#uncle raphael forever | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

themulitipurposechannel · 22 days ago

Text

Fic: This is victory (hollow and cold).

Part: One

What if.. Mikey’s portal drags home a cold dead corpse.

I would like to preface this by saying I completely blame @goodlucktai for their amazing Incredible story, raised on little light for putting this idea into my head. Guys go check it out the fic, it’s amazing it makes me so so sad but there is also so many good things in it 😭. Personally speaking I don’t think there’s anything I can write that will ever come close to what Tai can do, but as a famous internet post once said, write your shitty pots. So here we goes ppl

Tw: major character death, grief, suicide idealisation, getting disowned, disassociation, starvation, slight description of injuries and inaccurate medical advice

But I promise, there is still hope even in this.

“Casey! When I get to the other side you close that portal!”

Everything stills. The world falls static.

“What..?” A foreign voice enters the fray. Ah. Cj thinks distantly. It’s mine.

A series of thoughts shoots through his mind. Faster than the battle drones Uncle Tello used to make, faster than the joy rides Uncle Mi used to give.

He sees empty eyes, forced smiles. Screaming voices stained with the weight only grief, hunger, thirst and stress can give.

He thinks of Michelangelo in the brief moments he has met the turtle, so bright and so energetic. And then he remembers his Uncle Mi twisted into something quiet, slow and outwardly peaceful.

He remembers Monty, so stoic and so very angry. Yet so very indulgent when it counts. Out in a blaze of guns and glory. Standard-issue shoulder pauldron shoved into shaking hands. You will do great things Princey. He remembers Monty’s mother. Whose name he never got, forever in a daze, staring at walls of nothing. A hallowed husk like so many of the living ghosts that wandered their dusty halls. He remembers Miwa. So tiny, so fragile. So young. Too young. No amount of their anything can ever replace or beat modern medicine.

His Uncle Tello, bitter, grumpy; burnt out and constantly overstimulated from the dirt covered and squishy pink hell they’ve found themselves in. But sometimes on better days he cocks his head to the side, with a face that almost smiles at Cj and says, “Come Jones Junior; I appear to have some scraps we need to dispose off.” Which is code for we’re going to give your Pa an aneurysm and make things go boom.

He remembers his family. Tired, thirsty, hungry, eyes on them constantly. Countless sleepless nights in hushed voices arguing, strategising, weeping. They thought he didn’t hear. But children always have the biggest ears and the longest standing shelter on earth is only so large.

First and foremost. Cj knows. He knows with heart wrenching certainty. If there was any way to make peace with the present Hamatos it would all be over now. They’ll hate him. They will. They will never forgive him for this.

Maybe if this was his Mom, his Auntie April, his Da-Uncle Mi, his Uncle Tello, his Grandpa Drax. Whatever else Master Raphael and Master splinter might have been to him. They might just forgive him but these people are not them. They have not been softened with a lifetime of knowing Cj. He doesn’t have that baby of the family privilege. He doesn’t have any privilege at all. It’s only been a day. Less than that technically.

Even just the thought of being hated by his family. Any version of them, curdles something in his core. Every fiber in his being lashes out and screams at the younger version of his sensei. (Oh but it was Leonardo wasn’t it? Oh, what has he done?) In ways he hasn’t done since he was 8 years old, because poor 8 year old Casey hadn’t quite figured out how to breathe through the hunger pains. I’m a healer. I’m supposed to stop these things. Please, I already let go before you can’t make me do this again-

“Leo no! There has to be another way!”

But this Leonardo says;

“We’ve tried everything Case, he’s too strong”

And deep down Cj knows that too. Much like the lies his family told him. “We can win” He knows otherwise too. Just like if he does this, he knows he’ll be left with nothing too.

But his family will still be here, surrounded by food, clean water, light, and endless amount of comics or magazines they could possibly want. They will be free.

They will never know gnawing hunger or sapping thirst, nor will they know the ever present hum of runhidenotsafe. They will never know the unique kind of suffering that comes from grasping for strength to just open your eyes and breathe in a world that has already long given up on itself.

Cj has seen the future. He has lived and breathed and sometimes, even thrived in an era where the krang came. Where the sky was a bloody brown instead of this clear dark blue and people were driven to insanity and killed from the common cold. Where the sour smell of rot piled everywhere. No matter how much or how hard you scrubbed.

He remembers his Sensei, his Pa, wise, comforting, always ready with a witty comeback or a brilliant plan. He remembers his Commander O’Neil, his Auntie April, rousing, quick and endlessly enduring, the steady voice of reason where even Sensei’s wit dulled. But they were tired, so very tired. The burden of leadership and grief and all the aches and pains of hunger and thirst that can never be quenched, already a fully dressed tomb just waiting for them to hang up their coats and admit futility to the unsurmountable cold.

He remembers how much his family loved him. How hard they tried to scrape together any piece of warmth for him. Tired Golden-Orange heaves himself into the air, to scoop Cj into his arms. Busy Blue who takes any meagre time he has to himself and spends it with Cj. Prickly Purple finds away to colour all his armour a shade of teal, even his siblings are still decked in occasional shades of grey. Overstretched Green always ready to pull her brothers back and scold; too guilty, too smothering, too harsh. Stop. You’re hurting the kid.

If Cj doesn’t close this portal, if he keeps this open, if he disobeys-the Krang will just come back through. And they will plunge the earth into a bloody, poisoned hell.

And he knows that if not Leonardo, then someone else in their stupid, selfless, self-sacrificial family will take up the mantle of resistance, unable to stand idly by at people’s suffering. Because these people are good, so very good. The Hamatos will fight, they will try. And they will lose.

The force of their ire will break him. The thought alone makes him sob, hiccuping in a way he hasn’t done, not since he was found shrieking over a cold Uncle Tello and had to be wrenched away, kicking and screaming. But still holding on. Even to the very last second and beyond. Because he is Cassandra Jones Junjor and a Hamato in every way that matters and he could never leave family behind. At least back then he couldn’t feel mom die

But the apocalypse.. that long, slow, painful march to inevitable death, will break him too. It wasn’t always bad, they had fun, karaoke nights, hilarious attempts to make birthday cakes for kids like him. But fuck.. that doesn’t change the fact that they still lost. That they will all still loose. Cj doesn’t know if he can willingly doom them all again because that’s what he’s going to do isn’t it? They were all so tired, so hungry, so thirsty. How can he let them go through that again?

He remembers how much happier, and how much lighter they always looked in those old scarce photos.

Selfishly, Cj doesn’t know if he can survive through another 20 something years or however long they make it this time, through that hell again. Forced to slowly watch again, as the Krang chip away at his family. Chip away at the people he called his friends till everything, bright, lively and kind was carved out;Uncle Hiro I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry-

They will never love you again. A voice thunders, like the death roll of their final march just this morning where Cj was still breathing in corrupted air under rusty skies. If only he died there with them. Anything is better than having to do this.

I know. Cj shakes, trembling fingers wrap around the key. Casey can see the division between young and new, old and worn and knows he cannot let it blur and become one.

“Casey! Urgh-please!”

Anything. I will give anything, Casey weeps. Anything as long as they live. Casey squeezes his eyes shut.

And just like with Uncle Tello,

Casey finally lets go.

The portal to the prison dimension slams shut with a glorious boom.

Leo, I love you. I’m sorry.

I wish I got more time to know you.

They scream at him. It’s Muffled, like the sensation of sound in the aftermath of a live grenade. They hurl all manner of abuse and venom at his face. He thinks he might be crying. Or maybe he’s not. His head feels tangled like the heaps of crusty old wires, Uncle Tello will never get the chance to unravel.

The shattered body of their Leonardo lies between them, like territory lines drawn between begrudging survivor groups. Cradled by a shaking soft shell. The blurry shapes of familiar voices once desperately calm and patient now roar,cutting and rightfully angry. It falls on his ears. He tries to grasp it, he does. He’s ruined everything, the least Cj can do now is listen.

But exhaustion gnaws at his very bones. Head pounding.

Nothing can explain this.

Nothing will justify this.

Severe head trauma, and shattered, collapsed carapace. Possible bruised and punctured lungs via pieces of loose carapace as the overall structure caved in, resulting in internal bleeding in the lungs and eventual asphyxiation. Patient chocked on his own blood. The field medic immediately drones internally, years of experience and training unable to be shut off (or rather, trained to never shut off) as listless eyes drift down to meet the unmoving slider.

It seems the one-sided eye contact is what finally breaks the softshell’s stupor. “Don’t you fucking dare.” The teen snarls, teeth flashing in all the ways he used to bare it at unwelcome visitors. But never at Casey. Never for long.

Wake up Jones. This is not your Uncle.

The rest of the group falls silent, shocked to see their previously silent family member speaking.

“You don’t get to look at him.” Achingly gentle, the purple branded softshell sets Leonardo onto the tiled floor.

Donatello stands. “You.” He hisses, pointing at Cj.

“You did this.”

Somewhere, somehow Cj manages to gather enough of himself to incline his head slightly in agreement. It’s the least he can do for them.

“Leave.” Donatello orders.

And like the good soldier he is, Cj does. Disappearing into the tunnels.

No one stops him.

16 notes · View notes

throwaway-yandere · 2 years ago

Text

Saudade (Yandere!Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Reader)

A/n: it has been 500 years since I turned off my brain and wrote something out of pure passion lmao dimitri my beloved <333

Unreliable Synopsis: Circumstances won't allow you to be around the crown prince of Faerghus' side, and it wasn't as if you want to be near him either after allying with House Gloucester. Besides, if there was one person you want from your past back, who else would it be other than your old womanizer best friend? (Cw: yandere themes, violence, war)

commissioned by: @poptartsthings (holy sht thank you for making my first commission to be dimitri fic aaAAHHHHH--)

“You should just send them your letter– say that you’re sorry.”

"Uhuh, but what if he doesn't remember me anymore, Raph?"

"Well," Raphael placed both his hands behind his head, lolling back as he reeled a fish in. "There’s just no way. Based on your stories, I think he’s in love with you, (Y/n). You can't just ignore him forever, ya know?"

You raised an eyebrow, "yes, I can. It's not like there are tons of situations where I need to interact with the crown prince."

"Okay, true... But maaaaaybe you can try eating lunch with him!" Raphael brushed against your shoulder "There's nothing that can get people to open up like a good meal together. Maybe you can steal a seat– oh, and sneak in his favorites on his plate too."

You chuckled softly, "I think that method only works on you, Raph."

"Nonsense!" He said, shaking his head earnestly. "It also works on my baby sister!"

You snorted.

Your housemates are endearing. Truthfully, you never would have expected that it's comfortable in the Golden Deer. Your heart desired to become a Blue Lions graduate like your parents, but familial circumstances or lack-there-of forbade any opportunity. Had life been easier on you, your dorm wall would've sported your family’s blue flag.

And not Gloucester’s.

Since your parents perished in what is now known as the “Tragedy of Duscur”, Count Gloucester assumed responsibility of being your legal guardian. Your parents had always thought of Lorenz’s father as a close ally. Plus, this arrangement was better than living up the frigid north with estranged minor noble relatives who gave you an even more colder shoulder.

However, thread any less carefully around the Alliance, and you might find yourself under his conservatorship forever. You just have to thank the Blue Sea Star that you didn’t bore a crest lest you’d be engaged to Lorenz. Uncle Erwin is a wonderful father to him and he doesn’t treat you with malice either— but of course, he keeps an eye open to morally gray opportunities to exploit your title.

And that includes listing your name amongst the Golden Deers.

At first, you were hesitant in showing that you're an “outlier” in class, but it seems you fit the mold quite easily. Too easily. Not because you had been accustomed to their social norms, it is more like the fawns are oddballs themselves. The youngest was an enchantment waiting to explode, your largest was a total muscle-head, the house leader has a screw loose when it comes to strategic retreat and poisoning, and the rest are just as eccentric.

No one cares if you told them you have an affinity for theater here, and spoilers: they really did not give a damn. Except for maybe when Ignatz genuinely went "oh, that sounds wonderful, (Y/n)!" before the conversation digressed about Leonie's mismatched socks she bought on the market.

Oh, but Raphael and Claude did care when they found out that you might've had a long but faded friendship with at least four of the Blue Lions. Compared to Claude, you trust that Raphael comes from a good place whenever he brings them up. Since he and Ignatz were childhood friends who slowly grew apart, he has your best intentions whenever he suggests something that could reignite your relationship with either Sylvain, Felix, Ingrid, or Prince Dimitri.

Claude, on the other hand…

The house leader first emerged as a shadow, then he sat down and squeezed between you and Raphael, with his arm encircled around your waist. Claude's apparent lack of etiquette went unmentioned by either of you (you suspect Claude is part-Almyran), but you do intend to ignore him later like your "foster brother" does.

"Trading secrets about Prince Dimitri, are we? Won't ya invite poor me along in your little secret meeting?”

You sighed tiredly, "Claude–"

"I was just kidding. No need to give me that face," Claude raised his arms defensively. “My lips are sealed— I never heard a single word between you two, promise.”

The deers were a little leery of your prior association with the crown prince of Faerghus. Claude, who frequently pries into everyone's private affairs, persistently diverted your focus to the Lions. In fact, he once burned your favorite book to forcibly draw your attention to the library so that you'll share the same room with Dimitri. Talk about extremes, really.

But you did notice that there's something off about Claude this time.

“So what brings you here? There’s no way you’ve come here to fish.”

“Yeah, no…” He cringed. “I’d rather do the eating part.”

“Haha, you get it, Claude!” Raphael said before the two men shared a crisp high-five.

Ah, these fawns…

You sighed, “can we skip to the part where you explain why you’re sitting beside me right now?”

“Sure. Leonie wanted me to tell you that Lysithea told her that Lorenz was told by Prof—”

“Do you not know the meaning of “skip”, Riegan?”

“Nah, course I do,” Claude smirked. “It’s just fun to tease people who live in House Gloucester.”

“Sothis, have mercy.”

“As I was saying, Lorenz was told by Professor Byleth to tell you that Sylvain is now part of the Golden Deer.”

“…”

“… What?”

There was no dramatic gasp. Nothing sensational or derogatory comment was elicited from impetuous lips. You simply blinked and said the words "what? as if it were a simple joke. Claude needn’t explain that those were facts. Based on how he approached with worry written on his face that he failed to hide from you, he wasn't jesting.

You're reluctant to speak with Sylvain. You last spoke to him in earnest four years ago. Don't get it twisted, you do want to get back in touch with that philanderer's good graces, but where would you even start?

Dear Sylvain, I’m sorry for ignoring your letters? Dear Sylvain, I’ll reimburse you for all the theater tickets you gifted before without my consent? Dear Sylvain, I’m a garbage best friend?

… Knowing him, he’d likely frame that letter with careful preservation while the ink from his heaps of love letters faded inside his shelf collection. If you were to send similar letters to the other two, Felix would train to become a mortal savant and burn the letter out of spite, and Ingrid would have simply torn them up.

“WOAH!!!”

Raphael's chest caught your attention for a brief moment, and you quickly avoided him, concerned that those wooden buttons will suddenly protrude into your eyes. Your housemate captured the fish without even feeling his buttons tear apart from his outfit.

Goddess Messenger.

That’s quite an expensive catch right there.

But it felt like an omen for something.

“… I’m heading back to my dorm room.”

“Want us to go with you?” Raphael offered, but he reeked of fish.

“No, I’ll head there alone.”

Claude tilted his head, “Sylvain is probably there, you know.”

“I know,” you nodded. “But I’m tired.”

“I just can’t run away from the lions anymore.”

You should’ve taken your words literally.

Instead, the phrase "I need to get over this, fast" resonated in your thoughts, and you bolted as soon as the impulse to settle everything fueled your anxiety. You should have cared if someone got in your way, but you didn't.

“Ngh—” you flinched, bumping into someone’s back. “Whoops— sorry about that—”

You froze as you looked up.

Great. Just your luck.

“… What is there to be forgiven, (Y/n)?”

And of course, he called you by your first name. Your arguments against Raphael were demonstrably false. A futile hoax. Why even try to imagine that he might have forgotten about you?

Dimitri smiled softly, his eyes crinkling in delight. You gulped shakily.

After all, how can the crown prince ever forget his first love?

Now that you took a good look, his hair was much shorter than how it used to be and he grew positively taller. It’s a haircut you took a while to get used to, especially since you recalled how his hair used to hover near his shoulder. Not that you didn’t know about any of this information already. It’s just that you had to reassess those facts after seeing him up close. Perhaps a bit too close for comfort.

If only your last memories with him were as pleasant as his face.

He wanted you as his consort, but you had nothing to offer him. No land, no worthy title befitting for a king’s spouse, and no true inheritance in your arsenal at age 15. But when one has less to lose, they become more introspective. While clinging to Sothis' statue and pleading for life, they gain wisdom. Unlike the prince, you were not naive to what could befall the kingdom if you were to marry him. Instead, you sought asylum by knocking on Uncle Erwin’s door with the few loyal servants to House (L/n) left, and he accepted your offer after days of consideration.

His name will be tarnished as a young traumatized prince who copes by spoiling a love unrequited. But most of all? The loss of his friends and family would’ve developed his separation anxiety towards you more if you stayed.

The prince was something of a doormat teenager. He begged and nearly cried when you had accidentally slipped out that you’ll be allying with House Gloucester– but stopped his outburst the moment you chewed him out with hurtful phrases. Dimitri clung onto you like an affectionate pup and if his childhood self could latch on for the rest of his life, he would in a heartbeat. Perhaps it was the side-effect of being his first friend. He had always been a genuinely kind person, but he was always so caught up in whatever happened in the past.

Was it rational or heartless to leave him and the rest of your companions behind? Likely both, if you were to ask El.

That doesn't mean you don't occasionally catch a glimpse of him at the officer's academy. It's hilarious how, after Dedue performed his duties as a vassal, Dimitri now had to cope with a situation that was identical to yours. A "protector" so dependent… it was as though you were watching the prince try on your shoes. Your “you don’t have to shield me every time we go to the training grounds” line became His Highness’ catchphrase towards his retainer. And you’re not sure what to feel about that.

Was it comedy or plain karma? Likely both, if you were to ask Claude.

“Good evening, Your Highness,” you bowed. There would’ve been more eyes on you inside the cafeteria if you hadn’t. Gossips of lese-majeste would’ve stirred even Lindhart awake. “Do you require something from me?”

Formal.

Too formal for him, but not formal enough for you.

Dimitri's brows wrinkled, and you briefly saw his lip tremble. His hands were behind his back, and one of them was discreetly and firmly gripping his wrist. That man had a pained, speechless expression on his face, and you don't hold him responsible when words fall short.

But when words do fail, you wished he could just stop talking whenever he feels overwhelmed.

“I…”

I miss you. So much.

You didn’t need to hear it to know what he wanted to say.

Princess Edelgard was right, Dimitri is wholly predictable.

He cleared his throat, ears turning red.

“It had been so long since we had last spoken, has it not?”

“It has.”

“Around 4 years, so I'd say.”

“Hmm. So it has,” you doubt he noticed how your words were curt and redundant, since he's too busy trying not to melt. “So it has.”

“Are you enjoying the Golden Deer house, s-so far?” Dimitri manufactured a smile. “I’ve heard you and Lorenz made for a wonderful tag team at the last House Tournament.”

Bullshit.

He didn’t just “hear” about it.

You saw him cheer for you giddily in that tournament.

There is nothing he can conceal from you. If he were as cunning as Claude, it might take you some time to discover who was responsible for leaving sloppy, "anonymous" love letters inside your dorm. There were also petals tucked inside. Pink camellias, a sign of longing.

“It’s a feat not worthy of your praise, your Highness.”

Seriously, you don’t want to hear him flatter you anymore.

“Simply untrue,” he shook his head earnestly. “I’ve also heard that—… Y… You are fond of Raphael. As a friend— of course. It’s relieving to know that you have many companions from different walks of life— which is to say, I approve of whoever you talk to, but—”

You’re not deaf. You noticed how much his words were about your relations with others. There’s no other interpretation to this other than jealousy.

Still, his face was red. He must be too caught up in the joy of talking to you that he didn’t care for how envious his words sounded. You laughed curtly. You want to remind him the reason why you left, but you can’t explain a thing despite desperately wanting to, just like him.

Dimitri wants you back, so much so that he's stuttering in every sentence.

But you didn’t reply to his ramblings. Save for the cafeteria hall’s chatter, it was silent. You’ve long accepted in your heart that your family is dead and you ought to coast forward.

And there’s no future where you will cut through a path beside Dimitri.

Besides, House (L/n) had histories of trading tactics with Leicester, and you cannot discount how people refer to your blood as sheeple with its loyalty. It’s a double-edged sword, one you’d utilize well if you close your eyes right now and ignored the heartbreak and yearning in his eyes.

And so, you closed your eyes.

“My apologies, I’m in a hurry so I’m afraid I have to get going. Farewell, Your Highness.”

Dimitri's eyes widened, trying to reach for your arm.

“(Y/n), please wait–”

But you were already gone.

“Hey there, (N/n)!”

It was only when you heard a familiar voice did you open your eyes again.

An attractive and familiar young man lazily leaned on one hand on your door, completely blocking your dorm room. “Are you gonna talk to me now, or are you just going to ignore me for the rest of the school year?”

He’s here.

You steeled yourself.

“Gautier…” You exhaled.

“Oof, “Gautier”, they said,” he frowned. “Not a single “I miss you, Sylvain”? No “gosh, sorry I didn’t talk to you for so long, I was just too shy to admit that I was wrong!”?”

You chuckled nervously.

“Perceptive as ever, I see.” But you weren’t wrong. Becoming a Golden Deer was the right path for you.

“Not perceptive, but hopeful really,” Sylvain shrugged. “Based on that reply, I’m glad my wishful thinking was spot on. You do miss me.”

“I do, but I now just realized I’m not prepared for this conversation,” you said, surprised by your upfront and composed anxiety. That talk with Dimitri seriously drained all the energy you garnered earlier. “Can we do this later?”

“No can do. I shall allow you passage if thee speaks from the heart,” he teased with his signature ladykiller grin. “Go on, say it~”

You sighed, burlesquely exasperated.

The two of you adore theater, so talks like these were commonplace. He’d mask his flaws when confessing sins in this manner, but you prefer to hear his real justifications. In any case, this is just another conquest for him to gad off and hunt some girls in another house— and your new professor is undoubtedly a sight to behold.

“Oh, Sylvain, mine dear friend, thou art missed for nearly half a decade, but mine fear did not condone myself to reach out.”

Like two birds of a feather, you also similarly mask your sentimentality.

Funny how you can easily say you miss Sylvain, but not Dimitri.

Sylvain smiled. Genuinely, this time.

“Good.”

The resolution was surprisingly fast. You were willing to bet you both anticipated a serious confrontation– a meeting that feels like a long-awaited class reunion after a war or so. But no.

The two of you are still flawed yet perceptive idiots after 4 years of not talking.

You both laughed in unison.

What were you worrying about anyway? You knew that at this point if Sylvain was angry at you for leaving, he should have grown tired of that emotion.

His primary grudge had always been the crest system, not you.

You should've had this talk earlier, he's the only one in the Blue Lions you were sure won't blame a crestless noble like you for those circumstances.

“Now move, Gautier.”

He stepped aside smugly.

…

You opened your mouth in surprised indignation.

“Why does my room look clean?”

“I had Mercedes help me clean it up the moment I took a look inside. Seriously, I can’t believe you managed to live in a complete pigsty—”

“It’s like you want to sour our reestablished friendship in under 5 minutes, Sylvie.”

“...”

“What? Too old to be called Sylvie nowadays?”

“No, keep calling me that,”

Sylvain never stopped smiling.

“Oh, and by the way? I miss you too, (N/n).”

“… There you are.”

As soon as Sylvain left the hall to your dorm, he was greeted by the sight of the crown prince lingering in front of the stairways. Unlike Sylvain, he was not leaning on anything while waiting. The prince stood straight, dignified.

Then again, Sylvain knew his royal motivations lie in jealousy— and that’s far from “dignified.”

Sylvain can tell from his stiff stance that Claude was particularly touchy-feely earlier, which was exactly why he requested Lorenz to relay the message instead rather than the house leader. His Highness must’ve seen how close you sat beside Raphael and then Claude. The Golden Deer's leader knew Dimitri was obsessed with you— he probably intended to provoke him for the upcoming Battle of Eagle and Lion. It didn't help that Dimitri had his eyes on you, always. If not him, then Dedue.

Not that Claude's scheme will work. Dimitri was satisfied just to see you smile, even when it pains him to acknowledge that it wasn’t for him or because of him.

Sylvain is an exception to that rule.

Dimitri had a cold glint in his azure eyes, but his gaze all but glared at Sylvain. He had a smidgen of control, for now. But it’s not long until what Sylvain had prophesied about the crown prince quipping a remark or two about staying away from you will occur.

“Waiting for me to explain my random decision, I’m guessing?”

“Oh, I simply liked standing here but sure, Sylvain! I’d dearly love to know the rational thought behind switching houses out of the blue. It is not as if Felix and Ingrid were worried about you,” Dimitri generously gave his princely smile.

Sometimes, Sylvain forgets it was physically possible for someone so austere with himself like Dimitri to say something laced with malicious sarcasm. But Sylvain knew Dimitri stood there because he was still worried about his friend, even when he pretends to be unbothered.

Like bread and butter, Dimitri and forced positivism complement each other disastrously well. The Blue Lions often caught him murmuring things like "I'm delighted (Y/n) is making new friends" or "I hope Claude continues to treat them well" despite having a glum expression on his face, obviously bottling up his envy. Felix finds it as easy as breathing to call him out on this behavior: "Why bother stalking them when you can't handle the envy you feel when they hugged Lorenz or held hands with Marianne? ”

His Highness never answered that question. He thinks had kept his feral thoughts at bay most of the time and will continue to do so.

Still… Raphael, Claude, and then Sylvain… Dimitri can’t catch a break.

Why do all these men keep approaching you?

Will you never recognize the perpetual anguish that befall him the moment you didn't reach for his hand and took Count Gloucester's that day? Have you no sympathy for the man that promised your protection— for the boy you trained and sneaked out when you thought the king wasn't looking? Whenever he wakes up the following morning without you, do you not experience the same emptiness and loneliness that he does?

Was it because he is a "troubled prince" nowadays?

Was it because he couldn't taste anything anymore?

Why did you eat saghert and cream with Ignatz instead of him at the cafeteria?

Why did these men have to ruin the one taste he can recall?

He lies awake every night to the sound of phantom screams from fallen soldiers, friends, and family against his hand-covered ears.

But you were his solace. His “God/dess”.

And just like with the Goddess Sothis, he lacked the means to grasp your hand...

If only his cold hands could wring those men's necks as well...

“... Do you really want to know, Your Highness?”

It took Dimitri a while before he snapped out of his trance. His voice dipped low, his breathing uneasy, and his eyes lacked focus.

Sylvain looked at him with pity Dimitri wished you spared him instead.

“Yes,” he exhaled. “It shall help our friends put their minds at ease.”

“Well, well, you're sure it's not because you'll miss me?”

“Sylvain.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll tell you,” Sylvain dreamily gazed up at the sky and boldly proclaimed:

“The new professor was hot.”

“Sylvain!—”

“Calm down, Your Highness! That was just a joke.”

Unlikely.

“I joined because (Y/n) is there.”

Dimitri froze.

The meaning behind those words could either be tolerable or impermissible enough to make the prince push Sylvain to the training grounds without remorse.

Sylvain’s not going to try and suddenly woo you now, will he?

You did grow more gorgeous after four years after all…

But Sylvain can't have you— Dimitri might just lose it. Out of everyone on campus, he refuses to let an adamant skirt-chaser take you.

“… Elaborate.”

“Elaborate? What’s there to elaborate?” Sylvain crossed his arms behind his back, now back to his laissez-faire attitude in life. He cackled to himself, absolutely unrepentant. “Is it bad that I want to reunite with an old friend? You know, before they were your friend, they were mine. Don’t forget that we’re both older than you, Dimitri.”

Multiple considerations led to why Sylvain chose to frolic with the deers rather than squander the school year at the lion’s den. One of these includes avoiding Ingrid’s nagging— he can’t be bothered having a pegasus pecking around while he galavants with (unfortunate) women.

But most of it boiled down to reunite with the one platonic relationship he missed.

Sylvain became Dimitri’s ally through you. Had you not approached Sylvain and Dimitri during one of King Lambert’s birthday celebrations, they wouldn’t have initiated a friendship through a children’s version of a bergamot tea party away from drunken nobility. More opportunities to befriend the prince would’ve likely presented themselves through Ingrid and Felix, but that memory of tiny cups and tea-stained shoes was special because it had you.

Because you were smart and kind enough to drag Sylvain out of his older brother’s schemes of public humiliation under the guise of being “invited” to an audience with royalty.

You were more of a sibling than Miklan ever was.

“By two years,” Dimitri stressed. “You’re only older than me by two years.”

“Your point? Doesn’t change the fact that compared to most students this year, we’re one of the older ones.”

He bit his bottom lip.

Age was one of Dimitri’s insecurities. It cannot be helped— if he were only older, people would’ve listened to his testimony for the people of Duscur more seriously— if he were only older, he would’ve had control over his uncle—

Dimitri’s knuckles grew white underneath his gloves.

If he were only older, then maybe you would’ve stayed by his side.

“What a lark. Are you attempting to compete on who had a better relationship with (Y/n)?”

“No, Your Highness, YOU are.”

Dimitri’s eyes widened. He hadn’t realized that those pointed words he spoke aimed towards himself like a misthrown javelin.

"Let’s be honest, Your Highness. I’m saying this as a friend, but you could be a bit tone-deaf and insufferable around them,” Sylvain deadpanned. “You had some serious attachment issues and you never listen when they tell you to stop with all those creepy comments about protecting them forever.”

“Is… Is that so?”

Dimitri muttered to himself while looking at his shoes, sounding almost broken. He had doubts, but Sylvain’s words practically cemented that you’d be unwilling to spend time with him again.

“Besides, if this were a competition, you lost the moment I waited at their dorm.”

The prince’s head snapped back up like a confused puppy.

“Why is that?”

What a horrible thing to ask.

“Because (Y/n) just told me that they missed me,” Sylvain smirked.

“And if you were there, you could’ve heard them call me Sylvie too, just like the good old days.”

Since that talk with Sylvain, Dimitri wanted to make you as lonely as him.

Oh, how he badly wanted to whisk you away from that house– oh just how much he wished he could force you to wear his cape– to wear the color of the lions.

But none of that matters now.

You look prettier when doused in splattered red.

The soil sipped the blood that drained from Ignatz's head. It reminded you of the time you asked the painter if he could use blood as a dye. If he were to watch this scene, he would've waxed poetic about how he will be simply returning his life to the earth, but the beauty of death is lost on you. The gravity of war weighed far more than the theatrics of what-he-would've-spoken.

It’s been five years since the war started.

You had lost your voice two years ago the moment Dimitri kidnapped you on your expedition to Garreg Mach— you’ve mistaken him for a bandit and in a blind rage, he dealt a massive blow to your neck. Dimitri didn’t mind that you had lost your ability to speak he seemed to relish that you’re similarly deformed. He romanticized both your disabilities often. A “God/dess” who couldn’t speak and a “boar” who couldn’t quite see. What a royal pair indeed…

You can’t say your prayers now, but you hoped thinking about praying for Ignatz was enough…

Ignatz should've turned 22 this year. Based on the way he last behaved, he didn't seem prepared for this war and had been misplaced by Professor Byleth.

You’ll never be able to eat saghert and cream with him again.

You can't remember what tactic you used in this battle. Was it Felix who was assigned to stick ten feet away from you who had slain Ignatz? Or was it Ingrid who rode her pegasus to stab the sniper in a suicidal fashion?

This entire battle is a blur. You can no longer stand straight and aim your sword reluctantly toward anyone.

Why can't everything go back to how it was before? Why can't you just fish at the Great Bridge of Myrddin with Uncle Erwin again?

You wobbled down the grass as a wyvern obstructed your view with its proud albino scales cruising the sky. Claude sits atop, his face stony through a nearly unrecognizable expression of placid anger. His emerald eyes inevitably met yours.

You didn't stand with your sword supporting you, and he didn't draw his bow either. Instead, before leaving to find the bright red target everyone called an "Emperor", Claude mouthed words that only you two could understand. You uttered nothing in response. Even if Claude were to succeed, his scheme would be futile.

Sylvain can’t save you from Dimitri.

Like a fairytale, it begins and ends with the crown prince. It always had.

But if Dimitri was the protagonist of this story, then pray tell, what does that make you?

A damsel in distress?

The king's court jester?

All you ever wanted was for House (L/n) to survive, to preserve your family name and dwindling territory against House Charon. You desired the opportunity to emulate your father. A fearless front-liner and a skilled tactician.

However, you have not taken any real action to end this war. You moved like a weak infantry, unable to maintain balance on one leg or call out for upcoming danger.

You just can’t run away from the lions anymore.

"Get up."

You couldn't move, mortified.

His Highness is back.

"I said GET UP!!!"

His iron-like hands yanked your hair up, and you felt some of it weeded out by his sheer brute force. You wept immediately but held back tears. Despite your commitment to keeping your composure, he had torn away what little hold you had left on what you call "stability." Your knees shook as his tall figure began to drag you away. Each step felt more jagged than the last. Your heart beat erratically as you worried about toppling down– and when you inevitably did, he was there to pick you up.

For Dimitri, this situation was advantageous. Most Golden Deers are here, which meant he had opportunities to route them all. He had already stabbed Ignatz, incessantly. Each draw of his lance— each crack of the artist’s glasses and bones— rejuvenated whatever youth war had stolen from him. The future king of lions couldn’t stop grinning maniacally as his eyes lay upon a deer’s corpse. It was as if his sense of taste was coming back. All of his soldiers and classmates were too terrified to stop his senseless slaughter. If Gustave did not scold him about the oncoming army, he would’ve continued damaging the corpse senselessly.

But it’s only a matter of time until he shoots for the leader of the herd as well.

He still hasn’t forgiven him for using his beloved against him back at the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. This was the perfect opportunity for revenge. Once they’re out of the picture, then it’s only Edelgard left who he had to worry about— but until then, he’ll have to take the deers’ lives for stealing his beloved away.

Shame that Lorenz had yet to be found.

"Tch. Fool."

He cradled you like a bride but gripped your jaw like a hostage. Dimitri's current appearance is much too different from what he used to be. Sweat and blood had greased up his unruly hair, and the blue cloak that was slung over his shoulders was much dirtier.

"I command you to eat."

It was almost sweet. Almost kind when his voice softened for just a millisecond. Almost touching how his one eye gazed upon your sunken features with disdain.

But your appreciation for it all vanished the moment he robbed something from Ignatz's corpse.

"Eat."

He shoved onto you Ignatz's last bloody loaf of bread. It was hard, yet soaked.

Your throat couldn't express how terrified you were upon holding it.

"Gone deaf as well, have we?"

He pushed the bread closer to your chest, effectively crushing it against you. Dimitri breathed against your ear.

"I SAID: EAT.”

Your tears and Ignatz's blood salted your food.

The bread tasted just like the ones Raphael's family had in their inn.

Ignatz… He probably got this from Raphael… Which means he's in Gronder as well…

You sobbed as you took a feeble bite.

Please… Please be safe, Raphael.

Dimitri saw your struggle. He saw your continued concern for those who were after his life and yours. Why do you spare sympathy for the bodies that got in the way between you and him? They did not warrant those tears. The weak must fall— even he too will join them someday.

And so, Dimitri closed his eye.

You’ve gone fragile in his arms, and that was not spoken in a romantic sense. He had fractured your right leg enough to make you use your sword as a cane, yet he insists on dragging you in combat. Time and time again, he forces you to witness what he is capable of and more till you’re unable to write complaints.

Dimitri wanted to reassure you that you’re on the right side of history.

That you can cut a path beside him— you just weren’t trying hard enough before.

And it was a challenge the prince can’t easily scale. You never showed your appreciation for longer than a minute. When he learned how to dance begrudgingly with El after she had poisoned him with thoughts that he could use her teachings someday to dance with you— you dared to ask Sylvain out during the White Heron Cup. When he tried to give you a more fancy dagger as well during El’s parting, you admired Sylvain’s coincidental parcel of theater tickets and tea leaves instead.

Sylvain, Sylvain, Sylvain—

It was always Sylvain.

His entire body shook from laughter. You shriveled in fear as his voice echoed throughout the battlefield.

The beast put you down underneath a tree's shade that he deemed as safe.

… and kissed your forehead.

“I can see him approaching us.”

Dimitri cooed mockingly.

“Shall I decapitate and mount that filthy rat's head on a silver plate?”

You didn’t need to hear him utter his name to know he was referring to Sylvain. It was tempting to challenge him on how he could say such a thing about someone who had once been a friend, but that inquiry wouldn't help. Dimitri cupped your face and wiped your tears away with his rough and heavy hands. You flinch so easily nowadays.

How adorable.

Five years ago, you won't move a muscle whenever he kissed your forehead good night.

Five years ago, he worried about accidentally waking you up and exposing himself for breaking into your dorm so often just to drop his unhinged love letters.

Five years ago, watching you rest allowed moments of respite.

However, it didn’t invigorate him as much as your tears did now.

“Fret not, my fellow monster, I shall fetch it for you,”

He tightened his grip on his areadbhar, scanning the right field. The lance's crest stone glowed, and there was no looking back after that.

You’re here now, and he will NEVER let you leave. He won’t have a repeat of what had occurred when Count Gloucester was present around nine years ago or so. He’ll protect you this time, and it no longer mattered to him if he were a corpse or a monster in your eyes. It mattered not that he no longer slept. He intends to keep you alive and by his side, just like what he had promised in his childhood.

You can't even begin to imagine how much being away from you ruined him.

He had reached the point where he will kill everyone that tried to touch you, and he won’t have someone else do it, too.

Was this love or obsession? Likely both, if you were to ask Lady Rhea.

But what does Rhea know about Dimitri’s mental state anyways? She’s been missing for years now, she might as well be dead to you.

Without thinking, you grabbed his cloak. He patted your head but his eyes were locked on the cavalry unit from afar, and the dark and sinister smirk on his face solidified your fears.

Sylvain approached faster, and you did your best not to cry.

If he dares to fight Dimitri in the state he is now, then he might as well be a dead man walking too.

You wished you didn’t have to join the Golden Deer house— you wished Sylvain didn’t follow suit— and you wish you didn’t leave Sylvain behind. You did not doubt that if it hadn’t been for you, Dimitri would have concentrated only on Edelgard and joined forces with Claude to eliminate her. It would have given this historical period a more coordinated scheme. History won’t have to remember you as the catalyst that made things worse.

"(N/n)!"

You heard Sylvain yell from behind Dimitri, which only made your heart ache more.

It's been years since you last heard his voice again.

Dimitri took your warm hands and brushed his cheek against it, no matter how obvious it was that your eyes yearned for someone else’s touch.

He looked at you with such a soft gaze that you nearly forgot the monster he had become.

“Once we hang his head on our bedroom wall, you have no right to complain about missing “Sylvie” ever again, my beloved.”

#dimitri alexandre blaiddyd x reader #dimitri x reader #yandere dimitri #yandere dimitri x reader #yandere fire emblem #fire emblem x reader #fe dimitri #fe dimitri x reader #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem 3 houses #yandere dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #yandere fire emblem: three houses #ansy-writes #ansy-comms #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd

412 notes · View notes

fabuloustrash05 · 6 months ago

Note

2 and 8 for the tmnt ask game !

TMNT Asks Game

2) What was your first exposure to [TMNT iteration]?

I’m gonna assume since you didn’t give a specific iteration you mean my overall exposure to the franchise. My first introduction to TMNT was when the Turtles Forever movie first came out. I remember being bored and flipping through channels trying to find something to watch, and I stumbled across the movie that was airing on Cartoon Network or something. The movie was almost over, but I remember being so fascinated by the characters and it always stuck with me.

Fast-forward to 2012 and Nickelodeon announces that they are creating a new TV show called Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I asked my mom about it and she told me that she remembered the turtles from when she was a kid. She was a teenager when the cartoon show was airing in the 80s, but she remembered her little brothers (my uncles) were really into the show. Then I remembered the Turtles Forever movie and how much I enjoyed it so I decided to check out this new series to see what the fuss was about. The 2012 series was my introduction and I’ve been hooked to this franchise ever since.

8) Which turtle is usually your favorite?

Raphael ❤️

#pixxelcatt #asks #answered #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #turtles forever #tmnt 2012 #tmnt raphael

29 notes · View notes

sharoscylla · 3 months ago

Text

it's been over a year since BG3's full release so i'm gonna say it

i don't think myrkul actually did resurrect isobel thorm from the dead. based on her description of what happened - and the facts that in that same cemetery they made a point of having a tomb with someone wearing Boots of Feign Death + malus had that sharran paralysis amulet - I think she was put in a form of Feign Death either by an agent of Shar, Shar herself, or Malus as a way to prod ketheric into joining malus in shar worship. (also that shar specifically didn't let isobel die JUST to spite selune and melodia who would naturally be waiting for isobel in the afterlife) I think it's as simple as somebody realizing 120~ years later that she only SEEMS dead in there and lying their ass off to convince ketheric that they resurrected her instead of waking her up, with myrkul backing up the lie because honestly he doesn't have very many active worshippers at any given time, and none so powerful as ketheric is or was.

i also don't think isobel is ketheric's only child! dialogue + ingame journals make it pretty clear to me that gerringothe and thisobald are ketheric's chlidren, based on the fact that they're more elfish than isobel and ketheric I'm guessing those two maybe had a different mother than isobel, and ketheric was a shit dad but neither selunite or sharran even though his uncle malus was a sharran. Ketheric meets melodia, converts to selunite worship for her, eventually they have isobel and he's supposedly a pretty good dad to her, which, you know, probably raises the hackles on his adult children who had to live with a cruel and demanding father. thisobald had his own terrible shit he was up to prior to being trapped there forever in the shadowcurse, but other than being a bitchy embezzling boss gerringothe was just... trying to save up money to flee town and never come back, and the shadowcurse trapped her there before she could find the courage to actually make the leap.

speaking of which, the thorms are czarr-levels of incest coded. I know I've been saying I'll write the Thorms Were All Molested By Ketheric And Malus manifesto for a year now, but that will have to wait for when I'm slightly less busy. ... or, well, it'll feature in the Ripley Savage AU, but they're just now getting into the Underdark in that one, so, you know, it's a ways away.

This is not Gortash Apologia (...probably just a bit) but do you really expect me to believe Zariel went "Yeah sure, I'll take this 21 year old tiefling with no specific skillset that's exactly like a million other mortals, and not only will her soul not be in danger from this deal but I'll make sure she doesn't die of shit that would normally kill a person to death, just so i can spend a couple years grooming her into a super strong warrior that will do cool tricks for a few years before her inevitable mortal demise, at which point i still won't have possession of her soul so it'll be fucking off to the fugue plane at that point, here's A Big Pile Of Super Rare Infernal Metal I Invented During My Reign Over The Last 130-140 Years, I'll also let you study the blueprints of the guy who is designing her heart engine because that's definitely the kind of information I want floating around the Material Plane where anybody could get their hands on it/you".......... no man. I think Gortash paid/convinced Zariel to take Karlach and make her strong. Zariel probably did not want Raphael building himself a stronghold in what should have been her domain, so I can believe that they came to an agreement as a way of mutually spiting or undermining him, and I think - considering the steel watchers were just in the prototype stage when Florrick last was in Baldur's Gate within a tenday or two, i do not believe for a second gort just sat around on the materials and plans for a decade without *starting* the project - that he didn't actually get his hands on the plans or materials for the watchers until his durgeheist much much more recently, say 1-2 years ago at the most. "But karlach said Zariel said XYZ when-" zariel lied. why would the archdevil of avernus be the one telling the whole truth here. at that moment Gort was Karlach's Main Person (her parents dead, she flat out says she loved him and respected him and was happily building her life around being his trusted bodyguard) and Zariel needed to make sure Karlach would be easier to control re: depending utterly on Zariel to survive etc. once she had the engine installed it'd be even easier to control her - soul coins, keeping her in the middle of the blood war front lines instead of screwing around asking questions or making alliances - and of course, zariel couldn't have known that karlach was ultimately indomitable, even if it took a decade for her to slip her chains.

I know... I know, it was already the product of years of labor, and stuff like multiple act 3 storylines didn't end up getting the amount of attention they deserved... but i wish there was a magical item crafting system beyond "1 sussur weapon/eye of the absolute spear/mourning frost/exactly 2 grymforge items"+alchemy. We found all that mundane jewelry and all those gems and I don't care if it would have all been mid equipment, I want to have been able to make the campers all wear matching Rings Of +1 Besties. I also hunger greatly for "hey, if you're going to spend 30+ hours in Act Three anyway, and you have the money for it, why not just buy an apartment or house for you and the squad and decorate it as you see fit" + the fallout 4 style settlement creator post-game. Even if I couldn't get past the level 12 cap I'd still be out there hunting monsters to make my village safe + get supplies to make my village/house cool looking + attract stronger villagers. please let me create a city-state. i desire it so much.

#bg3 #bg3 meta #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate 3

8 notes · View notes

flying-pierog-art · 6 months ago

Note

Psst

Any oc fun facts :>

A bunch of oc facts, coming right up!! :D

- Raphael is the ultimate wingman. Mostly for Lottie and Karo, when Lottie asked him to ask Karo for her sexual orientation and Type. AND he was the one who later helped Karo realize she's in love. Mostly cause he was just tired of her being oblivious to that, like "Oh, Charlotte? She is the best friend I could ask for. I would probably kill or die for her if need be, also I feel like I could hold her in my arms forever. I actually tolerate and even enjoy her being physically close, unlike other people. I wonder why that is."✨️

- There's a moment in like. The 3/4rth season when Matylda and Tom agressively tell each other to kys.

- Matylda and Valentin have a close but purely platonic relationship. They spend so much time together that Vali slowly became a father... or rather annoying/fun uncle figure to Camille and Henryk.

- Also. Henryk is convinced Vali and Matylda are f**king, because he heard some loud noises from Matylda's room when they were both in there. They were actually fighting. But that doesn't stop Henryk from being kind of disgusted with them.

- While Skyler is working as a Rising Passer he actually lives with the Strzelec siblings, in Camille's room!

- The Dragon Revived knew his future owner before he died :)

- Charlotte's mom is the Leader Passer. I. Do not talk about that enough. but in the story it's clear from the moment she appears- 😭

- Also you did notice that Karo is very protective, just like Matylda, actually! But they are both protective of completely different groups of people, so they usually don't get along very well 🫠

- ⬆️ I think the only person they'd both agree to keep safe is Raphael. And they canonically do join forces for that!

- Speaking of him again, Raphael's actual name is Rafał, but when Howerpuff (Lottie's) family found him and he was trying to introduce himself through sobbing, they assumed he said it's "Raphael" so they kept calling him that, he didn't want to complain since they took him in and then he just kind of forgot his real name himself throughout the years.

- and a bonus alignment chart! 😌✨️

Matylda - Lawful good, Skyler - Neutral good, Charlotte - Chaotic good, Raphael - Lawful neutral, Camille & Valentin - True Neutral, Karo - Chaotic Neutral, Henryk - Lawful Evil, Tom - neutral evil, The Dragon Revived - Chaotic Evil

It's more for fun and vibe based so don't mind it too much lol

#i should also thank you for the opportunity to #infodumpling #about my children ✨️#the gloom land #ocs #oc #severevoiddragon #woop. forgot Skyler's glasses. oh well

17 notes · View notes

wellthebardsdead · 8 months ago

Text

Dammon: *nervously walks into the house of hope following his forgemaster, quickly setting up his equipment before he can get reprimanded* wh-what are we doing here s-sir?

Forgemaster: Fitting new shoes on the lord of the 8 himself.

Dammon: *only knowing the lord of the 8th as Mephistopheles. The lord of no mercy, having no clue of the recent change of power* o-oh-

“Come now nephew you do this every month!”

“Then I’ll never wear shoes again! I’m not letting that brute man handle me ever again I won’t!”

“You’re under my roof, and under my rules! Now move or you’re grounded!”

“You can’t ground me! I’m the archduke!”

“Then start acting like one!”

Dammon: *looks up to see the man who’d come to his forgemaster enter dragging a pretty blue tiefling around his age in behind him* wow…

Raphael: Ah! Good you’re here, this is her then?

Forgemaster: him.

Raphael: hm? *finally notices the aged bloodied bandage around Dammons chest* Ah, my apologies. *snaps his fingers making the bandage disappear and the surgery marks heal and scar completely* Your forgemaster spoke highly of your work. I trust my nephew is in safe hands with you.

Dammon: *looks to him then the pouty blue tiefling behind him* I- y-yes. It’s nice to meet you, m-my lord? *bows his head*

Falûne: *visibly blushing looking at him, having never met another tiefling around his age* I- please, call me Falûne… *holds out his hand to him*

Dammon: *takes it gently and kisses it*

Falûne: … *giggles* I was asking to be seated but- that works too.

Dammon: *bright red* I-I’m so sorry please forgive me! *helps him to the seat prepared and starts preparing his tools to trim the young devils hooves*

Falûne: *smiles* don’t apologise, I liked it.

Raphael: *clears his throat not wanting his nephew to get attached* See? Not so bad having your shoes fitted now is it? Will you behave now?

Falûne: *pouts* yes uncle…

Forgemaster: *looks to dammon* be careful, he kicks.

Raphael: *glares at him*

Falûne: You deserved it for how you grabbed and pulled me around by my ankles you horrid fiend!

Forgemaster: *coughs* f-forgive me your grace… g-get to work boy.

Dammon: yes s-sir… *kneels before Lûne* may I?

Falûne: *surprised, had never been asked before* y-you may…

Dammon: *smiles lifting his hoof up onto his knee and beginning his work*

Falûne: …What is your name?

Dammon: I’m dammon your grace. *shyly smiles up at him, icy blue eyes meeting moon dust silver*

Falûne: dammon… that’s a handsome name. *smiles*

Raphael: nope we’re going back to the old Forgemaster now that’s enough-

Falûne: UNCLE NO!

*a few years later in the emerald grove*

Falûne: ugh- disgusting dirt, goblin guts and hells know what else my fur is stained and it’s going to take forever to pick out this gunk from my-

???: Falûne???

Falûne: *looks up to see Dammon staring back at him* Dammon? Is it really you?

Dammon: yes, I- pardon the pun but your hooves look like you’ve trekked through hell and back.

Falûne: *simply bursts into tears and runs to him* yes! I have! Please help meeee!

Dammon: *smiles and embraces him as he runs into his arms* shhh your grace, you know I’m always more than happy to help you~ *sets him down knowing how to calm him down* Let me take care of you~

#Raphael bg3 #dammon bg3 #falûne tav #falûne oc #devil prince Falûne

19 notes · View notes

quietwingsinthesky · 2 years ago

Note

How would Gabriel feel about the whole Samifer pregnancy situation? I really love the way you write him, and I feel like Lucifer needs at least one sibling to be outwardly supportive of him in a healthy way. Wait, on that note, does Gabriel tell Michael to cool off and try and get him to rationalize his behaviour? (Good luck with that)

Assuming Samifer pregnancy coincides with Lucifer taking a chill pill on the whole 'ending the world' thing, I think Gabriel's feelings on the whole thing would be... complicated.

On the one hand, this is what he wants, an end to the fighting! bit of an unorthodox way to go about it, but as long as Lucifer's no longer on-board with trying to kill Michael, that's overall a win for Gabriel.

On the other hand (and I think specifically these feelings extend to any scenario in which Lucifer or Michael stops for reasons other than 'because Gabriel wants them to and has wanted them to for centuries',) Lucifer's doing this because he's building his own new little family. He's got Sam, he's got a baby coming, and just because Gabriel's there with them, doesn't mean he's with them, you know? He's used to being able to cut and run, but that also translates into feeling disposable? if that makes sense. He ditched Heaven and they just moved on like losing him didn't even matter. (From Gabriel POV. I think we all know that losing him so soon or even before losing Lucifer forever, depending on when you set Gabriel leaving, actually severely fucked up Michael & Raphael and contributed to Heaven becoming as bad as it did.)

So, he's obviously happy there's not going to be an Apocalypse throwdown, at least on Lucifer's end, but at the same time, resentful, because why is Lucifer making an exception now, why didn't he back down for Gabriel. (I do at least think Gabriel's got the sense in him to not like. resent the baby itself for this. it's mostly him being passive aggressive towards lucifer about it.)

He's going to come around to it in the end. If you're like me and just ignore the later seasons retcon that Gabriel isn't actually Loki, he's the only angel with any experience being pregnant. He knows how to help Lucifer, and what better way to bond than over dealing with pregnancy nonsense? Lucifer is soo grumpy and out of sorts when stuff just starts aching randomly, and Gabriel is annoying & helpful in equal measure.

And at whatever point Michael figures out what's going on and shows up, very perturbed by Lucifer being A) free of their destiny and choosing not to even show up to the big fight and B) PREGNANT????, seeing Gabriel ALSO ALIVE AND THERE SOMEHOW???? is probably going to be enough to send him into shock asjkldjaksdj. Gabriel just gently escorts him outside, sits him down, and goes, "We're uncles now :) We have a chance to be happy and not explode each other and this nice world we've got :) You mess this up and I will stab you myself :D"

(Internally, Gabriel is freaking the fuck out, but hey, he's convincing to Michael, at least.)

#spn #gabriel spn #lucifer spn #michael spn #tw pregnancy #i feel like i should maybe come up with a tag for specifically the lucifer getting mpregged content #eh. ill go through and tag it all later.#ask

10 notes · View notes

dicaculus · 1 year ago

Text

Title: A Pile of Hot Metal and Dirty Dishes Artist: Crankyfossil Rating: Explicit Pairing: Magnus Bane/ Alec Lightwood Wordcount:42,462 Summary: Magnus Bane is the Head Chef at Encanto and doing just fine. Or that’s what he tells Simon the therapist, his boss Raphael, orders him to go to. Magnus is a genius in the kitchen, his food is art, but if he starts a fight with one more disrespectful customer, he’s gone. Simon is useless though, going on about Magnus using work as a means to distance himself from meaningful relationships, and emotional walls that could rival a fortress. What does he know? Magnus is fine. Then everything goes wrong. His best friend, Catarina and her daughter get into an accident. His eight-year-old niece, Madzie, is the only survivor and Magnus finds himself going from cool uncle Magnus to the only parent Madzie has left. To make matters worse, Raphael has replaced him while he’s on leave. Alexander Lightwood is a menace. He’s careless, breezy, and annoyingly good at everything he does. Magnus can’t stand him, but with Madzie refusing to eat his cooking and his hands full, Magnus needs all the help he can get. Along the way, Magnus begins to realize there’s more to life than seared cod and lemon dressing, and maybe, just maybe, it’s a life that he wants Alexander Lightwood in.

This fic was created for the Malec Discord Mini Bang 2023.

CHAPTER ONE

Read on AO3

For Magnus Bane, Mondays meant a few things. Encanto was only open for dinner, he was at the pier in the early morning with his coat on to stay warm while everyone else was still sleeping.

“Got some nice lobsters from Maine this morning”

Magnus leans forward, inspecting the lobster. The fishmonger gestures towards but tuts and looks back at the man. “Those are a little too small. "

“Try these” He gestures to a second pile of giant lobsters.

Magnus quickly inspects the lobsters, hard shells, two full-sized claws, and no open wounds or legions. “Yeah, these are good. Have them delivered to the restaurant at 2:30. "

But Mondays for Magnus also meant seeing Simon the therapist, whom his boss, Raphael ordered him to see, but to him he’s useless.

“You have to stop using your work as a reason to avoid relationships, Magnus. "

“One day, those emotional walls you’ve built around yourself have to come down. You can’t keep everyone at a distance forever. "

“... a coping mechanism related to the trauma you endured as a child. "

If Magnus hears the man say the word trauma one more time, he’s going to lose it. So instead Magnus spends the hour talking about food, the menu for that week and trying to convince the man to let him bring some food to their next session.

“Some chefs call them ‘lovebirds’, a romantic dish for a special occasion. Properly cooked,

they're as tender as butter. They can be roasted, stuffed with wild rice or barley..or you can broil them, poach them... barbecue them, and even braise them. But there's no greater sin

than to overcook a quail. When cooked correctly it has a touch of pink on the breast, but you need the right quail. It has to be fleshy or it dries out too easily. I prefer to serve them roasted. That makes their taste richer and more robust. And a side of truffle ravioli and wild mushrooms go deliciously well with them. Of course, you can also cook them in a pig's bladder in a mix of Madeira and cognac. You see, the bladder helps protect the quail and keeps it moist. You could serve it with a tender sauce of thyme, spring onions, caramelized shallots, and truffles. Truffles go perfectly with almost any quail dish because they elevate the delicate taste.”

“Am I boring you?” Magnus pauses, looking at Simon who has a scowl on his face and looks incredibly bored.

“No, not at all,” He sighs “Please, go on”

Magnus squints at the psychologist not believing him but continues despite know he’s lying.

“They wonderfully elevate the delicate taste of the quail. But you have to really

be able to afford truffles, otherwise, you just better forget about it.

Magnus pauses, thinking for just a moment before he claps his hands and turns towards the other man again “Now, for an appetizer, I suggest-”

“Magnus,” Simon says, wiping his face with his hands, “Would you mind if I change the subject for a moment?”

“No.”

He gestures towards the couch sitting in the middle of the room across from where he sits in an armchair, a clipboard set in his lap. Magnus sighs and moves away from the tall windows of the office and sits on the cream couch. Simon uncrosses his legs and sits forward in his chair, looking Magnus in the eye.

“Why do you come to see me every week?

“My boss said he'd fire me if I didn't get therapy.” He says with a roll of his eyes.

Simon hums and removes his glasses, wiping the lenses clean with his shirt.”And why do you think he thinks you need therapy?

“You know,” Magnus says, uncrossing his arms, “I have no idea.”

Ding

“Well, would you look at that doc? Looks like our time is up” Magnus stands up with a smile, grabbing his coat from the coat rack and slipping on his boots. “This was great. See you next Monday and good luck with your sister’s wedding menu and remember what I said about the quail.”

Magnus doesn’t wait for a response before he opens the door and lets it slam shut behind him.

“Why do you see me every week?” he says mimicking Simon in the elevators. "Shouldn’t he be telling me that? Unbelievable”

—

Despite it being a Monday night, dinner at Encanto was fully booked. The kitchen is in full swing, taking order after order, working together like a well-tuned machine. The sound of clanging pots and pans, the searing of meat, bubbling liquids and Magnus’s authoritative tone fill the kitchen.

“Ordering two tasting menus.”

“Clary, I need a quail and a Dover sole for table nine.”

“I'm still waiting on those beef tenderloins. Where are they? Pick up!

“Scallops, tenderloin-”

“Magnus, the Branwells are here”

Magnus glares at Raphael, hoping to communicate how much he’d like not to be interrupted during a busy service, especially when reading orders.

He rolls his eyes. “They want to tell you how brilliant you are. "

“Brilliant chefs belong in the kitchen. Clary, don’t cook those too long they’ll get—”

“Tough, I know,” the redhead says with a shake of her head

“No,” He says, swatting Clary’s right bicep. “Dry, they will get dry”

“At least say hello. You know the Branwells are some of our most loyal and best customers”

Magnus looks over to Raphael, who hadn’t gotten his message to leave the kitchen when he was ignored. With a sigh, Magnus mutters a ‘Fine’ and unties his apron from his waist,

“I get tough, the Quail will get dry, Clary.” He squeezes the redhead’s shoulders “Control the ship until I’m back.”

“Yes Chef”

“I also want to go over the menu for the lunch menu for this week,” Raphael says as he walks through the kitchen doors.

Magnus sighs again and tosses his lightly stained apron at the man. “Later”

Magnus plasters on his signature smile as he greets the Branwells. Charlotte and Henry Branwell, a now-retired couple who’ve had a reservation at Encanto every week since Magnus became head chef. They celebrated birthdays, anniversaries, or any special occasion with them and, as Raphael said, they were some of their best customers. The couple stands from their table and greets Magnus with warm hugs and a kiss on both cheeks from Charlotte when he reaches the couple’s table.

“You're a magician, Magnus,” Charlotte exclaims. “My husband sings your praises whenever he eats your food. It’s all he’ll speak of for days. It's hard not to be jealous.” She says with a laugh.

“I worship anyone who can surprise my palate, no need for the jealousy my dear”

Magnus watches the couple squeeze each other's hand, for just a moment he feels the pains of jealousy seeing how in love the Branwells are after so many years together. He clears his throat, thanking the couple again and walks with them to the door.

“Well, it's always a pleasure to cook for you both. I’ll see you next week?”

“Of course.”

“Well,” He says, “Until next week then, have a good night you two”

After a final wave, Magnus shuts the door behind the couple and watches silently as they walk down the street hand in hand. He wonders how it would be, being with the same person for so many years, knowing everything about them, raising a family, and growing old together. Underneath Magnus’s hard shell is something he’d always secretly dreamed of, a man or a woman to grow old with, watch mindless tv in the evening with, and bicker about paint swatches for the kitchen.

“Your emotional walls are so high they could rival a fortress,” Simon’s voice echoes through Magnus's head.

Magnus shakes the thought from his head. His kitchen needs him.

“I'm telling you it's not cooked properly”

The woman’s voice pulls Magnus from his thoughts. Annoyance fills Magnus at someone, a patron, judging his food. He walks over to the table. Standing just behind is Raphael, at the table is a couple clearly in the middle of what looks like a perfect meal to him.

“May I ask what this is about?” asks Magnus, looking between the pair

‘Magnus, I'll handle this.”

“You're the chef? The woman says, pointing a badly French-manicured finger in Magnus’s direction.

Magnus stands up straighter and swallows, taking a deep breath so he doesn’t break the woman’s finger. “Yes.”

“There's something I'd like to show you.”

“Don't do this.” Pleads the blonde man sitting across from her.

The woman tuts and waves her hand in front of the man and ignoring his protests. Suddenly Magnus is offended for the husband and his patience is quickly running thin.

“My husband’s foie gras hasn't been cooked long enough.”

“Excuse me?”

Raphael reaches for the plate, trying to diffuse the situation. “Why don't I bring you a new appetizer with my compliments?

“It's cooked just fine,” Magnus tells the older woman,

“Nothing to be ashamed of, honey.” She says, touching Magnus’s hand that rests on the table. She says it in a way you’d speak to a child, patronizing with a faux smile showing her lipstick-stained teeth. “Even the best stumble over foie gras.”

Honey? Now that won’t do. Magnus pulls his hand from underneath the older woman’s and takes the plate from Raphael’s hands, his lips tight and irritation covering his face. From the corner of his eye, he can see Raphael with a pleading look on his face, but he ignores him and carries on.

“There's nothing wrong with this. It's precisely comme il faut.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Comme il faut? "As it should be. 140 degrees in the oven, 80 degrees water temperature, for 25 minutes not too long, not too short, with the perfect touch of pink. “He slams the plate back on the table, the sound echoing through the quiet dining room “Honey.”

“I am a paying customer. How dare you speak to me like this! Are you going to let your chef speak to me like this?!” Raphael is silent, not sure what to say or want to make it worse. She pushes her chair back, it scrapes the wooden floor and hits the wall behind her with a thud as she stands. “We'll take our business somewhere else.”

The woman pulls her coat‌ on and heads to the door. “Let's go, Benedict”

Benedict silently stands, putting his coat on without a word. He looks Magnus in the eye and mutters a soft ‘sorry about her’ before following his wife. Magnus doesn’t understand how such a soft-spoken man could be married to that barbarian. Maybe Benedict should take his business elsewhere, too.

“May I suggest Raj's hot dog stand at the corner?” He says, following the couple to the door, “He cooks to order.”

Magnus slams the door shut behind the couple and heads back to the kitchens, ignoring the stares of the customers who witnessed the scene. The metal kitchen doors slam behind him. He picks up a fresh apron, tying it tightly around himself, washes his hands, scrubbing the woman and her comments off of himself.

“Everything okay, chef?” Clary asks when Magnus stands at his station.

Magnus nods “Peachy”

“How many times have I told you, Bane!” Raphael roars as he slams open the kitchen doors. He stands on the other side of Magnus’s station. Raphael slams his hand on the counter, making everyone in the kitchen jump. “You can’t make a scene every time someone doesn’t like your food”

Magnus rolls his eyes. "Please, that woman was ridiculous and had no idea what she was talking about. " He leans forward on the counter. “She didn’t know what comme il faut meant and I’m supposed to trust her opinion on foie gras?!”

“She’s a paying customer! If she says the foie gras is not done, it’s not”

“Foie gras is cruelty to animals” Clary pipes in

“Stay out of this Clarrisa,” Raphael bites without looking away from Magnus

“Clary, why don’t you take your break,” Magnus says softly. “Go eat something, I’m sure Peanut is hungry” He gestures to Clary’s very pregnant stomach.

Raphael follows Clary with her eyes, making sure she’s gone before looking back at Magnus, the glare still on his face.

“I swear to God, Magnus, if you weren't one of the better chefs in this city, I'd fire you.”

“One of the better chefs?” He says with a gasp. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Raphael simply shrugs and says nothing else before turning around and leaving the kitchen, letting the door slam closed and a stunned Magnus behind his station.

“He's just saying that to annoy me,” Magnus says, pressing his lips together. He pauses and looks up at his other chefs. “Isn't he?

“Whatever you say, chef.”

—-

The following Monday Magnus is back at the fishmongers. He orders plenty of seafood for the restaurant, lobsters, scallops, and shrimp. He orders them to the restaurant for noon and starts to leave when a familiar monger waves him over.

“Hey Magnus, over here!”

“Hey Travis, have anything good for me”

“Do I have anything good for you?” He chuckles. "Check it out” he gestures to a crate

Magnus steps over and takes the lid off and gasps, “Golden tilefish! Travis, I can’t believe you got them. They’re beautiful.”

“Anything for Magnus Bane and… are you working tonight? I know a good Thai place—”

“I am actually,” Magnus says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just for a few hours to get some things done. My best friend and her daughter are coming into town. “Get the fish to Encanto for two, ask for Clary. She’ll sign for them. "

Travis shakes his head. "I don’t give up that easily. One of these days, I’ll get you to go on a date with me. "

Magnus sighs heavily. "Look, Travis, I think you should know I don't generally do that.”

“What, have dinner?”

“Dinner dates”

“How about breakfast?” Travis asks “We’re both here early in the morning, there’s a little diner down the street—”

“Travis, I don't go out with people I work with.. or buy fish from‌.”

“You seem to have a lot of rules” He shrugs

–

“What's wrong with having rules?” Magnus asks with an exasperated sigh. He pulls out a plate he’d taken from home and sets it on the coffee tables, from his bag Magnus pulls out other small containers filled with various items.

“Rules control us,” Simons says, “Sometimes too much—”

“I'm not controlling,” Magnus says with a scoff, as he opens the multiple containers. The aromas of herbs and spices hit Magnus’s nose, making him close his eyes to inhale the beautiful smell again with a hum as it fills the office. “I just prefer things to be done exactly right. That's why I usually end up doing everything myself.

Simon is silent as he watches the chef prepare him a plate. He notices the squinted eyes, his tongue poking out of his mouth as concentrates on dressing the plate to his high standards.

“And since when is not shitting where you eat a bad thing?!” Magnus wonders, looking back at Simon. “Do you have any idea how complicated it is to coordinate 40 dishes at once and create a new menu every week?” He sighs and adds something green on top of the dish Simon assumes is a garnish.

Magnus stands with an excited smile, and gently places the round plate on top of Simon's clipboard, filled with notes about their session.

“I hope you like scallops, I want to bring more of my Indonesian heritage into the menus so I’ve prepared you scallops with a gulai sauce” He turns around and sits back on the green couch, losing his containers and packing them in the bag he brought. “Well, go on, tell me how it is?”

Simon sighs. “I thought we agreed you weren’t going to cook for me anymore. "

“I didn't cook it for you,” Magnus emphasizes. “I just tried some new ideas. Who else am I gonna give it to and get honest feedback from?”

Simon puts the plate on the floor beside his chair. Magnus winces at his food being on the floor and tries not to take it personally.

“Now, we're gonna try something new this week. I'm going to ask you questions, and you're gonna answer them.”

Magnus groans in displeasure, but goes along with it, turning himself so he can lie on the couch and look up at the ceiling instead of Simon’s face.

“How long ago was your last relationship?”

Magnus turns his head to the side and looks at Simon with a raised eyebrow “Isn't that a little personal?”

“This is therapy, Magnus. Things often get personal in this office, and as you know nothing leaves these four walls. So how long?”

Magnus looks back up at the ceiling. “I don't know. Three years ago, maybe four.”

“Who ended it?”

“I did. She was getting way too demanding. "

“How so? Was she controlling you, abusive?”

Magnus shakes his head. “No, nothing like that.” When Simon is silent, Magnus knows he wants him to elaborate which he does with a heavy sigh. “If you must know, after two years, she wanted to move in together.” Magnus turns his head to the side again. “Are you really not going to eat the scallops?”

Simon stares at him with wide eyes, not expecting the harsh tone from the chef’s mouth.

“Let’s make a deal,” Magnus says, sitting up. “I’ll answer all the questions your little psychologist heart desires as long as you agree to try the new dishes I come up with. "

“You’ll answer all of my questions, honestly?” Simon asks dubiously.

“Yes, I’ll answer all your dumb questions” Magnus sighs

Simons agrees to the deal and picks the plate back up from the carpet and places it on top of his clipboard. Magnus sighs happily and lays back on the couch, staring at the ceiling with a grin that’s quickly wiped from his face when Simon resumes his questions.

“Where were we…ahh, what's so bad about moving in together? Two years is a long time. In fact, some couples move much faster than that. "

“She asked me to give up my apartment. Why would I wanna do that?”

Magnus loved his apartment. It was an older building in a beautiful part of the city, close to the pier where he’d meet fishmongers and other merchants—a spiral staircase to his door, large windows, and nice neighbours who were respectful. You couldn’t get anything else like it in the city, especially at the price he paid.

“I'd move out,” Magnus continues “We'd get a place together that isn’t nearly as nice... she'd eventually leave, then where would I be?

“My God.” Simon moans loudly

Magnus sits up and looks at the psychologist with a raised eyebrow and a smirk on his face.

“The sauce is so good. I’ve never tasted anything like it”

“Thank you.”

After Simon, Magnus heads to the restaurant like normal. Prep goes by smoothly, as does the beginning of dinner service, but Magnus doesn’t hold his breath. It’s only just started after all.

“Where's my lobster for table 12?!” He yells into the kitchen

“Plating, chef”

“Well, plate faster or the garnish will get cold and we’ll have to refire the whole table!”

The familiar sounds of searing pots and pans clanging are background noise as Magnus makes sure every dish is perfect when it’s handed to him. He’d put the finishing touches on the dish, dots of sauce, a finishing garnish or send the item back with some choice words if the food wasn’t any good. Some would call his standards too high. Some would say that he was too harsh on his staff and there was no need for his yelling. Magnus would roll his eyes at those people. Magnus started his career in a kitchen with a notoriously angry chef who wasn’t afraid to belittle you for overcooked lamb. He shudders at the memory. Magnus was nothing compared to that man.

“I'm an actress and I don't do naked bondage movies.”

Magnus holds a chuckle as he listens to the waitstaff talk, sure he could reprimand them but they always did their jobs and secretly he found the conversation amusing.

“The world is so full of pervs.” Hisses a waitress. “That guy at table 10 is the worst. Every week he’s with a different woman!.”

Magnus knew the table they were speaking of. Once a week for the past year, the same man always had table 10 reserved. Every date was with a different woman, all at least half his age, and on every date, he’d spend hundreds on dinner and drinks. Some thought he was seeing escorts, others thought he was a sugar daddy, but the only thing they knew for sure was he was married after witnessing him take a wedding band off and shove it in his pocket before his date arrived.

“I swear, he leers at my tits,” she continues angrily, picking up her table’s food. “One more time, he's gonna regret it.”

The waitress turns around and goes to leave the kitchen, but as she leaves, a waiter pushes the door open. She tries to move to the side but the door and the waiter hit her, knocking her food to the floor, and both of their dishes shattered into pieces on the floor with a loud crash.

“Damn it, Carlos! Watch where you're going.”

Suddenly the kitchen is in chaos, waitstaff and chefs flood together, picking up the food and the glasses knocked to the floor. Carlos apologizes repeatedly to the other server, who glares at him while picking things up. The phone rings loudly in the background, yelling from the servers and Raphael echo through the kitchen, the clang of the remaining chefs cooking and more servers looking for their table's food.

Magnus has had enough.

“Pay attention, everybody.” roars Magnus “How about less gossiping about our customers and more serving them?!”

“Sorry, chef,” mumbles the red-faced servers.

“Raphael, please apologize to table 10 for me and tell them their food will be delayed.” The man nods and then heads towards the doors. “And get a male server to replace Candice for table 10. You know, he makes the waitresses uncomfortable with his staring.”

“Carlos, you’re on table 10,” Raphael says before leaving the kitchen.

“Fire two lobsters right away!” He bellows to his chefs, then he turns around and faces the servers, “As you can see, things are a little chaotic right now so the rest of your tables might be a little delayed.” He fumes.

“I'm really sorry about that,” Carlos says, tears running down his cheeks

Magnus sighs heavily and nods, deciding to take pity on the new server. “Just don't let it happen again, Carlos. Now wipe those tears and take a deep breath. There’s a bathroom down that hallway if you need a moment, you have ten minutes until your table is up”

“Now we're gonna run out of lobster,” Magnus mumbles to himself, watching the expensive crustacean be peeled off the floor and tossed in the garbage, “Why did it have to be the special.”

“Magnus, we're not gonna run out of anything. We're fine,” says Clary, squeezing his shoulder.

"It was an accident, deep breaths now. Come on hydrate.” She hands him a bottle of water. He takes a sip but quickly gulps more down, only now realizing how thirsty he was.

“You're like a mom already.” He remarks, handing Clary back the bottle.

“Well, I've gotta practice while I can, right?” Clary teases rubbing her belly.

“Chef refired lobsters for table 10!”

Magnus thanks the chef and grabs one of the bottles, putting the finishing touches on the lobster dishes.

“Would someone please get the phone?!” He snaps when it rings again

“Kitchen.”

“If it's Catarina, tell her she said 9 and I can't make it any sooner,” Magnus says as he dresses another plate with pesto.

“It's for you,” Clary says.

“Take a message.” He says, waving her off.

“Magnus”

Something in the hesitant tone of his friend’s voice makes him look up. Clary has the phone cradled to her chest like she’s holding a child. “I think you better take this.” She stares at him with wide eyes, her body trembling.

“I think..” she clears her throat “You need to take this, Magnus”

Magnus approaches Clary with narrowed eyes. The way she’s looking at him makes his heart beat faster, filling him with anxiety about who is on the phone. Clary hands the phone to him and pats him on the shoulder before going back to the kitchen, easily taking charge.

He takes a deep breath before putting the phone to his ear. It’s in that moment, with one phone call and a single sentence, that Magnus’s life changes forever.

“Magnus Bane, my name is Dr. Roberts, there’s been an accident..”

#malec #malec fanfic #malec fic rec #shadowhunters #magnus bane #alec lightwood #magnus x alec #chef au #enemies to lovers

3 notes · View notes

the-oldest-red-hamato · 2 years ago

Note

ah yes. Raphael. forever the best older brother/uncle.

Huh- wha- what???

2 notes · View notes

almacambiondaughterofsaleos · 5 months ago

Note

Evil pilot Lucifer. Charlie get a contact of her father relative Michael Samael Gabriel and Raphael. She secretly talk with them about her dream they are doubtful unlike Lucifer they try to support her. Charlie invite them to her hotel vaggie angel dust very against this however they soon learn the archangels wasn't there to caused harm. Charlie manage to keep secret but not every secret can be hidden forever and when Lucifer find out he didn't like that. The archangels gonna took Charlie to heaven

Michael: Come on Charlie

Charlie: Ok uncle Michael just wait i go-

Lucifer stab Charlie in the chest. Charlie collapse her eyes still open seeing her father with sadness

Lucifer: Now look what you Made me do

Michael: CHARLIE

Vaggie: NOOOOOOOOOO WHY DID YOU DO THAT SHE'S YOUR DAUGHTER? SHEYMY GIRLFRIEND

Angel dust: STOP We aren't match for the devil

Raphael: Vaggie angel is right don't do anything rash

Vaggie: What about charlie?

Gabriel: We figure something out

Samael: Vaggie and angel come with me, three of you we figure something out ok!

Vaggie: Charlie

Angel dust: We get princess later for now safety First

Wow, that was unexpected and traumatic. And most of all evil. I love it!!!

#helluva boss #helluva boss critical #vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticism #helluva boss criticism #vivziepop #helluva boss critique #anti-vivziepop #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel critical

1 note · View note

harunayuuka2060 · 1 year ago

Text

Barbatos: Are you doing well? Isn't it too heavy for you?

Kid MC: *helping Barbatos carry the groceries* Nope! Papa raised me to be strong!

Barbatos: *chuckles*

Kid MC: Uncle?

Barbatos: Yes?

Kid MC: I've read something in the library. About Uncle Tantan.

Barbatos: Hm?

Kid MC: It says that he was born from wrath?

Barbatos: Why, yes. Indeed he was. Why do you ask?

Kid MC: ...

Kid MC: What was I born from?

Barbatos: ...

Barbatos: *smiles* I'm sure it's from love.

Kid MC: Then why do I have horns instead of a halo?

Barbatos: Let's see... Ah. Demons are known to spread happiness.

Kid MC: That doesn't make sense to me, Uncle.

Barbatos: *chuckles* It sure isn't. You should talk to my lord. His wisdom might probably answer your question.

Kid MC: But isn't Lord Diavolo just goofy?

Barbatos: *laughs* *then clears his throat*

Barbatos: The young master is full wisdom, though it always confuses anyone.

Barbatos: However, you can trust his words completely.

Kid MC: Okay. But why is that when Lord Diavolo says that he's done with work, you don't believe him?

Barbatos: That's what we call an exception.

Kid MC: Papa! We're back!

Simeon: Oh dear— Papa thought the grocery bag has grown a pair of legs. Why are you carrying that much?

Kid MC: Because I'm strong!

Barbatos: You needn't to worry. I made sure that it wasn't too heavy for them.

Kid MC: Papa! I can't reach the table!

Simeon: *chuckles* I'll handle the groceries from here.

Kid MC: By the way, Papa? I have a question.

Simeon: Hm?

Kid MC: What was I born from?

Simeon: ...

Simeon: *smiles* Love.

Barbatos: *chuckles* See? I told you.

Kid MC: But why do I have horns?

Simeon: ...

Simeon: Papa is not really sure. But what I know is that I'm the happiest and forever will be because of your existence.

Kid MC: *smiles* Papa is so cheesy. *giggles*

Simeon: *chuckles* You should go to our room now, or you can play with Diavolo. I believe your Uncle Leviathan sent him a new video game.

Simeon: Papa will call you when the food is ready.

Kid MC: Okay! *runs to see Diavolo*

Simeon: ...

Barbatos: Your child is getting curious.

Simeon: Yes. They're smart after all.

Barbatos: But it's best you never tell them.

Simeon: Yes. I'm not planning to.

Simeon: I'm already satisfied on how things are.

Raphael: *has arrived to the House Of Lamentation* *demanding the brothers to show the child to him*

Raphael: Simeon has been refusing our request. Is he forgetting that he's still an archangel?

Lucifer: He doesn't. Though you're making us confused with your actions.

Lucifer: What do you need the child for?

Raphael: We have realized that their appearance might be a result of a failure on Simeon's part.

Raphael: Of course, Simeon is just an angel like the rest of us. Thus, perfection is somehow unattainable.

Mammon: Hey! You shut your mouth! Are you saying that our nibling is imperfect?!

Belphie: That's a rude thing to say, Raphael.

Raphael: But it's the truth. That's why Father is willing to make them perfect.

Raphael: A perfect, innocent angel that deserves to live in Celestial Realm.

Satan: Huh? Fuck off. MC is perfect as they are. They don't need to be an angel!

Raphael: You're saying that because you will never become one, Satan.

Satan: What did you say?

Lucifer: Raphael, that's enough. Get out of this house.

Raphael: I see. Well then. *takes his leave*

The brothers: ...

Levi: *sigh* It's a good thing Simeon isn't here.

Asmo: He'll be mad for sure if he had heard everything Raphael said.

Mammon: But... Isn't it surprising that Raphael would just leave like that?

Lucifer: Yes. I have to warn Diavolo.

Simeon: Are you sleepy?

Kid MC: *nods*

Simeon: Come here. Papa will sing you a lullaby.

Kid MC: Papa... My head hurts.

Simeon: Hm? What happened? Do you have a headache? Or did you bump your head somewhere?

Kid MC: I don't know. *snuggles against him*

Simeon: It's alright. Papa will make you feel better. *kissing their forehead*

Kid MC: *smiles*

Michael: Hm... Interesting...

Raphael: What is it?

Michael: The child's mind is quite secure.

Raphael: Does that mean you can't show up in their dreams?

Michael: Precisely.

Raphael: It seems we don't have any choice then.

Raphael: Isn't that right, Luke?

Luke: ...

Luke: *nods*

#obey me #obey me kid mc #obey me simeon #obey me barbatos #obey me brothers #obey me raphael #obey me michael #obey me luke #the child of sorrow

712 notes · View notes

yihrae · 1 year ago

Text

Yesterday CIS had a potluck! I baked cookies and brownies and then sped off in Joshua’s car. The cookies were quite successful. Someone told me that I had “ruined cookies for them forever” which was very sweet.

And yes that is a huge bowl of Edamame that Zoe brought.

I forgot to mention I had actually also purchased some dumplings for Vann. It $4 for 15 dumplings which is absolute insane pricing. I mean it’s fortune centre but it’s still insane. Anyway I saw “15 饺子 “ and thought of 15 so I accidentally paynow-ed $15 instead of $4. I explained this to the uncle and he went “你厉害” HAHAHAH

My friends and I went to drink afterwards. But I didn’t drink anything. Raphael he said he didn’t see the Soju bottle in front of him and hit his head on it. I was quite concerned.

0 notes

absolutepokemontrash · 4 years ago

Text

MC is Half-Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar Part 2!

Part 1 Lessons 1-5 Lessons 5-6 Group Retreat Lessons 10-12 Lessons 13-15 Part 3 Part 4

Okay, They’re Your Cousins but You’re Not Sure How They’re Related to You...

(Barbatos, Simeon, Solomon, and Luke)

(It’s mostly Luke)

Barbs likes smol Lucifer. Smol Lucifer likes Barbs. They bake together with Luke. MC nearly set the kitchen on fire. MC needed to learn to cook.

MC is forever delegated to mixing duty because they refuse to admit that they don’t know how to work the oven.

Simeon is the one telling MC embarrassing stories about Lucifer and the rest of the Student Council from when they were all angels. Lucifer never hated Simeon more than when he found out that Simeon told MC about how hard Lucifer cried when he got to hold baby Mammon for the first time. MC was sworn to secrecy.

Well... sworn to secrecy, but if Uncle Mammon just happened to find out through a series of coincidences it wouldn’t be MC’s fault, right?

Simeon also tried to help teach MC to fly... but he kept distracting them with stories about Lucifer and Michael learning to fly.

“So my father was even WORSE than he told me he was?!”

“Yes, he actually challenged Michael and Raphael to a race at one point. Lucifer ended up slamming directly into a wall because he didn’t know how to stop.”

“SIMEON!”

Solomon was absolutely fascinated with MC. How did their half demon half human nature affect their reaction to certain spells and potions? Do half demons have more or less magical strength than normal demons? Can half demons make pacts with humans? Wait- Lucifer why are you taking MC away they were talking- Lucifer!

Immortal troll needs to troll. MC is the unwitting victim of many of Solomon’s shenanigans.

“Why must I speak in rhymes?! This is the end of times!”

“MC, just stop talking.”

“Father, I don’t mean to be a bother but-”

“So the rhyming spell works the same on half demons... interesting...”

“Solomon...”

“I’m leaving, Lucifer. I’m leaving!”

Aw! Two kids in the Devildom! They were fast friends. Sure, Luke was a little annoying and MC was a bit of a dick, but their mutual smallness and desire to impress their parental figures brought them together.

“Michael’s just so cool and amazing! The way he flies, the way he commands everyone... I want to be just like him someday!”

“Is that why you’re making a cake?”

“Michael has a sweet tooth, and I want to impress him.”

“I wonder if Lucifer likes sweets...”

“Why would you want to give HIM sweets?”

MC just gave Luke a toothy grin and started making the dough for the cake.

Remember back in Lucifer’s section where I said MC would keep their lineage a secret to freak people out? Yeah... they kept it from Luke. At first it was a joke! They were going to tell him! They just uh... it got really awkward. They planned on revealing it to Luke right after they learned how to properly fly so they could swoop in, pick their angel buddy up and zip the two of them to school. It’d freak Luke out at first, but it was meant to be funny! MC would have even sung the song from Aladdin! It um... didn’t turn out that way.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” MC growled at the lesser demons that were crowding Luke.

“O-oh... uh... nuh-nothing...” a few of the demons backed off, mumbling a few harried apologies to MC as they scurried away. The remaining demons seemed a tad more... hmm... they say there’s a fine line between bravery and stupidity.

“M-MC! You can’t fight demons! I’m an angel I-I c-can...” Luke sniffled, but tried his best to step in front of MC.

“Oh please, the little half-breed and the lowest ranked angel are going to put up a fight?” One of the demons jeered, a few of the remaining demons joined in.

MC’s eyes narrowed, their glare as cold as the worst winter storm. “I’m going to tell you once, and once only,”

Their wings sprouted from their back, horns now fully grown and on display, teeth sharper and glistening in the light. Hm, it seemed half demons could make their eyes glow too, how delightful.

MC gave the other demons a sweet smile, it would have been comforting if it weren’t for the amount of teeth they were showing off. They lazily placed their hand on Luke’s head and lightly moved him out of the way.

“Leave, or I will make you regret ever crossing us exchange students.” MC’s carefree smile couldn’t mask the malice that coated every single word that left their lips. “Run along now, you’re not needed here.”

The demon that had started the taunts stiffened, he looked from MC, to Luke, to the other demons, before scoffing and shaking his head. “Whatever, the two of them aren’t worth it anyway...”

When the offending demons weren’t leaving fast enough for MC’s liking, they snapped their fingers and shot a fireball right behind the fleeing demons’ feet. They cleared out pretty quickly after that.

“Luke?” MC turned to look at their friend. “Are you...”

Luke was backing away. That look in his eyes, he was... scared. Scared of MC...

“Y-you’re a d-demon?” He whimpered, taking another step back.

“Half demon, actually.” MC let their demonic elements disappear. “I meant to tell you, I really did! It just was never the right time-”

“You lied to me! You said you were human! But you’re a demon like the rest of them!” Luke shouted, he wiped at his eye with his sleeve and sniffled. “I tried to help you, but you just..! I thought you were my friend!”

“Luke- hang on!” MC took a few steps forward, but Luke was already running away. MC felt something twist in their gut, something awful. That ball of innate pride twisted and practically screamed, filling MC’s head.

“He’s not worth it!”

“You’re above him anyway...”

“If he can’t understand how perfect you are, he doesn’t deserve your kindness.”

“Don’t grovel for his forgiveness. He’s beneath you.”

“Your help was rejected. Let him hate you. You’re the child of one of the most powerful demons in the Devildom, who is he to make you upset?”

The thoughts filled MC’s head as they desperately tried to shut them up. They were their father’s child, their pride wouldn’t be easily combated.

“Just be quiet!” MC clawed at their head.

“You’re better than this. You’re better than this. You’re better than this-”

“Luke!” MC called out again. “I’m sorry!”

It truly was a shame that their friend didn’t understand how much an apology from MC really meant.

They guessed Luke was right, wasn’t he? Demons were nasty awful liars. MC was no different...

That hurt.

Lucifer noticed his kid was moping around, not even Detective Toe Beans could cheer them up. Mammon even came home covered in mud from a failed money-making scheme and it didn’t even make MC crack a smile! He needed to get to the bottom of this.

Upon hearing the reason for his child’s woes, he was fully ready to break down the door of Purgatory Hall and throttle the little chihuahua, but Lucifer came to his senses and realized that MC probably didn’t want that.

He teamed up with Simeon and Solomon the things he did for MC... And managed to get both Luke and MC to the Demon Lord’s Castle to hang out with Barbatos.

It didn’t take a genius to realize that Luke missed his friend too. Sure they called him a chihuahua sometimes, but they were still the bestest friend he had made during his time in the exchange program... maybe ever...

Maybe... just maybe... he overreacted. MC did protect him after all, and they never tried to hurt him...

Barbatos was fully ready to fulfill his role as Luke’s second dad and help his angel-son make up with his friend.

It may have been awkward at first, but the two had to join forces to stop Solomon from getting within a hundred metres of the kitchen. Nothing brings two people back together more than fear for your tastebuds.

Mission success. Lucifer could relax knowing that his kid and the chihuahua were back to being friends. Maybe MC could convince Luke to quiet his infernal yapping... Lucifer was trying to work here!

For some extra fluff, after many days of asking and asking, Lucifer and Simeon agree to take Luke and MC up to the human world for Halloween. They got to go trick or treating, and everyone complimented MC and Luke on their ‘costumes’.

*insert sitcom laugh track here*

Sure, it may have been a little immoral for MC to use their powers to manipulate the humans into giving Luke and MC more candy but... candy...

Oh shit would you look at the time- they had to get back to the Devildom for Diavolo’s birthday party- MC STOP WITH THE CHOCOLATE! THE SIGN SAYS TAKE ONE! DON’T BE LIKE MAMMON.

The exchange year had been a success. Well... sort of. MC wasn’t exactly the average Joe human the Student Council expected, which is why after a lengthy break where MC went back to the human world to visit their other parent and human friends, the seven rulers of Hell (+MC) were sitting and waiting for the new exchange students to arrive.

Unlike the previous year, the entire student council was present. That included Levi who they had to physically drag there, Belphie who was carried there and had to be placed in his seat because he was completely passed out, and finally Mammon, he just had to be threatened.

“Father,” MC pouted from their seat next to Lucifer. “Why isn’t my chair as big as yours?”

Lucifer sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Because you’re much shorter than me. You can have a bigger chair when you grow a few more inches.”

“Mmm...” MC murmured, crossing their arms. “Are the students going to get here, or what?”

“Can you be patient?” Lucifer asked. “They’ll be here any moment now. I can trust that you’ll behave, right?”

MC looked scandalized, placing a hand over their heart and gasping. “Father! Of course! I’ll be the most polite person these humans have ever met!”

Not so deep down, Lucifer severely doubted that.

“Come now, Lucifer and MC!” Diavolo said from his elevated seat. “It’s almost eight am!”

Right on schedule the portal opened, two sets of screams followed.

“The next big priority should be making the trip more comfortable.” MC huffed. “It’s demeaning getting dropped straight down like that and just slamming into the floor.”

“Hm.” Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Perhaps instead we can just teleport them up to the Celestial Realm, start a war, and have them crash through not one, not two, but all three barriers between the realms with no portal.”

“Father...” MC matched Lucifer’s eye roll. “That has the same energy as ‘when I was your age I walked to school 100 miles through a blizzard!’ The polite thing to do for the exchange students is to not let them hit the floor at 100 mph and possibly give them a concussion.”

And slam straight onto the floor the two other exchange students did. Well, one of them slammed right into the marble, the other had tried in vain to use their wings to slow their decent or fly back up.

Wait...

WINGS?!

WAIT THE OTHER HAD HORNS?!

THEY BOTH HAD-

Oh and would you look at that... one looked like... and the other looked like-

Shitballs.

Lucifer had to keep himself from actually shouting in frustration. One normal day... one day of no exchange student issues was all he asked for...

“Out of over ten million candidates out of over eight billion humans...” Lucifer grumbled. “How in my father’s name did this happen again?”

(OOOOOOOOOO SEQUEL BAIT!)

#Obey me #I’m not good at writing angst... I’m so sorry #Obey me!#obey me shall we date #I’m a crack and fluff writer...#obey me! shall we date?#Obey me Headcanons #Obey me! Headcanons #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me MC #Obey me Luke #Obey me Simeon #Obey me Solomon #obey me barbatos #Lucifer’s Kid

541 notes · View notes

tinyboxxtink · 4 years ago

Text

"Caught In The Storm" *Part 9*

So....did y'all like that cliffhanger?

Because...HAHAHA JK THAT'S NOT THE ENDING.

No, but actually...it was the original ending, but the original ending ended up being REALLY short. So, I wrote an ALTERNATE ending, that actually I really would prefer being the ACTUAL ending, but it had to go a different direction BEFORE the cliffhanger, so....you see my dilemma.

SO---

Here's what we're gonna do:

I'm going to put the ORIGINAL ending first, and then space it out, and put the ALTERNATE [better tbh] ending.

That way, you can have both. And I don't have to backtrack to undo my mistake due to my ADHD brain changing things 24/7.

Kay? Cool.

Also no neither of these are the ACTUAL ending, I refuse to have an odd number of chapters. REFUSE. So chapter 10 will be like an epilogue. Don't look at me like that.

Tag List

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@word-scribbless

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@aprildecker-blog

@gibbs274

@lolliepopsicle

@objection-argumentative

Part 10 (Epilogue is here!)

(This Gif is For the FIRST ending, there's a 2nd GIF that would be SPOILERS.)

Short Simple Ending #1

Raphael sat in his loft drinking scotch, for which he had done most of the day. He wasn't dressed, he hadn’t showered, he was a mess. He didn't know if he could ever come out of this. He sat there wallowing in his regret and sorrow, going over every interaction you two had ever had in your entire lives of knowing each other pinpointing everything he could have done differently. What he should have done differently, and the fact that if he had, you'd be there with him right now instead of getting married to someone you didn't love. He's just in the middle of chastising himself again when he heard a knock at the door.

“Liv, I told you I don't need your help; You can't help me right now!” he yelled to the door

“It's not Liv…”your voice came softly through the door.

His eyes lit up, he raced to the door and threw it open. Revealing you and your wedding dress, sopping wet.

“Well I hope you're happy!” you stomped into his apartment angrily.

“...What would I be happy about? Where is your husband? He asked half jokingly.

“I Don't HAVE a husband,” you spat.

“Really now?” He was enjoying this too much.

“No, I don't. And you just made me humiliate a poor, generous, loving, caring, amazing man. And I just dumped him in front of all of his friends and family, and in front of a million fans on a live stream and now everyone knows and I'm probably laughing stock right now!!!” you screamed angrily, pacing the apartment.

“I did all that?” He smirked.

“Yes, you did!” you crossed your arms as you walked back to him.

“And how did I do that?” He took both of your hands and pulled you closer, still smiling like a Cheshire cat.

“By telling me you love me!!!” you kept your angry face stoic. “How could I marry Nathan when I knew that I was supposed to be with someone else?”

“You couldn't,” He smiled.

“I couldn't…” You whispered as he pulled you even closer and took you in his arms.

“I love you Rafael,” you looked right into his big green eyes. It was the first time you had actually said it to him in those exact words, with all the love and emotion you had always meant it to be.

He stared at you for a moment, running through the words in his mind. He had yelled them so angrily and upset at you last night, not the way you needed. Not the way you deserved.

“I love you too, Y/N,” He smiled, cradling your face before pulling you into another mind blowing kiss; it had only been the second time you had ever kissed in your lives but it felt like you had done it a million times, like it was supposed to be this way. Like it was always supposed to be this way.

You were so glad you stayed through the storm.

-----

Actual" Really Long, Detailed, Funny Ending #2

-----

"But you don't love him,'' Rafael pointed out.

"You don't know that!" You snapped.

"Yes I do!" He shot back.

“How could you possibly know that?”

"Because you have never looked at him the way you look at me!" He exclaimed.

Your face went from upset and sad, to absolute rage after hearing him say that.

"You arrogant, selfish, son of a bitch…" you growled.

"How DARE you say that to me?! How DARE you use my own feelings and how much I loved you against me? Get out," You grabbed his arm and dragged him to the door.

"No look I'm sorry Y/N, but it's true. You don't love him and you're only marrying him to spite me!" He continued to dig himself a hole.

"So what?!” You said without thinking, making you both go wide eyed and silent.

“Are-- Are you serious?” He stammered.

“What if I was?” You now had an idea reeling.

“Wha...why would you…?” His eyes narrowed.

“Let’s say that I don’t believe you right now, which I don’t. And I kick you out of here, and I go through with my wedding in the morning? After ALL of this?” You gestured between the two of you.

"You're drunk, aren't you?" Rafael asked as he eyed the two empty bottles of champagne.

"Don't even-- Maybe," You stood in front of the view of the bottles. You waved it off, trying to focus.

“What if I told you that the ONLY way that I will believe that you are completely serious and NOT just drunk, is if you try and stop my wedding?” You smirked.

“You’re not--” Rafael started to laugh, but you kept a serious face on. “Seriously?”

“I don’t know Rafael, I guess we’ll see tomorrow who’s ‘serious’ and who’s not!” You slammed the door in his face, leaving him dumbfounded.

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

The next day you were in the bridal room getting ready; It was pouring rain outside, it seemed appropriate.

Amanda, Kelsey and Olivia were helping you polish your tiara, ironing your dress, fixing your makeup and all that jazz. Hundreds of fans lined outside the church since someone had leaked where you were getting married. Everything came down to this moment. It was supposed to be the biggest day of your life, and you were terrified. But not for the reasons normal brides would be worried about. For one you were hungover, and for two you had made the most idiotic ultimatum to Rafael last night. Why would you DO that?! Why did he bring out the absolute snarkiest, competitive side of you?

“You're shaking,” Amanda noticed.

“It's just nerves, you need some champagne'' Kelsey grabbed a champagne flute and shoved it in your hand; you downed it.

“You're doing the right thing,” Kelsey assured you, as if she knew what you were thinking. You looked at Olivia and Amanda.

“And what do you say?” You genuinely asked them both.

“I think that whatever you want to do is the right thing,'' Olivia replied, squeezing her hand. You smiled thankfully, glancing at the door.

He hadn’t come yet, maybe he was just drunk. Maybe he was lying in his bed hungover, wondering why he went and made an ass out of himself for no reason. Then again, maybe he was waiting for a big crowd for a huge display of affection, God WHY did you do this...

------

When it was time, you walked up to Finn who was waiting at the doors of the chapel. He was dressed in a tuxedo with a baby blue tie.

“You look beautiful, baby girl,” he smiled. “Are you ready to do this?”

“Now or never,” You smiled, still glancing at the exits. You noted the cameras that were set up to livestream this to millions of people; you had totally forgotten about that. Oh god, now if there was a “public display” it wouldn’t just go to the guests, it would be broadcast around the world!

The Wedding March began to play as the chapel doors opened. You proceeded to walk down the aisle and looked at everyone watching you. All of your past and present family from the SVU squad was there. Grandpa Kragen and Grandpa Munch, Uncle Brian, Uncle Tucker, etc.

Then you looked at Nathan's family, a bunch of white rich stuffy but welcoming people. You noticed all of the crowds lining outside the windows of the church cheering you on, some crying, some holding signs. Then you looked at Nathan waiting for you at the end of the aisle smiling proudly. He really did love you.

You reached the end of the aisle and took Nathan's hands.

“Dearly beloved, we're gathered here today…”

The Preacher went on through the normal wedding exchanges until he got to “the” line..

“If anyone here has any reason that these two should not be wed, please speak now or forever hold your peace,” The preacher announced as you held your breath.

You anxiously looked around the chapel, looking for any sign of Rafael. Maybe he had snuck in the back, or was hiding behind a lady with a hat. He was going to come, wasn’t he? Maybe you were right, maybe you were right along.

….Nothing. He wasn’t there. He didn’t come…

You felt your heart shatter, you were officially dead inside. And now the husk of you was being married off to this poor man.

“Do you Nathan Lee Price, take YN to be your lovely wedded wife, now and forever, through richer and poorer, sickness and health, before and after you both shall live?

“I do,”

“Y/N, do you take Nathan Lee Price to be your lovely wedded husband, now and forever, through richer and poorer, sickness and health, before and after you both shall live?”

You looked to Nathan, then you looked to your side of the wedding, then you looked to his side, you looked to the fans outside again, you looked to the sky, looked to the ground and then you looked back at Nathan.

"I…"

“NO SHE DOES NOT!!!!”

The chapel doors swung open revealing Rafael dressed in a tuxedo. The entire room gasped in horror, and you tried your best not to run to him right then and there. He ran down the aisle until he reached the altar.

“I’m sorry sir, we’ve already past the--” The preacher started to talk but Rafael put a hand in front of his face.

“I don’t care, padre,” He chortled.

"Cutting it a little close there, counselor," You muttered.

"You're the one who chose to get married during rush hour in New York City, carino," He winked.

“Man, are you serious? Really? You’ve had all this time, and you decide NOW that you want my fiancé?” Nathan asked him in a hushed voice, trying to be discreet.

Rafael however, was NOT trying to be discreet.

“This woman told me last night, if I really loved her, that I would come and stop this wedding,” He was addressing the crowd. “That I would stop her from making the biggest mistake of her life,” He turned to you and Nathan. “Marrying someone she does not love,”

The room gasped again, Nathan’s family looked horrified. Camera phones began filming, fans outside were going NUTS.

“...Is that true, Y/N?” Nathan asked you with the most pitiful look.

“I mean I--” You looked from him to Rafael, who had a huge grin on his face. Well, you DID ask for this.

“I didn’t use those exact words,” You shrugged apologetically. The pastor closed the Bible, the guests were chattering like mad, cameras flashed, the mob outside began to force themselves inside to see the drama.

“I..I can’t believe this, I can’t believe you…” Nathan shook his head in disbelief.

“Nathan I’m really sorry, I just--” You looked at Rafael again; his grin wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. “I had to be sure that he really loved me,”

“So he had to PROVE his love to you, when I have shown it to you EVERY SINGLE DAY?” Nathan started to yell, forgetting about appearances.

“I mean, no-- it’s a whole thing, you wouldn’t understand--” You started to laugh unintentionally, thinking of how you and Rafael had your own twisted sick sense of humor.

“You’re goddamn right I don’t understand!” He continued to yell.

“...She’s a flair for the dramatic Nate, what can I say?” Rafael smirked as he stepped up on the stair you were standing on and wrapped an arm around you. You really hated that you were enjoying this at Nate’s expense but-- Rafael was right. You wanted him to publicly admit it, and he delivered. And you were ecstatic.

“Yeah well, I hope you’re both happy in dramatic HELL,” Nathan spewed before stomping off out of the chapel with his groomsmen quickly tailing him. His side of the wedding began exiting the chapel furiously grumbling and yelling profanities at you.

You glanced at your side of the room, the entire NYPD. They all surprisingly looked very pleased, although some people like Kragen were skeptical about this suave ADA coming in here and sweeping you off your feet. They shook their heads and a few applauded, especially your current family.

“Oh we’re not done folks,” Rafael announced as he grabbed the preacher before he could leave.

“Wha...what now?” You were confused but growing more excited by the second.

“You wanted me to be sure that this is what I wanted,” Rafael took both of your hands. “And I want you to KNOW that this,” He gestured between the two of you. “This is all I will ever want, for the rest of my life. And I want to prove it to you,” He smiled at you and pulled something from his jacket pocket.

“Oh, Rafa you really don’t--” You started to say that stopping this wedding was proof enough for you, but he was already down on his knees.

“Y/N….Will you marry me?” He asked. “....Right now?” He added, gesturing to the preacher. Now it was your side’s turn to gasp loudly again, as you stared at the huge diamond ring Rafael was holding out to you.

Where did he get that? WHEN did he get that? Had he been planning on proposing to you before? A zillion questions ran through your brain but you did your best to quiet them all so you could focus on the ONE question that mattered right now.

“....DUH!” You finally slapped him over the head playfully and grabbed the ring from him. He laughed and slipped it on your finger before pulling you into a beautiful, perfect kiss. Everyone on your side laughed and cheered, happy their baby girl was getting her happy ending.

“Well alright then, I guess let’s start this thing over!” The preacher laughed, opening his Bible once again.

“Rafael Barba, do you take Y/N to be your lovely wedded wife, now and forever, through richer and poorer, sickness and health, before and after you both shall live?” He asked Rafael.

“I do,” Rafael beamed at you.

“Do you--” .

“WAIT,” You put up a hand to stop him, making everyone start to mumble curiously again. Rafael’s face fell.

“...Are you serious? You’re changing your mind?” He muttered anxiously.

“No!” You shook your head. “No I…” You looked at the floor. “God this is so stupid…” You laughed to yourself nervously, not really believing you were actually going to admit this.

“....What?” Rafael raised an eyebrow.

“I um…” You bit your lip. “Oh God…” You turned to the preacher. “Sorry!” He brushed it off.

“Baby what are you--” Rafael was seriously starting to worry.

“Please, please don’t freak out,” You begged him. His eyes remained confused, but soft and understanding.

“Okay…” He gave you a look.

“I um,” You took a deep breath. “I may or may not have learned this...just in case,”

You took another deep breath, and recited the words you had practiced in front of your mirror for MONTHS after you had first met Rafael.

“Yo, Y/N, te tomo a ti, Rafael Barba, como mi esposo,”

Rafael immediately broke into the biggest smile you may have ever seen on him, tears instantly wet his eyes as you spoke.

“Prometo serte fiel en lo próspero y en lo adverso,” You continued, vowing you were NOT going to break down crying.

“en la salud y en la enfermedad, Amarte y respetarte todos los días de mi vida.,” You finished successfully without shedding a tear, unlike Rafael who was a full on hot mess of tears in front of you.

“Baby I…” He shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you did that,” He whispered, tears still catching in his throat.

“I told you,” You bit your lip. “I have always been in love with you,”

“And I am so in love with you,” He grinned, pulling your face into his for “the” kiss.

“Well I guess you can kiss the bride!” The preacher laughed sarcastically as everyone broke into cheers.

You glanced up at the cameras as you walked down the aisle with your new husband. God you hoped that hadn’t blown up in your face, but if it did-- you had your Rafa to hold you through the storm.

#rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x you #rafael barba imagine #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu fanfiction #caught in the storm

29 notes · View notes