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boredfangirl16 · 2 years

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Chain of Lies

Days Past: Idris, 1899

TW: mild bullying

Thomas saw the boy before Christopher, or Matthew, or their newcomer, James, did. He had dark features, unlike most of the other boys at the Academy. With his black hair, smooth brown skin, and chocolate eyes, he stood out like a sore thumb. Yet Thomas couldn’t help, but think that dark features was a beautiful combination.

It wasn’t until after he had looked the boy up and down, multiple times, that he shook his head in confusion. Why was he so fascinated with him? None of his friends had even bothered to look in his direction. That is, until he came over.

“Yes,” Matthew said. “Of course. Jamie, I can see that as a fellow admirer of Oscar Wilde—.”

“Uh,” said the boy, who approached from the left. “You new boys have barely been here five minutes, and all you can find to talk about is some mundane who got sent to prison for indecency?”

Thomas knew he was staring, but no one seemed to notice, or care.

“So you know Oscar Wilde too, Alastair?” Matthew asked.

That’s right, his name was Alastair Carstairs. His family was known to move from place to place quite often. There were also quite a few nasty rumors about his father as well. He also had a younger sister. She had red hair, if he recalled correctly. He had briefly met them both at a party in Paris the previous year.

“I know of many mundane criminals,” Alastair said, his voice like ice. His chin in tilted up, so it seemed like he’s looking down upon every boy there. His posture was rigid and his mouth was turned into a cocky sneer. “I read the mundane newspapers to find hints of demonic activity. I certainly don’t bother reading plays.”

There was a slight shift in his eyes, as he looked back to the two boys standing beside him. Both of them nodded their heads in approval and his shoulders relaxed, just a smidge. It almost seemed like he was looking for their approval.

Matthew laughed in their faces. “Naturally. What use do sad, unimaginative little people have for plays? Or paintings, or dancing, or anything that makes life more interesting. I am so glad to be at this dank little school where they will try to squeeze down my mind until it is almost as narrow as yours.”

He patted Alastair Carstairs on the arm. Thomas almost wished it was him talking to the other boy. He seemed rude, but there was something about him. Something that Thomas couldn’t quite place.

He realized he was staring again and quickly looked around in a brief panic. The sky was an awfully interesting shade of blue that day.

“Run along now,” Matthew suggested. “Do. Jamie and I were talking.”

Thomas really hoped that Alastair didn’t listen to Matthew. He wasn’t quite sure why at the time, but it was like there was an invisible string pulling him to the other boy. A peculiar fascination.

Alastair laughed sharply. “I was only trying to give you young ones a little guidance about the way we do things in the Academy. If you’re too stupid to take heed, that is not my fault. At least you have a tongue in your head, unlike this one.”

He turned and glared at James, who just sat there with his mouth wide open.

“Yes, you, the one with the peculiar eyes,” Alastair snapped. “What are you gawping at?”

Thomas looked over and noticed that James did have weird eyes. They were almost a yellowish shade. It must’ve been a result of his mother’s heritage.

“I—,” said James. “I—.”

“What’s your name?” Alastair asked.

“H-Herondale.”

“By the Angel, his eyes are awful,” said one the boys who stood near Alastair. His shoulders relaxed once more.

“Yellow. Just like a goat’s.”

“I don’t—.”

Alastair eyes darted to the side. “Don’t strain yourself, Goatface Herondale. Don’t try to speak. You and your friends could perhaps cease obsessing about mundanes and try to think about little matters like saving lives and upholding the Law while you’re here, all right?”

His eyes met Thomas for a split second and the small boy wondered if he too would be given a rude nickname by the end of the day. He didn’t say another word and walked away with his friends. They cackled as the word ‘goatface’ was spread through the crowd like wildfire. Thomas frowned when he saw the look on James’s face. It was of utter defeat.

Matthew laughed. He had no sense of self-awareness. “Well. What an—.”

“Thanks so much for dragging me into that,” James snapped and walked far away from the group of kids that had formed.

“What was all of that about?” Christopher asked innocently.

“Some bully thought he could get the best of us,” Matthew said with a shrug.

“But he did,” Thomas pointed out. “James ran away and everyone is calling him goatface.”

Matthew waved a hand dismissively. “He’ll come around.”

Thomas sighed deeply. It was going to be a long school year.

About a week later, Thomas was walking through the halls with his hands full of books. The stack was almost as tall as him. Not that it said much, he was short for his age. The last class of the day had just finished up and he was rushing to find Christopher. If that boy was left to his own devices for more than half an hour, there was bound to be an explosion.

He ran straight into someone and everything in his arms flew.

Thomas looked up and saw one Alastair Carstairs. His eyes were wide with surprise and his normally hard face, softened. It changed back in mere seconds, but Thomas knew he saw it.

“I—,” stammered Alastair. He looked around cautiously and started sorting Thomas’s books into a neat pile. “Don’t you ever repeat a word about this to anyone else.” He blew a strand of hair out of his eyes. “Did you hit your head when you fell?”

“No,” Thomas said stupidly.

His heart beat fast, as their hands brushed against each other when picking up the same book. Their eyes met. Alastair was the first to break eye contact.

Thomas stood up with his newly fixed pile of books. It felt impossibly light.

Alastair brushed off some nonexistent dust and seemed to notice that Thomas hadn’t left nor stopped staring at him.

“What are you staring at?” He snapped.

Thomas forcefully pushed out his words. “Why are you so rude to everyone?”

“Excuse me?” His voice lowered, more defensive than anything else.

“Do you have a reason for your cruelty?” Thomas asked. He didn’t know where this boost of courage was coming from. “James hadn’t spoken a word to you, but you humiliated him in front of everyone, giving him that dumb name. Why?”

Alastair looked a-taken back. His eyes cast downward. “I’m just a cruel person. I enjoy the looks people give me when I cut them down to size.”

Thomas knew he should’ve just taken that answer and left. There was no reason for him to believe there are anything redeemable about Alastair Carstairs, but he couldn’t seem to let himself believe that.

“I don’t believe you.”

“And why should I care?”

Their eyes met once more and Thomas could’ve sworn he saw something besides contempt in his features. It seemed entirely impossible for such a thing to be true, but he was convinced. After spending most of his childhood watching other children play while he was sick inside, he learned a thing or two about their tendencies. Alastair wasn’t like his friends. He looked to them for approval, something they never did. There must’ve been a reason for that.

“Because I wish to be your friend,” Thomas said with all the courage he could muster.

Alastair chuckles. “That’s amusing.”

“I’m not joking. I can be very persistent.”

“I bet you can, but trust me when I tell you this. You don’t want to be anything like me, best to stay as far away as possible.”

Thomas frowned. “I’m not some kid. I’m the same age as you. Treat me like you would Matthew or James.”

“Are you asking me to make fun of you? That’s a first,” Alastair pointed out. His face was judgmental, but not cruel.

“I want to be your equal.”

Alastair stared at him and for a moment he thought he made a terrible mistake. Perhaps there was nothing behind those eyes. Thomas was too kind for his own good.

“You can certainly try,” Alastair said. “You better learn to walk faster, half-pint.”

His words weren’t harsh, it almost sounded like a joke.

Thomas smiled.

“When you said you were persistent, I didn’t think it would be this bad,” Alastair said as he sat on top of the roof. His heels were dug into the tiles and kept him from falling the how many stories down. The stars were out and the sky was dark. Everything was as quiet as can be. “I could push you off this roof and no one would even know who killed you. Ever thought of that?”

Thomas’s eyes went wide, but he continued climbing out of the window. It was too late now. After weeks of following Alastair, he had finally found out where he disappeared to every night. The roof of all places.

A book sat on his lap. “What are you reading?” Thomas asked, still standing.

“Did you simply ignore my threat?” Alastair asked. Thomas shrugged. “It’s called The Prince by Machiavelli. You wouldn’t enjoy it.”

“Why do you say that?” Thomas sat down.

“It encourages people to be cruel and terrible leaders. Doesn’t seem like something you would read.”

“Then why do you read it?”

Alastair looked over at Thomas and his heart stopped. His features were no longer as harsh whenever they were alone. He was still standoffish, but Thomas could feel himself wearing away at the older boy’s defenses. What they had could almost be called friendship. Almost.

“It was suggested to me, by a—a friend,” Alastair said. His voice had a weird twinge at the end.

“I thought you said you didn’t have any friends. That you have no need for them,” Thomas said repeating his words from one of their encounters.

“I suppose I did,” he said. His head was tilted up at the sky. “But he’s different.”

Thomas knew Alastair wasn’t talking about him. He never had even heard of The Prince, but he wished that he was that boy. The look in his eyes was something else.

It was strange. Thomas had friends, but he was so desperate for Alastair’s attention. He had never felt this way about anyone else. Not even Christopher who he considered to be the closest thing he had to a brother. His pulse quickened and his heart beat fast in his chest whenever Alastair was around.

“Who is he?”

There was silence. Thomas thought that he wouldn’t respond.

“You’ve surely met him before, but I can’t tell you his name. He’s older than us, much more mature. He’s above all of these childish studies and social hierarchy,” Alastair said. He seemed to be in a far off place. “He wishes to be consul. I believe he could do it.”

“Then why did he suggest to you a book about terrible ruling techniques?”

“He says that I need to keep my mind open to all sorts of government practices and theories,” he said as if rehearsed. “You can’t just ignore or forget the bad things. They exist too.”

Thomas nodded, but he thought it was strange. There was a pang in his chest seeing the far off look on Alastair’s face. Someone figured the boy out and it wasn’t him.

“What do you want to do when you leave the Academy?” Thomas asked.

“I’m going to go on my travel year early. After that I’m not sure,” he said. His words turned harsh quicker than Thomas thought possible. “As you know my family doesn’t stay in one place for long. Not that you would ever understand the feeling.”

“Whatever does that mean?”

Alastair raised an eyebrow, “You are a Lightwood. You’ll get to go and do whatever you wish. Just the say the word and your loving family will come rushing to your side.”

Thomas didn’t quite know how to respond to that. It felt more personal than he let on.

“And you are a Carstairs. Don’t act like your family isn’t influential.”

Alastair looked over and he seemed murderous. Thomas stood his ground, even as Alastair snarled. Unless the other boy was willing to share whatever his problem was, Thomas had done nothing wrong.

“You have guts,” Alastair said. “I’ll give you that.”

Thomas smiled to himself.

“But things aren’t as simple as that. Not that I care to share why.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. Every step he made was combatted by some witty remark used to cover up Alastair’s insecurities.

“You could just be kind for once, you know. There’s no one here to impress,” Thomas pointed out.

Alastair looked at him and laughed. “I would expect nothing less from you pip-speak. I’ve already told you there’s nothing redeeming about me.”

“And I still don’t believe it.”

Alastair smiled. An actual genuine smile. One that reached his eyes and showed off his dimples.

“You never will.”

Then it fell from his face and Thomas desperately wanted to say or do something to keep it there. It was too late and the mask fell back over Alastair’s face. Yet when Thomas looked at him and those caramel eyes of his, he noticed something. The happiness disappeared and left behind it’s opposite. Sadness is what has been hiding behind Alastair’s facade. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it before.

He didn’t even realize that Alastair had gotten up or that there was an arm reaching out to him.

“Do you want help up or not?” Alastair demanded.

Thomas took his hand. It was warm and calloused. His grip firm as he helped Thomas up to his feet. Red crept across his cheeks.

“Thank you,” Thomas said in a soft voice.

“Only for you, you hear me? No one else is to go around following me and insist I be kind. Alright?”

Thomas’s heart leapt out of his chest.

“Of course.”

@artist-in-soul

@laylax13s

@ashisamess

@thedamnephilimfangirl

@youwerealwaysmysecret

@melanielocke

#alastair carstairs #thomas lightwood #thomas x alastair #thomastair #chain of lies #fanfiction #rewrite #tlh #the last hours

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ct-multifandom · 3 years

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So... trailer. I have tons of thoughts but rn I will only be talking about the ones that I don’t expect other people to talk about.

First: in the scene with Catwalker blasting off, we see a little kid wearing a black cat costume reuniting with a black cat. Could this be the villain behind Kuro Neko? It reminded me a lot of the frog kid from that other spoiler.

Could they be related in some way? Are they in an under-10 biker gang? Are they the lost boys from Peter Pan? I just find it odd that there are two new, small furry children getting involved in some allegedly serious episodes.

Next: NEW HEROES! Yay! My favorite thing!

I must say, whatever hairstyle or lack thereof I was expecting Minotaurox to have, I wasn’t expecting him to just be straight up Ivan. Usually the more minor characters have different looks that are good disguises while the more major character look similar to their normal selves, but Ivan is Ivan. Love to seem him doe. Ivan stans, our time is near.

Also. That’s Marc. Like three days ago I reblogged this post @theultracharmingladynoire started about the Gloob Alerta Miraculous from whenever ago that had him in it, and I recommend you guys read it, but

https://ct-multifandom.tumblr.com/post/671592073641721856/that-being-said

TL;DR although this is literally undeniably Marc, Nathaniel also uses the rooster miraculous at some point and someone (Marc) uses the goat miraculous.

Casual reminder that it’s confirmed that all four remaining superheroes will show up in the last four episodes of season four. Now to continue,

(Click on that silhouette image I’m too lazy to crop it) Rooster!Marc looks completely different from who I can only assume to be Rooster!Nath. The former has a skintight red/brown chest, a green coat tail like Rena, black skintight pants, and gold boots. The rooster from leaked concept art has a white chest, orange pants, and white boots. This concept art lines up with the rooster in the intro who has a fluffy chest and pants, which resembles the blurry shapes in the concept drawing.

The way this connects to my theory is that it confirms that the two roosters are two different superheroes, not one pretending to be the other. But why? Why did the miraculous change holders? Maybe Nathaniel broke some rules and got benched, or maybe Shadowmoth got to him first for whatever reason? Does he know/learn something he’s not supposed to? Idk. But I’d love to hear any ideas as to why this happens. I also wonder if it’s before or after when Marc uses the goat miraculous.

The last thing I’ll say is I actually kinda liked Pegasus/a horse user throwing the starman looking guy into the sun. We already knew they can do that, so it’d be weird if they didn’t. Coming up with stupidly convoluted solutions to problems that could be solved by exercising their OP powers gets a little bs-like after a while. I’m hoping to see future Pegasus eventually if not soon, but seeing a horse portal implies that there are other heroes besides the team we saw in the stuff pushed by Gloob. Since it’s the finale, you’d expect everyone to be there, so maybe they have different teams dealing with different threats at the same time, or there are just many different things happening at different times.

Edit: *squints*

1. When will there be time for Ivan and Sabrina? I mean I wouldn’t be surprised if Sabrina only gets her miraculous in the finale, but Ivan already has one by Strike Back. I hope we’ll get some kind of character development for those four ‘cause wtf. I mean, there could still be someone in Kuro Neko... but. Hrm.

2. Idk if this is confirmation that Rooster!Marc is the one named Coq Courage or if Winny is trying to be vague, but like, there’s no way they went through a late redesign or something. Will Penalteam have an Aspic situation where Ladybug figures she gave them miraculous that don’t fit them at first and then swaps them? The intro implies that when they do their transformations, it’s the opposite combination from what we see here.

The plot thickens. Help me out here

#miraculous ladybug #ml #ml spoilers #ml season 4 #miraculous spoilers #miraculous season 4 #ml theory #miraculous theory #mlb #mlb spoilers #miraculous ladybug tales of ladybug and chat noir #miraculous ladybug spoilers #miraculous ladybug season 4 #minotaurox #coq courage #kuro neko #risk #strike back

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dodo-begone · 3 years

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I Guess You Got Your Way

Pairing: C!Schlatt x Reader

Word Count: 1027

Warning: Mentions of alcohol, mention of fighting, mention of injuries

I’ve heard some talk about Schlatt and his goat-like tendencies and I’d like to introduce, not just the farm goats, but the mountain rams. Since, ya’know, they headbutt each other for dominance and mates. He has the same horns as a mountain ram, so why not?

You’ve been a member of Schlatt’s presidential party since the beginning. Doing some of the dirty work. He’s flirted and wooed many people since you’ve known him. Many people.

And he’s been trying to woo you for a while now, which hasn’t gone well so far. With some attempts showing more success than others.

They go well you just,,,, don’t perceive them to be anything but platonic. This is the big and tough Schlatt we’re talking about. And he loves women (and men), but there’d be no way he’d go for them. He’s just flattering you! And you’ve known him for quite a while now. There’s no way he’d think of you in any romantic way. I mean he’s literally flirted with so many people!

This irks Schlatt very much. He’s one of those men who’s “I get what I want when I want it” type of guys along with “I want your attention. Give it now >:(“. And you don’t fall into his hands like he wants you to?? Why are you not showing any romantic attraction to him? He’s the best; he beat Wilbur for the presidency of (L’) Manberg. He has all the power in the world! And yet you just aren’t paying attention to him.

The pining goes on for fucking ages. Like it was obvious to members of his party, but not many others outside of it. This man is pretty bad at showing affection for anything he likes.

On one of Wilbur and Tommy’s visits to Manberg, they ask for a visa into the country. Which starts with them pestering Quackity for it. Poor Quackity is kinda floundering after a while because he doesn’t have the power for that stuff. Schlatt can, but Schlatt is also the one who exiled Wilbur and Tommy.

Luckily for Quackity, you were on a walk to survey the nation for any possible issues (both visible and stuff for the citizens) to bring up to Schlatt. And Quackity quickly calls you over to help him.

Little ole you goes over to see what ruckus the boys were stirring up. Mostly because you didn’t want this little exchange to become a fight. Spoiler: you fail.

Everything gets calmed down after a while of negotiating. With the compromise being that you and Quackity would try and set up a meeting for Wilbur and Tommy to have a formal meeting with Schlatt for a visa into Manberg.

Though the meeting happens muuuch earlier than anyone would’ve thought.

Schlatt had gone out looking for you and Quackity. He needed something done that instant and you two weren’t there to do it. And he didn’t want to do the work. The obvious answer is to go around and look for them.

And boy was he happy to see you two. Especially in the same place! Really saved him some walking. Though he’s less-than enthusiastic to see Wilbur and Tommy. Like pissed angry.

Anger combined with alcohol isn’t good. At all.

Schlatt does the first, and “most reasonable”, thing that comes to mind; Headbutt the ever loving shit out of Wilbur. Just body-slamming poor Wilbur to the ground with little warning.

He’s trash talking the entire time too, yelling insults to Wilbur and Tommy. It’s honestly just Wilbur, let’s be honest.

To make it worse, Schlatt is drunk. We all know he’s either on drugs, drunk, or both at any given time. So the “trash-talk” really just sounds like a word salad. All that can really be discerned from the mess are a few curse words.

The fight doesn’t last long. Tommy and Quackity do their best to get the two grown men off of each other. Tommy was doing his best to get Wilbur under control, while Quackity did the same with Schlatt. Results varied on each side, with Quackity dragging Schlatt away before any more damage could be done.

It’s not long before the three of you are out of the sight of Wilbur and Tommy. Schlatt continued to yell and fight with Quackity, which Quackity did his best to drag Schlatt back to the white house.

After a while of Quackity dragging Schlatt, Schlatt got fed up with the treatment. Trying to swatt Quackity away while insisting he was fine with the stench of alcohol on his breath wasn’t very convincing. Especially since, when he was allowed to walk on his own, he was stumbling everywhere. Almost falling.

That’s when you tried to support Schatt back to the white house. Surprisingly, the attempt went well. All three of you got to the white house safely.

Once back at the white house, you and Quackity agree that he should go check on Wilbur and Tommy for a couple of reasons. One being that he knew them better and another because he knew where Pogtopia was. And schlatt was still acting well under your care.

Trying to care for a drunk Schlatt was like trying to take care of a child. He was whiny and insisted that he was fine and could do anything he wanted. And since he was a little banged up form beating up poor Wilbur, you decided that you’d try and bandage up any cuts.

Whining throughout the entire process, Schlatt acted like his small injuries were the biggest hindrance and hurt oh so much. One could only deal with treatment like that for so long before they cracked. You cracked rather easily because after the day you had, it felt like something that was excusable at that point.

Teasingly you ask if he needs his “boo-boos” to be kissed to make them all better. Surprisingly, in Schlatt fashion, he replies saying “well obviously” with the biggest impatient pout you’ve seen on a grown man.

Rolling your eyes, you lean down to give his “horrendous injuries” a little kiss. Though the plan is kinda thwarted when you get pulled down into a hug. Trying to escape proved difficult and Schlatt wasn’t having it. With such an eventful day under the influence of alcohol, one can only stay awake for so long. Your escape is stopped only by Schlatt’s snores. Out of respect for the sleeping man, you still.

#c: schlatt #tw: alcohol #dodo writing #mcyt x reader #x reader #schlatt x reader #dream smp x reader #tw: fighting #jschlatt x reader

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graniairish · 3 years

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Walking on Eggshells – Part 2

Hello my dears. I just couldn't resist and had to write a second part. (maybe there will also be a part 3)

Pairing: Daryl x female! Reader

Words: 5159

Warnings: language, sexual content, NSFW, 18+ (my first attempt to write smut in English - hope it didn't get too bad)

Part one

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"Um ... what ..."

You stood in the door of your room, confused. Hershel had finally released you into "home care" after almost a week of continuous surveillance in the infirmary. In your opinion, the older man was exaggerating a little. You were fine, you had no dizziness, and the headache was gone. But that did not stop Hershel from telling you to take it easy anyway.

Your beloved work in the vegetable fields had to wait for the time being.

Somewhat reluctantly, you had agreed to everything, only to finally be able to go back to your own four walls. You wanted to sleep in your own bed again, even if it was just a simple Prison bed in the former director's office. But still, it was your home.

But you did not expect what you found there now.

As if rooted to the ground, you stood in the middle of the room and looked around with big eyes in disbelief.

Your room, your little private realm, should actually be here. But the room in front of you was no longer your room. Your things were still there, but they were not the only ones that filled the shelves on the walls.

The most noticeable change, however, was your bed. It was still in the far corner of the room, but it looked absolutely strange. Because right next to it there was now a second, and the way the sheet was stretched over it made it look like a double bed.

"I thought Hershel wouldn't release ya until tonight," you heard Daryl's deep voice behind you.

Still slightly confused, you turned to the archer. He stood uncertain in the doorway, Crossbow slung over his shoulder, hands clasped on the strap. His blue eyes were fixed on you as he chewed the inside of his cheek - his nervous tic.

And how this man was nervous right now, and it was not just his ears that betrayed him - which had just turned deep red.

Daryl did not expect to find you here now. He actually wanted to talk to you about it first and not just put you in front of a fait accompli. Though, somehow, he would have done it one way or another.

He was afraid he had done something wrong, crossed a line, or something like that.

"I couldn't take it there any longer."

Only now did you notice that his hair was wet and still dripping. Could it be that he had showered?

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod.

“I know we didn't talk about it,” he began uncertainly, “but Hershel said it would be better if someone took care of ya. And since there is no chance that ya will move back into the cell block, I thought that would be a good solution."

“That's right,” you had to smile, “I'm not going back there so quickly anymore. I like my privacy."

"Well, if it bothers you ... that I ... then ..."

"No no, I don't mind" you might answer a little too quickly, "I ... I was just ... surprised."

The man across from you felt instantly relieved. You, the woman he loved, wanted to live with him. He could hardly believe his luck.

Daryl took off his Crossbow and leaned it against the wall by the door before walking slowly towards you, his eyes full of love.

“Y/N/N we wasted so much time. I don't want to waste another minute. We don't know how much time we have left."

Daryl lovingly cupped your chin with two fingers while he gently touched your lips with his.

You could not help but melt into his touch. That you could do this now was still a miracle to you, and you would enjoy every single second of it to the full.

"But I sleep on the right side," you finally said with mischief in your eyes when your lips had separated.

"Forget it", Daryl snorted and went to the bed, "I'm sleepin’ between the door and ya."

You rolled your eyes with a smile. Always the protector.

"Don't think I didn't see that."

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

A few weeks had passed since the incident during your run. You are now working side by side with Rick in the vegetable fields again. The plants were blooming and developing fantastically - and they would be very good yielding.

After a long shower to wash dirt and sweat from your body, you made your way to the inner courtyard of the prison, which was used as a canteen during the warmer months of the year. Dinner had just started, and so all residents, regardless of whether they were old or new, huddled together to have their meal together.

When Daryl returned from his shift at the Guard Tower, he spotted you chatting with Carol who was just distributing the food. He liked how carefree you looked at that moment.

Without thinking about it, he walked over to you and greeted you with a kiss on the cheek before you had the chance to notice him.

"Yuck, don't do that," you giggled, "you're all sweaty."

"And hungry," he said with a grin.

Carol shook her head with a smile before filling two bowls and holding them out to you.

"Here take these, you lovebirds."

Taking the bowls Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod and went with you to the table where Glenn and Maggie were already sitting.

You had not noticed how your loving and familiar way of dealing with each other had been uncomfortable for some - or at least for one.

Michelle was sitting at a table with several other Woodbury residents and had been watching you with narrowed eyes. Green with envy, she got up at some point and went back to the cell block where she lived.

But Carol had noticed, and she would move heaven and earth to keep this woman from disrupting your relationship.

Little by little, Rick and the other members of your sworn family joined you to enjoy the meal together and to end the day.

"We should slowly start bringing our supplies up to date," Rick skillfully changed the subject.

That was his less than subtle way of reducing the conversation to necessities.

"Or in other words, time for a run," Daryl said in a nutshell.

“Tightly sealable preserving jars would be important. It will soon be harvest time and we have to preserve the fruit and vegetables. Thank God we have a lot more than we need right now."

That was the first thing that came to your mind. After all, it was important to have vitamins in winter too. Even if cooked fruit and vegetables were nowhere near as tasty as fresh ones. But in those times, you were grateful for everything. And in winter, fruit and vegetables were actually a luxury.

“We should also think about how to heat the buildings. The winter could last longer than we'd like”, Daryl expressed his concerns.

"If we had animals, pigs or goats, maybe even sheep, we would be better supplied with meat."

Hershel had always been a farmer, and you could only agree with the man with a smile.

"Or chickens," said Maggie with a dreamy look, "once again a real roast chicken, that would be something nice."

"Or turkey," you added.

"I just think you can't find something like that on the next street corner," said Glenn, who now leaned over the map that Rick had spread out in the middle of the table.

"Well, the weekly cattle market will probably be canceled."

Daryl's cynical response made you roll your eyes.

"If ya keep doin’ this, these things will eventually get stuck," he said in your direction with a raised index finger.

"That's what my grandmother always meant," you said with a shrug, "and nothing has happened so far."

“You both sound like an old married couple. Really disgusting”, Carl shook himself.

You and Daryl looked at each other questioningly for a moment before you slapped the boy lightly on the back of the head at the same time - he on the right and you on the left.

For about five seconds there was absolute silence at the table, until everyone started laughing uproariously as if on command - except for Carl, who was rubbing his head tightly.

“What that would prove,” Rick grinned as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, “but seriously now. Does anyone have any ideas?"

“I know there was a farm supply center in the south. From seeds to packaging material to combine harvesters, everything was there. The only question is whether that still stands."

Hershel leaned over the map and pointed to an area southeast of the Prison.

“That's a good hundred miles, and only if you drive on the main roads. It will be a run for several days on back roads."

Your stomach cramped painfully at Glenn's words. You knew that Daryl would go on the run. Unfortunately, since the incident, it had become very clear to you that there was no assurance that someone would come back from a run. And the thought that something might happen to Daryl made you uneasy.

“While we're there, we might as well stop by this huge warehouse complex 30 miles to the east. I think there are still some useful things there. "

Glenn glanced at the place on the map Maggie was pointing with her finger.

"Wasn't that an Amazon warehouse?"

"Yea, why are you asking?"

"Well, I think that this time it won’t work with overnight express."

At Glenn's stupid saying you had to smile, like everyone else. Though yours was more of a bitter smile. This run would certainly not be overnight.

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

"Everythin’ okay? Ya are never that quiet."

It was getting late. The moon was shining through the windows of your shared room and you could hear the crickets outside. You were snuggled close to Daryl, your head on his shoulder, your legs intertwined. You stared in silence into the darkness of your room, which was only faintly illuminated by the moonlight.

Daryl gently stroked your back. Usually there was something incredibly calming about it, and it never took you long to fall asleep relaxed - but not today. The worries about what could go wrong with the run did not let you calm down that night.

In a few hours he would be gone with Maggie and Glenn, as well as a few others. The fear of losing him paralyzes your thoughts.

"Ya don’t sleep. I know that. I can hear ya thinkin’."

You did not answer, just took a deep breath - in and out again. What should you say?

> I'm afraid something will happen to you <

> I'm scared of losing you <

> Please don't go <

There was nothing to be said, just that nagging feeling was there. This fear that the man by your side could suddenly be snatched away from you.

Daryl put his arm around you and hugged you tight as he kissed the top of your head and let his lips linger there for a moment.

"We're a well-coordinated team," he finally began as he leaned his head against yours, "and it's not the first time we've done such a big tour."

It almost seemed as if Daryl had read your mind, yet all his confidence could not take away your worries.

"I promise I'll come back to ya."

"You can't promise that Daryl."

The archer released his hug and shifted his weight so that you were eventually half under him. Leaning on his left arm, he looked down at you, the contours of your face only faintly visible in the light of the darkness.

"I promise I will come back to ya Y/N. We both have our whole lives ahead of us, and I don't intend to miss a second of it."

"Nobody knows ..."

But you did not get any further, Daryl's lips were instantly on yours. At first the kiss was deep and full of longing, but after a while it became more and more hungry. Your fingers ran through his hair and played with them on the back of his neck while your tongues fought for dominance.

As Daryl's hands slowly moved down your ribs, your lips parted for a much-needed breath.

Right at the beginning of your relationship, you discussed that sex would not be an issue for you for the time being. After what had happened to Lori, Daryl simply could not and did not want to take the risk of pregnancy. Condoms were not to be found for a long time. And neither of you wanted to play Russian roulette - like Maggie and Glenn.

But there were other ways of showing how much you loved each other, how much you wanted each other - other ways of having fun together.

Daryl's right hand went down to your ass, which he gripped tightly as he pulled you close.

You moaned softly as you could feel him rubbing his growing erection on your most sensitive spot. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you pulled him closer to you. An approving growl left his mouth as he left hot kisses on your neck, making sure to suck the spot that caused your thighs to tighten around him.

You ran your trembling fingers through his hair, trying to hold onto the feeling of his lips against your skin.

The hand on your ass eventually moved down the back of your thigh - as he pulled it closer - which changed the angle of your pelvis significantly. The lustful moan that came out of your lips as you rubbed against him only made him harder against the layers of clothing.

God how good it felt for him when you took your pleasure into your own hands. But you did not get far, because Daryl's kisses slowly wandered further down. A pleasant shiver ran through you.

You knew exactly what he was up to and the anticipation made you almost impatient.

But he took his time, first freed you from your shirt and then devoted himself to your nipples with relish - first the right, then the left - until they were both hard and upright.

The longing feeling in your most private place became more and more unbearable and in an attempt to get some friction, you tried to rub yourself against his thigh.

Daryl only chuckled.

"Impatient, are we?"

Daryl's kissed down your stomach before leaning back. He was now kneeling between your legs. For a moment he soaked up the picture in front of him, burned it into his memory. How you laid in front of him, lower lip between your teeth, breathing heavily, your legs spread, the unmistakable traces of your arousal on your underwear.

A moan came from your lips as he finally ran his hands up the inside of your thighs. Without touching the place where you needed him most, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and freed you from this annoying piece of fabric with one flowing movement.

The sight the archer now saw made his cock twitch painfully.

It was almost like torture how slowly he ran his thumb through your folds and collected what already glistened there.

With faltering breath, you watched him as he slowly brought his hand to his mouth and licked his thumb clean with an animalistic growl.

You came almost instantly at the sight.

When he finally sank his middle finger into you, you threw your head back and closed your eyes in delight. He pumped his finger into you a few times before adding a second. He twisted and curled them in just the right way so that with each thrust he perfectly hit the spot inside you that made you squirm under him.

Your moaning grew louder as he closed his lips around your sensitive bundle of nerves and began to suck rhythmically. Your orgasm rolled closer and closer, and the knot in your stomach tightened until it was about to snap.

"Daryl - fuck - I ..."

"then let go - for me."

And that was exactly what you did. You came with his name on your lips, repeated like a prayer, and with each new wave Daryl took whatever you were willing to give him. You tasted like nothing else to him, and he could never get enough of you.

He slowly kissed his way back up to your neck while his fingers were still moving slowly inside you.

Your hands went into his hair and hungrily drawn his lips to yours. Just a moment later your tongues fought for dominance; you could taste yourself on his. Now your hands slowly made their way down to his crotch. He wanted to hold back. But he could not help himself, and grinded into your palm to find the relief he needed so damn bad.

Daryl's hips spasmed, thrusting forward a few times before he was groaning and shaking his head.

"No. Tonight is just about ya."

"But ..."

Before you could go on, his lips were back on yours in a demanding kiss.

" I wanna make ya feel so good today, that ya'll be happy to have a few days off."

And with that statement, his fingers left your hot core, only to re-enter with one more.

Your eyes rolled back when you felt him stretch you.

"Fuck," you hissed as you tried desperately to find hold while Daryl's fingers kept trusting into you.

As he felt the sweet pain of your nails scratching his back, his cock twitched painfully in his shorts.

The thought that you marked him, that you would let him run around with declarations of your love on his body for the next few days, almost drove him mad. He started rubbing his crotch against your thigh for some relief as he fluidly moved in and out of you, getting you closer and closer to your next release.

The knot inside you got tighter and tighter, and you tried desperately to keep it from snaping again. Your legs started to shake involuntarily, and you knew you would not be able to resist much longer. Your breath came in shorter intervals and your moans got higher and higher. It would not last long till you would be swept away by pure bliss.

When the wave finally hit you, it was an overwhelming feeling. Your inner walls clenching and unclenching around his fingers again and again as your orgasm swept you away like a tsunami.

It took you a few moments to come back from your high while Daryl's gentle movements of his fingers let your orgasm slowly fade out.

"Okay", you began with a trembling voice as he slowly left your inner core, "that was something else."

Daryl’s head rested on the crook of your neck as you slowly recovered your breath, but you could still feel him chuckled lightly.

Slowly you stroked his hair and patted his neck. When he shifted his position slightly so that he did not crush you any further, you noticed that his shorts were suspiciously stuck to you.

Apparently, he had enjoyed this whole interaction too.

"I love you," you whispered before leaving a kiss on his sweaty forehead.

"Love ya more."

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

You patiently worked your way through the corn plants with the rake. The work was strenuous because the plants were close together - after all, you needed the greatest possible yield in a small area - and the relentless Georgian sun burned down on you.

Your hair stuck to you and the sweat kept dripping from the brim of your straw hat. Your arms ached, and despite the leather gloves you wore, you had blisters on your hands where they were tightly gripping the wooden handle of your gardening tool.

But despite everything, you kept working. You had to work through the soil so that the weeds had less chance to dispute the valuable nutrients from the crops.

This large field that you had laid out in the style of the "three sisters" was your whole pride. Corn, beans and pumpkins, the holy trinity of this bed, were perfectly coordinated. The Native Americans had already cultivated these three plants in this way.

And what worked for them could work for you too.

You have been toiling for hours. Your clothes were soaked in sweat and your back ached. Nevertheless, you continue to work, moving slowly but steadily through the beds.

"Here," you heard Rick say behind you at some point.

With great effort you straightened up and massaged your back. You felt every single vertebra as it slowly popped back into its original position. An exhausted moan could be heard as you finally turned to the man behind you.

Rick just stood there, bottle of water in hand, his eyes fixed on the fields.

You gratefully took the bottle from him and took a few sips of the refreshing liquid. Especially with such sweaty work in the blazing sun, it was incredibly important to drink enough if you did not want to suffer sunstroke.

And unfortunately, you were predestined to forget it sometimes. But Rick paid attention. You were family, and family looked after each other.

“Looks really good. If the plants continue to grow like this, we will be able to bring in quite a good yield. You are really a talented little farmer."

You looked at him in surprise with raised eyebrows.

"I'm not sure right now whether I should thank you or whether you insulted me."

“Believe me Y/N”, Rick laughed and put his hand on your shoulder, “that was meant as a compliment. An honest compliment. If we didn't have you, we almost certainly wouldn't even be able to harvest half as much. You really have a knack for it."

“Well, everyone does what they can. And I can do that."

You lowered your gaze. You felt uncomfortable when someone complimented you, so you tried to belittle it.

"No", Rick smiled at you friendly, "some do more than others."

After a long day of work and a long - but cold - shower, you sat down with Carol for dinner. You missed your family members. You missed Daryl.

The presence of the older woman had been a comfort to you in the last few days. This run had been going on for five days now, and it was impossible to tell when they would be back.

The feeling you felt in the pit of your stomach was almost the same as when Daryl had disappeared into the forest with Merle. Back then you thought you would never see him again.

But it was different now. Now you had hope that you would see him again.

Maybe.

“It's only been five days Y/N/N. It's too early to worry,” Carol tried to cheer you up.

"I'm not worried," you said stubbornly while you continued to stare at your now cold food.

"Yes of course. That's exactly why you've been poking around in your meal for ten minutes. You haven't even taken a bite."

You looked tiredly at the woman across from you.

“Eat, you worked hard. And tomorrow you will work as hard again as I know you. You need the calories. And believe me, you'd rather eat it voluntarily than have me cram it into you."

Carol had used her best mother voice. Even if Carol was not many years older than you, this woman had somehow become a mother's substitute for you.

After a few moments you finally began to empty your bowl slowly.

Getting around the days was easy. There was always enough work in the gardens and in the fields, you were busy and did not have much time to think.

In the nights it was different. They were bad.

The bed was way too big for you alone, and you lacked the warmth of Daryl's body.

Even on the hot nights of Georgia, you always fell asleep snuggled together. Ever since you had spent your first night like this, you knew that you could never do it again without it.

Now you were alone. Yet again. Daryl was still on this fucking run, and the solitude in those four walls that you had always enjoyed before, now seemed overwhelming to you.

What is he doing right now? Was he okay? Was he thinking of you, too?

With these wistful thoughts, you finally drifted into a dreamless sleep.

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

"If they are not back by tomorrow, we will send a search party out," announced Rick over breakfast.

You made no reply as you continued to choke down your small portion of porridge, bite by bite. You were not really hungry, but Carol's stern look had kept you from skipping breakfast.

“I'm sure they are fine. They will definitely be back here soon, "said Hershel soothingly," they are all experienced with such actions. They are sure to be fine."

Yes, they were all experienced, knew how to behave and how to protect themselves, but that nagging feeling persisted in you.

You had spent the whole morning working in the fields again, laboriously dragging buckets of water to provide the crops with enough moisture. If it did not rain soon, this would probably be your main occupation for the next few days and weeks.

You had two canisters tied to the outer end of a thick wooden stick. So, you could carry the heavy burden on your shoulders and not in your aching hands.

As you were trudging up the hill again with a full load of water, Rick was leaning against the base of the central guard tower, smiling, and staring into the distance.

"Looks as if we could save ourselves the search."

These words made your body tingly and you immediately turned to face the gates. You could not prevent an unspeakably bright smile from spreading on your face.

"Oh my god," you whispered when you saw the column of cars approaching the prison.

An unmistakable chopper at the head of the convoy.

An army of butterflies exploded in your stomach when you saw Daryl. He was back. He really came back to you.

When he finally brought his bike to a stop and casually dismounted it, you couldn't hold back any longer. Without further hesitation, you dropped the water canisters, which hit the floor with a thud, and immediately spread their moist contents over the floor.

You ran quickly towards Daryl. But even before you had covered half the distance, he was already coming towards you - a radiant smile on his lips.

When you finally met, you immediately put your arms around each other in a tight hug. Your head rested on his chest while he laid his head lovingly on top of yours.

Cuddled so tightly you could hear how fast his heart was beating, and an indescribable feeling of happiness flooded your body. Daryl was back - back by your side.

"Did you miss me," he finally began, and you could hear him grinning right away.

“No,” you answered, “not at all. Not one bit."

“Felt the same way."

With these words, his strong arms tightened around you even more, as if he were trying to melt into you.

So absorbed in your reunion, it took some time until you noticed that Rick and Carol were already discussing the successful run with the rest of the group.

"We got almost everything," you heard Glenn say when you had finally separated from each other and now went to the cars where everyone else was standing - your little fingers still hooked together.

"We found hundreds of canning jars and even seeds," added Sasha.

"Wheat, oat and a lot more." Maggie pointed to the back of the overcrowded pickup truck.

"And we also solved the problem with the heating," said Daryl mysteriously.

This run was really a complete success. But the biggest surprise was yet to come.

> C O C K A D O O D L E D O O <

Suddenly the gushing and loud greeting was silent. Inquiring eyes met knowing faces.

You and Rick looked at each other as to ask if you really had heard this now.

> C O C K A D O O D L E D O O <

"What the hell is that", Rick wanted to know.

"What did it sound like?"

Daryl grinned mischievously and leaned casually against his bike; arms crossed over his chest. His chin raised challengingly.

"No," was all you could say at that moment.

"Yea," Daryl nodded, still grinning.

"No way!"

"Yea, a rooster and six chickens."

"How? Where? How?"

You were completely surprised and had to grin broadly. That was one of the best that could have happened to your community.

"Believe it or not, they were just walking around on a street corner," Glenn explained, looking incredulous about his statement himself.

"So the cattle market wasn't closed after all," you replied sarcastically.

Immediately Daryl had to roll his eyes.

"Just don't start with that," you chuckled and gave him a playful clap on the upper arm.

“You really missed something Y/N,” said Maggie with a grin, “believe me it was really impressive to see how Daryl caught the poultry. Didn't know that he was doing so well as a farmer."

"Yea, ha-ha, very funny!"

Daryl's ears had turned deep red, but then he had to laugh himself at the thought of this chicken-catching operation.

"I really would have liked to see that," you said with a laugh.

"Well, maybe there will be a repetition," said Glenn, "we have to get the critters out of the car somehow without them getting lost again."

"Ya can forget that right away," Daryl announced in a stern voice.

"Don't worry, I'll help you", you smiled at your boyfriend.

After a few minutes of reunion, you started to get the supplies out of the cars and to distribute them in the storage rooms.

Building a chicken coop was definitely on your to-do list for tomorrow. And it has been a long time since you had been looking forward to a job as much as this.

"And I found something for you too," Maggie whispered to you when she put her arm around your shoulders in a friendly manner.

You two had just cleared away a load of canning jars and were about to trot back to the cars.

"And that would be?"

Surprised you stopped and looked at her questioningly. You did not ask her to get you anything.

“I won't tell you yet,” she smiled, “but you will definitely enjoy it - as well as Daryl."

With these words, your best friend left you in the yard as she made her way back to the cars with a mischievous grin.

Part one Part tree

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl imagines #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl dixon fluff #daryl x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon twd #daryl x y/n

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georgiapeach30513 · 2 years

Note

I miss Beau and Bunny lol

I miss them too! I love these two, and how painfully slow they're going at things! So one thing that is going to really help Beau put the past in the past...is combining his current interest, with the girl he thought he was in love with.

🖤🖤🖤🖤

He’s No Beau Adler

Summary: Beau and Arleigh are being friends, Carter gets Story and Otto out of the house

Pairings: Beau X Bunny, Carter X Story

Rating: mild

Warnings: depictions of a panic attack, depictions of postpartum anxiety, angry!Beau, protective!Carter, language, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1.8K

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Beau Adler Masterlist

"Beau! Duckies,” Arleigh squats down watching the webbed animals waddle around. Looking back up at him just to giggle. He leans over beside her, watching the feathered guys, “His name is Harold, and that’s Gerald, ooh, that pretty girl is Sophia, and this one Josephina.”

“You and naming animals.”

“One day, I want a farm. Goats, a mini horse, oh those furry cows that stay pretty small. Ducks, chickens, just a few of each. I don’t want a big farm. But small enough,” Beau almost wants to smack himself when he starts thinking about where he could actually build in a fenced in area for all these animals. Trying to remind himself, that they are in fact just friends.

“Why do ducks have tail feathers?” Arleigh turns to look at him confused.

“Well, I guess it would be to help navigate them in the water,” Beau gives her a belly laugh, shaking his head. “Alright, smart guy. Why?”

“To cover their butt quacks.”

Rolling her eyes, she gives his body a little shove and he falls down on the ground still laughing, “You idiot. I thought you were being serious,” she tries not to laugh, but it was a stupidly cute joke. “Come on, let’s go walking. We can go to the famer’s market later.”

The two continue their walking through the park. Clothed, they don’t touch each other, but you would have to be blind to not notice their chemistry and the joy each other brings. An easy and effortless conversation that is anything but just friends.

Carter reaches over to grab a strawberry and holds it at Story’s mouth. She takes a quick bite, and he finishes off the rest. She looks back down at the happy three-month-old Otto, “Princess, you’re doing good.”

She glances up and sees the random people walking about the park, living their normal life. But not her, just a constant wave of worry and anxiety, especially when it comes to the little baby in her lap. “I don’t think I am.”

“You’re here, aren’t you? Our son is happy to be outside, and with his mom looking so beautiful,” she leans over onto his shoulder bringing Otto up to her chest. “Marshall is just over there. He’s here to protect you and Otto.”

“Don’t forget you. I wanna kiss you. But what if there’s camera?” constantly worried about cameras and people watching. Paranoid that people will judge her or worse Carter. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess.”

He gives her a kiss to her head, inhaling the smell of Story, “You’re perfect, just like our boy,” he knows not to ask to hold him in public. The last time he did that, Story had panicked when he was out of her arms. She sits there trying to calm her racing heart, giving her beautiful boy a feigned smile. “Princess, breathe. Your heart is racing.”

“I’m sorry,” trying to take deep calming breaths only makes her feel even more boxed in. Everything sounding echoed, like she’s in a tunnel, and Carter brings her hand to his heart. Creating his own deep breaths, and hoping the addition to the air coming out of his mouth will further soothe her. Finally, calming down enough, she looks up at him with misty eyes. “I love you, Story,” responding by giving him a lingering but innocent kiss.

She pulls back to gaze up at him, “I love you, too, Carter. Thanks for being patient with me,” he grabs up a strawberry, “Ooh, Nutella this time,” dipping it into Nutella he lets her take a bite before he kisses away the lingering chocolate spread. For just a moment, no matter how fleeting it is, there’s no panic, no anxiety, no worry.

“Story book?” Arleigh starts rushing towards her only to have Marshall jump in front of the trio. “Woah, I’m sorry.”

“Bunny?” she asks, her clinging to Otto, she softens when Arleigh nods with a smile. A look behind her she spots another familiar face. “How did you get Beau Adler out here?” Arleigh just shrugs looking at the big guy blocking her from Story.

“Ms. Drysdale, Mr. Baizen are they okay to get closer?” Story nods, relaxing Otto back on her propped up legs. “Do they need to be searched?”

“Marshall, they’re fine,” Carter assures them, and Arleigh rushes over to Story, despite the warning hand Carter holds up. Beau slowly makes his way over. Finding it difficult to look at either Carter or Story, his eyes only on the baby in her lap.

“Oh my gosh, Story, he’s beautiful! Can I hold him?”

“No!” Carter almost shouts. Story’s eyes move between all the people surrounding her. Reminding herself she knows Arleigh, she knows Beau. They’re not new people. They’re friends. “Sorry, uh, he’s new. We’re trying to keep as little hands on him as possible.”

“Right. He’s just precious.”

Story looks over at Carter, placing a hand on his leg and whispers out an I can do this to only him. “Here, just,” Arleigh quickly sits out, and takes the chunky boy into his arm. Not noticing how Story’s hands clench tight to Carter’s arm. Her body pulsing having her son out of her arms. And she reaches up to tap at her bare neck.

“Petal, you okay?” she shakes her head no, looking at Carter. “Story? Carter where’s her inhaler? She can’t breathe.”

“It’s not her asthma. Arleigh, can you hand her the baby back,” Arleigh finally looks at Story’s panic stricken face, and extends Otto over, “Princess, she’s trying to give you our son. Story? I need you to breathe.”

“Carter, she’s freaking out!”

“I know, and your raised voice isn’t helping.”

“What’s wrong with her? Carter do something!”

“Stop yelling,” he grunts at Beau. His hands hold Story’s cheeks, “Honey, I need you to breathe. Look at me. Focus only on me.”

“Otto. Where’s my son?”

“Arleigh is trying to hand him to you. If you turn around, he’s right there,” Beau walks a bit closer, and Carter holds up his hand to him, warning him to quit. “Story, we’re right here, honey.”

She takes a few quickened breaths, and looks back to see that Arleigh did in fact have her son. Bringing him up to her chest, she apologizes to everyone, “Carter, I’m ready to go,” with not another word he stands up, holding her tight to him.

“You guys finish the picnic. If you don’t want it, Doroda will clean everything up. I need to get them home,” Beau scowls watching them leave. Marshall right behind them. Arleigh looks at Beau confused, and then it hits her. The testosterone that was just exhibited.

“She’s the girl,” Arleigh doesn’t ask a question. She knows. “The comment about a pink car. She cheat on you with him, is that what the problem is?”

“No. That’s not at all what happened.”

“Have a picnic with me,” he shakes his head no. “Sit down, B, and have a picnic with me,” begrudgingly he sits down, and Arleigh reaches to grab some orange slices. “Explain it to me. What the hell was that about?”

“She has asthma. She needed her inhaler.”

“That was a panic attack. You were making things worse because you were trying to show her boyfriend who knows her better.”

“She was my best friend.”

“And he’s her Prince Charming.”

Beau scoffs, “Sir Lancelot. So stupid, that stupid little game she played. I went along with it, and I don’t even know why. She used me. He used her first, got her pregnant then ran off and left her.”

“That doesn’t sound right. He was way too kind to her for him to up and run away.”

“I don’t know what really happened. She got an abortion, and then crawled in my window one night. We ended up...I thought we lost our virginity together, turns out she had been sleeping with Carter fucking Baizen for months.”

“You sound jealous,” Arleigh calmly answers, grabbing a sandwich triangle. She doesn’t like this conversation, but it’s clearly something Beau needs to work out. It hurts knowing that him and Story have had sex, and he sounds like he really wanted it. And not just friends with benefits.

“Of him? Why would I be jealous of someone who is a billionaire and has always got what I wanted? He got the nice car, he got her attention always. My first kiss, not real kiss, but kiss was her, and she was peaking around the corner to see if he saw it. Everything that girl ever did was for his attention and approval. And then look at him now, back in her arms.”

Arleigh takes a deep breath trying to calm herself. “What I just saw, that wasn’t him trying to get something else over on you. That was someone trying to be calm for the woman he loves. He told me not to hold the baby, but she insisted. He knew what was going to happen. He was patient with her, he called the baby his son. I don’t know if you saw the news, but that’s not his son. You act like they have everything. That was heartbreaking. That’s not Story, B.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“I’m trying. It sounds to me like you and Story, while friends were never compatible in that way. I’m sorry she took advantage of a situation. She shouldn’t have done that, but maybe she was hurting, too. She smiled so big when she saw you. You know, she was my first kiss too,” Beau looks up at her strange. “First real kiss. Who was yours?”

“Her.”

“We were drinking peach schnapps one summer in the estate pool house. It was me, her, Kira, Eva, and some Jenny girl. She wanted to know how to kiss, so did I. Made sense at the time. We sucked at it, it just felt so wrong. I swore off kissing for a long time because of that. She said she couldn’t wait to...”

“Who did she want to kiss? Carter?”

“That girl has always wanted to kiss him. No, some kid in her class that was obsessed with Alice in Wonderland,” Beau nods his head, tired of this conversation, but also feeling better about it. “I can’t hate her though.”

“Me neither. Sometimes I wish I could. Maybe it’d be easier.”

“Maybe, you and her need to talk to help you forgive her? I feel like there’s a lot going on between the three of you. Carter’s not a bad guy.”

“Yeah, and I’m not Carter Baizen.”

Arleigh tilts her head, trying to get him to look at her. She gives him a warm smile before whispering, “And he’s not Beau Adler.”

Masterlist

#desperate lives #desperate lives au #desperate verse #da au #da au request #dau #beau adler #beau x bunny #arleigh everett levinson #beau and arleigh have the sweetest babies and home #beau adler x arleigh everett levinson

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dumbcoffeebee · 3 years

Text

Cooking Headcannons~

Lil blurbs of what I think it'd be like cooking with / how well I think the BNHA characters cook~

my god this is so long I'm sorry

Midoriya-

6/10

not great but not bad

a mess

no literally he keeps putting the knives in the sink and needing to get new ones every 5 minutes

somehow does everything really fast

horrible with anything more complex than a knife

once forgot to put the lid on the food processor

food went everywhere

it was insane

saying that, he knows like every knife skill in the book and more

everyone is baffled at how he's both so chaotic yet so in control of every single thing

his secret is that he binged cooking shows

like the pioneer woman

she reminds him of Inko <3

gets freaked out by Gordon Ramsay when he yells

says he acts too much like Kacchan when they were in middle school for comfort

and he's correct

forgets to set timers for literally anything

he's burned and undercooked so many things it seems almost impossible

somehow most of his food is pretty alright actually

if you're cooking with him tho

oh god

get ready to be running around at the speed of light trying to make sure nothing is burning and is cooking well as he's putting all of his focus into the one thing when there's like five components to the dish

constantly asks for your approval on everything

it's cute tho

either just straight up does not talk or is rambling for days about like- chemical alterations & science in food or food history or smth random like that

like the history of cheese

"did you know that the first cheese made was goat cheese in the Neolithic era? It'sreallyfascinatingthat-"

"Izuku, as much as I enjoy your ramblings and interesting facts, I really do, the water is boiling over and the pasta isn't nearly done resting."

cue chaos

Bakugou-

9/10

as we see in the show he's extremely efficient & a good cook

you'd think he'd be impatient

but no

he understands how certain techniques work & why

so he's actually just super focused & gets pissed when people interrupt him

also he has to be the best at everything so ofc he can make an awesome five-course meal

bc yk he's Bakugou

if you ask to cook with him he'd think you're not being serious

but if you keep asking him he'd make sure you know how to do whatever it is you're doing and just let you go at it

if he's letting you cook w/ him he probably trusts you enough to know you wouldn't screw it up on purpose

if you do make a mistake he'd probably want to get angry

but he'd take you aside later to teach you how to do it

not aggressively so, he'd demonstrate first slowly since he understands you're just trying to learn and that it takes time

he gets that bc it took him years to figure out different cooking terms and how to properly execute them

lots of years combined with burned and failed experiments

patience too, obviously. cooking is one of the only things he'd taught himself how to be patient with

if you were holding something like a knife the wrong way he'd gently take your hand and position it in the correct way

"you're gonna cut yourself if you keep holding it like that, dumbass."

sharp words but gentle in practice

uses the correct tool for literally everything

doesn't mind doing dishes tho

he'd be really organized and efficient with everything

neatly handwritten recipes

the girls probably watch him cook

the boys too for that matter

it's like a cooking show but in the dorms and the host yells a lot

everything in the dorms' pantry would be labeled

he bought a labelling machine specifically for that purpose bc he "got tired of shit being in random ass places"

Iida really appreciates it too

he knows the perfect temperature for literally every meat and fish & how it's to be prepared and the exact way it should be cooked

keeps a journal for new recipes and info on food

has a section dedicated to everyone's favorite foods and how to make them in the back

started it when one of the girls asked him to make one of their comfort foods bc she was on her period (probably Mina)

now it's become a thing & he'll research what it is & how to make it if he doesn't already know

only Deku knows but let's be real he has dirt on literally everyone

anyway Bakugou probably owns/owned and knows how to use every professional cooking tool known to man

doesn't use them tho bc he can, and I quote, "do it himself without relying on any damned tool to do something that he can do faster and better."

probably used his own explosions to cook/substitute grill something when he wasn't allowed near the grill when he was a kid

that grosses him out now whenever Mitsuki tells the story of when she found him doing that with mushrooms out of the store container a few at a time and eating them whole with some pepper

in his defense he thought it was pretty good & admittedly thinks it was kind of smart now- still weirds him out that he did that multiple times tho

will do it when he's in his feels as a means of comfort food now

one time Sero and Kiri walked in on him doing that on his floor leaning against his bed in his sad hoodie w/ the pepper grinder from downstairs

they slowly walked out & asked him about it later

he tells them to fuck off

k I'm stopping myself here for blasty boy even though I could go on for days

Todoroki-

1/10

horrible in the kitchen

have you seen this kid

he's a rich kid

he doesn't know how to cook

Fuyumi taught him how to make soba tho

he won't use the stove bc the fire that isn't his freaks him out too much so he ends up just nuking shit in the microwave until Fuyumi guided him through how to safely use a stovetop

that woman is the sole reason this kid knows how to do literally anything in the kitchen

it's not a lack of confidence or skill

he just genuinely doesn't know how to do it

mans is suffering here

if you asked him how to juice a lemon he'd have an idea of how to do it

he just.. can't

you come back to see half the counter and most of his arms and torso covered in lemon juice

somehow there's like 1 teaspoon of juice in the pitcher and he's gone through eight lemons and an oddly yellow orange

"I know what it should be.. but idk how to do it."

You look on the counterspace to his right and lo and behold, there's a juicer on top of a pile of seemingly discarded kitchen appliances

"Roki- you were so close. You were this close"

"Oh. I was of the idea that that was for crushing meats."

He was so close yet so far

It's ok though- he figures things out between you and Fuyumi teaching him and watching Bakugou

Kirishima-

0/10 worse than Todoroki istg

can't cook for nothin

yk what he can do tho?

this boy can bake

specifically bread I feel like, but baking in general.

mostly non-desert dishes though

except for cakes bc they're quite similar to bread & they don't have to be crazy sweet

doesn't make much of a mess, it's all pretty contained to one area of counter (somehow)

in general, solid baker but terrible cook

Denki-

5/10

I just get the vibes that he straight up is a mess and just has fun while doing it

it's not even a matter of if the dish is good or not, he just likes the process of cooking it

despite that, it usually comes out pretty well

has probably shocked himself multiple times with electric kitchen appliances

or sent them into malfunction

usually when he was younger tho it doesn't happen so much anymore only when he gets freaked out

has shorted the stove & by extension the entire dorm building like twice

he'll cook for himself and it's fine but the second he's cooking for more than one person, especially if it's you, he's a mess and can't keep track of anything

the pressure of trying to impress people just gets to him :|

it gets slightly better if you help out tho so you can keep him focused

he definitely cooks with music on

he says it helps it taste better

it probably does tbh

he'd start singing too but I'll do singing headcannons later that's another post on it's own

freaks out if something catches on fire

lord help him if something gets burned or ruined in any way

he won't give up- he'd just criticize the hell out of it while you're eating

it makes him sad that he can't get certain things right away

but it's ok bc he slowly gets better and he's really proud of that

but like he'll just cook whenever bc it's fun or he's bored

like some poor shmuck will wake up at 2:30 in the morning to the sound of Denki singing to himself w/ music on after he drops a pan or smth

(jirou or shoji probably since they have the best hearing)

they're like wtf is happening

so they walk downstairs and they just find denki jamming out to his music making mac & cheese

and they just slowly walk away

he doesn't even notice until they bring it up like four days later

also you cannot tell me dark shadow wouldnt fuck with him so hard

Uraraka-

6/10 she's probably pretty well versed in food

but only like certain kinds

so she would pick up on stuff from bakugou cooking

can make amazing pasta & knows her way around most things

has made things float on accident & will only realize if someone points it out to her

like there'll be two pans, a bowl & the cinnamon just floating there n someones like uhh-

she probably uses a lot of spices bc she knows she doesn't know how to do a lot of things so she focuses more on perfecting certain dishes

hates doing the dishes bc the wet food grosses her tf out & would wear those long yellow gloves so she can't feel it

insists that everyone rinse their plates to some capacity so much that its just habit for everyone now

#mha #my hero academia #bnha #katsukibakugou #izuku midoriya #shoto todoroki #kirishima ejirou #denki kaminari #uraraka ochako #headcannons #bnha headcanons

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omg-im-such-a-masochist · 3 years

Text

SECOND CHANCE

Prompt: Just some good old fluff with Finny boy

Word Count: Long, bitch! So fucking long

Pairings: Finn Bálor x Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, smut (implied)

Editor: @thenightmareismyreality

Tag: @theworldofotps , @new-zealand-chic , @sassymox , @waywardwrestlewritingwaif , @yungbludjazz360 , @starwithaheart

Notes: Found this in an old file (wrote this about two years ago, maybe?) But I kinda like this little story ❤️ If you’d like to check out my previous works, you can find them on my Masterlist 😉

A deep sigh of relief left my lips as I brushed my damp hair. I heard a commotion in the living room, and began to dread the potential fight I would have to break up between a four and six year-old over a remote control.

“Mommy, mommy, mommy!” Caleb screamed in excitement, while bursting through my bedroom door like a maniac

“You’ll never believe who’s downstairs with us” He jumped with a cheeky smile

“Cal, who’s downstairs?” I ask worryingly, instinctively reaching for the gun that I kept in my nightstand

Caleb laughed and ran downstairs again.

As a homicide detective, my cop instincts combined with my motherly instincts took over me and I ran to the living room in only a tank top and panties, with my gun already aimed to shoot.

Although, the last person I thought I would see standing there, braiding my daughter Maeve’s hair in a style reminiscent of queen Elsa, and watching Caleb showing off his somersault technique was HIM…

That caught me off guard and he must have sensed it, because the first thing he did was look up.

“Hi” He said shyly

“What are you doing here, Finn?” I asked, putting my gun down on the dinner table

“I swear I didn’t break in” He laughed, attempting a joke

“What do you want?” I decided to ignore the small talk...there was no need for that, not after everything he did

“I have an injury. So I have some time off for a while and I wanted to stop by to see the kids and you” He whispered the last part

“Injury, huh? Is it bad?”

Even after everything he did, I couldn’t help but worry about his well being, you know, for the kids sake!...

Ok fine, I still love him, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“No, nothing serious. But I got two months off and I was excited to see my family” He looked at me when he said that

“Are you going to see your parents?”

“Yeah and I was thinking if it would be ok with you if I take the kids with me?”

“Of course! Why would I mind?”

His family was always very loving and kind to me, and we became very close once the kids were born. Sometimes I would take them to Ireland on my vacation so they could see their grandparents or they would travel to New York so they could see the kids.

“Because of...you know” He trailed off

“Neither your family or the kids have anything to do with that. I’m a grown woman, Finn. I know how to separate the sheep from the goat, ok?!”

I could feel the air becoming thicker with the tension, until Maeve said

“Mommy, why aren’t you wearing any pants? Are you feeling hot? I can get you the Japanese hand fan daddy gave it to me, if you’d like” She smiled

“Thank you buttercup, but that won’t be necessary. I’ll be right back”

......................................................................

Now, properly dressed, I made my way towards the kitchen to get dinner ready.

“Do you need any help?” Finn asked from behind me

“No, thank you. You can go stay with the kids” I didn’t even bother to turn around to face him

“Y/N, can we talk?”

I sighed “There’s nothing worth talking about, Finn”

“Please?”

“What can you possibly say that will change what happened? Nothing! It will be a bunch of empty sorry’s and excuses, so let’s just save it, ok?!”

“It’s not empty, I truly am sorry”

“You should’ve thought that before you believed the bunch of lies she told you”

He opened his mouth to say something but Caleb began calling for him to go watch the cartoons with them.

......................................................................

“Mommy, can daddy have dinner with us?” Maeve asked

“Of course, pumpkin. If he would like to”

“Yay” She screams “Daddy, come!” She beckoned him

The subjects of conversation at dinner were mostly controlled by the kids. They, as per usual, asked me how many bad people I had taken down that day, but also asked Finn about his traveling, which state or city he liked the most, the best foods he’d eaten, which LEGO set was he building, if the hotel beds were soft and ‘what about the blankets?’

“Alright, I know you two are very excited to see daddy, but we need to brush those teeth! So, let’s go kiddos” I got up from my chair

“I’ll do it” He grabbed both kids, resting one on each side of his hip and went up to brush their teeth

When he came back down alone, I give him a questioning look

“They’re asleep” He smiled softly

“Oh, you already put them down for bed?! Thank you” I said, cleaning the kitchen island.

He nodded “I just didn’t bathe them because they said you already did”

“Yeah, that’s the first thing I do when I get home. Or my mom does it for me if I get caught up in a case, but most of the time I do it”

“How’s work?” He asked, sitting down on one of the high benches.

“Good, Richard is my superior again, so he helps me a lot with my shifts, because of the kids” I smiled

“The old man is still working?” He laughed, amused

“Yeah, he already said he will only leave his badge when he’s dead” I cackled “How’s road life? Amazing, I presume”

“Nah, don’t let the bright lights fool ya” He laughed, bitterly “I love wrestling, being in the ring, performing for the audience, but once I pass through the curtains backstage it gets lonely” A little bit of sadness could be heard in his voice “It’s very lonely... it’s different from when I came back home to you and the kids. Now I just get back to an empty apartment, wishing I could get back home” He looks at me

“Finn, please”

“I love you! Why can’t we just try again?”

“Because no!”

“Why?” He pleaded

“Because you don’t know what it was like ok?! You don’t know how much it hurt me, the things you said, the fact that you believed some envious woman’s gossip about me having an affair with Lucas! He’s married for fuck’s sake! To a man!”

“I- I didn’t knew Lucas was gay, Y/N”

“Yeah, you didn’t! And why is that? Oh yeah, because you did not trust your own wife, all you saw was the fact that he is a man and my work partner so you just bought the assumption that woman sold you, choosing to believe her instead of me!”

“It wasn’t like that, ok?” He tried to explain

“It wasn’t like that, you say? When you were the one who came in here filled with accusations! Saying that I had an affair with him, that I cheated on you, that you wished you would’ve slept with half of the women who throw themselves at you everyday, doubting that those kids upstairs are yours, when they’re the fucking spitting image of you! You said all those horrible things, Finn. Not me!”

He stared at his knuckles as I continued, now crying

“How do you think that made me feel? To listen from my own husband how much he wished he had cheated on me. Bragging about all of the hot young women who are waiting to be fucked by a wrestler...You know it was always hard for me to accept that you wanted me and not some hot girl in the locker room, that you had chosen me, that I got lucky enough to not only marry a man who’s physically breathtaking but also such a beautiful person on the inside. And still, it was that same Prince Charming who became the frog! I never thought that” I had to stop myself from saying the next horrible words roaming through my mind

“You never thought that, what, Y/N?”

I shook my head

“Say it”

I shook my head again and he got up from the bench, coming to where I was standing

“Say it, love. I can take it”

“I don’t want to say it” I whispered as more tears rolled down my cheeks

“Shhh, it’s ok, love” Finn pulled my head to his chest “Please don’t cry, I hate when you cry” His arms are tightly locked around me, providing me the sense of comfort that only he could give. And I hated that!

“Let me go” I tried to push him away

“What’s wrong, Y/N?”

“Just don’t touch me” I said, shoving him away

He knew that I was closing him off, I could see it in his eyes

“Say it! You never thought that what?” He insisted, more forcefully this time

“I never thought that someday I would regret meeting you! Marrying you, starting a family with you. If I could do it all again, I wouldn’t!” I spat

“You wouldn’t?” He scooted closer

“No” I answered with venom in my voice, trying to turn my undying love for him into hatred

“But I would!” Finn said firmly

I shook my head in denial, as he cupped my cheeks in his calloused hands, making me look up to meet his blue eyes

“I would do it, all over again. Meeting you, dating you, marrying you, having kids with you, in the future seeing the kids graduate high school, college, be at their wedding, take our future grandkids to the park, and spend the rest of my life with you! I would choose you over and over and over again! I choose you everyday, Y/N”

I squeezed my eyes shut

“You’re lying! Stop lying, Finn” I whispered

“Am I though? Open your eyes and look at me. I was never able to hide ANYTHING from you, I can lie to anyone but you. You can always see through me, so just look at me and tell me if I’m lying. If I am, then I promise you, I’ll leave this house right now and you’ll never have to see me again! Just open your eyes” He kissed each closed eyelid

After a few minutes, I gathered the courage to finally look at him and I could only see love, regret, pain and truth.

“I love you Y/N and always will. Yes, I was dumb to listen to some random gossip and I’m paying the price for it, but the only thing I ask you is: please, don’t give up on us! I’ll give you whatever time you need, just promise me that we’ll fix it. That we’ll be together again...You, Caleb and Maeve are my life! I would die to save you in a blink, love. If I had to choose between your life or mine I would choose yours, becau-“

I placed two fingers on his lips

“Stop talking like that! You know I don’t like it. It attracts those bad vibes, you know?”

Finn lightly chuckled “But I mean it”

“Stop! I don’t like when you talk like that... I hate to think that something bad could ever happen to you. You know, because of the kids” I tried to hide my feelings

“And you wouldn’t miss me, not even a little bit?” He teased

“I miss you everyday” I quickly slapped a hand over my mouth when I realized what I just said

He smiled sweetly, leaning down to place sweet and innocent pecks all over my face.

Finn started on my forehead, then he went to my temples, followed by the cheekbones, apple’s of the cheek, jaw, chin, side of my lips. Finn pulled back to search for any resistance signs and when he found none, he kissed my lips. A lazy kiss, that grew more urgent by the minute.

“Fuck, I missed you so much” He moaned, now kissing my neck

“Finn, wait. Wait a minute” I tried to pull his head back by his hair but that only made him moan.

“Finn!” I said harshly, finally having his attention

“What’s wrong, love? Don’t you want it? I thought that-“

“Have you seen anyone since we broke up?” I asked, not even letting him finish his sentence

“We didn’t break up! You asked me for some time and-“

“Finn, just answer the fucking question please” I pleaded

“No, I haven’t been with anyone in those 8 months. Except for my hand when I look at your pictures” He smirked

“You’re so ridiculous” I whispered in relief as my arms circled his waist

“So...do you still want to make love?” He eagerly asked

“We never made love, Finny. We’ve always fucked senseless” I laughed

“No! We’ve always made love it’s just that we’re more frantic about it” He chuckled

“Ok, we sleep together and then what?” I asked

“Then you stay here and I go back to my apartment” He simply said

My heart sunk in my chest as a faint “Oh, ok” left my lips

“So I can pack my clothes and bring them back home” He said, as a devilish smile grew on his face “That’s of course, if you want me here”

“Asshole” I lightly punched his chest “I thought you just wanted a one night stand and that’s it. You scared me!”

Finn chuckled, beckoning me closer to him

“You could never be just a one night stand, love. You fuck too good to be just a one time thing” He winked

“So you just want me for my bedroom skills, huh?” I teased

“Yes and no” He giggled “Yes, because no other woman fucks like you do” He bit my neck, growling “And no, because there’s so much more about you than the bedroom” He hugged my waist “You’re my best friend, my nurturer, my supporter, the air that keeps me alive, my everything!” He kissed me passionately

“Can we try again? Start over and leave all that shit behind us?” He whispered

“If you promise me that if we get back together, you won’t listen to other people’s gossip and will come to me whenever you hear somethi-“

“Yes!” He pecked my lips excitedly, as a wide smile took over his face “I promise you, love! That’ll never happen again, you have my word!” He gave me a bear hug and spun me around the kitchen

“Finn!” I squealed, when we almost fell to the ground “We’re going to wake up the kids” I giggled

“Oh no, shhhh” He shut me up with a kiss “We can’t let that happen! Because as much as I love our children, I haven’t gotten any in eight months and I can’t wait to change that with you right now” He pushed us towards the couch and laid on top of me

“But I thought you were going to go and get your clothes”

“I don’t need clothes, woman! You know I like to sleep naked” He winked

And roamed his head down to...

Please, if you’re comfortable with it, let me know your thoughts on this? Feedbacks are always appreciated 🥰😘

#finn balor one shot #finn balor x reader #finn balor fanfiction #finn balor imagine #finn balor #nxt x reader #nxt imagine #nxt #nxt wrestling #wwe nxt #nxt fanfiction #masochist writes

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

Indruck 22 for the meet uglies?

Here you go! I went SFW on this one

you’re on a date with this awful, awful person who keeps getting under my skin because my friend and I have been eavesdropping all night and your date says something that makes me snap … I thought it was a first date, not a three year relationship

“...such a waste of money. I mean, why spend all that to get something tacky on your skin?”

Indrid rolls his eyes at Barclay from across the counter of the Amnesty Lodge coffee shop, the cooks arms and hands sporting a plethora of tattoos rivaled only by Indrid’s collection.

“I dunno, l like the one I got.” The other man--who seems to be on the worst first date of his life--shrugs.

“You honestly think you and Juno couldn’t have spent that money on something else in college?”

“I mean maybe but, uh, we were earnin our own cash, figured we got to decide what to spend it on.”

“Hmmmm” the first guy sips his coffee, “sounds like a typical excuse for someone who doesn’t want to admit a mistake.”

“C’mon, that ain’t fair-”

“Ugh, stop saying ain’t! I can’t take someone who talks like that to meet my family.” Before the target of his disdain can respond, he snaps his fingers, “hey, buddy, can I get a refill or what?”

“The station for black coffee refills is right there, sir.” Barclay indicates the very obvious corner of dispensers, his voice the kind of calm that Indrid knows means he’s memorizing this guys face to warn other staff about.

They earn a brief reprieve while The Asshole leaves the table. When he returns, he’s shaking his head.

“God, have you looked at the photos they’ve got up? Who the fuck wants to look at bones?”

Indrid quickly glances at his friend to be sure he’s permitted to start a fight. Barclay nods.

“Quite a lot of people.” Indrid spins on his stool. “I’ve sold a number of them just from the display here. So perhaps you could keep your rude, unclultured, close-minded, obnoxious mouth shut.”

The man balks, looks to his companion for help. He offers none, mouth trying to form words and only coming out with halves of ones (except for the “fucks” which are plentiful).

“Oh my fucking god, you agree with him! That’s it, I’m out.” The Asshole pushes back from the table and storms out. The remaining man leaps up, panicked.

“Fuck.”

“It’s okay man, shitty first dates happen to all of us.” Barclay offers from beside the bakery case.

“I mean yeah, they do, but that wasn’t one of ‘em. That was my boyfriend of three fuckin years.” He dashes out of the shop, sparing a final glare at Indrid as he does.

Indrid trades a sheepish look with his friend, “Oops.”

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

“I’m glad you finally get to meet Duck!” Aubrey grins over her shoulder as she and Indrid wind down the hall at the office Kepler magazine.

Founded by childhood friends, Kepler worked a combination of print and video content that saw its subscribers and revenue climb while other publications struggled to stay afloat. Aubrey was head of the video team, though she contributed content to the magazine in the form of interviews about environmental activists of color and sustainable gift guides.

Kepler has three sections: travel, science, and environmental writing. Indrid now has the honor of being one of their primary photographers. He started two weeks ago and is thoroughly enjoying his work and the company of the other staff. The only person he’s yet to meet is Duck Newton, one of the founders and main reporters, as he was off on an assignment.

Aubrey knocks, gets a friendly “come in” and ushers Indrid into the office.

Looking at him from behind the desk is The Asshole’s Boyfriend, whose face goes from open and friendly to confused, then to perturbed.

“You okay?”

“I, uh, fuck, n-ye.” Duck sighs, “remember how I told you Alex and I split after a shitty date in a coffee shop?” He points at Indrid, “this was the fella who, uh, expedited the process.”

“Ohhhh.” Aubrey frowns, then shrugs with a smile, “whelp, he’s our new photographer. We’ll see you around.” She hurries them outside once more, shutting the doors. As they head back the way they came, she whispers, “his ex was a huge fucking dick, so if word gets out everyone is gonna think you’re a fucking hero.”

“He didn’t seem to see it that way.”

“It was only a few weeks ago, so it’s still pretty fresh. He’ll heal from it okay, Duck’s a tough cookie. And I’m sure you guys’ll get along eventually.”

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

“Juno, please, you gotta come with me.”

“I would bud, except it’s April and I’s fifth wedding anniversary that weekend. And no, we already have plans, so we can’t just take over this assignment as part of the celebration.”

“Fuck” Duck leans back in his chair.

“...You really asked everyone?”

“Ye-no, fuck-”

“Duck.”

“I ain’t asked Indrid yet.”

“There it is.” Juno smirks, “you gotta ask; besides, we were gonna have him do illustrations for the feature, but photos would be even better. And we both know it ain’t his fault y’all broke up.”

Duck nods, promises to ask Indrid after lunch. He finds the photographer flipping through his files from his shoot for next issues cover. His silver hair is pulled back, red glasses sitting on the desk beside him so he can gauge color correctly.

Duck kind of wants to pull the silver locks just to see what happens. It’s not his fault Indrid looks like his Sophomore roommate who he had a raging crush on, only with more tattoos and a much more captivating face. Pity he helped fuck up Duck’s last chance at a stable relationship.

“Hey, Indrid, you got a minute?”

The photographer cocks his head.

“I, uh, so we got a feature on this whole chunk of places touting themselves as ‘sustainable romantic getaways. I booked a bunch of places, but a lot of ‘em will turn me away if I turn up solo. And the person I was supposed to go with ain’t an option any more. Neither is anyone else. You get my drift?”

Indrid pinches the bridge of his nose, “you realize this is a terrible idea, yes?”

“Hey, we been workin together just fine. Ain’t we? Wait, fuck, I ain’t been treatin you bad even when I’m tryin to be professional, am I?”

“No, you’ve been perfectly polite. But there’s a world of difference between being cordial in an office and going on what’s functionally a vacation together.”

Duck crosses his arms, “I ain’t about to lose eight hundred bucks in deposits.”

Indrid blinks, then chuckles, “Fair. What day do we leave?”

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

The temperature rises and the air dries as they speed south on Five. Indrid fiddles with games on his phone as cover for the list of “will this be a disaster or not” he’s mentally constructing. So far the signs are positive; Duck isn’t very chatty, but neither is Indrid. They have similar tastes in music, which makes much more sense when Duck explains he was a burn-out in high school. He also isn’t agitated by Indrid stimming, which makes it easier for the photographer to relax and enjoy the drive.

But they haven’t spoken about the elephant in the car, and Indrid resolves not to be the first to do so. No point in poking the sore spot if he doesn’t have to.

They stop at a Sinclair for gas. Duck reaches into his glovebox for something as Indrid climbs out, comes away with a photo instead. It’s one of those ones from a photobooth, faded but unmistakably him and his ex. His face falls for a second and Indrid scurries into the Dairy Queen attached to the convenience store.

As he waits in line, he turns one fact over in his mind like a picture he’s trying to make sense of; it would be easier to let their awkward first meeting go if he did not genuinely like the other man. He’s charming, in a quiet way, and very friendly. He’s built like the guys Indrid always got useless crushes on in college, usually third tier frat boys or--if he was lucky--a bear a few years older than him who liked his men on the odd side.

He doesn’t like seeing Duck sad. The sadness isn’t something he can fix. The stalemate between these two facts annoy the living hell out of him.

He’s next in line, glances up to confirm what he wants, and gets an idea. Last week, he overheard Duck talking with Aubrey about roadtrip snacks of their youth.

“One chocolate dipped cone, on me.” He holds the treat out to the other man.

“Oh. Uh, thanks. These are my favorite from when I was a kid.” Duck’s smile returns.

“I remembered. Or, ah, that is, I remembered you saying that.”

The smile changes, “you didn’t need to.”

“I wanted to. Shall we?”

“Yep. Uh, you gonna be able to drive and eat that at the same time?”

“Do not doubt my ability to consume ice cream under difficult circumstances, Duck Newton.”

They make it to their first stop unscathed. It’s what Duck refers to as, “eco-bespoke,” a fancy spa and hotel built in a former school, the kind that was made in an era of beautiful instead of grim educational architecture.

“Goats!” Indrid claps his hands, delighted, at the two animals stabled near the main building. One of it’s supposed sustainable elements is the small farm that helps feed the on-site restaurant. Duck smirks and Indrid suddenly feels the gulf in their upbringings, “Ah, I suppose they’re not exciting to someone who grew up in a rural town.”

“Nah, but they’re damn cute.” Duck checks the tag on their room keys, “okay, we’re in the green building, room 2B.”

Indrid snaps some photos as they cross the grounds, more to remind himself of things he wants to come back to later than anything else. He’s busy studying a strange mark on the wall by their door when Duck says, “I can sleep on the floor.”

“Why--oh” he stares at the single bed, “in retrospect, we should have seen this coming.”

“Yeah.” Duck drops his bag near the closet, slides the door to look for spare linens. Indrid summons his courage, finds it lacking, and so bolsters it with nonchalance.

“It’s a king, we could easily share.”

“You’d, uh, you’d be okay with that?”

“It is only narrow definitions of masculinity that mean something like sharing a bed is inherently sexual.”

He’s not entirely sure that made sense, but Duck nods, “You want the right side or left?”

“Right, please.”

“Great. And, uh, Indrid? Thanks for rollin with all this. I, uh, I know it’s fuckin weird but this is a huge feature for the magazine and we woulda been fucked if we had to pull it.”

Indrid gingerly sits on his side of the bed, “You’re welcome. And I don;t know about you, but” he smiles, catches Duck watching him intently in the mirror, “I’m enjoying myself so far.”

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

“Why has an activity that renders one incapable of using their thighs been deemed ‘romantic?” Indrid mumbles, face-down on the bed to offer his burning legs relief.

“Fuck if I know.” Duck groans as he sits next to him, “Kinda fun, but if I was doin this to get you in bed, I’d be fucked.”

“I am in bed” Indrid teases.

“And if I tried to put the moves of you you’d toss me outta it. Assumin I could even move myself that close.” Duck nudges him, then clears his throat, “uh, I mean, not like we’d be doin that-”

“Nono, point taken.” Indrid rolls over. The horseback ride was one of the “couples exclusives;” a trot out to a beautiful oasis for a gourmet picnic. Indrid got some excellent shots, including one of Duck with honeycomb dripping down his chin, which he will not be offering up to editors but may keep for himself. For it’s beautiful composition, of course.

Mercifully, their next stop is the pool. Indrid settles himself in the hot tub while Duck types some notes on his phone. Then his friend doffs his bathrobe and Indrid may as well be in a dream. In the steaming, echoing paradise of multi-colored tile and ecstatic shouts, Duck stands like one of the angelic fountains at its heart has come to life.

“You okay there, ‘Drid?”

“Yes.” He hopes his lack of glasses means Duck will mistake his blatant staring for trying to get his vision in focus.

“Then scoot your cu--uh, your butt over so I can sit down.”

Indrid gladly moves aside, finds he’s so comfortable with Duck pressed against him that he begins nodding off in the warm lull of the water. When the other man nudges him, saying it’s time to go, he finds a strong arm draped over his shoulder and Duck’s smile the most relaxed it’s been all trip.

Their last task at this location is to locate the speakeasy somewhere on the premises and order the “lovers delight” (only available to couples). To do so, they follow clues purple light bulbs, doors that lead to tiny, art-filled rooms, secret staircases, and a false supply closet to a dark wooded, dimly lit, incredibly pleasant bar looking out over the property. The drink turns out to be a massive goblet (more a bowl that someone stuck on a stem) of ginger syrup, prickly pear juice, and silver tequila.

It also turns out to be incredibly strong. So much so that when they get back to the room, Indrid loses his balance getting his shoes off, which makes Duck laugh, which results in both of them flopping onto the bed.

“S’fun. You’re, you’re real good at the clues. Should, should go to an escape room when we get home.”

“Wasn’t, hic, that hard. They, they want, hic, want you to find it.”

“Take the compliment, goofus” Duck pushes his shoulder.

“You’re, hic, the goofus.”

“Nuh uh.” Duck sticks his tongue out. Indrid does the same, then licks his cheek just to hear him laugh.

Duck rolls onto his back, giggles dying down to a contemplative sigh, “He woulda hated this.”

“Your ex?” Indrid crawls to stay close to him.

“Yeah. Everythin I like, or, or thought was fun, he thought it was a waste of time or just plain worthless. He, he wasn’t like that at the start. Dunno what changed. Probably me. Probably got borin. Got worse.”

Indrid is not so drunk that he believes he can fix this. But he’s just drunk enough to stroke Duck’s cheek and murmur, “No. Nono, hic, you’re th’best.”

He doesn’t remember falling asleep after that, but he must have, because his phone is beeping at them to get up and face the day. They do so with to-go coffees in one hand and their bags in the other, neither speaking of the night before until Indrid has turned the car into deeper desert.

“Sorry for gettin on a thing about Alex last night.”

“It was a three year relationship; goodness knows you’re allowed to have feelings about it.”

“Even relief?”

Indrid glances at him, “Of course.”

His friend leans back in his seat, sipping from his travel mug, “That’s half the reason I been in such a funk. I feel like I oughta be sad, then I feel guilty for the fact I’m relieved instead. But if I really was that unhappy in it, why did I hang around so long? Maybe that was the best I deserved, y’know?”

“I know the feeling, yes, but I can’t say I agree with your statement. You deserve someone who sees you for who you are and adores it, not someone who loved what you once were and became bitter when you grew.”

Duck looks at the console between them, at Indrid’s chipped black nails and the hand he hopes isn’t shaking. He squeezes it a moment longer than necessary, “Thanks, ‘Drid. It’s nice to hear that from someone who’s still gettin to know me. Juno and them, they’re my friends, I know they’re in my corner but, uh, sometimes I worry that anyone new is gonna find me dull or somethin like that.”

“I’m sure some people would, just as some take one look at me and decide I’m a weirdo who they don’t want to deal with. But I can say with certainty that I don’t find you that way.”

Duck grins all the way to their destination. It’s a quirky trailer park full of amenities and built mostly from salvaged materials, doing it’s best to run off the grid. It also gives each trailer a theme, and Indrid flaps his hands when he sees they’ve been booked in the “The Cramps” themed one.

“Hell yeah.” Duck mirrors his excitement as they open the door. Their haven from the desert sun is full of kitschy horror artifacts and a much smaller bed than the previous spot. There’s no debate this time; Indrid settles on the right, Duck on the left, and they settle in for a nap before venturing out to work.

They take in the bar, the arcade, the mini-golf course, and the “couples supply room” (“damn, didn’t know they made eggnog scented massage oil” “ooh, I like how that smells”), but Duck turns out to be most excited to rent a stargazing kit and guide Indrid out into the dark desert. They’re on their backs, shoulder to shoulder and munching chocolate covered fruit, when he discovers the source of his glee.

“There!” Duck points to a crackling streak of silver.

“A meteor” Indrid wiggles happily as a second one speeds through his view.

“It’s the Perseids, and this is a damn good place to watch ‘em. Look, there’s another one.” He’s breathless each time and Indrid’s heart threatens to beat hard enough to crack the earth at the sound.

“Did you ever wish on stars when you were little?”

“Yep. Never asked for much worth notin, though I’m pretty sure I wished once to just wake up and be a boy. Or, uh, guess for everyone to see me as one. What about you?”

“I wished...I wished for someone to do things like this with, some who’d kiss me and tell me that they didn’t need to wish because what they wanted was right here.. I love the world, I want to see so much of it, that’s half the reason I chose my profession.. But when I was young I thought I’d be with someone when I did. I thought it was easy to find that kind of love. To be worthy of it.”

“Hey now” Duck rolls onto his side. He’s backlit by the moon, meteors zipping behind him as if they, just like Indrid, are pulled to him, “what happened to all the stuff you said in the car about deservin someone who adores you?”

“It’s easy to apply such things to you, harder to believe them about myself.”

“How come?”

“Because you are everything a sensible person could want in a man and I am not.”

“That’s where you’re wrong” He sets a hand next to Indrid’s shoulder, “Can think of at least one sensible fella who wants to get to know you a whole hell of a lot.”

“He’ll get to know me plenty, we’re co-workers.”

“There are different kinds of gettin to know someone.” Duck dips down, brushes their noses together, “for instance, the last few days I’ve gotten to know you’re a damn good travel companion and that Ned was smart to hire you. But I’ve also gotten to know there’s some things about you I really wanna know.”

“Such as?” Indrid’s fingers find Duck’s sides.

“Such as whether you wanna go on a date with me when we get back. No assignment, just the two of us gettin some time together.”

“I want nothing more.” He leans up to kiss him, feels him shudder happily when their lips meet. Indrid wonders how long it’s been since someone kissed Duck like they meant it, and resolves to make up any deficits with an enthusiasm that would put horny eighteen year olds to shame.

Indrid nips Ducks ear, “you know, were it not for the threat of mosquitos and scorpions, I’d suggest we make good use of the non-food items in that basket.”

Ducks grin lights Indrid up like a comet, “Then howsabout we go test just how conducive our trailer is to romance?”

Indrid kisses him adoringly, “Lead on, sweetheart; I’ll follow you anywhere.”

#indruck #indrid cold/ duck newton #meet ugy

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yellowocaballero · 3 years

Text

Human Relations Snippet: Tim teaches Jon the internet and odious goats are sacrificed to the cult of Bezos

There’s no reason for this to exist. I was rereading a bit of HR and I saw a throwaway joke about Jon wanting to buy Martin a Portal Gun. I started wondering about how that would even work. The answer is, obviously, a 200 year old man squinting at a computer screen wondering why there’s so many horny singles in his area. I get possessed by demons easily, so I took three hours out of writing my daemon au and wrote this instead. Bon Appetit.

(Edit, quick clarification: I think that Jon would refuse to use the name for the Beholding that Smirke made up, and although all of this exists in my head and you guys don’t know this, there was a lot of tension between Jon and Jonah’s ��circle’. So Jon hated Smirke and thought he was a hack. He uses Smirke’s terms to others sometimes for ease of understanding or in deference to Jonah (:/) but I think that mentally he mainly calls the Beholding his own name, The Witness. It rings of that personal and intimate connection Jon and the Beholding has. Anyway, onto the story.)

After one hour in anguished uncertainty, fifty popups that advised Jon of very many ‘hot singles in his area’, six separate sites that Jon’s God had to inform him were covers for thieves that stole money from you, and a very confusing retreat to Jon’s favorite internet page ‘Wikipedia’ as to what an Amazon was, Jon had given up.

Normally this was where he asked one of his personal assistants for help. Normally, he wouldn’t even be trying, and he would have just told one of them to do it. This was how Jon had cunningly mostly avoided using computers for the past twenty years. Some endeavors were unavoidable, and Jon was proud to say that he mastered email in 2010. Or was it 2008? He liked to think it was 2006, but it was possible...never mind. If it was important, the Witness would tell him.

Peter Lukas was right on almost nothing, Jon thought disgruntledly as he slammed his laptop shut - including in his taste of men, company, philosophies, men, patron deities, professions, and men - but he was right in his proclamation that the internet was the degradation of society. Not that he hadn’t sacrificed his morality and sold out, feeding his patron through something called “incel forums” and “Reddit”. Between him, Jonah’s “Excel spreadsheets” and “TurboTax”, and Annabelle Cane’s ridiculous “MMO guilds”, the Society was filling with computer geeks. Jon could always read the wind: he had to keep up, and quickly.

Besides, Martin had kindly educated him on how it was almost unheard of for a young man like Jon to not understand how to work that Goggle thing. Giggle? Martin was very streetwise and was one of the most insightful people Jon had ever known, he was definitely right.

Which is why he had to buy him this “Portal Gun” that he wanted. He had even shown Jon the website! And if Jon was in desperate times trying to navigate these confusing webpages entirely with URLs he memorized, then he would take desperate measures!

“I’m going down to the Archives,” Jon said, slithering off the couch and clutching his laptop to chest. Jonah had bought it for him. He appeared surprised that Jon was using it. “I may not be back for a while. I need...a book.”

Jonah didn’t look away from his own infernal machine. It seemed he was on that ‘Excel’ program again. Was it one of those ‘video games’ he kept hearing about? “Do I want to know what you were doing on that laptop.”

“Reading Wikipedia,” Jon said immediately, and somewhat defensively. Jon had discovered Wikipedia in 2001 before promptly funding it and throwing his weight behind its development. He had spent a solid five years convinced a computer was a kind of electronic screen that let you read digital Encyclopedia pages, like in Star Trek. He’d seen Star Trek. Georgie made him. “Did you know that -”

“Yes, yes, have fun. Haven’t you read that entire site already?”

“Not even,” Jon said defensively. “I can’t just sit and read through entire Encyclopedias anymore, Jonah. We know more things now.”

“What a way to describe the last two hundred years,” Jonah said, not even looking away from his computer. “We know more things. Never change, Jon.”

“You’re the one who never changes,” Jon grumbled. But it was a weak comeback, and considering his brand new delightfully short stature somewhat untrue, so Jon breezed out of Jonah’s office with full knowledge that he’d think of a better comeback halfway down the steps to the Archives.

In fact, it wasn’t until he was at the door, and by then he felt stupid for losing a point against Jonah anyway. He easily opened the door, stepping inside and quickly bee-lining for Sasha’s office. Her burgeoning powers were wonderfully flowing in the shape of access to and understanding of technology. He had never seen such gratuitous breeches of privacy as she casually committed. Every day Jon was validated in his decision to save her from the Stranger. A balance, an equal yet opposite Archivist from Jon, would be invaluable. Not that Jonah and Jon weren’t their own yin and yang, but Jonah’s powers were paltry and out-of-date. Mind reading and spying through iconography was so 1960. They needed fresh blood.

Sasha had been a wonderful choice, and Jon didn’t regret choosing her to act as saviour. Most of the time. Some of the time she -

“She’s not in.”

Jon’s fist halted in front of the door, about to sharply rap on her office door. He turned around to actually look through the bullpen, only to see that Timothy was sitting in his chair chewing a sandwich. Somehow angrily. Definitely suspiciously.

“Are you sure?” Jon asked dubiously. “Because you’ve lied about this before.”

“Because you should stop coming down here and bothering her.” Timothy balled the saran wrap in his hand and dunked it in the trash can, somehow undoubtedly giving the impression that he wished it was Jon’s head. “Just bugger off.”

Someone was in a snit. Normally Timothy wasn’t this hostile. Jon had thought that learning his name might make him less mean, but it did little to help. But when Jon looked around he didn’t see Martin, and a quick check assured him that both Sasha and Martin were having lunch at their favorite deli and engaging in that plotting hobby they both enjoyed. Timothy had elected to stay behind, stewing in his own angry and paranoid juices.

He would have to do this with Martin out of the Archives...and he really wanted to take care of this now so Martin would get it before the weekend...and it wasn’t as if Jon was scared of this boy he was one hundred and seventy years older than…

“Uh,” Jon said intelligently, “can you help me with...something…”

Timothy’s face twisted in a novel combination of surprise and disgust. “What,” he sneered, “your evil fear god or whatever can’t figure it out for you?”

“I don’t need others to think for me,” Jon said stiffly. It was something he’d had to say far too many times. “The Witness is less helpful with...troubleshooting...look, do you know how to work a computer?”

Timothy stared at him blankly. “Like, at all?”

“I’m trying to buy Martin this toy he desires,” Jon said desperately. Fuck it all, he walked over and sat down in the chair next to Tim’s desk. He pulled a little bit closer, placing his laptop on Tim’s desk, and ignored the way the other man leaned away. “But whenever I try I keep on seeing alerts about hot singles. I’m not interested in young women, I just need to buy a ‘Portal Gun’. Do you know what a Portal Gun is?”

Timothy continued staring at him, eyebrows raised. Clearly involuntarily, so quick that he may not even have noticed, one corner of his lips was ticking upwards into a smile.

“How many credit card scams have you fallen for?”

“Absolutely none,” Jon said, very quickly. He pulled out his credit card, placing it on the table. He knew a credit card was involved, although he didn’t know how. “What do I do? Do I swipe it? Is there a port?” He picked up the laptop and squinted at its sides, looking for a port. “I wanted to ask Sasha for help, since she’s the expert in hacking, but surely you know the basics?”

“I mean...I can’t, like, code, but yeah, I can work Amazon.” Timothy carefully opened the laptop, watching the display light up. He effortlessly navigated to an icon on the screen, clicking it open.

“That’s not right,” Jon said urgently. “You’re supposed to press the E.”

“I do not want to know how many toolbars you have,” Timothy said bluntly. “We’re using Chrome. That’s another way to look at the Internet.” He rubbed his hands together. “Yeah, I got a grandmother, we can do this.”

Jon perked up. “So you’ll help?”

Went unsaid: even though you hate me?

“Whatever,” Timothy grumbled. Jon decided not to press his luck.

Jon decided that he liked the Chrome better than the Internet Explorer, because it was simpler and Google was on the first page. Tim rapidly typed on ‘Amazon.com’ into the search bar and easily scrolled through the very busy and picture filled page that immediately popped up. Why was everything so fast? Maybe this was why the young people had no attention span: these pages just came up immediately. No flipping for indices for finding anything in phone books.

“Right. What was it, a Portal Gun? Like from the game?”

“A board game?”

“Video game.”

“Like on a VHS…?”

“Right.” Tim pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know, Sasha said that you’re one of the most famous sociologists and anthropologists in British history.”

“I am extremely intelligent, Timothy, and I won’t abide any insinuation otherwise,” Jon said curtly. “I cannot be expected to keep constant track every time there’s another - iPhone or whatever. You have teenagers in your family, correct? Do you always know what they’re talking about? That’s, what, a twenty year age gap? Multiply that by ten.”

That shut him up. Timothy sighed again, much more aggressively, but he clicked the white bar and typed in ‘portal gun’ anyway. “Right. Not fucking apologizing, but right. I still don’t fucking know what ‘Twitch’ is.”

“It’s a brief spasmodic contraction of the muscle fibers,” Jon said helpfully. “Fascinatingly, this phenomenon was first observed in frog’s legs before I was even born in 1780, by Luigi Galvani. Erudite man, by the way, but he couldn’t hold his liquor. It was the birth of the study of bioelectricity, although the exact mechanism of muscle contraction eluded scientists for years.”

“Never mind.” Timothy sighed again, the perfect mix of aggravated and long-suffering. It seemed to be the man’s two favorite emotions. “My grandmother has a PhD and she still can’t figure out her cell, either. We had to get her a Jitterbug.”

Amazon, as Timothy explained, was a kind of shopping mall, except you could pick out what you wanted by its picture and have the shopping mall pack it up and send it to you. Jon didn’t quite understand why people preferred this to just going to a shop yourself, seeing as you could get it immediately instead of with a three or four day turnaround, but Tim explained that Amazon was cheaper, had a wider selection, and didn’t make you get off the couch.

“Oh,” Jon said, finally getting it, “this follows the economic model of large scale businesses underpricing their products to undercut smaller businesses in the area, driving them out of business until they hold monopoly over the market and can raise their prices without worrying about staying competitive.”

Timothy stared at him.

“I mean,” he said, “I guess?”

“This explains why my Alexa project was successful so quickly,” Jon mused. “With a lack of competition or alternatives, consumers are more likely to accept the dramatic invasions of privacy as normal. Normalizing intrusions into privacy took ages, but my early efforts paid off very well. The Ring doorbell was even better, along with the line of security and home protection systems. We’re now working on live streamed 24/7 surveillance to social media platforms.”

Timothy stared at him further.

Finally, he said, “Alexa was...you?”

“Of course,” Jon said, baffled. Who else would it be? “I gave Jeff the idea and convinced him it would be profitable. I didn’t understand the whole mechanics of it, but once I gave Jeff a vision from the Witness he was eager to implement the divinely inspired spyware.”

Timothy continued to stare.

“The evil fear god controls Jeff Bezos.”

“He thinks I’m a prophet, actually,” Jon said helpfully. “I let him become Cardinal of the imaginary cult in exchange for funding some of my more esoteric programs. Had him sacrifice a goat and everything, it was great.” At Timothy’s alarmed look, Jon was quick to elaborate, “It was the most evil goat you’ve met in your life. Morally odious.”

“...for my sanity I’m going to pretend that you said none of that.”

In retrospect, although Timothy had worked at the Institute for a few years, it did take quite a bit of time to acclimate to the fact that the Avatars permanently shaped the shape of human existence in order to better feed their gods. Jon knew better than anyone: when humanity made gods, and gods made man, and man made gods...the feedback loop could self-perpetuate for years. Eternity, if needed.

But they had no luck on ‘Amazon’. With Jon’s eidetic memory he was able to easily pick out the one that looked most similar to the one that Martin had showed him, but all of the little toy guns were for someone named ‘Rick’. Then Timothy took twenty laborious minutes explaining the entire plot of ‘Rick & Morty’ to him, which Jon patiently sat through.

“I think young people today deeply enjoy explaining media,” Jon said, once Timothy finished telling him the funny jokes. “I’m very interested in your interests, Timothy.”

“You are so fucking condescending. And please call me Tim, you’re sounding even more like my grandmother.” When Jon brightened, Tim - Tim! - quickly said, “This does not mean we are friends.”

Granted, Jon had never once in his life gave a shit about making friends, but he felt as if he should be making more of an effort with Tim. He was a sort of supernatural brother in law, wasn’t he? Although Sasha perhaps Sasha was more of a favored niece. At least, he would be, if today’s generation found some morality and stopped living in sin.

Good lord. Now he was sounding like Jonah. Georgie used to joke that he was born in the wrong generation - he should have been born a 17th century Puritan instead. Jon found it a very funny joke. Jonah did not.

“Are there any other shopping websites?” Jon asked finally, after Amazon failed them. He’d have to call up Jeff later and complain. “Or is this the only one?”

Tim sighed. “Let’s check Google.”

Quickly and efficiently, yet with many lightning fast detours, Tim found another site called ‘eBay’ - pronounced ‘e-Bay’, not ‘ehbay’ - that listed off exactly what they needed. They weren’t under the toy section, instead listed as something called ‘cosplay’, but Tim seemed highly resistant to explaining that one, so he dropped it.

They picked a likely looking white toy gun that looked the most similar to the one that Martin had liked and Tim talked Jon through punching in the numbers on his card into the website and sorting through the billing and shipping information. Tim helpfully took down the numbers on his card to file later.

“And...done!” Tim said, pressing a button and leaning back. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“It was ten times as complicated as I thought it would be,” Jon assured him, “but also much more fun. What else can you buy online?”

“Oh, god. What can’t you buy.”

Jon brightened. “Can you buy books?”

“Old Gertrude used to buy Leitners on eBay,” Tim said dully, “so yeah, sure, why not.”

Jon stared at his computer. He carefully navigated the mouse to the big red x and clicked out of the internet browser. “That’s enough of eBay, then, I think.”

Guess he would have to stick to buying Leitners in person. It was no good buying fucked up books from sketchy sources. Always stick to people you trusted, or at least trusted to be themselves. Mikaele was Jon’s favorite supplier since the kid Leitner disappeared, and they had a pleasant working relationship. Mikaele shared his grandfather’s stories about the history and culture of the Maori, and Jon told him which of his haunted artifacts would be the most helpful in the imminent apocalypse.

“Well,” Tim said finally, gently pushing Jon’s laptop away, “that was...something, great bonding session with my local supervillain, please run back to Elias and bother him instead.”

“You were very helpful, Mr. Stoker,” Jon said, as professionally yet paternally as possible. Tim was six years older than his body, so he’s not sure how it came off, but the touch of grey at his temples helped with the dignified air. “And as soon as you start acting like a man and propose to my Archivist, you’ll make an excellent brother in law -”

“Uh, excuse me?”

Jon spun around in his chair to see Sasha and Martin standing at the door, holding doggy bags and looking somewhat flummoxed. Probably confused at the sight of him and Tim having a civil conversation, which admittedly had never happened before. Possibly also confused at how completely mortified Tim looked.

“Who said anything about proposing?” Sasha asked incredulously. “Tim, are you -”

“No! No, god no!” Tim stood up quickly, holding his hands out as if he was placating a raging bull. “Nobody’s been saying anything - I would never do that to you -”

“Oh,” Sasha said frostily, crossing her arms and letting the bags swing, “would you.”

That was a domestic Jon should stay out of, even though he definitely caused it. He and Martin sidled away in tandem, huddling near the back of the Archives as Tim frantically pled for his life.

Sneakily, Jon glanced at Martin out of the corner of his eye. He looked happy. Happy, and just as stressed as he always looked - Jon had never known Martin when he wasn’t constantly stressed out, and he was more than aware that it was his fault.

He looked good, too. Really nice, broad jawline that gave his face a friendly round shape. Just friendly and round in general, it was really handsome. His hair was as nicely short and ruffles as ever. The big glasses were super stylish, and really framed his face well. Really big, broad hands. Jon, who had always been so poky and tall and thin and gaunt, like some kind of haunted scarecrow that lurked through the corners of time, was envious. He wanted some of that softness and gentleness. Really, he wanted some of Martin’s -

“So what were you and Tim doing?” Martin asked. “I didn’t know you knew he existed.”

“You told me his name,” Jon said anxiously. “I don’t forget the things you tell me, you know.”

Martin smiled shyly and him, and Jon found himself smiling back. “It’s pretty good for my ego to hear that I have something to teach the immortal genius.”

“I don’t know,” Jon said, as Sasha yelled in the background, “I’ve been learning a lot lately.”

“Really?” Martin teased. “Anything interesting?”

“Oh,” Jon said, watching the yellow fluorescent light cast Martin’s dim smile in soft relief, “I can think of a few things.”

#my writing #jonathan sims #tim stoker #archivist!sasha #martin blackwood #sasha james #mild homosexual activity and massive old man activity inbound #tma #the magnus archives #tma fanfic #the magnus archives fanfic #im posting this at an awkward time so prep for a lot of self rbs

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plantsarefun06 · 3 years

Text

Creation of Lazarus

"But I know the rage that drives you. That impossible anger strangling the grief, until the memory of your loved one is just poison in your veins. And one day, you catch yourself wishing the person you loved had never existed, so you'd be spared your pain."

-Ra’s al Ghul ----

Ra’s was born in the Arabi desert, to nomads, in 1430. If you asked any person from that tribe what Ra’s was, they would say “A boy with dreams”. Ra’s had dreams of knowledge, dreams of helping others, he dreamed of having a legacy, and a great one at that.

His dreams led him to leave his tribe. He knew that as a nomad, he would never truly achieve what he wished to and the best course of action was to settle down in a great city and continue the measly education that he got as a nomad, and the great knowledge the libraries of the Sultan provided.

His studies led him to a physician. Ra’s requested to become a physician, he wanted to help others, this would offer him an opportunity to study and learn about diseases and ailments, firsthand, and offer him chances to help the sick and injured.

The physician asked for one thing. “I am infirm and soon for the grave. My daughter, Sora, she will need a husband to look after her.” That’s when he heard a yell from the curtain behind the clerk’s desk. A woman swiftly pushed back the curtain to scold her father. “I thought we agreed you’d stop trying to marry me off!”

The girl, clearly about his age, looked at him, let out a quick huff before grabbing his wrist in a vice-like grip and dragging him behind the clerk’s desk, behind the curtain, into what he could now see was a closet, with medicines and serums lining the walls, all filled with cobwebs and dust, clearly having not been used in a while.

“I’ll be honest with you Ra’s… I don’t really like boys much… but I can offer you companionship and support. And if we get married it will make my father’s last days much happier.” He was evaluating what she said as she said it when she quickly looked over to the shelves “And him stop pestering me.” She mumbled more to herself than Ra’s. At that he let out a light chuckle and having thought over her offer gave her his thoughts.

“I admit, I’m more interested in the pursuit of knowledge than women. We might be able to come to some… mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Sora gave a light smile to Ra’s, and he returned it. They both understood the agreement they both had created.

----

Within the year, as they all had expected, Sora’s father had died.

Despite them knowing that the time was drawing near, it was still hard. Sora would never admit it, but she shed a tear at his funeral, watching the bird fly through the skies as he was laid out in the Tower of Silence for a sky burial, traditional for his Zoroastrianism.

To cope Ra’s delved into his studies and found a project of the late physician. He had seen him look over it many times, but he had never been allowed to read the texts. He would simply watch as the physician would spend hours pouring over the texts, before the physician would finally come over and teach him about traditional medicinal herbs and serums and their effects. Ra’s forever acknowledges that he learned more in his months under the physician's tutelage, than he ever did in the library.

He learned of how diseases spread, and the common ways they would extend across the city in the matter of weeks. How if they started within the markets, they would quickly spread across many of the peasants, and other middle-class folk, but they wouldn’t get much farther, and how if the diseases started amongst the slaves, they would spread much faster due to the unsanitary conditions, and they would often then be picked up by someone of upper class, as they traditionally had slaves, and spread.

He was eternally grateful for the lessons he was given. They helped him serve the city in incredible ways. Ra’s performed near miracles for anyone who needed it. His reputation started to grow, some upper-class citizens would refuse to come, because Ra’s would cater to slaves, but others would request the treatment of Ra’s and would always find themselves healed within the week.

But these texts that he found of the physicians, seemed to have some pages with herbs and brews, but the majority held drawings of people, dressed in unfamiliar clothing, all bright, with texts in a script he couldn't begin to understand. He looked among the pages and found what looked to be a cypher in the physician's handwriting. The physician had part of the unfamiliar script figured out… no not script… it was CODE! The texts were coded!

All he would need to do was complete the cypher and he would discover what the texts were for.

----

Ra’s poured hours into the texts and completing the code, with no such luck.

“It’s no good. These codes your father was working on have me beat. I can’t break it…” He called to his wife, who was currently working in the front of the shop after it closed about an hour ago, she was preparing for the next day, he supposed.

“Perhaps I can help?” She poked her head in from behind the curtain to peer at him being over the table.

“Thank you, Sora. A warm bowl of goat’s milk and nutmeg would be most refreshing.” Ra’s commented back to her, without lifting his eyes from the texts in front of him.

He could practically feel the glare she was giving him. He wasn’t entirely sure it wouldn’t burn him with the intensity he could only feel from it, and he wasn’t even looking at her.

“I mean with the code. I learnt much from my father and knew he was struggling to complete his final great work, just as much as you. You’re not married to a servant girl, Ra’s. Warm the milk yourself, and let me see those figures.” The defiance in her tone was thick and her anger was subtle yet tangible. He didn’t understand it but that defiance, and strong will made him want to love her.

He knew that their relationship was built on the agreement of companionship, and for the safety of Sora after her father’s death, but he would be lying if he said that he didn’t love her. Love the way she would snark him when he would ask her to do things, that he could do himself, love how she would hum as she cooked the dinner that they ate every night, her loved how she would ever so lightly furrow her eyebrow when she was concentrated on work.

Ra’s let out a small smile and turned to meet his wife by the curtain. He bent down to kiss her forehead, “Sora… I believe this is going to be a beautiful marriage.” He gave her a light hug before giving her another kiss on her forehead and mumbling to her just loud enough for her to hear, “I’ll go warm some goat’s milk for the both of us, and you can look over the codes, until I get back, and we can work on them together.” He gave her a light squeeze before unraveling himself from her and going off to warm the goat’s milk, and Sora heading over to the table to study the texts.

----

“More code?” Ra’s asked no one in particular. He and Sora had stumbled upon a trapdoor underneath a floor mat in the medicinal closet while cleaning. Ra’s could tell from the hinges alone that it was used regularly. When they opened the hatch they saw that it led down a small ladder, the ladder led to a room, an underground cave almost, despite it being quite dark he could make out the sound of lightly sloshing water and summarized that there was a pool in this cave.

They both held small candles, and when holding them close to the wall they saw it. It was a wall full of more texts! They were familiar enough with the code to recognize that the code from the texts upstairs matched the one in front of them.

A glint of recognition and understanding was in Sora’s eyes. “My father was working on a map of the Tibetan mountains, using the wisdom of the stars and other maps from the libraries of the Sultan. And figuring out the meaning of the code from texts of the ancients. A code showing…” She stopped speaking, her eyes running over a few things before stopping.

“And code of what?” Ra’s questioned Sora’s sudden quietness and turned to give her his whole focus. Her eyes were completely fixed on one drawing. It was of the silhouette of a man, behind him was a circle of purple. The way it was positioned it seemed to be describing the man emitting the purple. Like he was glowing.

He refocused his attention on his wife’s face as she turned to him, “One which tells the way to achieve something men have long dreamed-” he saw the emotions his wife’s face held. Emotions he had never seen in her face before, it was complete and utter disbelief,

“-a wish to change reality.”

----

They soon were able to decipher enough code to learn that the Tibetan mountains was the location of the Temple of Guardians, the holders of two pieces of magical jewelry that possessed the ability, when combined, to grant a wish that could alter reality.

Sora and Ra’s had both packed enough for a 3-week trip on horseback, to the Tibetan mountains, and back. Ra’s had won the argument over who would be going, Sora wanting it to be herself, but eventually agreeing Ra’s would be better suited for the job, considering he grew up as a nomad, much to Sora’s chagrin.

He had been on trek for a week and was taking a rest on the side of the dirt road to fill his canteen with water from a stream he saw nearby, when he saw a flash of light blue and white out of the corner of his eyes. He immediately drew one of the daggers that he carried at all times and started to look around for what he saw.

He hadn’t fought anyone in a decade, last time being a practice spar with his uncle the night before he left to go live in the city alone, and even then, he was only okay, but he did know some forms of martial arts and weaponry in theory. He read about it in some of the texts from the library, while theory may not have anything on experience, it was better than nothing.

He was beginning to think he had either come down with a fever and been hallucinating, or he had simply been seeing things, when after five minutes of surveying the area, he could see that no one had been there.

He walked up to his undisturbed horse and grabbed the reins. Upon lifting himself on the horse he heard a light *jingle*. He looked down to find a small drawstring bag tied around the tip of his saddle. He was used to seeing little drawstring bags, like this one, around the shop. Sora often used them to hold the herbs they used for medical purposes, but he didn’t know why she would have packed it, or why it jingled when it was shaken.

He slowly picked it up, examining it as if it were going to spontaneously catch fire. He slowly undid the knot and overturned the contents of it in his gloved hand.

Out fell two earrings and a ring…

A ring that was a black as dark as the night sky he saw as a nomad child, with a pawprint, greener than any grass or any tapestry he had seen before…

And a pair of earrings red as the blood he had seen countless times as a physician, and five distinct spots, black as the ring…

Both the ring and the earrings looking exactly like the drawings he had seen of the Black Cat miraculous and the Ladybug miraculous he had seen in the texts.

Ra’s had learned many lessons in his life, but one of the biggest, most important of them all: There are no coincidences in the world.

Ra’s had no doubt in his mind that in his hand, he held the two most powerful objects in the universe, two objects that would grant him a wish.

Slowly, a grin grew on his face. He immediately seized the reins of his horse, and turned him around, heading faster than he ever had back to the city.

His father-in-law's final project was finally completed on its way to being completed.

----

The look on Sora’s face was one he had only seen once before, when they first discovered the small area underneath the shop, complete and utter disbelief.

“This… these jewels… are they really the Black Cat and Ladybug miraculous?” She asked wide-eyed, just looking at what Ra’s had set on the counter after barging into the shop, in a ridiculously loud manner, might she add.

“I do believe it is, they practically feel powerful!”

Sora slowly inched her hand toward where the earrings fell on the counter. The moment she gently brushed her finger against one of the earrings, a bright pink light emitted from it, one that forced both Sora and Ra’s to cover their eyes.

Once the light dimmed, they saw something that was not in the texts.

Both Sora and Ra’s were in a state of shock. It was broken when the thing floated up to her face and began to speak, “Hello my name’s Tikki. I’m the Kwami of Creation!” She said, giving a little twirl in the air.

Ra’s, finally able to speak again, asked, “That does not explain much. What is a ‘Kwami’ and why did you suddenly appear when the earrings were touched by Sora?”

“Ooh. A Kwami is an entity tethered to this plane of reality by the jewelry that is sitting on your counter. I’m the entity of creation. When everything came to be, I came to be with it, not before, not after, some people confuse that.” The ‘Kwami’, as they both learned it was, giggled before continuing with the explanation they both needed, “I’m the thing that gives power to that jewelry, without me, that jewelry is just some antique junk.” She finished her explanation.

It made more sense than just ‘magical jewelry’ to have some entity tethered to it. “If you touch the ring Plagg will come out!” She exclaimed before going over to Ra’s and pulling off his glove and grabbing his hand. She pulled his hand from his side and he willingly allowed the ‘Kwami’ to lift his finger to touch the ring.

A second burst of bright light, green this time, came from the ring. This time Sora and Ra’s expected it so it wasn’t too bad. They only had to blink a couple times before they heard a yawn, “Well that was a good cat nap!” The other ‘Kwami’, who he was guessing his name was ‘Plagg’ from what ‘Tikki’ said, “Do you all have some cheese, I’m starving!”

Sora was the one who pulled herself together enough to answer ‘Plagg’s’ question, “There is some food in the cabinet under the basin. You may find what you are looking for there.” Sora gestured to the curtain and both Kwami got the memo, before floating off where Sora indicated the food would be.

Both Ra’s and Sora locked eyes. Their silent conversation led to them both leaving each other's gaze to eye the ring and earrings. They both agreed that they had no idea what had just happened.

----

“That is not a good idea.”

That was the only thing that was said after Sora and Ra’s took them to see the basement beneath their shop that held the texts and the pool. Both of the Kwami were faced away from the texts as ‘they should not see them’. Ra’s gave them an indignant look at their immediate dismissal of their want for a wish.

“This could help hundreds maybe even thousands of people, how is this not a good idea?”

“You don’t understand, the wish has major repercussions, you can always ask for a way to heal the injured and dead, but that wish will have untold side-effects.” Tikki tried to explain to both Ra’s and Sora. The sincerity in her voice was deep, but they did not hear the sadness that lingered in it as well.

“Will you not allow us to make the wish?” Sora asked, tilting her head to the side, as if analyzing the situation.

“We cannot stop you from making the wish, but we must tell you, it will have repercussions, and the one who makes the wish will feel them deeply.” Sorrow again seeped into Tikki’s voice; this time Ra’s noticed it as well.

“Then I will make the wish, I have memorized the incantation and only one of us can make the wish itself.” He pulled the now silver ring and black earrings from his pocket. He placed the ring on his left middle finger. He prepared to force the earrings through his ears, worst case scenario he could use whatever came of the wish to heal himself, only to be pleasantly surprised when the earrings glided through his ear as if he did have a piercing.

Both the Kwami moved to the outstretched hands Ra’s offered and sat down. Ra’s failed to notice the tears in Tikki’s eyes, and the downcast look on Plagg’s face.

The moment he uttered the last syllable, the rush to Ra’s was undeniable. He felt immense amounts of power seeping into his veins.

“I wish to have the means to heal any injury and return any person from death.”

And everything went quiet. All the power he was feeling only moments ago, felt like it was running off him, like dirt would in a shower.

He looked over to see Sora sitting in the ground shielding her face, much in the same manner she was when they first met the Kwami.

Both the earrings and ring started to burn lightly, so he ripped them off and threw them behind him, before running over to Sora and helping her stand.

Ra’s felt at his ear, where he just ripped the earring out, noticing the earrings didn’t leave so much as a scar.

Looking to check over Sora, he saw out of the corner of his eyes a bright green glow.

Both Ra’s and Sora looked over to see a neon, toxic green color at the bottom center of the pool.

It was mesmerizing how the green stretched from a small center at the bottom of the pool out, almost like tentacles, or tree roots growing out in the dirt.

He continued to watch until the entire pool was filled with the green, when he saw the same white and light blue flash out of the corner of his eyes. He tried to turn quickly and catch it, but the only thing he saw was an empty room.

A room empty of both the Black Cat and Ladybug miraculous.

----

Life went on relatively normal for Ra’s and Sora. They cleaned out the basement and removed the texts, as they were no use to him anymore, and cleaned the area.

When finding a name, they settled on one- Lazarus Pit - from a biblical story that Sora’s father mentioned in one of the texts.

He had said ‘he wanted to be able to do the same as the Christian’s god, and revive the dead. And if the wish truly worked, it would be able to, they had yet to try the pit and test the magic that quite obviously resided within it.

----

As time went on, and the pit remained below their feet, Ra’s continued his work as a physician, continuing working miracles without the use of the pit, which was an actual miracle. His reputation grew both of his physician's duties, and of the great mind he held. He was referred to as “the greatest mind of his age” by some.

Ra’s had heard him referred to as this on occasion, but he didn’t realize just how far word of his miracles went until the Sultan’s guard requested his aid in healing the prince who had fallen ill.

As the guards left his shop, leaving him with the letter asking him officially of his aid he immediately turned to Sora with quite possibly the largest smile he ever had on his face, “If I could cure the prince-- our reputation would be made, I’d have the funding to push my research forward-”

He was cut off by Sora who he only realized was rubbing her temple with her hands at his rant, “The prince is nothing but a cruel young aristo-- I’ve caught him leering at me in the Bazaar!”

“Don’t do this Ra’s. We can do without the Sultan’s money!” Sora pleaded to him. She held a look of concern on her face that Ra’s completely ignored, rather thinking about what he could possibly do with the benefits of healing a prince.

“You’re wrong! When I walked through the desert, I nurtured a dream. This is my way to fulfill it!”

Ra’s turned away from Sora, and headed down below the shop, to the Pit.

----

Everything went wrong. And Ra’s had no idea how.

Everything was going fine.

The royal guards had brought the sick prince to his shop as requested by Ra’s. The moment he saw the prince Ra’s knew that he was on his deathbed… he knew the only way to help him was using the Lazarus Pit.

He had the guards bring him down the ladder and he followed them, with Sora by his side.

They dipped the prince in the Pit. They let him wade. It was only seconds, maybe a minute, at most, before the prince burst out from under the water. Certainly not sickly like he was, to the point of not being able to walk, not like he was when he arrived.

For the briefest moment Ra’s lived in this fantasy where the Pit healed the Prince, and Ra’s got the reputation he wanted, the funding he needed, and got to continue the research that he always wanted to. He lived in this fantasy where he and Sora worked side-by-side, studied medicine, and became great physicians known for their miracles.

This fantasy ended when the prince left at Sora his eyes, we're not the same as they were when he went in; they were yellow and feral. There was a snap before the guards were able to subdue him. They only realized that the snap was from Sora’s neck. And Sora laid on the ground with scratch marks on her face, her head bent at an unnatural angle, and a small drop of blood dripping down her cheek, from her mouth.

Ra’s fell beside her body, unmoving, he saw out of the corner of his eyes, the prince stopped struggling in the guards' arms and seemed to gain some form of coherency of the situation, but he could not look away from her. He didn’t even breathe until the guards grabbed him as well and put a bag over his head.

Everything went wrong.

----

They said he killed her. The Sultan was told by the prince’s guards that his son had killed the wife of the physician that treated him for his illness.

That he had snapped her neck. In return the guards were killed. They could not have the truth be spread. It could cause uprising if such rumors were told to others. So, the moment he was told the story, directly from the prince’s guards who had been there, and he got assurance that they had taken the husband -the physician- and put him in the dungeons, and after that assurance was placed, he had his personal guards slit their throats.

It wasn’t hard to say it was the husband who did it. Without the guards to tell what happened, and the physician in such a state of shock he wouldn’t even talk, no one questioned what the Sultan said.

How did this happen again?

Why did the prince look like that?

He looked feral?

His eyes were near yellow?

Why would he attack her?

Why would he kill her?

Why did he seem to be fine after a minute or being restrained?

Why?

They were the only questions Ra’s was asking himself of late.

He was completely unreactive on the outside but was perfectly aware of what was happening. He was perfectly aware of how the Sultan was placing the blame on him. How the Sultan was saying he killed Sora. He killed his wife.

And yet he knew that regardless of the fact he was innocent, he would still be blamed and persecuted for her death. So, he sat still and continued to ask those questions in his head.

How did this happen again?

Why did the prince look like that?

He looked feral?

His eyes were near yellow?

Why would he attack her?

Why would he kill her?

Why did he seem to be fine after a minute or being restrained?

Why?

He knew he was being gagged, tied up, and dragged from his cell from the dungeons beneath the castle. He knew that this is when they would punish him. It would be death.

How he would die?

He did not know.

Likely a public flogging, beating, or torture of some kind before then bend him over a rock and to take his head off.

And to be honest, Ra’s couldn’t feel anything, he was completely numb as his knees, calves, and feet were dragged over the dirt, and cobble leaving long scars. He knew they were supposed to sting, and burn, and just hurt, but he couldn’t feel a thing. He knew that was a bad sign, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

He didn’t start to see anything until he saw it. There was a cage in the center of the courtyard, black iron, probably burning hot with the sun as it is, but that is not what caught his eye. It was the body of Sora that laid in it.

He started to feel the burn of the metal as they forced him in the same small cage as Sora. He was forced to curl in on himself as her body lay not 6 inches from him. Sat up against the side of the cage, with rope tied around her neck and waist, keeping her sitting upright, and facing the rest of the unbearably small cage. Her eyes still opened in the same shock they were in when he first was beside her body.

He felt as the cage was lifted up, the burn of the hot metal only worsening, as they carried the cage out to the city walls, to leave him in the desert to die.

----

His eyes never stayed off Sora’s for long. He remembered what her eyes looked like…

… these are not her eyes.

Sora’s eyes held none of what it used to. Her eyes held confidence, charm, they held stubbornness and defiance. All the things that made Sora the woman she was. All the things that were devoid in those eyes.

Those eyes were open and held only one thing: fear. And that was unlike Sora at all. Sora was never afraid.

But maybe she was of death. Maybe her eyes held fear because she realized what was going to happen…

...because she realized she was going to die.

----

Ra’s didn’t know how long he sat in that cage outside the city walls, staring into the unfamiliar eyes.

All he knew was that the trance was broken by the sound of creaking metal. The hinges. And the feeling of hands going under his arms and pulling him up. He had the strength to turn his head and be met with a face that was faintly familiar.

“Who are you?” He weakly rasped out. “Sabih, I’m a slave for the al-Hafiz family. You saved my mother from dysentery four months ago… I figured I owed you the same.”

And that’s all they said. That’s all they said when he walked back towards the al-Hafiz property. That’s all they said after Sabih settled him in the stables and fed him some water and leftover scraps. That’s all they said as Sabih handed Ra’s a small bag with some water, and food in it. That’s all they said before Ra’s returned to the outside of the city walls, and left on a search for the nomadic tribe he was born and raised in.

He didn’t know what to do, but he was going to figure it out, but not do it in that city.

----

It took him a few weeks, and some manual labor in return for supplies, before he found his uncle’s nomads and took control. It was relatively easy.

By the time he had found the nomads he had been able to sort through his mind. Find his priorities.

And right now, he wanted one thing: he wanted the great city to burn.

He wanted them all dead, he just had to be smart about it. He was thankful, now more than ever for the lessons Sora’s father gave.

It would be easy, he would start by giving a disease to the slaves, if the disease would spread quick enough, it could be passed down the classes and severely weaken the city. Especially if the slaves were hit first, considering that the city was built with them as their foundation.

----

The city was ravaged. Those who didn’t die of disease were killed by Ra’s and his men. When the priests of the Zoroastrian Delegation asked if they spared them and their Holy Towers of Silence. Ra’s turned to the man who was the messenger of the request and bared his teeth.

“Kill the priests. Burn their sacred buildings!”

Ra’s stood in before the destruction he caused. He returned to the city a very different man from when he first arrived there.

A man with a different dream…

Ra’s walked back to the old shop. One that he spent much time in. Leading the others down to the opening below the shop to allow them to see the Lazarus Pit.

“Uncle, you are still the leader of our tribe, but the tribe I am describing will stretch farther than the sands of Arabi. Stretch into every land… past the wall of every city.” Ra’s spoke keeping his voice low and authoritarian. His uncle let off a chuckle.

“Oh, nephew. Just like your father. You were always the dreamer. What you speak of it too… fantastical.” His words made Ra’s a bit angry, but a bit smug at the same time. His uncle had no idea what the Pit in front of his very eyes was capable of.

“*tch* My father never had half my vision, Uncle, nor half my talent.”

His uncle just sputtered in response, “But… it would take several lifetimes for one man to accomplish what you speak of!”

Ra’s just smirked at his words, “Yes, uncle. Yes indeed. And it will be quite some journey.”

“I don’t understand.”

Ra’s focused on the pit, reminded of Tikki’s words…

“You don’t understand, the wish has major repercussions, you can always ask for a way to heal the injured and dead, but that wish will have untold side-effects.”

“We cannot stop you from making the wish, but we must tell you, it will have repercussions, and the one who makes the wish will feel them deeply.”

He truly did. The creation of this wish helped him achieve one of his life’s greatest desires, one of his greatest loves, and in return he lost the love of his life, Sora.

And if you are to use the Lazarus Pit to heal physical injuries, you will suffer from temporary loss of sanity.

Truly a balance.

“You will learn in time. Time is something we have a great deal of. The destruction of this city… has unleashed a demon.

And I… Ra’s al Ghul… I am truly the Demon’s Head!”

----------

Heavily based off of Batman Annual Vol. 1 26

‘al Ghul’ translates to Demon’s Head in Arabic. Notice how that ‘al Ghul’ is only used during the quote at the beginning of the story(yes I did use a quote from the Nolan movies. It fit really well), and at the end when he loses it.

This is the closest I could possibly get to DC canon on Ra’s al Ghul’s origin. In the original Ra’s does not create the pits he simply finds them, with the help of maps left behind by the physician. I wrote this because I really wanted a Miraculous created Lazarus pit, but one that also had Sora in it. I really like her for the scene with the goat’s milk (that is comic accurate, you can check) and what happened to her was NOT deserved. I also wanted to show the human side of Ra’s, and how rage drove him to be such an evil person.

Also a headcanon of mine is that any miraculous jewelry that is some sort of piercing, does not actually require a piercing to wear, it will just go through the skin as if there was a piercing.

The ‘light blue flash’ that Ra’s thinks he hallucinated was a holder of the Rabbit miraculous leaving both the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculous to him. This is done because the Lazarus pits are necessary to a stable timeline, not because whatever holder of the Rabbit miraculous is active, thought it was a good idea. They were practically forced.

Ra’s and Sora were closer to each other than anyone else, she was referred to as the love of his life, and they really had a deep bond and when Sora was killed he was broken. In the comic I based this off of, Talia even says, “[...]the death of Sora broke your grandfather’s heart… and forever darkened his soul.” when speaking to Damian.

#maribat #ra's al ghul #sora al ghul #lazarus pit #ml tikki #ml plagg #miraculous fandom #prequel #the blindness of marinette

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athina-blaine · 3 years

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MoMM Chapter 4 - The Storm, Part 1 (Preview #1)

(Note: this is not the finalized draft; anything featured is subject to edits or deletion!)

Chapter 3: The Empty Corridors

“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure I deserve that. Your friendship. After everything I’ve done since…”

“Of course you do. Listen to yourself; it’s not like you wanted to frighten me.” An inch of space sat between their hands. “Is this …? Um. Is this okay …?”

The winds continued to howl, and Martin's hand lay limp on the bed sheets. His face grew hot, and he started pulling back. Stupid idea. But then Jon slid his hand closer until their fingers brushed. Emboldened, Martin wrapped his hand around Jon's, his burn scar grazing the soft skin of Martin's palm.

He squeezed gently.

“No one deserves to be lonely, Jon.”

Jon had no response, staring out to the storm that continued knocking on their windows. He stared, and he let Martin hold his hand.

Chapter 4 - The Storm, Part 1

Martin was an optimist. He had to be. Anything else would have been utterly unbearable.

That being said, he was… relatively confident things would get better. Jon had confided in him the terrible secret of Magnus Manor and the truth of this hellish storm. The Lonely. And understanding a problem meant you were one step closer to solving it, right? It meant one step closer to getting out of the cursed estate you’d found yourself trapped in.

Most importantly, though, the two of them were talking again. Above all else, that gave him hope.

Jon was waiting for him in the foyer the next morning. His nose was buried in a book, but when Martin approached, he looked up, and Martin liked to think he looked pleased.

“Good morning,” Martin said, hoping he didn’t sound too flustered.

“You as well. Would ... would you be amenable to sharing some morning tea? If ... if you're still offering ...”

“Y-yes, of course.” So yesterday hadn’t been a fluke; Jon wasn’t going to leave him alone again. “That sounds great. Um. English Breakfast, then?”

Jon smiled, nodded, and fetched them both a pot and one cup apiece. The porcelain warmed Martin’s aching fingers, a refreshing respite from the chill that crept so subtly through the halls.

They drank, and they talked about very little. Martin’s tongue burned with questions (–what’s it like living with these entities? How do they manifest? Will we get out of here soon?–), but he restrained himself; the age lining Jon’s face had soothed as he sipped his tea, and when he asked Martin how he’d slept, there was a shy twist to his mouth.

Right now, Martin wanted to enjoy himself. Enjoy Jon and a warm cup of morning tea. There would be plenty of time to agonise later.

In the meantime, he’d just need to keep busy. Now was as good a time as any to give cleaning the manor another chance. Masochistic, maybe. Impossible, certainly. But at least this time he didn’t have to worry about being reprimanded. Probably.

One of the many study rooms that littered the estate would be a good place to start. Small as it was, its sooty fireplace and dusty couch was enough of a time sink for his purposes.

He was in the middle of battling a particularly stubborn stain when the door opened and Jon peered inside. Despite everything, Martin couldn’t help his trill of anxiety, made all the worse when Jon kissed his teeth.

“Must I iterate that it’s not necessary for you to – ”

“I want to.” It was still such a shock to just see Jon, to have them talking, that the words came out in a breathless, jumbled mess. “I promise. I-I like cleaning, honest. It keeps my mind off … you know, things.”

Jon paused mid-stride. For a moment, Martin thought he was going to be chased off anyway, and then he’d have to actually beg to clean, because the thought of spending another minute with nothing to do but contemplate their situation–

“I–” Sighing, Jon brought a hand to the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Yes, fine, if you insist. So long as you understand that it is absolutely not an expectation of you.”

Martin’s shoulders sagged with relief. Another hurdle crossed.

He’d just convinced himself to relax and finally let his mind wander, soothed by the familiar, tediousness of cleaning a fireplace, when Jon unclasped his cloak, lying it over the sofa.

“What are you doing?”

“Assisting you, obviously. Having you clean it in my stead when I’m the one responsible for it falling into disrepair doesn’t bear thinking about.”

Doesn’t bear thinking about. What didn’t bear thinking about was a man of Jon’s stature doing menial work like this in the first place. But Martin was hardly about to refuse his help … or his company, so freely given. “Um. Thank you. You don’t have to be so hard on yourself, though. There’s literally no way you could have kept this place clean all by yourself.”

“I appreciate the reassurance, but the point is moot.”

Well, if Jon wanted to roll up his sleeves and work at a grimy fireplace, Martin wasn’t about to stop him. When Jon literally rolled up his sleeves, he bit back a smile. The skin of his forearms was paler than that of his hands and face, smooth and free of blemishes. When was the last time he’d enjoyed a bit of sunshine without his shirt buttoned up to the chin?

Not that Martin had any business considering a thing like that in the first place. God, his face was burning again.

“I hate cleaning,” Jon murmured as he dunked the spare cloth in the water bucket. “Nothing ever stays clean.”

“Yeah. Gotta do it, though. Oh, you should keep your elbow up. You won’t tire out your arm as quickly.”

“Oh. Yes, I see.” Jon sighed. “Perhaps the fault lies with me. I’ve never been particularly good at domesticity, after all. The rare times my grandmother was home, the only thing we talked about was how untidy my room was.”

Martin’s ears perked. The opportunity to learn more about Jon and his past? It was too enticing to resist. “Your gram wasn’t home much, then?”

“Not often. She was the matriarch of our family, so important business kept her in the capital most days.”

Oh. How … odd. Martin didn’t know anything about how noble families handled representing themselves, but … “I figured your mom or dad would take care of that sort of thing after a while. Did your gram just enjoy the work?”

“Both of my parents passed when I was a child.”

Martin’s stomach plunged to his feet. What a stupid blunder to make. “I’m … I’m so sorry.”

“It was a long time ago,” Jon said, waving him away. “I was barely more than a baby at the time. I simply don’t remember enough of them to mourn their loss.”

Martin wasn’t sure if that made it worse. For all that Martin mourned the absence of his father, at least he had fleeting memories of warm hands and a deep voice to prove he’d existed at all. That he’d had a father once. “Still, that must have been … a bit lonely.”

“Not at all. I always had my governess’ supervision. She provided the structure and discipline I required.” Jon laughed, a wistful, breathy thing, and lowered his head. “I was … a rather troublesome child.”

That did even less to make Martin feel better, because he suddenly had this image, unbidden, of a little boy with big eyes and gangly knees, head hanging as his grandmother told him off in clipped tones, before leaving once again to the bustling capital. No hugs, or gentle forehead kisses. Just a scolding about his messy bedroom.

I’m sure you were wonderful, he wanted to say. I’m sure you deserved better than that.

But he was probably just projecting again.

“I’ve always liked cleaning,” Martin said, instead. “Makes me feel useful. My mum, she’s … she’s been sick most of my life. Nothing too serious,” Martin added quickly as Jon turned his head. “She just gets tired a lot. You know, hard to stay upright most of the time. There wasn’t a lot I could do to make her feel better, but keeping things clean helped.”

“I … I’m sorry to hear your mother is ill.”

“We were really lucky, actually. We lived in the same town as a really good doctor. He was really generous with us, but eventually … I-I couldn’t keep up with the bills running the farm all by myself, especially after our last goat died. We had to sell a few years ago, and I had to find work in the city.” Even after all this time, his throat tangled at the memory of leaving his childhood home. “Managed to land a really good job at the lord’s castle, so I always had money to send home. Every month. Haven’t been late once, yet. Until …”

“… Until now.”

Martin opened his mouth, because, well, he wasn’t late yet. There was still time for Martin to send his letter: about a week or so. That was plenty of time. But he refrained, because saying as much to Jon felt … dangerous. Like he was tempting fate.

Things were going to work out. They had to. The storm was going to clear, they were going to get out of here, and then …

“Your devotion to your mother is admirable,” said Jon.

Warmth ballooned in Martin’s stomach, spreading to the tips of his ears. It was an absurd thing to receive praise for (oh, you love your mother, really going above and beyond), but … well, it was still nice to hear, every once in a while. Or at all. “Thank you.”

It took most of the morning, but, with their combined efforts, they managed to restore the fireplace to an off-colour white. Martin stepped back, basking in the glow of a job well done. Jon, however, didn’t appear quite as chuffed as Martin felt. Rolling out his wrists, the man collapsed onto the couch, kicking up a cloud of dust in the process and triggering an intense coughing fit.

“Break time?” Martin asked, taking a much more gentle seat. His only answer was more coughing. Poor thing looked utterly done with the whole enterprise, if the curl of his nose was any indication. “So, what do you do for fun around here?”

“Fun?”

“Yeah. Unless you really intend to help me clean this room all day?”

Jon laughed, turning away sheepishly. “I … yes, um … Well, this and that, I suppose. Reading, mostly. I’ve always had a penchant for it, and I’ve yet to make my way through the library. Um. Music, although it’s been quite some time since the gramophone worked. I took to baking for a time. I like to think I’d gotten rather good at it.”

“Wait, so you did bake that bread? When I first got here?” Martin thought back on it, how crispy the crust was, the soft and tasty inner dough, how fresh it had been. Martin couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten fresh bread. “That’s seriously amazing.”

“It’s hardly a complex task. But … yes, thank you.” Martin wasn’t sure if it was the haze of the dust, but Jon’s face looked a bit darker, a bit flushed. But then, the good humor in Jon’s eyes fell away. “And then there was the garden, of course. It was … well. A disaster, to put it mildly.”

“What happened?”

“Well, I killed everything, didn’t I?” Jon’s eyes dropped to his lap, shoulders sinking. “Not a single bulb flourished under my care. I … I eventually figured it was more merciful to give up than keep trying.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not that bad.” Would be better to start with anything but roses, he wanted to suggest. You’re just setting yourself up to fail. But that would certainly come across as annoyingly patronising. “Maybe I can lend a hand?”

“Pardon?”

Wait. No. What business did Martin have making an offer like that? It wasn’t as if he knew any better about keeping things alive. But something about the resigned nature of Jon’s tone tore at him; his mouth had fallen open of its own accord.

“I-I mean … Well, it might be fun, yeah?” Martin tried. “Personally, I’ve always wanted to learn how to garden.”

“Is that so?”

Martin nodded, intending on leaving it there, but Jon was watching him, waiting. Oh.

“W-Well, uh, when I was a kid,” Martin said, face warming, “I��d always dreamed of having a, um, like a little cottage? That I owned? With a great big plot of land in the middle of a forest somewhere. Would get married, settle down, grow flowers and all kinds of food together. It’s … it’s a bit silly.”

“Not at all,” Jon said, eyes softening, and Martin’s heart fluttered something fierce. “I think that’s lovely.”

He smiled, hoping it didn’t come out as a grimace, because it had been a long, long time since he’d indulged in that particular fantasy. It just wasn’t feasible, these days, having a little cottage of his own or … or finding someone who’d want to marry him when he’s never even had a serious relationship before.

“Thank you, though, for your offer,” Jon said, cutting through Martin’s thoughts. “I’ll … be sure to consider it.”

The tight knot in Martin’s stomach unwound just a bit. “‘Course.”

By that point, the dust had become utterly unbearable, and they were forced to evacuate.

The brass of the door handle glimmered under the lamplight, rusted with age and disuse. How long had Martin been standing here, knees locked and shivering beneath the thick chill? Ages, by now. Griffiths was going to have his skin peeled for shirking his responsibilities like this, and the head butler would be perfectly within his rights.

But every time Martin tried to remind himself, that he still had so much work to do –

“… Hello?”

That voice. Still out there, somewhere behind the old door. Distant, but not beyond Martin’s reach. If Martin had already been here for ages, then that voice …

Wasn’t anyone coming for them?

If he opened the door, he could just take a quick look. Call out, see who needed help –

“And what do you think you’re doing, young man?”

Martin yanked his hand back, hand burnt on the molten brass.

“M-Mum?”

“I always knew you’d leave for good someday. I could see it in your eyes, you know. You couldn’t bear to take care of your poor, sick mother, and now you’re off to traipse about the countryside with some invert.”

“I didn’t leave.” Tight pressure strangled Martin’s throat, the back of his eyes burning. “I’d never do that. Where are you? I’m coming, I-I’ll find you–”

“And what, pray tell, would be the point of that?”

“Mum, please, just tell me where you are, I’m coming–”

“You’ve always been a wretched liar.”

Martin lurched upright, sucking painful gasps through his aching teeth, his sleep shirt sticking to his sweaty skin. No light permeated the windows— he may as well have been in a tomb, for all that he could see.

Jon was out there somewhere. Alone. As was his mother.

I’m coming back to you. I’ll find a way out of here. I’m doing everything I can–

Liar.

Martin curled up onto his side, wrapping trembling arms around himself. Even though there was no one else to hear him, no one to stifle himself for, he drove his teeth into his lip until his mouth filled with the dull taste of copper.

Check out the Monster of Magnus Manor here!

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #fanfiction #fic #[air horn noises]#yes chapter 4 will now be officially two chapters #their love just could not be contained #momm

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itgetsdarksometimes35 · 4 years

Text

For Freedom

Warnings: This chapter: none; the series: non-con, dub-con, depression, forced marriage, angst, forced pregnancy, 18+

Word count: 4,237

Pairings: Dark!Bucky Barnes / Reader

Summary: Reader is the youngest girl in her family. After being sold to Bucky Barnes, and forced to have his child, she and her sisters look for a way to escape.

~ indicates time change

- indicates a POV change

A/N: Hey you guys! I know I planned on this being the ending, but I thin this will be a small series. The next part will be the ending for sure, though. Hope you enjoy, next thing out will be Love In True Form, and then I’ll get to work on challenges. Then after that, I may have a new series for you all...

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It took months to save up enough money. You only needed enough to get two one-way tickets to Germany, but you were scared to take out too much in fears of James finding out. In that time, your oldest sister, Lucille, had twin boys. She had 5 sons altogether now, and you couldn’t wait to see her again. You hadn’t spoken to her since she was married and taken away years ago; Anne seemed to be the person who was doing all the communicating for you all. The second oldest, Vienna, had 3 daughters before she finally had her son. Her husband refused to give up until he had an “heir.” Anne had only 3 children, two boys and a girl. All the names to your nieces and nephews were a mystery, along with their faces and ages. You could guess Lucille’s twins’ ages were less than a year, but you could never be sure. Anne knew you had your son, but she didn’t know his name. She never asked, and she told you not to tell her. You weren’t sure if your other sisters knew, but it would only be a matter of time before they did.

Bucky had turned 1 years old a month prior to you both leaving. James threw a small party at a local amusement park that he had rented out for the entire day. His friends and family were the only in attendance, as usual, and the older kids enjoyed the rides while Bucky smiled at all his guests and messed his face with icing from his safari cake. James had been so happy to plan the party; balloon animals, a small petting zoo, and face painting areas all decorated the park. You couldn’t deny the way he beamed at Bucky as he screamed in affection at the baby goat drinking from the bottle or the way he giggled at the stuffed rabbit James’ friend, Natasha, had gifted him. James wasn’t loving with you, but you were thankful it didn’t carry over to Bucky. You wished yours and James’ situation was different. Maybe you’d love him in different lights.

When James thought you were buying groceries one day, you went out to get you and Bucky’s passport and buy your tickets. The passports would be ready and shipped to your house in 5 weeks, you paid an extra fee to get the expedition processing, and our flight would be the following week.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“See ya tonight, bud.” James caressed Bucky’s head while speaking to the pouting toddler. Bucky was always upset to see his daddy leave for work, and overjoyed when he came back. Your heart clenched. Were you doing the right thing? Then James turned to you and you shook the thought away. Of course you were.

“Have a good day, dear. We’ll miss you,” You chirped as you kissed James on the cheek. He turned his mouth up in a small smile before kissing you on the lips.

“Can’t wait to get back.” He winked at you and your stomach turned at his crud intentions. You were nothing but a walking toy for him, something to cook him food and bear his children. You faked a smile before dipping into the house while James drove off.

You shut the door and quickly walked upstairs, your cab would be here in an hour. Plenty of time to pack. You set Bucky in his playpen and he looked at you as you frantically moved around yours and James’ shared room trying to throw useful items into the suitcase you brought to the house the day you moved in.

“Da-da,” Bucky cooed from the pen as he picked up a block to start stacking.

“Da-da went to work, baby. Now you and mommy are going to go on a trip,” You turned to your son and smiled at him, “Are you excited?” You talked in your baby voice and your son smiled back at you. His 3 teeth on full display for you.

Your suitcase was filled with as many clothes as you saw fit. Everyone had specific items to bring, and your job was the clothes. Anne and Lucille would bring baby supplies, diapers, sippy cups, toys, etc; Vienna shared your job. The plan was to pack light, anything other than what you absolutely needed had to be left--including photos, and then drain your husband’s bank account for money. Finding out James’ banking information was the hardest thing for you to do, he kept it all locked in a safe in a room that was always locked. After snooping on him one night after he thought you were asleep, you were surprised to see the combination was the day of your marriage.

As you were leaving the bedroom, you saw Bucky’s baby book. It wasn’t big, and you could fit it in your purse. There were millions of photos on the walls, but none of them were personal to you. They were high tech and flashy photos James had spent too much money on. None of them looked natural. Then again, you had never felt natural with him. But that book held photos you had captured with an old polaroid you found in the basement. The film was just as old, but there was enough to last you years. You grabbed it and stuffed it into your purse as the Taxi started honking. You picked Bucky up from his playpen and left. You would just have to deal with Anne’s complaining when you got to Germany.

The taxi dropped you off at the airport 45 minutes before you were supposed to board. You rolled your suitcase over to the bank that was next door, and entered with Bucky on your hip. James listed you as an account holder in the case of an emergency. You were positive he hadn’t seen anything wrong with this, you’d still need to know his information, and he probably thought he had broken you beyond the point of willing yourself to run. Little did he know.

“Good morning, I’d like to withdraw some funds from my husband’s account,” You said to the older woman with a blonde bob and bright red lipstick. She smiled and set the glasses hanging around her neck on her nose before turning to the screen ahead of her.

“Alright, name please.” You told her and she typed a few times. “And his?” She looked at you, and you noticed a bit of lipstick in her teeth.

“James Buchanan Barnes.” The woman nodded and typed away.

“Da-da,” Bucky yelled and you looked down at him with a smile.

“That’s right, honey, that’s daddy’s name.” Bucky smiled up at you before grabbing at your hair to play with.

“Oh, he’s a cutie,” The older woman exclaimed, “Can he have a lollipop?” She reached into a brown bowel on the counter separating the two of you before pulling out a blue sucker.

“I don’t see why not. Thank you.” You took the blue lollipop before turning to Bucky who was eyeing the candy with intensity. “What do you say?”

“Tank to!” You unwrapped the lollipop before handing it to Bucky. He grabbed it with his chunky hand before greedily sucking on it, already getting a blue sticky streak on his mouth.

You turned your attention back to the blonde, and she asked you for your name and bank information. You gave it to her as she continued to type away at her computer. “Alright, can you tell me the amount you’d like to withdraw today?”

You cleared your throat before answering, “All of it.”

The woman’s eyes got big. “Ma’am, there’s 2 million dollars in here. Can you give a reason?”

“Yes ma’am.” You adjusted Bucky on your hip as you tried to remember your lie. “My husband, James, was recently in a horrible accident at his job. I understand the hospital can take the money from the account, but they’ve given me the option to give it to them in person as well. I was on my way to catch a flight to him, and decided this was a route I’d like to take. Our insurance wouldn’t inflate because they wouldn’t have to pay anything, too, and now that we have this little one,” You lifted your hip that carried Bucky a bit higher, “I want our insurance as good as possible. We never know, you know?”

The blonde looked as if she were about to cry. “Oh, you poor thing! Yes, of course I understand completely. I have 2 daughters, and when their father got sick our insurance and healthcare went completely down the drain. I wish I could’ve had the money you have, I know it can be terrifying to have bad policies when raising children. Especially young ones.” You were nodding your head, trying to look pitiful. You felt bad for lying, especially to this woman. She looked so bad for you and was able to relate to your fake story. Your stomach flipped, and you felt like you were going to be sick.

“Thank you, I’m sorry about your husband. It’s a horrible situation that some of us are put in.”

The woman agreed and typed on the computer again. A register was opened and she counted out taped together stacks of money. She put them in a cream colored bag along with a receipt and handed it to you.

“I hope everything goes okay for you and your little one. Us moms have to stay strong and do what’s best.”

You held back tears at the woman’s words. “That we do.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You made your way back to the airport as Bucky babbled a song from a show you both watch together. The bank teller, who’s name you learned to be Camille, informed you that your husband would be emailed by the bank about the deposit due to legal protocol. You knew James checks his email religiously and that he got notifications on his phone. You knew that he was probably on a phone call with the bank right now, screaming into the phone. But you didn’t care.

By the time he figured out you’d left, you’d be in Germany. Or close to it. You planned on destroying your trail once you got there. Anne had planned it all out. She deleted her history and told you to destroy all your letters by burning them. She led her husband to believe you all had traveled to Greece with undeleted searches. It would throw all of them off for a bit, but eventually you knew they’d figure out you went to Germany. You all knew that you couldn’t stay together after a while, it’d be too risky. You knew at some point one of you might get caught, and the rest would have to save themselves. You were fugitives, trapped in your own homes, with men that were supposed to provide security as the guards. But, until then, you’d stick together as long as possible. You were stronger as a team during the weaker parts of the beginning.

As you boarded the plane you felt a wave of nausea hit you. You rushed to the plane bathroom with Bucky still in your arms. You threw the door open, and emptied your stomach into the toilet bowl.

“Uh oh,” Bucky said, making you laugh at his purity.

“It’s okay, honey, mommy’s just a little nervous,” You reassured your son. You flushed and washed your hands before stepping out of the cramped room to find your seat. The plane took off soon after that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were jerked awake as a flight attendant tapped your shoulder, her brown hair pulled tight into a low bun.

“Sorry to wake you, ma’am,” She had a smooth voice that you felt could put you right back to sleep, “But you’ve arrived at your destination.”

“Okay, thank you.” She smiled at you before standing up straight to move to the back of the plane to wake up other passengers. Bucky was asleep in your arms, and you planned to keep him that way. He had been good throughout the entire flight, but you weren’t surprised. He was such an easy baby, you couldn’t have been blessed with a better one. Especially not in your circumstances.

You got off the plane and went in search of your suitcase in the bag return. You quickly found it before you headed out of the crowded airport. Bucky was quick to wake up after hearing the commotion of the early Wednesday morning traffic. Taxi drivers were yelling in German and English to the people exiting the airport, offering them a ride for a “price they couldn’t get elsewhere.” You would’ve taken the offer, but knew that you had to wait for the bus. Anne had said it’d be easier to hide that way. The taxi driver would ask for a direct address while the bus would drop you off at another station. Miles from your true destination. Plus the bus driver was less likely to remember you.

Your stomach growled as Bucky bounced in your lap. You had eaten on the plane, but had vomited nearly everything up. Your stomach wasn’t agreeing with anything today, but you knew it was just the guilt and nerves you felt. Everything would go back to normal once you were with your sisters, and plus they would have something good for you to have at the house.

The bus smelled and was cramped with loud people on their way to work. They spoke words you couldn’t comprehend loudly in your ear, and Bucky sat amazed at them. When your stop came, you eagerly grabbed your suitcase, bag, and son and all but jumped off the bus, glad to be rid of it for now. You followed a path Anne described in great detail until you came to houses with numbers. You dragged your tired body along them until you found the number that had played in your head for the past few days. Number 39. Your new home

You climbed the three steps up to the brown, wooden door, and grasped the iron knuckle. You pulled it up and down several times emitting loud thuds to echo in the small community of homes. Bucky grasped the front of your chest and stuck his face into it to represent his hunger.

“I know, baby, mommy will feed you soon.”

Your heart beat loudly in your chest as you waited for an answer. You counted 23 seconds before you considered your possible mistake. Did you go down the wrong street? Was 39 the house number or was it the bus number you were supposed to take? Was there any way to contact your sisters? Could you somehow convince James that you had been kidnapped in hopes he’d believe you? Just then the door creaked open. Your worries came to a halt as you saw Vienna standing in the doorway. She had, of course, aged a bit since the last time you saw her. Her hair was shorter and a little bit dull in color and she was skinnier than the chubby teenager you were used to, but there was no denying that was her.

“Oh my God, Vienna?” Her droopy tired eyes held tears as she took you in. Her lip trembled and she whispered your name. She opened the door wider as she held out her arms to you. “It’s been so long!”

You held her tighter to you with the arm that didn’t hold Bucky. She pulled away from you as tears escaped from her eyes. Your own were starting to conjugate in yours. Vienna stepped aside so you could step into the small house. She took a peek outside before shutting and locking the door behind you.

“Where’s everyone else,” You asked, setting your bags down at last.

Vienna didn’t have to answer as you heard your name being called behind you. You turned and adjusted Bucky into your other arm as you see Lucille stepping out of a room. Her back is a bit hunched over and one of her eyes seemed to lazily shut now. Gray hair was sprinkled across her scalp, and wrinkles were setting under her eyes. She was only 36.

“Look at you, you’ve grown so much,” She exclaimed, stepping closer to you. You were only 1 when she was married off at 16. She was the youngest one wed, but she was also the prettiest. Your father had no problem finding a man to sell her to. She was the only one auctioned off before 18. Vienna left at 19 and Anne left at 22. None of you were as strong as Anne, she had held on the longest. You had left at 18, too.

You hugged her tightly. You never got to know her, but you still loved her deeply. You hated the cards you all had been dealt for keeping you apart for so long. You let go as Vienna stepped closer to you both. She rubber Bucky’s small back.

“And who is this little guy?” She smiled down at him as he gave a 3 tooth grin back.

You sniffed before handing Bucky to your sister. “This is Bucky. My one and only.” Vienna mimicked the name before bouncing him on her hip a bit.

“Well, Bucky, I think it’s time for you to meet your aunts and cousins.”

Lucille took your hand as Vienna carried Bucky into a room filled with kids and a crib with two babies sleeping. They all were watching a TV, but turned to you as you walked in.

“Kids, come meet your 4th aunt,” Vienna said as she cooed at Bucky. 3 girls and a boy walked over to you and Lucille. “That’s Jade,” Vienna pointed to the girl with dutch braids, “Josephine,” The one with big curls and floral dress, “June,” The one with a ponytail and a sports jersey, “and Jared,” The only boy. They all waved to you, all looking a bit uncomfortable. You didn’t blame them, they had traveled from God knows where to a weird house, and now they were meeting people they had never met before. Probably never even heard of. “And this is your other cousin, Bucky.” Josephine, she looked to be the oldest-- probably 13, smiled at the child.

“Oh, he’s so cute! Can I hold him?” She looked to her mom for confirmation before looking at you. Her big eyes soft, just like her mother’s.

“Yeah, of course. He’s hungry, do you want to feed him?” Her eyes lit up.

“Yes!” You chuckled at her enthusiasm, and she gave a shy smile once realizing how excited she sounded.

“He can eat crushed up fruit, do you guys have any?” Your eyes searched Vienna and Lucille.

“In the kitchen. I can go do it for you,” The girl replied, scooping up your son before moving through a door that led into, what you assumed to be, a kitchen.

“We left just in time,” Vienna said, “Her father had already found a man to marry her. She’s sweet, and I know she’d make a great mom one day, but she’s also so smart. She has a life to live before she should even think about a baby,” She sighed, “But of course, women in our situation don’t hold any other value.”

Vienna’s children had gone back to watching the TV, and Lucille called her children up.

“Boys, come here please.” 3 boys walked over to you. “This is my oldest, Tennessee,” The boy with dusty hair nodded to you, he looked about 16, “Then Anthony,” the one with curly hair and glasses, “And Kyle,” He had freckles and a dimple on his chin. Lucille pointed to the crib. “Over there are Michael and Ian, they’re 3 months old. Didn’t think I had it in me, but I guess it’s not over until the big change, huh?” You smiled at her as she squeezed your hand.

“It’s nice to meet everyone,” You say and they nod at you, taking their seat on the floor and couch yet again. There were still 3 kids that were taking steady glances at you, and you were about to ask about them when you heard your name yet again. You turn to the left to see Anne walking down the stairs.

“Anne!” You ran over to embrace your sister. You and her had by far had the strongest relationship, being closer in age and spending the most time together. You felt yourself crying once again. Anne broke the hug and held you at arms length, looking you over.

“Wow,” She breathed out as tears flowed freely. She looked exactly the same as she did 7 years prior. You giggled at her and she joined you. A little girl, no older than two, ran to hug her legs. “This little stinker,” Anne said lifting the girl up, “Is my youngest Brooke.” She kissed the girl’s cheek before waving the last 2 boys over. “That’s George,” The oldest one with shoulder length hair, “And Evan.” He looked exactly like your father. Had the same lifted left eyebrow and everything. Anne looked like the man she hated the most, and you knew she’d never be rid of the man who she blamed all her sorrows on. Especially not now that her son looked like him, but you knew she’d never neglect her child.

Josephine was walking out of the kitchen while wiping Bucky’s hands. You grabbed your sister’s hand and led her over to your son.

“And this is Bucky.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the tear filled reunion, you found yourself at a small dinner table with your sisters. They were all huddled around it as your nieces and nephews sat in front of the tv and had dinner. They giggled at the silent screen that flashed cartoons at them. Bucky lay asleep in Anne’s arms as she bounced him.

“Alright,” Anne whispered loud enough for just you all to hear, “So, does everyone know the plan?” You all nodded. Anne had planned this all out. Every time something was needed outside of the house, somebody different each time would leave to retrieve it. It would go in rotation from oldest to youngest. You would carry a burner phone with you and would only use it if there was an emergency. The phone would have one number on it, the house phone, that another sister would be right by until the other one returned back safely.

After dinner, you helped Vienna clean up. You both had insisted Anne and Lucille get some rest, saying they had gotten there the earliest and were tired. Anne took Bucky to the room you, her, Bucky, Brooke, and June would sleep in. The house only had 3 bedrooms, and 5 people would have to bunk in the small bedrooms with only one king size bed together. It would be a squeeze, but it was all definitely better than the Hell you all had escaped.

While cleaning, you found yourself not being able to focus on the story Vienna was telling you. Your stomach was turning, fighting the peas and chicken you had just ate, and your head was suddenly hurting. You were sweating too. Were you having a panic attack?

“You okay, sis?” Before you could answer, you were vomiting up your dinner into the sink. Vienna soothingly rubbed your back as you finished off the remnants. You turned on the faucet to wash away the mush.

“I’m s-sorry. I guess I’m a little scared still?” Vienna looked at you and gave a knowing smile before resting her hand on your shoulder.

“How far along are you?”

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The day had been a shitty one. James was in the middle of an important business pitch with Sam Wilson, a promising company from Louisiana that he wanted to partner with, when his assistant rushed in. He tried to order her out, but when he heard “money” and “gone” he had to apologize and excuse himself. After seeing the bank’s email, and hearing the voicemail they left his assistant after she called them, he rescheduled his meeting with Sam, explaining vaguely what was happening.

James believed someone had stolen your information in order to rob him blind. He didn’t think you would do that, what reason would you have? Name anything on this Earth and James would have it in your hands the very next day. He was clutching the steering wheel with a vice-like grip that was turning his knuckles white. When James got home, he looked on terrified at how it was left. He called your name out while he ran around looking for you and Bucky. Once he found it empty, he started dialing 911. You both were missing.

James was tapping his foot waiting for the operator when he saw it. The picture album that you begged him for when you first found out you were pregnant. It was gone.

The metal hand clutching the phone crushed right as he heard the female voice on the other side greet James. You and Bucky weren’t kidnapped, you had run away.

James went downstairs to call his friends, Steve and Natasha. He was going to need their help tracking down his bratty wife. She was smart, he’d give her that, but she’d have to try a lot harder if she wanted to get away from an ex super soldier.

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@jtargaryen18 @coconutqueen21 @collette04 @stayhazey @nsfwsebbie @official-and-unstable-satan

#non con #dub con #dark!fic #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes #dark!mcu #dark!marvel

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ask-those-dumbasses · 3 years

Text

Lore Post About The Gods

There are many gods in this universe, we are only going to be talking about the relevant ones. Otherwise this is gonna turn into the Greek God family tree very fast and trust me we don’t want that. So, let’s talk about some gods!

The God of Time - Avus Tempus (Grandpa Time)

General information:

The oldest god and the god that interacts with people the most, Avus Tempus is the most well known. He is the keeper of time, making sure it passes normally with no great disturbances. He watches as time passes, but does not interfere with mortal disagreements, even if he disapproves. He says that it is not his job to interfere.

Avus is older than time itself, and is the creator of the other gods. Avus was also the creator of the first Time Demons - which he calls his children with great glee. He has been given many nicknames over the years, with the most common being “Grandpa Time.” The limits to his powers are unknown, but is it commonly known that he can control the flow of time, and can open portals to different dimensions or various periods throughout time by roaring. People also know that he, with the help of his two direct children, Moíra and Apeiro, killed the Titan of War during his rampage.

(Bonus: Grandfather clocks were named after him)

Appearance:

Avus appears as a long serpent like dragon with no arms or legs, green scales, golden horns and eyes, with long white hair down his spine and on his chin, making a beard of sorts. Legends say that his body extends forever, able to loop around the earth. Avus himself jokes that he has not ever seen his own tail. His fur is said to be as soft as clouds, and his scales are so tough that no spear could pierce it. However, despite being immortal, Avus himself is not completely immune to the effects of time. His eyes are pale and milky, showing that with age his sight has gotten very poor. Today he would be considered almost legally blind.

Where they live:

Avus lives in a huge palace on the top of the largest mountain on Earth. The mountain is called “Mortum Manga,” and is on the “Multi Ossa” mountain range. Inside his palace are intricate carvings on the walls that tell the history of the world, from Avus’ creaton on to current day. There is also a fountain which is called the “Fountain of Youth.” Contrary to popular belief, this fountain does not make you immortal or young, but instead heals all sicknesses. It was named the Fountain of Youth because it was used to cure a large plague that was mostly killing children.

Along the side of the mountain is a small village called “The Village Of Lights.“ These people often interact with Avus directly. In fact, every 5 years they hold a festival where they light various sky lanterns and send them into the sky. Afterwards, Avus comes down to the village and talks to them. He specifically likes to meet with all of the children - who he likes to call his grandkids.

Personality:

He is an extremely friendly and passive god, often inviting people to come and have tea with him in his palace. Overall, Avus is very polite and is more than willing to shelter anyone if they ask. However that is difficult for most - since not only does he live atop the highest mountain, he also does look very intimidating. In reality he just wants to talk about how your day has been going. Avus is most certainly the kindest god that mortals can talk to.

He tries his best to keep up with new terms, words, controversial topics, etc. Because of his old age it can be hard for him to keep up. He ends up coming across as that overly supportive and sweet grandparent that doesn't understand but is trying to. (Ex: “Are you a boy or a girl? I cannot tell. My vision isn’t what it used to be. Oh wait - are you one of those non-berries? Not binaries? So sorry I don’t remember.”). Because of his age he is also considered very knowledgeable and wise, and people will sometimes come to him or pray to him for advice and counsel.

Avus is mostly considered to be extremely patient and calm, however there have been reports of him being fiercely protective of his “little village.” Those who have dared to harm those living or seeking refuge there have mysteriously ended up turned to stone.

The God of Life, Death, and Fate - Apeiro

General Information:

Apeiro is the god of life and death, which means it’s their job to make sure life is balanced. Apeiro can keep populations down through plagues, famine, natural disasters, or other means. Aperio can also bless certain times with good crops, more births, or other means to make sure populations stay up if need be. It is important to remember that Aperio’s job is NOT to make life/death fair. Apeiro also makes sure that spirits end up in their proper afterlife. Apeiro can also tug on the strings of fate, not manipulating them completely, but pushing them where they want it to go.

They stand against large acts of necromancy, however, they made a deal with Alita long ago. In this deal, Totems Of Undying were allowed to be created and sealed deep inside Jungle Temples. It is unknown exactly what Apeiro got in exchange for allowing this to happen but people have speculated that it has something to do with the existence of Wither Skeletons, which guard Nether Fortresses, and Withers, which can be made with a combination of three Wither Skulls and Soul Sand.

Apeiro also assisted Avus and Moíra in taking down the Titan of War.

Appearance:

They have a dark gray cloak/robe that wraps around them and flows dramatically to the floor. It drifts behind them, rippling and waving like there’s constantly a breeze. At the edges of the cloak there are dozens of tiny white stars. They don’t have a face, just a black shadow that flickers around the edges when you look directly at it (which is something you should never do). They do have hands that look like skeleton talons that float separately from their body since they do not have arms. They also have horns that used to merge as a sort of crown above their head. Now, from previous battles, those horns have been splintered and broken in two.

Where they live:

Apeiro lives inside a castle, which has the foundation of the skeleton of an ancient colossal dragon. They live with their younger sister, Moíra. Apeiro specifically lives in the head - which has been remade into a massive throne room mixed with a fancy ballroom. The neck leading up to this room is a very long hallway that has many statues of many different people. These people are referred to as “Champions,” and they are previous winners of the Champion’s Cup.

This skeleton castle is called the “Fossa Palace” and it can be found in the middle of the “Decaying Wastelands” desert. It is unknown what killed the colossal dragon, but rumors have spread that Aperio did it themselves and decided to make it their home. Regardless, when the wind blows in the cold of night, people say they can still hear soft roars and hums of the dead dragon.

Other than living with Moíra, Apeiro lives completely alone and does not normally travel outside of their castle. They only do so in big emergencies such as universal threats or large acts of necromancy.

Personality:

Apeiro is very dramatic and adores big and grand theatrics. The Champions Cup itself was created out of boredom since messing with mortal lives from the sidelines can only entertain a god for so long. Speaking of which, Apeiro finds great entertainment in watching mortal lives, and loves to play with them. Whether this is good playing or bad playing, depends on their mood. Apeiro finds it amusing to poke and prod at people’s lives from time to time, and is considered a being of madness from a few of their victims. Apeiro laughs as a witness to human wars, and sees all mortal conflict as beneath them. They will sometimes even find glee in watching other gods squabble over petty things.

The Goddess of Karma, Justice, and Fortune - Moíra

General Information:

Moíra is the goddess of karma, justice, and fortune. This means she mainly watches over humanity and tries to keep people’s lives fair, even, and balanced. She gets very angered when there are big atrocities happening in the world, or even just when excessively unfair things happen to good or bad people. She is often the judge and jury and innacts justice as she sees fit. Moíra is a very patient force as well, and ensures that eventually, in one way or another, that good things happen to good people and bad things happen to bad people. karma is a patient force.

She also blesses those she sees fit with various fortunes (whether this be money, something more spiritual, or something emotional will depend), or will take away from those who have committed horrendous crimes,

Moíra also helped Avus and Apeiro kill the titan of war, and was the main one leading the charge against him.

Appearance:

Moíra wears an extravagant white robe with golden patterns of leaves as an accent. She appears as a youthful human woman with dark skin and curly hair, but is very unnerving to look at. Her eyes are pure gold, dripping liquid gold down her cheeks. She has large curling goat horns which are decorated with various gems. Moíra also wears a laurel headpiece as a crown, with a bright red ruby in the center. She constantly floats just above the ground in order to keep herself clean.

Where they live:

Moíra lives inside a castle, which has the foundation of the skeleton of an ancient colossal dragon. She lives with her older sibling, Aperio. Moíra specifically lives near the top of the rib cage - which has been remade into a large fighting stadium. This stadium is where a tournament called the “Champion’s Cup” is held once a decade. There is an observatory hanging from the top of the dome ceiling, this is where Moíra resides. However she can also commonly be found with Aperio, or in the castle's library. Moíra does travel outside the castle for business purposes and works with people a lot.

Personality:

Moíra is much more careful about keeping balance then Apeiro is, and is much more responsible with her powers. Moíra also tends to scold her older sibling very often and is not very trusting of them. People think that the only reason Moíra lives with Apeiro is because she wants to keep a close eye on them.

By and large, Moíra is a very patient and slow god. She takes her time and thinks her actions through for a long time before acting. She thinks, a lot, and makes very calculated decisions like some sort of gamemaster. Moíra is willing to play the long game and waits for the pieces to fall into place so she can enact her plan properly.

Moíra is also very vengeful, and remembers all of the little wrongdoings people have done. However she is very fair with her punishments, at least, she sees what she has done as fair.

The Goddess of The End and the Keeper of The Void - The Enderdragon

General Information

History says that long ago there were Colossal Dragons; dragons that were born small and slowly grew throughout their lives until they were bigger than mountains. They have largely gone extinct because food became scarce and they were unable to eat enough to maintain their size. Some of their skeletons can still be seen to this day.

People know whispers of an old tale, about a dragon larger than mountains who rules The End as queen, and controls the Endermen as slaves to her will. That long ago she attempted to wipe out all life on this planet, but failed due to an intervention from Moíra, along with Avus who both banished her away from the Overworld. They say that one day, The Enderdragon will return, and have her revenge on everyone who dared forget her name.

The majority of people don’t even believe she’s real, and some have never even heard of her. Most people believe The Enderdraon is a made-up myth tale that was made by man to explain the unknown creation of Endermen. Some people see The Enderdragon as a sort of boogeyman figure, a tale Dragon Riders will tell their children to get them to behave; Others believe she’s just some rumor made to prevent people from exploring The Stronghold. The only thing people know for certain, is that people who have dared to enter The End have either been never seen again, or come back with horrifying stories and with their children being cursed and becoming Endermen hybrids.

Appearance:

In stories she is illustrated as a large black dragon, bigger than mountains, with large grey horns and wings. The wings are usually torn, along with many scars from various battles decorating her body. The most prominent feature is her bright purple eyes. It is said that she breathes hot purple fire.

Where they live:

In the End, one of the many different dimensions in this universe. It is mostly illustrated as many floating islands made of pale yellow sand. There are various crumbling purple buildings, along with purple plants that grow an odd fruit with teleportation abilities called “chorus fruit.” Endermen in the overworld are sometimes seen holding these. In the center of these islands are 10 tall obsidian pillars- each with an odd crystal that contains healing abilities, but only for The Enderdragon.

Underneath the islands of the end is an endless void of darkness. It is unknown what could possibly be down there. Those who have tried to find out have never returned.

Personality:

In the legends, The Enderdragon is painted as an angry, vindictive, and spiteful dragon who wants nothing more than to watch humanity burn.

The Goddess of Magic - Alita

General Information:

Alita is the keeper of all the different types of magic. There is Protection Magic, Elemental Magic, Combat Magic, Enchantments, and Necromancy. Alita is the higher power that can control all of these types of magic over others, and because of this is considered very dangerous. She can grant magic to people if they sacrifice something of great value. If she gives you magic then your spells will always appear as pure black.

Alita can also freely travel through the different dimensions - The Overworld, The Nether, and The End. She also creates permanent portals that are scattered all throughout the world. One of these portals is The Stronghold - which is a permanent portal to The End. It is unknown where others may be.

Alita is also the mother to all Kitsune, each born under a different type of magic. Kitsune are made to help Alita watch over the Overworld since she lives deep underground in The Nether. However, it is not uncommon for Kitsune to diverge from this purpose and instead do their own thing. Alita does not see a problem with this, since not only can she freely make new ones, but if she really needs to she can force her will onto the Kitsune that rebel against her wishes.

Appearance:

Alita appears to be wearing an elegant masquerade mask that looks like a peacock. You can barely see one white eye and a small beak peeking out from the mask. Nobody, except for a few other gods, knows what she looks like under the mask. Anyone who has seen does not remember. Alita generally appears to be avian-like, being part Peacock. She has peacock tail feathers that fan up whenever she gets angry. However, the eyes seem a little too real, and people have reported getting headaches from looking at them for too long. Over her body is a beautiful silk purple dress with silver accents on the ends. She also wears many different rings and necklaces that have been given to her.

Floating around her are five multichromatic flaming orbs that flash different colors. Each one stands for a different type of magic. Protection magic is represented by an icy blue, Elemental Magic flashes between red, dark blue, and light green depending on the element, Combat Magic is represented by royal purple, Enchantments is represented by orange, and Necromancy is represented by a dark green.

Where they live:

Alita lives very deep underground in the nether, in the darkest caves surrounded by bubbling lava. Various bones decorate the entrance to her cave and she has a massive throne made of gold.

Personality:

Alita is described as the cruelest of the gods. While Aperio may mess with fate, that is their job and they ultimately keep some semblance of balance. Alita will play games with the mortals who dare to visit her simply for the fun of it. She is very playful and likes to toy with people, forcing them to make extremely difficult decisions and pay the price for their hubris.

Alita can be won over with attention and praise however. She adores it when people grovel and give her positive attention just for a silly favor. While she may not often go out into the world, Alita is always open to visitors of any kind. After all, the visitors are often very entertaining.

The Titan of War, also known as The Blood God - Sanguineous

General Information:

Not much is known about the Blood God. He has mostly been lost to ancient legend. They say he was an old titan that became more powerful the more he killed. So, he became power hungry and so full of bloodlust that he attempted to wipe out all life on Earth. Because of this, he was killed by Moíra, Avus and Apeiro. His name is only known from old tapestries and ancient texts; Sanguineous.

Some say that he is not dead, but is simply resting for the right time to strike again. Some say his bones are what made the Multi Ossa mountain range. Some say that his presence can still be felt to this day. Some people do know that those who have been touched by his presence have pure red eyes. Other rumours tell of pockets of underground lakes that still hold the old Titan’s own blood. There are whispers that those pockets hold unimaginable power, if only someone could find and harness them.

Appearance:

Old paintings and tapestries depict the Blood God as a creature made purely of bone - but only an upper body up. His chest is shown to be a human skeleton, with the hands mutated into large claws. His head, however, is depicted as a large ram skull, with humongus black horns and glowing red eyes. Sometimes, he is depicted holding a large netherite axe which he attempted to split the earth with.

Where they live:

Since the Blood God is dead, he does not live anywhere. When he was alive he did not live in any particular place. He simply wandered the Overworld.

Personality:

The only thing known is that he wanted nothing but for blood to be spilt from each end of the earth.

#not an ask #lore dump #gods #Avus Tempus #Apeiro #Moíra #The Enderdragon #Alita #The Blood God #Sanguineous

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dreamersleeps · 3 years

Note

Hey, have been reading your blog and it is the kind of goldmine I’d brave the dangers of the Klondike for. It is SO GOOD. But I’m also curious on your thoughts on Endeavor playing god, but not understanding the science behind his creations? He seems to think Shouto has an Icyhot Quirk when it’s more likely Shouto is a Chimera. He has two phenotypes, thus one side can only use Icy and the other can only use Fire. Shouto like has TWO Quirks instead of a combination of both. And Enji seems to think Touya inherited Rei’s constitution, yet that might not be the case as according to the Singularity Theory, humans’ Quirks are evolving at a faster pace than the body can keep up with. So Touya might not even HAVE his mother’s constitution but Endeavor just THINKS he does. Also, there is his rivalry with All Might that is completely one-sided. Allmight as All For One which is the Quirk of not a single person but more eight Quirks in one. Endeavor thinks he’s going up against a single man when in reality he’s facing eight men in one.

Hello! First of all I’d like to give a huge apology for how late my response is. Due to the start of the spring semester and some other unexpected life events, this took way longer than expected.

Thank you so much for your kind comments! 😩💕 It really did put a huge smile on my face and it made my day! It makes me feel very giddy~ When I first started posting on Tumblr, I wasn’t expecting people to actually like or even read the stuff I was writing about or send messages to my inbox since most of my posts kind of make me look like the guy in this meme here:

I very much appreciate all the comments and asks I receive in my inbox, so thank you for sending yours in.

Anyways, I’d like to address this from the beginning but, unfortunately when it comes to quirks and how they work, I’m not too sure if I will be able to answer your questions properly. For example I am aware of the Quirk Singularity Theory but I don’t know if I have a good enough understanding of it to form a response I am confident in.. That being said, I will try to answer your other questions and comments the best I can.

Endeavor Playing God

So, what are my thoughts on Endeavor playing god, but not understanding the science behind his creations? Back when we had the Touya reveal and we got more information about the Todoroki household from the perspective of Todoroki Enji, there were a lot of differing thoughts and opinions about the flashbacks that were floating around Tumblr. I think if I were to give a simple answer to your question, I’d say it was Endeavor’s youth and stubbornness. Looking back at Chapter 291, we can see that Endeavor looks quite young in the flashbacks with Touya, but I’m going to attempt to do the math.

Seeing that we know that Fuyumi is currently 23, and that Dabi is older than her (I suck at guessing ages) and I’m guessing here that he’s going to be four years or older, since quirks normally manifest around four years of age. That being stated the youngest age Dabi may be currently is 27? Maybe 26.

Keep in mind that I may be off with the “math” I’m doing here but let’s guestimate Dabi’s age as being 26 or 27. Endeavor is currently 46 years old so that means he was 19 or 20 years old when he had Touya. For comparison, Natsuo is currently 19 years old as well.

At that young of an age, he already had his eyes set on wanting to surpass All Might. His hero name, Endeavor, summarizes his career pretty well: an attempt to achieve a goal.

With the hellflame quirk he has, and the wealth and power that came with his family name, he really was given a position to act as a “god.” For the sake of his ambitions, Touya, Fuyumi, Natsuo and Shouto were born, as his “creations.”

Touya’s “Weak Constitution” and Shouto’s Quirk

I’m not going to say that his youth was the main factor for why things happened the way they did because the answer is more complex, but I do think that a combination of his youth and stubbornness fueled Endeavor’s recklessness. He essentially bought his marriage with Rei in order to pass down some sort of combination of the hellflame quirk and Rei’s ice quirk to his children. I think when it comes to the question of whether he understood the science behind what he was doing, I think I can confidently say that he didn’t know in the beginning, or at least it was not something he really looked in to. I think he just saw it as hellflame + ice quirk = child with both quirks as we kind of see in the panel below.

As you state, Endeavor does see the combination of the two quirks as one. We can see below that he refers to it as, “the ideal quirk.”

I think that it is also important to point out that Endeavor was, I guess you could say, content when Touya was born even though he only had the hellflame quirk. From the first panel, Endeavor states, “the fire power he possessed was greater than my own.”

He continues to say, “He didn’t have a way to overcome the inescapable downside of overheating but... I nevertheless sought to raise the boy to be a hero.”

That was until it was revealed that Touya’s body could not handle the extreme heat which came with the hellflame quirk. This is when Endeavor began to refer to Touya’s “weakness” as inheriting Rei’s weak constitution.

Now, the Quirk Singularity Theory and just the genetic science behind quirks has always been kind of difficult for me to wrap my mind around so because of that I do not think that I will be able to give an opinion on it that I would be confident in. However, @/redphlox has a post which has some opinions that I agree with that have to do with Endeavor’s belief that Touya had “a weak constitution and Shouto’s quirk. I will link it here.

As for Shouto’s quirk, unless the actual meaning and its nuances was lost in translation, his quirk is referred to as “Half-Cold Half Hot” in the English official translation which I think further reinforces the idea that it is not really a singular quirk but a combination of two separate quirks. I agree that Shouto is most likely a Chimera.

According to Britannica, a chimera is:

In genetics, an organism or tissue that contains at least two different sets of DNA, most often originating from the fusion of a many different zygotes.

The term is derived from the chimera of Greek mythology: a fire-breathing monster that was part lion, part goat, and part dragon.

As seen below we can see the white hair, gray eye and ice quirk on his right side (our left) that he inherited from his mother Rei, and then on his left side (our right), the red hair, teal blue eye and hellflame quirk he inherited from his father Enji. He can only use his ice quirk on his right side and his fire quirk on his right side.

Shouto’s appearance reminds me of a particular tortoiseshell cat named Venus from a while back. You may have seen her back when photos of her went viral. Tortoiseshell cats are usually chimeras, however Venus was nicknamed the “Chimera Kitten” or “Chimera Cat” even though it is most likely that the chimera mutation isn’t the cause behind her unique (and cute!) appearance.

Another definition of a chimera is:

“A chimera... is a composite individual that was made up of cells from at least two different original embryos. If they fuse together early enough, they will become a single organism whose genetic input is from two completely different individuals. In a mosaic, there’s only one individual and it just happens to have different genetic components active in its cells. A chimera would be a much more unusual and unlikely event. - Columbia University Professor of Genetics and Development Virginia Papaioannaou

The image above depicts Venus the cat however the original source of the photo is unknown.

Considering that in real life, a chimera is an individual made up of cells from at least two different embryos I think we could kind of apply that sort of argument to Shouto although this is all speculation. To our knowledge, the other Todoroki children were born with only one of their parents’ quirks while Shouto was born with both.

On Shouto’s fan wiki page, it states:

If he overuses one element without utilizing the other, then his own body temperature will suffer; the ice half will cause frostbite and the fire half will cause heatstroke, Until his bodily limit is reached however, neither has any visible effect on his body. Shouto can easily negate his weakness by alternating between ice and fire.

Endeavor had been training Shouto to use his fireside and I think he mostly saw the ice quirk as something that could be used for temperature regulation however, as you suggest Shouto has two separate quirks, both equally strong in their own right. If he used his ice quirk too much, he may have to rely on the hellflame quirk to regulate his body temperature. Both quirks have very high potential on their own and with the aid of the other.

Anyways going back to the Chimera stuff, I think that although the movie, Heroes Rising isn’t canon, I do think that the inclusion of the villain, Kon Chojuro going by the name of “Chimera” with the quirk of the same name was interesting. He also fits the second definition of the Greek mythological chimera that we had above.

Even more interesting was that it was with the team of Tenya, Kirishima, Asui and Shouto that took Chimera on, with Shouto making the last blow using his ice quirk. He takes his ice quirk to the extreme and we see his body covered in ice (frostbite?) as a result before he passes out.

All Might and Endeavor’s One-Sided Rivalry

Whenever I write about this particular character I feel that I must include a little note like this but everything you see above is not an excuse for what Endeavor has done but a little exploration in to the complexity that is Todoroki Enji. I personally think that he is a very interesting character to look in to.

As you mention, the rivalry between Endeavor and All Might was completely one-sided. I think a large part behind it had to do with their differing ideas of what it means to be a hero. It is from All Might where we tended to see the more ideal-focused concepts of a hero. He was the symbol of peace, the light of hope and an inspiration for children and people all across Japan. In simple terms, a hero is someone who saves, kind of like how we saw Midoriya throughout most of the series.

As for Endeavor, he fits more in the role of the concept of a hero being an occupation. He had a hard time trying to figure out how to portray himself to the public after All Might retires and even asks him for some advice of what it means to be the number one. Endeavor wanted to be the number one because that meant he is the strongest man/person in Japan. He was constantly training and he was so focused on wanting to achieve his goal that if he was not able to then he wanted to make sure that his own blood would surpass All Might. For him, simple terms a hero meant someone who surpasses and wins. This is kind of like how we saw Bakugo throughout most of the series until recently.

(I’m not going to go too deep in to this as many other blogs have written amazing analysis and meta posts on Tumblr already but the adults they are often compared to Midoriya and Bakugo’s storylines have been slowly changing to incorporate both saving and winning in to what it means to be a hero.)

With this one-sided rivalry came Endeavor’s recklessness. I do not think that before and early stages after Touya was born that he really considered the science behind his “creation.” However as soon as it was revealed that Touya could easily get harmed by his quirk, Endeavor definitely should have recognized the consequences of his actions.

As his hero name suggests, one of his main goals and purposes of being a hero was to accomplish his greatest endeavor, to surpass All Might, which he calls his “eternal goal.” There is an implication here that at the age of 19 Endeavor already believed that there was a good chance that he may not be able to surpass All Might with his own quirk and strength. That is why he sought out a Quirk marriage.

“Because Toya had more potential than me... I placed my ambitions on his shoulders.”

Endeavor has a bias towards his own quirk as he wanted an heir with his quirk and blood to become number one. Fuyumi was born and she had inherited Rei’s ice quirk but unless we get some sort of explanation, I think we can assume that Endeavor did not bother trying to training her. I think the same can be said about Natsuo.

Then Shouto was born and this changed a lot of things. It seems that there was a highly likely chance that Endeavor either greatly diminished his focus on or halted Touya’s training and turned his attention towards Shouto. After all, he was born with what Endeavor believed to be “the ideal quirk.” He probably saw more potential in Shouto carrying his legacy than he did in Touya to become number one. It is likely that it was during this time that Touya “perished” in the fire.

Now that Endeavor had lost Touya, he was only left with Shouto. Driven by grief and desperation he put everything he had now onto Shouto. Looking back to Chapter 252, Endeavor tells Natsuo:

“Believe it or not... I was never trying to neglect any of you. But... all I could do was blame others and dodge responsibility.”

His actions and the past state otherwise however if we take his word, then I kind of visualize a man who was aware of the consequences and hurt caused by his actions and cruelty but had refused to actually acknowledge it: whether it was because he was afraid to confront reality, a mix of his stubbornness and desperation, the desire to become number one surpassing every other desire or a combination of all of this.

I always got a feeling from his character that he was someone who chose to believe that “the end would justify the means” as he “lost more” if that makes sense. “Everything that happened could not be all in vain” (although I’d like to point out that acting in this way is very selfish of him) which is why he continued to keep his eyes on the horizon at his goal instead of towards his family.

As you state, Endeavor was going up against All Might, the carrier of the One for All quirk, and yes, it is interesting that kind of like All for One, it is the carrier of multiple quirks. One of the main differences between how the two quirks function is that one has the ability to pass on quirks and power while the other is the ability to take other quirks and powers. Unfortunately, unless the secret of AFO and OFA come to be known to the public, Endeavor would have never known what he was truly up against and in a nihilistic view, one can say that everything he was and did ended in vain.

Although I would argue otherwise as this implies the assumption that the birth and existence of the Todoroki children would then had also been “in vain.” This is not true. This would imply that they would only be an extension of his legacy. We see the struggle to separate ones’ identity from their parent and their “destiny” through the contrasting stories of Shouto and Touya.

In the end, Endeavor did become the number one hero although it was not in the way he envisioned it to be: it was given to him as he was the next in line as the number two hero due to All Might’s retirement. He didn’t win the position by surpassing All Might hence the embarrassment and anger he may have felt when the news was announced. Now that he is (ehhh maybe was? considering where we are in the manga) the number one hero, it seems like that everything he’s been doing and thinking keeps going back to the thought of “because I am the number one hero.” The position he worked hard for, trained hard for and hurt his family for across the decades of his life, forfeited to him by the previous symbol of peace.

I always return back to the High End vs Endeavor fight whenever I talk about him but that is because there are great symbolic and narrative points that are made during it. Again, it is what establishes him as the number one hero but this is also where he acknowledges the past (however to what extent is debatable).

I remember when the episode first came out back in 2020, anime watchers were going crazy. It felt like with some viewers, they focused more on the action than the narrative that was taking place. The reason why Endeavor flies so high and captures the hearts and support of the people of Japan in BNHA and a wide majority of us, the watching audience, is so that we can feel the blow later on when he plummets down. Even when I was watching it, I couldn’t help getting goosebumps while listening to the ost and seeing the way the manga panels were interpreted and animated.

While I had been reading the chapters which I did first, I did not even really care about what was going on. I just kind of brushed Endeavor off to the side at the time. However when I was watching it I even got a little emotional, although I’d like to blame that on the fact that I had just finished a really difficult semester and watching the episodes felt like a cathartic release of stress (hahaha). It was only afterwards I went back to actually re-read and look at what was going on in the manga.

I hope that I gave the answers, thoughts and opinions that you were looking for. Again, huge apology for answering your questions and comments really late. Thank you @thewilderstorm for sending your thoughts in, I truly appreciate it and loved responding to them!

#todoroki enji #endeavor #todoroki shouto #bnha analysis #bnha meta #mha meta #luna answers

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