She’s not wrong,” Dean grumbled under his breath.

Keisha started to apologize, “If I knew this could happen--”

“No,” said Betje, shaking her head. “What’s done is done. We have to fix this demon problem.”

Karen took a bloody towel from Spike and handed him a fresh one for his split lip and broken nose. With the power off, they had nothing cold for the swelling. “Recap for the new girl? My head was spinning too much to get all of that.”

“Kind of ‘urts to talk,” moaned Spike.

Anya sighed. “Previously on Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Kicked out of the house with her tail between her legs, Buffy thought she’d do a vision quest to learn more Slayer tricks. Only the vision was more of a touch-and-feel experience. Poof! Gone. Poof! Back with bonus gross demon parasite.”

“You’re grossed out?” huffed Willow.

Anya finished bandaging Spike’s arm and repacked the first aid kit. “Demons may maim and kill and sew chaos, but there are lines. Very few demons possess, and they’re social outcasts. This goes off the map into unknown heebee jeebee territory.”

“Okay, Robin, that was very helpful,” Sam said as he came in the back door and hung up his phone. “Unhelpful asshole. He doesn’t know anything.”

Sam handed Willow a small necklace. “You too, Giles,” he said.

“No anti-possession charms for the rest of us?” Xander asked.

Sam handed another to Spike. “The rest of you aren’t vessels. You can’t be possessed. Just witches, slayers and vampires.”

“And Potential Slayers,” Willow added as she slipped on the necklace. “But that got explody last time.”

After securing unconscious demon Buffy in a devil’s trap in the basement, they had moved most of the Potentials to the neighboring house for safety. Some were too injured to move. A few, wracked with guilt, refused to leave.

His nose buried once more in his book, Giles muttered to himself, “Where did Bernard find this? These were lost. They’re all dead.”

“Giles, mutter reassuring things or don’t mutter at all,” Anya snapped.

Giles snapped his head up, seemingly surprised the conversation had moved on without him. “In any other circumstance, holding this book would be a rare treat. Scholars thought they were lost when the Order of the Oracle was wiped out.”

“Order of the Oracle?” Sam said. “I have one of their books. I found it online.”

Giles glared at Sam over his glasses. “Could I see this book?”

“Yeah, it’s in the car.”

“It’s in your bloody--!” Giles took a deep breath and muttered into his book, “Let’s just keep rare texts in our cars next to our mixtapes. Heaven forbid we use bookshelves like civilized people.”

“We do an exorcism, right?” asked Karen. “Some pea soup, head spinning, and Buffy’s back?”

“No,” said Dean, tired of listening to them.

“No? It was good enough for me,” said Spike.

“That demon was making you a vampire. That’s the gig here. This one, I don’t know where Buffy found it, but it’s from our side of the tracks. I think it knows me. We need to find out how it got here and if more are coming.”

“If there are?” asked Xander.

Dean didn’t want to tell him it dropped their chances from zero to zilch.

Karen’s eyes darted from person to person in spinning confusion. “Can we go back to Spike being a vampire -- because what?”

The basement door burst open and Andrew collapsed on the ground wheezing. “Buff-- She-- It? Waking is happening.” Anya and Giles followed the Winchesters while everyone else hid their faces.

In the basement, Dani was standing dangerously close to the outer line of the demon trap inspecting Buffy, black eyes fluttering, with the curiosity of children taunting a lion at the zoo. “Doesn’t look so bad. She couldn’t be worse than a Serparvo or a Haxil Beast.”

Laying on her side, Buffy opened her eyes.

“Dani, step back!” barked Sam.

“Help me! I’m afraid!” whimpered the demon.

Dani leaned across the circle, her face close to Buffy’s. Before Dean got to the bottom of the stairs, the creature jerked toward the Potential and bit into her cheek. Dani reeled back screaming. Buffy smiled, a chunk of skin hanging from her teeth.

“No!” shouted Anya her finger wagging at the bloody-faced creature. “Bad demon! Naughty! You’re the kind of demon that gives demons a bad name. What kind of demon are you anyway?”

“The real kind.”

Anya looked at the Winchesters with fear and confusion as she lead Dani upstairs.

The demon spit the piece of cheek on the ground. For a brief moment, the edge melted from her glare as Buffy coughed and spit blood from her mouth. Then she grinned an awful, red grin. “Sam and Dean. I missed you boys! Haven’t seen you since I sicced my puppies on your last girlfriend.”

“Meg,” growled Sam.

“In the flesh -- or rather your girl’s flesh, huh, Dean?” A satisfied chuckle bubbled from her throat as Dean bit his tongue to keep from reacting. “I think of all the bodies I’ve possessed, this one is my favorite. No offense, Sammy.”

“Don’t get comfortable,” said Dean.

“Too late. I love exploring her nooks and crannies. All of her dark places. The secrets in here!” Meg shimmied with excitement. “For instance, Giles,” she said, directing her attention to librarian on the stairs, “do you remember telling her you would always support her? It’s one of those memories a girl with daddy issues goes back to when she's having a down day.”

“I remember,” whispered Giles, his eyebrows furrowed with agony as he beheld his only child strung up like a puppet.

“Until she fucks up, of course. Then she’s out on the street.” She still smiled her bloody smile, but her eyes were pleading.

Giles glared at her with steely resolve. “The consequences for my actions have been dire, and I won’t leave her now.”

“Enough!” Dean snapped. “How’d you get here, Meg?”

“Hard work and clean living?”

He crouched by the edge of the demon trap, so he could look into Meg’s black eyes. “You think I don’t know how to get information out of you?”

“I know for a fact you couldn’t hurt your Girly any more than you’d hurt your Sammy. She’s barely spoken to you for weeks, and you’re still jumping through hoops like a trained bitch to get her to notice you. You got it bad, Dean, and she’s ready to run away screaming.” Buffy slammed her body against the floor. Once. Twice. Three times. She rose to her knees slowly, awkwardly, Buffy’s long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders and neck, a wry smile on her red lips.

“You know what pushed her away? It wasn't the Apocalypse or the Potentials or anything else you’ve blamed.” Her smile disappeared. Her mouth clamped shut. A twitch washed over her muscles like a personal earthquake. The smile returned. “It wasn’t any of that. It was the baby.”

The more Buffy focused, the more she could move. She beat her fists against the darkness and screamed, screamed to get out. She shut out the taunts, the memories, and focused. I’m near my house. Dean is here. Spike is here.

She tasted blood. Cold crept into her bones. Dean’s voice, far off and muffled, snapped the silence. Dean is here.

The laugh again.

Buffy threw herself against the blackness once more and felt a hard smack. The air rushed from her lungs. Pain was good. Pain was present.

Then she could see her basement. She was in the demon trap they’d painted for Spike. Dean and Sam stood outside of the circle; Giles on the stairs. Dean’s jaw twitched with rage.

Suddenly, there was a white hot stab in her gut. Buffy screamed in agony.

Oh yes, let’s share that, the voice growled.

Buffy tried to put her hands over her mouth, to bite her tongue. To keep it in. Still the word erupted into the air, plump and sad.

Baby.

Dean clenched his jaw. The ploy was low even for Meg. “You're lying.”

“Why? Because she would have told you?” she said in a mocking whine.

“Because you’re a sack-a-shit demon.”

“And this sack of shit is wearing your girlfriend. I have access to memories and thoughts you couldn’t imagine. She may let you rut around in this body, but it's not yours.” Quickly, Buffy slammed her body back into the wall with a gasp.

Then a laugh. “She never forgot your dream of starting a family together, Dean. Buffy battles monsters for a living, but the mere idea of spawning your green-eyed ankle-biters made her want to vomit. Then she got two little lines on the test.

“I know what you’re thinking. Wracking your brain counting back the days since she let you fuck her. Wondering if you always used a condom. Blaming her for messing up her pills,” Meg twisted Buffy’s lips into a smirk. “What’s funny is that you two morons with your supercharged bodies thought the conventional would be enough.”

Dean wasn’t thinking any of that. Instead, a cold grief crept into his bones that Buffy had carried the burden alone. Another person he loved was too scared to tell him the truth. He shook his head and whispered, “You can shut up.”

“Or what? You’ll make me?” She grinned from ear to ear, her tongue caught between her teeth. “Already called that bluff, dickwad. Besides, if you want the truth, you can ask Giles.”

Giles’ eyes flitted between Dean and the demon. The unasked question seemed to press him smaller. “Awhile ago, Buffy wanted to come when I drove to Los Angeles to pick up two Potentials at the airport. I thought it was odd, but I was happy for the company. She was distant, quiet. We had a strained conversation. As soon as we arrived in LA, she got a ride into town, leaving us at the airport for a couple hours. She never said what she was doing. I...I had assumed she went to see Angel.”

“Is she pregnant?” Dean whispered, trying to keep the shattered feeling from his voice.

Meg laughed, made all the crueler in Buffy’s voice. “Not now, baby daddy. I took care of that before I came. Bad enough I have all the memories of fucking you; didn’t want any part of you sharing my meatsuit too. Took a lot of poking around in there. In fact, I made sure that if you exorcise me, she’s going to bleed out.”

Dean bit the inside of his cheek so hard it bled. Sam whispered in his ear, “Go upstairs, and let me handle this.”

The holy water and salt Buffy could handle, but that wouldn’t break Meg. Ruby’s knife tucked into Sam’s belt worried him. “I’m fine.”

“You’re white as a sheet,” said Sam, concerned.

Upstairs, people started to scream.

“You pretty much had to chain me to fight me,” Buffy shouted into the blackness.

This isn’t fighting, Firework. This is subjugation. Humans belong under a boot.

“You forgot something.” Buffy smiled, confident she could end this. “I’m the Slayer.”

The laugh. I don’t care if you’re the Pope. You’re still my puppet until I break you and toss you.

Buffy closed her eyes. It wasn’t just her and this thing trapped in here. Buffy was full of memories and love, of joys and comforts this monster couldn’t imagine. She dug down deep. She filled her mind with bright memories of her sister and mother. Of Dean’s tender kisses. Of her friends fighting by her side. She dug down into the parts of her that were warm and soft, the instinctive, protective parts.

That’s where Buffy found her.

At the first scream, Giles bolted upstairs. Sam took the stairs in twos.

Dean wasn’t sure if it was a trick -- another demon, maybe Caleb -- but he knew that he had to stay. He had to get Meg out of Buffy if they were going to win.

In the demon trap, Meg looked at the ceiling in wide-eyed horror. Buffy’s began to glow as if she’d swallowed a small sun. She fell to the ground, shaking and flailing. Then the room flared white.

Through the spots in his eyes, Dean could see a black cloud swirling above Buffy’s body. He pulled her free from the demon trap and held her in his arms. Small beads of sweat formed on her pale skin. Her eye fluttered for a moment before settling on him. “Dean.” Her voice was weak and fading.

It sounded like goodbye.

Willow’s sleep spell hadn’t worked as long as she’d hoped. She sat on the living room floor with Dawn sobbing into her shoulder.

Xander rubbed Dawn’s back. He’d known her since she was nine -- plucky, needy and already showing signs of teenage resentment. “Dean once told me a friend of theirs was possessed but managed to overpower the demon. Buffy’s gotta be stronger than that guy. You’ll see.”

“It’s my fault,” Dawn repeated. “We’re made for each other, and I pushed her out.”

“Maybe we should take her over to the neighbor’s with the rest of the girls,” Anya suggested.

Dawn sat up and glared at her with her one good eye. “No! I’m staying with my sister. I want to see her!”

The Potentials observed their domestic scene from the dining room, the bandage on Dani’s maimed cheek already red. Heading upstairs, Willow said, “I’m going to get more bandages and painkillers.”

Without warning, Dani was consumed by a blue light. She screamed, but other than lending their voices, everyone flattened themselves against the wall. The blue light floated off of her, toward the living room.

Another blue light appeared, but it quickly faded, leaving a short man with a small pursed mouth and golden eyes.

The first light surrounded Xander and Dawn. It was warm and tingly with occasional jolts of fire running through it. The man tapped the light, and it too became a man, with dark messy hair and piercing blue eyes. He pulled the bandage from Dawn’s eye, revealing a blue eye where there had been an empty socket. Frenzied, Dani yanked the bandage from her healed face.

“Keep doing that and you’re going to blow your vessel, Castiel.”

Castiel turned his head to the side like a dog trying to understand. His eyes darted between Spike and Rachel before choosing the girl. “People are hurt from our war, Gabriel. What else should I do?”

Sam and Giles burst into the room. “You!” Sam shouted, lunging at Gabriel. Gabriel flicked away, reappearing at the other end of the room with lightning arcing from his back.

“Lucy! I’m home!” he said with a grin. “Miss me?”

“Cas, we need your help.”

Gabriel laughed but was unamused. “Surprise, surprise. Heard you screwed things up with my brother. Grab Dean; I’ll take you home.”

“What? No, we have a situation in the basement.”

“I’m sure it’s dire, drama queen, but do you remember the little Apocalypse you left behind? There are still two Horsemen riding around in Satan’s saddle. Get your brother. We have to go.”

“You owe me, you son of a bitch!”

A darkness washed over Gabriel’s face before Castiel clamped his hand on his shoulder. “You promised you’d help. You promised you wouldn’t hurt them. Take me to the basement.”

Sam lead the two men and most of the curious group downstairs, where a black cloud swirled inside the devil’s trap, and Dean, his face wet with tears, cradled Buffy, pale and still in his arms. “Cas?” he said, his voice small and broken.

“Check on the girl. I’ll deal with the demon,” said Gabriel. He plunged his hands into the cloud.

Once more, lightning began to shoot from his back. The Potentials, Anya, and Andrew bolted back upstairs. In a second, the demon was gone.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said. He put his hand on Buffy’s head and furrowed his brow. “There’s nothing I can do.”

“What do you --”

“I mean, I could wake her up, but she probably needs the rest. Did she expel the demon on her own?”

Shocked, Dean could only muster a nod.

“Fascinating.”

Buffy wiggled her head like she was fighting an early morning dream. She gazed at Dean through half-open eyes, leaned her head against his chest, and fell back into a dead sleep.

Dean didn’t know or care why angels were in Sunnydale. He didn’t care about what trick Gabriel was there to play. All that mattered was that the woman he loved, the woman who he thought had just died in his arms, was breathing against his neck. The Scoobies and Potentials pressed themselves against the wall as he carried Buffy upstairs.

He laid her on the bathroom floor and drew a bath. Dean felt gutted, his insides shoved back in every which way, sewn up with dental floss. He worried it wouldn't hold, one wrong move and his guts would spill out on the floor.

Dawn burst into the room, Willow right behind her. “She's okay?”

“Good as new. Just tired. I see your pirate career is in shambles.”

Dawn smiled. He couldn’t remember the last time she had smiled. “Those guys downstairs, they're angels aren't they? Your friend Castiel?”

“Yeah.” While he was thrilled to see Castiel, he knew this wasn't a casual visit. “Willow, you mind?” he asked gesturing at the bath. Buffy needed rest, but he knew she usually liked to clean the blood off first Willow, who seemed unusually pale and skittish, grabbed towels.

He heard a whimper as he started to get up. Buffy was reaching out to him, her voice crackling and raw. “It wasn't true. She lied.”

“I know,” he lied.

Downstairs Sam and Gabriel were already in a tense argument, the rest of house looking on in confusion and fear.

Everyone but Spike. “Come on! Get with the healing! Starting to feel like the only girl at the prom without a corsage.”

Castiel stepped toe-to-toe with Spike, their faces inches apart. “What sort of creature are you?” the angel asked.

“Lately, punching bag.”

“Good to see you, buddy,” said Dean, embracing the angel who believed he was worth saving.

“And how the hell do you think we can kill Death?” Sam shouted.

“I can get you the weapon. I need you to do it,” Gabriel said as Sam towered over him.

“What's going on?” Dean asked.

“This asshole--”

“Have some respect, Sasquatch.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Supreme Asshole wants to take us back home to kill Pestilence and Death, because he's too scared to do it himself.”

“This isn't a matter of fear, boy. Someone is going to have to keep the demons off of you.”

“Pestilence and Death? Why?”

Andrew cleared his throat. “Something about rings and a quest and a cage. It sounds like it should have swords and its own Hans Zimmer score.”

“You have the rings of Famine and War,” Gabriel explained. “Collect all four, you got yourself a door back to the cage.”

“Cage is open. Big freakin’ deal,” said Dean. “Lucifer's not going to walk in there on his own.”

“We are still working on an alternative to Sam's possession,” said Castiel.

“What, you got mine sorted?” said Dean.

The angels exchanged quick glances. “Zachariah found another.”

It was the Winchesters’ turn to look confused. That didn't make any sense. Dean was the result of years of cupid interference, breeding vessel with vessel. He was Michael’s only hope.

“They raised Adam,” Castiel explained. “They promised him that if he said yes, they would bring back his mother.”

“Adam? There's an Adam now?” asked Anya.

“We had a half-brother,” Sam said. “He was killed before we met him.”

“Oh goody. More Winchesters,” she grumbled. “Only good can come of this.”

“Granted, this is not my area of expertise,” Giles began, “but Dean is Michael’s true vessel. Wouldn’t possessing anyone else be playing with a handicap?”

“Ten points to Gryffindor.” Gabriel shrugged. “He couldn't wait on you forever, Dean. Especially when he didn't know where I hid you.”

“You?” asked the brothers in unison.

“Lemme guess, you thought Cas had the juice to get you here? Please. He didn’t even know about this place.”

Someone tapped Dean’s shoulder. It was one of the Potentials, looking not at all eager to meet angels. “Willow sent me. Buffy wants to see you.”

“Come back tomorrow,” he told Gabriel.

“Do you have any idea how difficult it was to even get here?” the angel asked.

“Been a bitch of a day, Feathers. Come back tomorrow.” Dean raced up the stairs to find the bathroom empty. Wrapped in a towel, Buffy sat on her bed, her wet hair dripping on her sister, who looked like she had no intention of ever letting her go.

Buffy smiled at him softly when he entered the room. “Dean, would you take me home?”

next chapter

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winters-sweet-kiss · 7 years ago

Text

Fire Mage

Bucky x Reader

You’re Thor’s little sister who comes to Earth when the 9 Realms is in need. As the Goddess of Balance and Life, you have the power of fire, water, and other things that you aren’t sure of yet, due to your “young” age. While you prepare for what’s to come next, you stay and train during your time on Earth. But maybe you have other reasons to stay...

You felt a rush, a kick, as you ran towards them. Those demons. You grab your silver, glistening spear and jumped; landing on top of the biggest one of them all and shoving the spear deep into it’s head. The slimy creature turns to dust as you make sure his friends joined his fate. The small family that was in the middle of them rushed to give you their thanks and wishes. The little ones hugged you and begged to touch your spear. You laughed at their innocence.

“Though I am touched by your gratitude, I must beg you to flee while you can.” You give one of younglings a pat on their head. “It is not safe here.” The little one giggled.

“It is, thanks to you Y/N.” I shook my head and gazed behind me, incase another demon was hiding, waiting. I looked at the frighten parents.

“No, please it is not safe anymore. Asgard is in danger.” They nodded and grasped their children’s hands as they headed down to the valley. More demons came from the forest, looking hungry. I smirk. “Looking for me?”

...

That was yesterday. Half the town has fled but many were killed or taken by the demons. Most of Asgard was destroyed or taken by them. As were most of the soldiers. I looked at the damage from where I was next to Heimdall and sighed.

“Has Thor set word?” Heimdall chuckled.

“You must be patient, young one. Your brother is busy.”

“And what has him so busy that he cannot come to protect Asgard? His home?” I turned and looked at him with hatred. Then he looked at me with his eyes.

“You will find out soon enough.” As I stood to question him, he slashed Hofund infront of me as a knife as throw towards my chest. I looked from my chest up to see an army of demons running towards us, no skating over the land towards us. I moved my fingers, drawing my spear with my fire as Heimdall grabs my arm and pulls me away. “You need to leave, now. It is not safe for you.”

“No, I must fight for Asgard.” He pushes me towards Bifröst and blocks other knives throw in my direction.

“If you truly want Asgard safe, go and find your brother in Midgard. The demons have blocked off the communications between realms. They will head there if they have not already.”

“But what ab-” He smiled and turned Hofund in it’s place.

“I’ve got it here, princess.” You felt scared. You have never left home and you only left outside once by yourself before the attacks. “Now go!” You felt a sting in your arm before being sucked into the portal.

...

You felt something bright in your face, something trickling down your arm,... and mud?

You opened your eyes and raised your hand to see the cool mud in your hand and moved your arm. You winced and looked to see something dark and red falling onto the ground from your arm. You stood up to find a wooden stick in your other hand. You saw something in your face and poked it. Some clear barrier was on your nose, covering your eyes. Well, you could still see but it was in front of them.

You looked down; your golden, simmering Asgardian outfit had been replaced with a white blouse and a grey jacket and some blue... jeans? You have seen and heard of these things when your brother came home to tell you of Midgard. You loved his gifts he’d bring you and the few stories he’d tell you (as most of these stories were too much for you as said by him and Loki) but you never understood why he came back here so much.

You didn’t know where you were so you decided to walk around and see if you could map out where you were.

Humans walked fast and pushed around you as you looked at the sights. They had buildings that reached the heavens and moving objects that sped around, some with humans exiting and entering it. You looked in awe and wonder as you saw a giant ‘A’ on a building . The building itself stood out from the rest of the other ones so you guessed it would be a start in your quest.

A for Asgard, how clever.

You had started feeling a bit funny, a little tired. Some humans gave you funny looks and moved away from you. Maybe they knew who you were.

As you entered the building, you saw a female human behind a table looking down. You approached her and looked at her. She glanced up at you and smiled.

“May I help you, Miss?” I cleared my throat.

“Yes, I am looking for a god.” You held your hand above you. “This height with golden locks.” You pulled a piece of your hair before you slammed your hand on the counter. A wave of dizziness came over you, but you shook it away. The lady looked at you with concern.

“M-miss. Yo-your arm.” What about my arm? Had it gone on fire again?

“Never mind my arm. I need to find Thor. I need his help, Asgard needs his help.” Just then a small box on next to her arm spoke. What magic!

“Hey can you...uh... send another TV up? The God Of Break-Everything broke everything... You know what? Send another everything up.” Some muffles were heard along with a light-voice I knew saying ‘Apologises friend.’ You lit up and grabbed the box.

“Brother?” But no response came back. How strange.

“And remember the 93rd floor. The top one. Not the 39th floor.” You saw man wearing a baseball cap, trying to hide his face walk out of a room with stairs. Stairs. Stairs can lead up.

“Nevermind. I think I can find him from here.”You ran towards the door before it closed, pushing past the man as he looked at your running form.

You called out Thor as you raced up the stairs until you heard footsteps below you. You glanced to see the same male following you along with other humans wearing black and holding something in their arms. That only caused you to speed up and wear you out more. Something whisked past you and you saw the object in some of the humans pointed at you. Where they attacking you? You waved your hand over them as a wall of fire fell on them. The man moved but the others weren’t so lucky. You climbed over the railing and jumped to the one across it, continuing it as it moved you up faster. But you kept slipping as you went higher.

You jumped over the railing again to catch your breath and opened a door to come face to face to Thor. Your eye lids slowly closing as you reached out to him, his face in shock.

“Y/n?”

“Thor.” And then the darkness clouded over me.

...

You were walking in a purple, shining gown that left your shoulders bare.. Your hair was curled down and your hands were covered in something dark and murky. You heard laughter behind you but you knew better than to turn around. You felt a hand brush your arm before holding it and a warm breath on your neck. Your spine chilled.

“Did you really think you could run away and get help? You must really be scared.” You couldn’t find your voice but you found courage.

“I’m not scared. But you should be.” You turned around and saw the figure who kept you up at night. His colourless eyes stared at you as he held you in place, his hand moving to touch your face as he chuckled. He moved closer as his lips got close to your ear.

“Don’t count on it yet. It isn’t over. I’m not done with you nor will this be the last you see me.I’ll be waiting for you.” He kissed my ear as I try to push him away from me. “And I wouldn’t miss it, love.”

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #marvel #reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky imagine #fire mage

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thelioninmybed · 7 years ago

Note

Imrael and Khazri meeting each other's parents. OR ALTERNATIVELY their parents meeting each other.

I started this, Anon, only to find out I’d ALREADY started it like, three years ago. That was clever of me (and leaves me even less excuse for this taking so damn long, sorry!)

The Lady Keira Arroway, protector of Dawnwood, famed beauty and socialite, tossed her flame red hair, picked her nose and wiped it under the taproom table. “I don’t know what you want me to do about it,” she said.

Although it would have been polite to wash and change his clothes before meeting with nobility, and very pleasant to sleep twelve hours or more, Imrael had gone straight from Ferris’ front gates to the nameless tavern that was Keira’s second home. His own, after the library, and his clinic before he’d set off questing. “Don’t be a dick, Keira. Talk to your father.”

She offered him an elegant shrug. “What do you think he’s going to do about it?”

“Send a weatherworker to clear the roads? I don’t know, it’s not my village. You asked me to report and that’s what I’ve done - at great personal risk no less - and the least he can do is-”

“Alright, alright, don’t shout.”

Imrael hadn’t realised that’s what he’d been doing until she said so. “It’s been a long few months,” he said at a carefully normal volume.

“Another drink?”

“Yes,” Imrael said, with feeling.

“I didn’t think anything would come of it,” Keira said, once she’d flagged down the waitress and procured two flagons of mediocre ale. “I just wanted to show the old man I was taking things seriously. He isn’t going to like this.”

“Probably not. You can tell him we killed a god on his account if that will sweeten the pot.”

“You’re a fucking liar, Rae,” she said, with a grin that crinkled up her nose and made her green eyes sparkle.

“I have not lied to you once in my entire life,” said Imrael solemnly, unaccountably relieved to feel their old, easy camaraderie returning. Two loutish students again, with no greater responsibilities than turning in their next assignments and not drinking away their stipends.

“Interesting phrasing there. Anyway, leave it in my hands. I’ll talk to Papa, sort the peasants, none of that’s important. The real question is, did it work?”

“It is important, people are dy-”

“Imrael. My friend. Don’t take this as me believing you about the god, but I can see you’ve been through something because I don’t know why else you’d be wearing that hat. I’m sure it was all very traumatic but now it’s time to get drunk and never think about any of it ever again. So. Did you, or did you not seduce that adorable goblin you’ve been pining over? All that sharing bed linens, huddling for warmth, tenderly chafing cold hands-”

“He almost died of hypothermia.”

“So you saw his cock? Why’re you being so coy? Are you- oh.” Her eyes narrowed. ”You are in love with him.”

“Keira-”

“And he doesn’t even try to deny it,” she crowed to the room at large. “Smitten! I never thought I’d see the day. Where is he? Are you finally going to introduce us properly?”

“So,” said Khazri. “What did she say?”

“Not much.” Imrael went to blow on his fingers, already numbing, and then reconsidered and intertwined them with Khazri’s gloved hand. There was a moment of awkward limpness and then he squeezed back. “She said she’d do something, just like she says she’ll pay you back when she borrows money. I’ll go annoy her tomorrow. Maybe you could come too?”

“Do you want me to threaten her?”

“No! Gods no. Keira’s heart’s in the right place, she’s just-” Imrael waved his free hand vaguely. “Rich. You should meet her because she’s my friend.” It would take some careful management and probably some more bribery to ensure she never mentioned why he and Khazri had been sent off on that ‘quest’ in the first place, but Imrael was up to it.

“I’m better at threats,” Khazri said, and Imrael could read him well enough to catch the fear that the humour overlaid and gave his hand a comforting squeeze.

“You’re wonderful at threats. Time to practice having a drink with an old friend instead. Say midday? Back here?”

“I’m not going to disappear. Again.”

“Shh. I know. Where do you usually stay when you’re in the city? I never asked.”

Khazri got that shifty look that meant he wasn’t going to answer because he knew Imrael wouldn’t like it. “Are you going back to your rooms?”

“Nah. My parents haven’t seen me in two seasons. Also their house is warmer, the sheets are cleaner and they’re obliged to feed us. Yes, I did say ‘us’ before you willfully misinterpret. You’re going to have a proper meal and sleep in a bed and not a hayloft - was it a hayloft? I knew it.”

Khazri scuffed his boot through the slushy ice in the gutter. “I don’t get on well with parents. Historically.”

“Was that a joke?” If it was, it was only in part and Imrael squeezed Khazri’s hand. “Don’t worry. You’re a significant improvement on the last partner I brought home.”

“How?”

“I’d rather not get into Eshe.”

“Oh.” And that, if nothing else, was a reason to love Khazri; he didn’t ask awkward questions.

“You can borrow some of my clothes, or my sister’s - she won’t mind and she’s closer to your height.” He hesitated. “You don’t have to do any of this.”

“But you want me to.”

“Yes.” Fumbling sex - or not so fumbling, Khazri was a very quick learner - and life-threatening drama was one thing. Friends and parents and quiet conversations, all the trappings of a life together were quite another.

“How do they feel about dogs?”

Penneth and Aruna Sovelin were good parents to a fault. As a teenager Imrael had rather wished they weren’t, and had bought home a succession of increasingly unsuitable partners, culminating in Eshe, whom they really should have taken him to task over. They hadn’t though, any more than they did when he appeared with no warning, a ragged goblin and two timber wolves upon their doorstep.

“Is there anything your friend can’t eat?” his father asked, rolling flatbread at the kitchen table, floured to the elbows.

Imrael glanced to Khazri, more from politeness than anything else. Khazi would eat bark and insects in a pinch, and the idea he’d refuse a meal of any kind was ridiculous. Unless he’d gotten it into his head that people were trying to poison him, which did happen. The conviction, not the poisoning. To the best of Imrael’s knowledge, anyway.

“I can eat,” Khazri said.

“I’m afraid we don’t have any meat for your- dogs.” To his father’s credit, he hardly stumbled.

Khazri tilted his head. Beryl’s ears flicked forwards. Jeff whined. “They don’t mind,” Khazri concluded.

“They found a dead aurochs in a snowdrift yesterday,” Imrael said reassuringly. “It was hardly rotten.”

“Oh good! I’d pet them if I weren’t baking.” Although Imrael had his mother’s height and lanky frame, there was no doubt as to where he got his temperament. ”Your mother’s finishing in the shop. Would you tell her two minutes? And please charm your clothes, dear, you’d think you’d been rolling in dead aurochs.”

“Dead aurochs is a generous assessment,” said his mother, sticking her head around the door. “What happened to you?” She cast the charms to cast off the grime herself, which was a relief; he hadn’t the will to do it himself, or do much more than flop into a chair and start shovelling lentil soup into his mouth. Half the seasoning was enchantment, his father doing what he could to compensate for ingredients too dear or foreign to get hold of here in Ferris, but so had it been throughout his childhood and the way the flavours slid, translucent, off his tongue was comforting in itself.

Like dark hair and sharp noses, curiosity ran in the family. Curiosity that, thankfully, Imrael could keep on himself as he related the story of their adventures. Not the version he’d told Keira, in which all dangers were exaggerated along with his heroism, and with more of a focus on gratefully healed peasants than ancient, murderous evils, but close enough, and that took them most of the way through supper. Khazri was quiet as ever but Imrael thought it came across as modesty and sincere appreciation for his father’s cooking; accepting a third helping was a sure way to his father’s heart, and Khazri ate like he hadn’t had a decent meal in a month (which he hadn’t; another detail Imrael glossed over).

“It’s very brave,” Imrael’s mother said when he’d stopped talking about their adventures long enough for her to say it. “Both of you. I didn’t know there even were male mercenaries.” In the same ‘I’m trying’ voice she’d used when he’d wanted to keep a jarful of snails as a pet or go to university.

“I know I’d be terrified,” Imrael’s father agreed, widening shadowed eyes. People didn’t go to elven apothecaries just for medicines and fetishes, although Imrael’s father’s were very good (and Imrael was both too old to make fetish jokes and not too old to be rapped with a wooden spoon). People came for the experience and that meant feyness and an awful lot of glitter.

“I’m not,” said Khazri. “Not really. Not a mercenary, I mean, not not terrified.”

“We’re very proud of Imrael for what he’s doing,” his mother went on doggedly. She didn’t chatter like his father did, flitting from point to point; once she’d decided she had something to say, she said it. “I hated it at first - some part of me still does - but this isn’t Faerie. We can’t make puppets of our children. Can’t seal them up in mirrors if they defy us.”

“They sent me to my room often enough, though,” Imrael interjected lest they forget their own monstrosity. And also because Khazri likely didn’t want to hear more of the old punishments listed. ‘Fed to spiders’ wasn’t even on the list of joking threats his parents had once made when he wouldn’t go to bed, but better to take no chances.

“We’re glad he’s not alone. We thought that woman of his would take responsibility but she never has,” his mother said and Imrael wanted to cringe because it was such a parent thing to say, so caring and so clueless, and so not a thing to joke about with Khazri later. There were downsides to a boyfriend who never asked questions and had a reptile’s understanding of parental interest.

“Pff, Keira can’t take responsibility for her own life,” he said carelessly. “She can’t even take responsibility for her bar tab.” ‘She’s just a friend’ wasn’t an argument worth having, Imrael had learnt.

“Or the last one,” his father put in.

“Eshe paid her tab, though I’ll concede she didn’t have her life together.”

“Or at all.” His mother sniffed. “Liches”

“She wasn’t dead when I met her,” he said hastily, lest Khazri get the wrong idea.

“We have clever children,” said his father, fond and weary. “But there’s not an ounce of sense between them.

Khazri swallowed. “Is Belain still. At Court?” He didn’t ask questions but he listened, and he’d been watching them all gossip as raptly as he’d ever watched a game trail. Imrael though he knew why but wasn’t about to embarrass him by pointing it out.

Imrael’s mother pursed her lips. “She likes it better. Everything we did to leave it and she rushes straight back. No sense at all, but then it’s easier for girls. Not a place to raise a son.” It was a conversation his parents had had often enough, to him and about him when they thought he and Belain long abed.

“Will you both be staying the night?” said his father, gathering up the plates.

“Yes, we will. Thanks, Papa.”

“Help me clear the table.” All the fuss to get away, all the insistence on being modern, but his father and Imrael were the ones who’d cooked and done the dishes for as long as he could remember. Sometimes his mother helped and but today she stayed at the head of the table and nodded to Khazri, who had risen, to do likewise.

“You’ll look after him?” she said stiffly, as Imrael ducked into the kitchen.

And, almost lost under the clatter of dishes; “Yes.”

”A lich?”

“Shh. I’m asleep.” Imrael’s bedroom was mostly storage now, and stank of drying herbs. Eyes gleamed lambent in the dark of it, and something huge and predatory panted. More worryingly, the bed wasn’t made for two, never mind two and an adult timberwolf, but they’d dealt with worse.

“I wasn’t- I don’t- My aunt’s dead. Only not.”

“That’s not at all comforting. Not even slightly. And it’s really unfair how you’ve cornered the market on weird family shit. I can’t even date a lich without you topping it.”

“I thought she wasn’t dead until after-”

“She wasn’t! Shush or I won’t invite you back.” Imrael rolled over - or attempted to. There wasn’t room and so he settled for wriggling pointedly.

There was a thoughtful pause. A flicker in the gleam of his eyes as Khazri blinked. “Your father’s a good cook,” he concluded.

In lots of ways it wasn’t a very satisfactory conclusion to come to, but in lots of ways it was.

#Anonymous #Raised By Wolves #Imrael Sovelin #Khazri Il'harren #Keira belongs to @pargile from way back when credit where it’s due.

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