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batsandbugs · 4 years ago

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Help (I Need Somebody) Help

AN:Hey everyone! Hope you’re doing well, here’s chapter two of my wrong number daminette AU. I had a lot of fun with this, enjoy!

Chapter 2

Damian held back an unimpressed sigh when two goons rushed him. Their stances were off balance, and he could smell the stench of alcohol wafting off of them. A low sweep to their legs had both tumbling to the ground. If he had a dime for every lowbrow thug who thought they had a chance at beating him, he’d be richer than his father twice over.

It wasn’t his fault the brain lacking buffoons hadn’t figured out they had a snowball’s chance in hell to beat him in the seven years he lived here. Damian certainly wasn’t going to be the one to tell them different now. He needed some sort of stress relief after Alfred banned swearing in the house.

He flipped another grunt over his shoulders, an audible crack of a broken bone soon followed.

His mask hid a glint of amusement that was surely gleaming in his eyes, but he kept his face an annoyed scowl. The last thing he needed was word getting back to his father for finding pleasure in the suffering of others. Even if the whole reason they were out tonight, punching up a contingent of near brain-dead loons, was to stop a sex trafficking ring. It was times like this where he seriously considered the validity of his father’s no-killing rule; surely some scum wouldn’t be missed.

He whipped around to punch another man, nearly a foot taller than him and thrice as wide, across the face. Blood spurted from the thug’s nose as the behemoth fell to the ground. Good. Damian jumped back and flipped himself over to roundhouse kick another goon. Another satisfying crack, and the last of them had finally fallen to his superior skills.

Easy.

He waited for the warm glow of satisfaction after a fight well fought, but all he received was the familiar rush of adrenaline and the delicious burn of his muscles tensing for another go.

Unfortunately, all too easy.

Damian didn’t sigh, he was too disciplined for that, but the low-level grumbling in his mind, and the displeased sneer were all too indicative of his problem.

He was utterly unchallenged.

It wasn’t that he enjoyed getting beat to hell and back. He wasn’t a masochist (although, the same could not be said for the rest of his family, if anyone asked him (which, of course, they didn’t)). It was just… after three years with the Titans, constantly stretching to prove himself, pushing his abilities to keep up with those endowed with advantages he simply didn’t have, Gotham felt… lacking in comparison.

And with the Titans all but formally disbanded, Gotham was all he had.

Well… that wasn’t entirely true. He could follow Cyborg and Blue Beetle and join the Justice League. He had enough blackmail material on all the core members needed to vote him in if his father protested. It would be a welcome change; higher level threats and off world missions, if only there wasn’t the pesky problem of dealing with other heroes.

He would be the first to admit that in his younger teenage years his anti-socialness was a bit… problematic, but he’d grown past that. Socializing with the Titans had been difficult at first, but by the end he could say he was more than an acquaintance with them – even if he wouldn’t go so far as to call all of them friends. But even if he had gotten used to them, it still took three years. At least in Gotham his potential partners were all known quantities. Even if he disliked half of them on his good days.

“Robin, do you read?” called his father on the comms. He shook away his distracting maudlin thoughts.

He raised a hand to his comm. “All clear southside Batman, making my way to the roof.”

“Negative, Hood is already there. Red Robin needs help releasing the captives – cops will be here in fifteen.”

Damian bit back an irritated sigh. “I’ll be of more use-”

“Robin, that’s an order.”

The words wrapped around him, restricting in their resoluteness. He glared down at the unconscious thug and gave a swift kick to the side resulting in an incoherent groan. Gritting his teeth, he muttered, “Yes, Batman.”

His comm feed dropped off.

The resulting string of swear words he uttered in Arabic would have cost him two hundred dollars in the swear jar. Damian just didn’t give enough of a fuck to bring himself to care.

-0o0-

Damian didn’t slam his bedroom door shut, but it was a close thing.

Between avoiding his father, deflecting the inane chatter of his siblings, and dealing with the GCPD, all of whom were either corrupt, uncaring, or ridiculously overworked, he had been ready stab someone, repeatedly, consequences be damned.

And that discounted dealing with the inconsolable sobbing women they rescued from the shipping containers. The sight of dozens of girls packed together like cargo, most of them his age, if not younger, would be enough to throw even the most experienced off their game.

Damian lived through some truly horrid things growing up in the League. He killed a grown man before he lost his first baby tooth. Suffered through endless hours of training with painful consequences upon any sign of failure. He had been beaten, starved, tortured, and pushed to the extremes of what a child could endure, but the utter horror and disgust he was faced with tonight, well…

At least the suffering he’d endured had a point.

Rubbing a towel through his still damp hair, he collapsed on top of his bed with an exhausted groan. The shower did little in relaxing his tensed muscles, his bed a welcome retreat after being on his feet for hours. Reaching out blindly he grabbed his phone off his bedside table. Going to bed would be the better choice, but it was Saturday, so he didn’t really give a damn.

His phone flicked on and he was taken aback by the notification awaiting him.

40 unread messages

He raised an eyebrow. That was odd. Not completely impossible, but odd. He did have acquaintances who would text him, Jon and Garfield came to mind, but it would be one or two messages at the most. Maybe a missed call if it was something extremely important.

He unlocked his phone.

Tapping on his messaging app, he saw that the messages all came from an unknown number.

That raised even more concerns, considering anyone who had this number were people he should already have programed into his contacts.

This put Damian’s suspicions on high alert.

Cautiously tapping on the text stream, he began reading.

- As long as you’re not an evil villain running around in a purple suit or a bitchy Italian transfer student I figure you won’t care about what I have to say

- I haven’t slept in two days. My brain is buzzing. And between my insomnia and four years of repressed anger generated by existing in the same city as an emotional terrorist who uses magical butterflies to turn distressed people into monsters, I might come off a bit incoherent

Before Damian could stop it, a small laugh of amusement passed his lips. This person was either really high, or entirely serious.

His finger hovered over the delete button. This had nothing to do with him. The person admitted they were texting a random number to blow off steam. He should just let it go and get some sleep.

But despite the long drive home, the debriefing, and a shower, the adrenaline hadn’t left his system yet. And the sight of those women in the container wasn’t going to leave his brain for a while. Sleep wouldn’t be coming for a long time yet. Whoever this was, sounded, if not entirely sane, at least somewhat amusing.

Looking back on it, Damian didn’t know what the influencing factor that made him read further. It could have been amusement, or curiosity. It could have been sleep deprivation. It could have been the promise of distraction. It could all of those or none of those, or any combination thereof.

Or it could have been luck.

Pulling up the knitted blanket from the end of his bed, he settled in against his covers, and began to read.

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@theunquiet-dead @loveswifi @fusser90 @animegirlweeb @ihavehomeworkbutistillhere @your-resident-chicken-nugget

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@maskedpainter @ambrosiabcp03 @mystery-5-5 @faunrasthewinterelf @greatcatblaze @shifty-lesbian-retro-goblin @dorkus-minimus @nickristus-dreamer @beautiful-disasters-sunshine @justafanwarrior @lunathealphafemale @dood-space @sdg-art-film-stories @tumbling-down-hills-and-stuff @dawnwave16 @mewwitch

#damian x marinette #maridami #maribat #damimari #mlb crossover #ml x dc #marinette dupain-cheng x damian wayne #marinette dupain cheng x damian wayne #moodboard #damientte #fanfic

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catxsnow · 5 years ago

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NIGHTMARE SECRETS D.W.

Summary: Damian’s been having nightmares and you just want to help, that leads to a learning more about him than you ever expected.

Damian is older, like late high school age

Warning: Nightmares, swearing, older!damian

A/N: Damian deserves all the love in the world

GIF not mine

Word count: 2.8k

Damian Wayne was the kind of person that didn't believe he had time for romance.

Between his nearly full time job as Robin, as well as attending high school - only to which his father demanded - he didn't think he would have time for anyone in his life. Dressing up for dates or making the time to spend with someone was never going to be on the top of his priority list.

In fact, he thought that his brothers were dumb to think that they had time for another person to protect. Dick was with Barbra, Jason wandered between women and couldn't find the right one to settle with, even Tim was with Steph. Damian truly believed that they were selfish to prioritize a single person over a whole city.

That was, until he met you.

Damian met you when he was forced to do a group project in one of his classes. The two of you got paired up and he offered to bring you to his home to get it done - the sooner it was finished the better. So, that evening you drove up to Wayne Manor wondering how the hell you were so lucky to get partnered up with him.

The two of you worked in the library for hours. While Damian was purely focused on wanting to get this done at the beginning of the evening, he found himself wanting to spend more time with you, to drag out this project just so he had an excuse to see you again. You didn't act like many of the girls at your school, Damian saw raw, genuine happiness radiate from you.

As days went by, he found himself constantly stealing glances your way. He'd ask to join you for lunch until finally gaining enough courage to ask to see you outside of school.

Damian suddenly started to understand why his brother's enjoyed dating. He understood wanting more of this feeling that filled his entire body when he saw you. Damian craved that feeling, he needed it - and thanks to you, he got it.

You were just as entranced with Damian as he was with you. You saw past his sometimes cold exterior and began to see the real him - the him that never got to shine while he was with the League. You saw how much he loved to read, no matter the time or place. How much he loved animals and how much he enjoyed painting.

Damian was a hidden treasure within the piles of coal.

It didn't take long for the two of you to starting dating. What followed next, was nothing but harassment from his brothers - particularly the oldest one. Damian would get endlessly teased for finally caving to a relationship after everything he said. You couldn't help but sometimes join his brother's in their bugging.

That night, you were over at the manor. You and Damian were both working on some homework until you finally had enough of it. Damian was dragged out of the study and up to his bedroom where the two of you were curled up on his bed watching a movie. Alfred even brought you up popcorn and drinks.

Damian never appreciated affection before. He didn't see the purpose of hugs or human contact but now? Now he couldn't get enough of it. Damian craved the warmth you radiated, especially on cold nights when you were miles away from him. Having you cuddled into his side was exactly what he needed.

His hand stroked up and down your back, nearly lulling you to sleep. Though his hands were rough and calloused, he always seemed to be overly delicate with you. After the harshness that he delivered to criminals at night, he feared he would break you with a simple touch.

"Dami," you mumbled. Your head was tucked into his chest and wished to never leave his embrace. These past months of dating him had shown you a side of Damian that you never expected to see. He was gentle, despite his rough exterior.

"Yes, beloved?" Damian kissed the top of your head. You didn't know about his second life, and he planned to keep it that way for as long as possible. Without knowing he was Robin, you worried about him already. Adding that extra stress on top of that? Damian couldn't do that to you.

"Did you want to talk about last night?" You stayed over Friday night with him and had no intentions of staying Saturday as well but somehow he had convinced you otherwise. You had the odd sleepover here and there - mostly when your parents were out of town. However, last night, Damian had woken in the middle of the night from what you presumed to be a nightmare.

Sweat drenched his skin and he was breathing heavily. You woke up from his abrupt movement of being in his arms, to him suddenly jumping out of bed. Not sure if you were dreaming or not, you watched him pace back and force by his bed side until finally looking at you and holding you once more.You heard him whisper something, but it was a language you couldn't understand.

All you knew was that Damian left soft kisses on your skin and held you to his chest the rest of the night.

You wanted to bring it up to him that morning but it hadn't happened. Throughout the day you figured that if he wanted to talk about it, he would. It was chewing you up wondering if he was okay and what could have been so bad to put him in shock like that.

"No," Damian tensed. He was acutely aware of how you were tracing the raised skin of his scars over his shirt. Months of being with him had you nearly memorizing where every flaw of his skin was. You never questioned where he got them from or why, but that didn't make you worry any less about them.

Damian grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers. He didn't want you to worry about things that were in the past, things you couldn't change.

For some reason, you were hurt by his abrupt answer. Did he not trust you enough to speak about his feelings? Or was it that he was hiding something from you? Damian seemed to pick up on you sudden change of mood and brought your hand up to kiss the back of it.

"It is nothing to worry about," Damian tried to comfort you. You nodded your head, scared that if you spoke that your voice would crack from the tightness in your throat. "My childhood differed greatly from yours. I was raised differently and that has affected me since being in Gotham. I promise you, you did nothing wrong."

"I worry about you, Damian," you sighed. This time, you sat up on the bed, no longer leaning against him. You wanted him to know that you were being serious right now, that this matter had been something you always worried about. Damian often woke from nightmares, he was usually better at concealing it when he was with you.

"I know, beloved," Damian cupped you cheek. "I never wish to burden you with my problems."

"That's what being in a relationship is about," your chin wobbled and you had to bite your lip to make it stop. "I want to help you but how am I supposed to help when you never fully let me in?"

Damian kissed you. He kissed you with compassion and hope that one day he would be able to tell you these things. You could nearly feel his emotions radiating off of him as he brought you back in for another. When he broke off the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes sealed shut to ground him back to reality.

'I love you' sat at the tip of your tongue but never made it out. As much as you wanted to tell Damian how strong your feelings for him were, you feared what he had in response.

I would hold you in my arms every night if I could.

But he couldn't bring himself to say that to you. Not while he lived a dangerous life as Robin. Not while he risked his life every night. He couldn't bring himself to confide in you when you would get heart-broken. Damian cared about you too much to drag you down into the crime-fighting life that he was in.

You had been peacefully sleeping that night when Damian started tossing in his sleep. At first he had just rolled away from. Then his limbs started twitching until they were violently grasping at the sheets, at you, anything that was near. The bed you shared began to get warm and you could feel the sweat drench Damian's skin as he rushed against you.

He was having another nightmare, just like the night before. You tried to wake him by calling out his name, which hadn't worked. Carefully, you grabbed onto his shoulders and gave him a little shake. Damian's eyes popped wide open and on instinct, he had flipped you over and pinned you to the bed with his forearm against your throat. It wasn't enough to cut off your air way or hurt you - but it sure as hell scared you.

Upon realizing that it was you below him, Damian released you from his grasp and leaped out of bed. He was horrified that he had come so close to hurting you. One wrong move and he could have broken you. Damian cursed at himself aloud in the same language he spoke the previous night - Arabic.

"Fuck," Damian called out. His bare feet padded against the floor as he shook his head. Never in his life had he been so angry with himself for being so careless. You weren't like Dick or any of his siblings, you were fragile. This violent, horrendous world that he lived in wasn't meant to include you.

"Dames," you barely spoke above a whisper. You sat on the edge of the bed, watching him move. "You need to talk about this, please. If not to me then someone. I can't keep seeing you like this, seeing you in pain hurts me. I can't keep holding my tongue about worrying about you anymore, it isn't fair."

Damian sighed, his pacing stopped and he sat down beside you. You could see his hands shaking in his lap and grabbed onto them in hopes to bring it to a stop. He tried to rip his hands away from you but you only tightened your grip.

"It's nothing to worry about," Damian tried to assure you. It didn't work, in fact it only angered you that he wasn't willing to take care of himself. Damian deserved to be worry free and happy as much as he didn't want to accept it.

"Bullshit," you reacted. "This is ridiculous, Damian. You're obviously not okay. This is two nights in a row that you woke up from a nightmare I can't even imagine how many you have when I'm not here. I'm not putting up with this anymore - I want you to be happy but you can't until you’re willing to help yourself. Fuck, Damian - I love you. Please... please just, I want to help."

You had said it, the L-word. A phrase that hadn't yet been used in your relationship but now was as good as time as any to tell him. You hoped that maybe if he knew how much you truly cared about him that he would open up to you. You wanted Damian to know that you would carry every star into the sky just to see him smile.

Damian sat next to you, his heart rate rising at an unhealthy rate. He was just being able to understand these emotions and how to react with them, but love? Love was something he wasn't sure he was ready to conquer, at least not with anyone besides you.

"Dames."

Without a second thought, Damian tightened his grip in your hand and abruptly stood up. His body language told you to follow him - to which you did. Damian dragged you out of his room and down to his father's study. You hadn't been in the room very many times, though it was beautiful.

Damian paused in front of the old grandfather clock. He stared at his reflection within in the glass for several moments before opening the panel and pulling one of the dongles. A click echoed through the dark empty room and suddenly the clock opened away from the wall.

What the hell is going on?

"Do you trust me, beloved?" Damian asked you. His hand was outstretched to yours and his stood on the first step of what appeared to be a long case of stairs. It was darker down there than in the room and you shuddered at what could possibly be hiding down there.

"With my life," you answered, placing your palm in his. Damian lead you down the long narrow staircase until you reached the bottom. Lights flickered within the space, illuminating the giant room. However, room didn't seem to be the right word - a cave of sorts. Damian stood at the entrance, watching you roam around.

Computers were scattered in front of you but that wasn't what caught your eyes. The expensive, high tech car that only one person in Gotham ever drove: Batman. The infamous suit of Batman and Robin was hung in glass cases and a wall of their weapons and gadgets.

You were in the batcave.

"What the fuck?" You turned back to Damian. "This is..." You couldn't even find the words that you wished to say. Everything that you were seeing was completely unexpected. You were in awe.

"You wanted me to open up about myself," Damian joined you. The two of you stood directly in front of the Robin suit. "This is it," he gestured to his suit. You looked between the red, green, and yellow material and back at you boyfriend. He was Robin, Bruce was Batman - the rest of his siblings too.

"Holy shit, Damian," you breathed out. The scars, the nightmares, his ridiculous reflexes, it all made sense. Without another thought, you cupped his face and brought him into a kiss. Damian pulled you closer by the hips and deepened the kiss. Your bodies molded together and you never wanted to break free. "You're Robin."

"Yes."

You understood why he never wanted to tell you. Knowing his identity put you in danger. You couldn't even imagine the terrible things he had seen out on the streets of Gotham. Horrible flashes of news reports and papers crossed your mind, all of them about times that Batman and Robin did anything or every time they got hurt.

He put himself out there every night and you couldn't think of anything more braver. Damian was truly a hero, inside and out. He was your hero before knowing this secret and he always would be.

"This is incredible," you were still in complete awe. "You trust me with such a big secret?"

"Yes," he repeated. "I love you, (Y/N). You taught me how to fall in love, to appreciate the small things in life. You brought a light to my life that I never thought I would ever be able to see. So, of course I trust you with this, beloved."

You could feel tears in your eyes at his words. Damian never spoke of romantic sayings to you. He showed his love with actions but hearing him say this? It made you realize how much you truly did love him. He was everything you needed in life, and more.

"You never run out of surprises, do you?" You tried to laugh. The pad of Damian's thumb wiped under you eye to make sure that no tears would remain on your cheek. He knew these were happy tears yet he still never wished to see you cry. Certainly not because of him. Damian kissed you once more. "Fuck, do I love you, Damian Wayne. I should have said it sooner."

"And I, you," Damian smiled at you. The genuine happiness he felt with you never competed with any other feelings he had. "I'm sorry that I had to keep this from you for so long, you deserve the truth."

"I don't deserve you."

Damian shook his head. It was the opposite, he didn't deserve you. Damian never felt good enough by your side, not while knowing all the bad things that he had done in his life. But you? All you could see was the good in him, the good that helped the innocent who couldn't help themselves. You saw the bravery and selflessness in him.

"You deserve the world, my love."

#damian wayne #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne oneshot #damian wayne x reader #older!damian #dc imagine #dc #batfam imagine #batfam x reader #batfam #fluff #robin #robin imagine #older!damian imagine

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years ago

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Alt Ending, Part 6

First

Tag: @solangelo252

“I’ll just write one scene”

Good news! It wasn’t acid!

Bad news! It was so much worse!

Marinette had apparently learned nothing from the last time she’d been thrown into painful green liquid. That thing about holding your breath? Yeah, that doesn’t work when you were screaming your whole way down. It also didn’t help that she backflopped and whatever air she’d managed to hold onto left her with a gasp right before she was submerged in the cold green.

Of course, the lack of oxygen was the least of her worries.

Every wound she’d ever gotten had reopened, one at a time.

Burns her hands from the times she’d helped her family in the bakery. Skin got sloughed off her elbows and knees from years of trips and pushes. Her nose cracked under a kickball gone awry. A hole slowly tore itself into her cheek from how often she bit at it.

But that wasn’t the worst part. If it had just been that, she would have been fine. She inched through the water between gasps for air as the Lazarus waters churned to keep her head under, searching desperately for shore through all the green, but it wasn’t to be. She was distracted by the end of the first minute by a whole new world of pain.

She had forgotten about most of the akuma stuff. Call it selective memory or repression or whatever, but now it was coming back in literally excruciating detail. All the times she had missed jumps on patrols and snapped another part of her leg in half. Her trademark yoyo’s string dug into the skin of her fingers, threatening to cut off her fingers and even occasionally managing. A mind controlled Chat’s Cataclysm, setting every cell in her arm alight before killing them entirely.

Levity came in the form of being a Gotham vigilante. At that point punches and kicks and slaps and even the odd slash with a knife were nothing in comparison to a Cataclysm --.

A chunk was torn out of her side and she cried out. The bullet buried itself in her, that wasn’t what hurt the most. The area around the bullet was torn to shreds and steaming and generally just everything skin should not be doing.

She knelt in the water and pressed her hand to the wound, taking deep breaths of the green for the first time in a while and remembering that that was a bad idea when her vision threatened to go black.

No time to think about that, though!

She was mercilessly pulled back to her old pains as she felt something cold pressed to the side of her head. A blade dug under the skin, pushing down and sawing through the cartilage of her ears, taking the pinna with it. The last sounds she ever properly heard were the screams tearing themselves from her throat. Fingers scraped the wounds as she begged and pleaded for him to stop, digging into the frayed skin and fractured bones until it pulled out its prize.

The acid was back. It ate at her skin and pushed itself down her throat and into where her ears had been and sept into every inch of her until she could feel nothing except for pain. Every nerve ending screamed for an end to it, for death to take her finally.

And then it was gone. And she, foolishly, hoped it was over. After all, that was a perfectly viable death. She could have absolutely died in that moment, the acid could have dissolved everything of use or suffocated her until her body finally gave out.

But then came the thirst.

And, somehow, the thirst was the worst part.

At least with everything else it was something she had dealt with, it was things she knew she could get through. She’d done it before, she’d endured it, and that was fine. But the hunger was different. She’d spent those last few days completely out of it. Mostly lost in a world where her problem was less the fact that she was slowly dying of dehydration and more that everyone in her life thought she was stupid and useless and more trouble than she was worth.

And she almost missed that. Her constant nightmares had made her more or less numb to that by this point.

Instead, she felt the slow gnawing at what the acid had left of her stomach. Her throat torn to shreds, her mouth hopelessly dry despite the water that she was drowning in. The fatigue taking over every part of her until she could no longer fight against the pit holding her under. Every cell in her body seemed to give out, one by one. They knew it was useless, that she was useless, that there was no point in hoping SHE of all people could get her hands on it in time. Lidded eyes slowly, painfully, raised to look at the shore only a few feet away. She tried to force herself to grab onto something beneath her despite the fact that she was shaking so badly she knew it was impossible, tried to drag herself the last bit…

She slumped forward, gone before her head had even hit the bottom.

She woke up to fingers trailing through her hair, slowly and gently pulling knots out of damp locks.

And then they pulled their hands out.

She was allowed to roll off the person’s lap to cough and sputter and gasp until the bulk of the water was out of her lungs. Even after she’d managed to expel it, she felt weak and shaky. She refused to move out of the position she was in, forehead pressed to the cool rock in the cave, knees tucked under her, hands covering the back of her neck and head protectively. She couldn’t care less that she was touching her own lung water, that there was still a steady trail dripping from her parted lips. At least when she was like this she didn’t have to face whatever had happened to her in the time since she’d passed out.

“Marinette?” Said Damian from somewhere near her, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it.

She gave him a cough as an answer.

She took one last, shaky breath of semi-fresh air and then forced her eyes open.

Yep, that was a puddle of lung water. She looked down at the rock beneath her, taking in the ugly green tint that the waters cast upon it.

The shivering wouldn’t stop. She didn’t know whether it was her weak muscles or the intense cold that had soaked into her bones.

A hand rested upon her back and she forced herself to look over at Duke. He looked at her, concern etched in every line of his green face.

Wait, green?

She blinked a few times to try and get the last of the water that would be in her eyes out, but it didn’t seem to be getting any better. Frustrated, she brought her hands up to try and rub the green out.

It wasn’t working.

She rubbed harder, started trying to almost pull off her skin and might have even popped her eyes out if hands hadn’t caught her wrists and pulled them away from her face.

She looked up at Damian for a few minutes, taking in the odd tint in her vision that made his skin a sickly color. She felt like up, but there didn’t seem to be anything in her stomach to throw up with.

“How’re you feeling?” Asked Damian carefully, still not releasing her.

Her irritation spiked and she wrenched her hands free. “Fine, thanks.” She had to tear the short words from her throat, it was raw and scratchy and she hated speaking but she continued on regardless: “I’m not a civvie, Dami, you don’t have to pretend like you care.”

He reeled back like he’d been slapped -- well, no, she’d seen him take far more than a slap without flinching, but you get the point -- and she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

Still, she forced a “sorry” through tight lips. He hardly seemed perturbed by just how fake the apology was, probably used to it considering he had as many siblings as he had, and left to go talk to his mother.

She flopped back onto the stone despite the fact that it was too cold, that SHE was too cold, and just laid there. She glared at some stalactites on the ceiling like they had personally offended her.

Duke’s face carefully poked its way into her vision and she looked up at him for a minute before sighing and reaching a hand towards him. He got the idea, locking his hand with hers and pulling her to shaky feet. She leaned against him heavily, head resting against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t realize… I didn’t think it would be that bad...”

She shook her head slightly against his shoulder and he let himself trail off.

Damian and Talia were speaking in Arabic. Marinette couldn’t translate most of it, but she got the general gist. Damian was saying thanks over and over again (one of the few words she’d managed to catch onto in Arabic outside of swears) and Talia’s hand motions assured that it was fine. Damian hesitated slightly before wrapping his mother in a hug and, though she tensed up at first and seemed unsure what to do, she carefully returned it.

Marinette felt like she was intruding. Her gaze fell to the floor.

Oh. Someone had taken her miraculous off of her, she realized as she looked down at herself. She wore one of Jason’s hoodies and a pair of Cass’s old sweatpants, both stolen from their owners. A hand came up to touch her hair and she noted absently that it was still pushed out of her face with a cloth headband from when she was doing her skincare routine right before the incident with the Rogues. It was like nothing had ever happened.

Honestly, it was almost weird to see casual clothes on herself rather than the swing-style dress she’d been wearing for who knows how long --.

Huh. She wondered if Kaalki was okay. She hoped so, she would have felt awful if the kwami had gotten hurt because of overuse.

She looked at Duke to ask, and found him stressing over something on his phone. She tried to peek over his shoulder and pouted when he angled the phone away and continued to type out a message.

“Dukeeeeeeee. Duke. Duke. Duuuuuke. Duke. Duke,” she whined to be annoying.

He didn’t answer outside of moving the hand on her shoulder up to cover her mouth. She licked his hand and saw disgust flicker across his face before he brought his hand up to try and wipe her spit off on her forehead. She recoiled and pressed back against the offending hand, holding him off.

They continued on like this for a good minute before Damian sidled up between them and forced them apart.

“You’re both children.”

Marinette huffed a little and clung onto him, partially to be annoying and partially because she still felt horribly weak and cold. He seemed annoyed but he supported her weight as they started walking back through the compound.

“Dami, you’re the youngest one here. If we’re children what does that make you?”

“A baby,” said Duke, pocketing his phone.

Damian’s face burned red and he clicked his tongue. “I’m hardly younger than either of you.”

“Three months is a long time,” Marinette said wisely.

“Three years is even longer,” Duke said, even wiser.

A scowl made its way across the least wise person’s face. “Why do I put up with either of you?”

“Because you love us,” said Marinette just as Duke said “Because you’re a softy”.

Duke grinned and held up a hand for her to high five and she did so, only to regret it when she was forced to remember that there had been spit on that hand. He smirked at her disgust. She vaguely considered murder.

Duke’s amusement slowly disappeared and he looked at Damian. “They’re on their way. Should get here within a few hours.”

Damian cringed.

Marinette buried her face in his shoulder and closed her eyes, considering everything. She doubted that when they said ‘they’ they weren’t including Bruce. Even if she didn’t have her quick and easy murder method anymore, she could still be deadly. Then again, she would have to fight off however many batfamily members just to get to him and by the point she did so -- IF she even did so -- she would be exhausted and easy for Bruce to subdue.

Hm. It was worth a shot, at least.

Marinette stared at the suitcase on the ground. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Mari, you look dead on your feet -- don’t laugh I’m being serious -- and if anyone saw us walking you through town... it would be bad.”

Her slight smile at the unintentional joke slipped into a frown as she bit the inside of her cheek. “What if I say I have trauma related to suitcases?”

“Considering you’ve already been in it and we just watched all your trauma -- or, at least, all the things you would consider to be trauma -- play out, I’m going to have to say I don’t quite believe you.”

A dark look passed over her face and, for a moment, she swore the world looked just a little more green.

But, then, she held her hands out and let them tie them off with some rope.

(Of course, she knew how to get out of it, but it would be a pain and, really, what would she do if she could get out? Suitcases aren’t exactly easy to get out of from the inside.)

“Sorry about this, Mari,” said Duke.

She hummed her understanding.

They closed the suitcase over her. Without a giant dress in the way, it was actually a pretty roomy space. Still, it took a lot of shifting to find a position where her bony knees and elbows didn’t dig into her. This didn’t last long. Now that she didn’t have the warmth of another person she was unbearably cold. Bony limbs be damned, she wasn’t going to freeze to death in a suitcase of all things.

Once she stopped shifting around they started walking. She rested her head against the suitcase, eyes struggling to remain open, and found they were talking about food in the areas around them. She wanted food. She told them so. There was a beat where they stilled and then Damian promised to get her something.

Alright. So they could hear her in there. That took away the calling the police option, but that didn’t matter much.

Out of boredom, she pulled her phone from her pocket and clicked it on. To her surprise, it actually worked.

She stared at the home screen for a moment. She and Jason were flipping off the camera while Tim looked on, unamused. She’d used to think the picture was cute. Now, though, with her vision tinted green and the knowledge of what she was going to do... she found tears springing to her eyes. She looked at the screen for just a second longer to check the time -- 15:00 -- and then turned the phone around and used it as a light.

With nothing else to do as she waited for things to pan out the way she wanted, she examined herself. It was weird to look at her hands and see them in perfect shape. Old scars from the oven and repeated punching without proper protection on her knuckles and lines from her yoyo were all gone. No hint of anything that had ever happened to her. It felt weird. Like she wasn’t really herself anymore.

She tripped out on that for a while until she heard voices.

Alright, go time.

She slipped her phone back into her pocket. She doubted anyone would think to check her for one.

She carefully pulled her headband down and slipped it in her mouth, then knotted the fabric behind her head a few times until it was so tight it almost hurt.

Marinette took a deep breath and then started screaming through her makeshift gag.

Three things happened in rapid succession: the light chatter around the three of them petered out, Duke swore loudly, and then the bats broke into a run.

Despite their best efforts, though, they got caught. It’s kind of hard to run and do parkour when you’re toting along a suitcase, especially if you don’t want to hurt the person inside. The suitcase rolled to a stop and she could hear mad scrambling as Duke and Damian struggled to get away without risking their civilian identities.

Marinette squeezed her eyes shut and started thinking.

The bats were going to hate her for this. She was going to have to actually put in effort to die now instead of having an instant death via taking off her miraculous. Harley probably didn’t know that she was still alive (or, rather, around, because the ‘alive’ thing was very recent) and Marinette couldn’t even be sure she cared.

Tears sprang to her eyes. Good, good. Keep thinking about that.

Harley was going to be so pissed at her for taking so long. Harley would always love Joker more than her. Harley was probably just using her for her own gain. Harley didn’t care about her and never would, or at least not in the way Marinette so desperately wanted her to.

By the time the suitcase was opened Marinette was full on sobbing. The sudden influx of light certainly didn’t help the situation.

She whimpered and shielded her eyes despite wanting oh-so-desperately to step out into the sun and bask in its rays for the first time since before Harley.

Some god must have been listening to her for once, because a pair of hands carefully lifted her out of the suitcase. She slowly, almost reluctantly, looked up at her ‘savior’. The kind-looking woman had moved to block most of the sunlight and the little parts that escaped surrounded her head like a halo. Marinette gave her a wet smile as her gag and the rope binding her hands were removed.

The woman spoke to her in Arabic and, though she didn’t understand any of it, the soft edge to her voice made her feel so safe. Marinette choked out a sob and allowed the woman to gather her into a hug.

Briefly, her gaze lifted from the woman’s shoulder and she saw Damian and Duke getting held back by some random citizens. If the civilians had seen the watery smile on her face they would have thought it was just happiness at finally be saved. The two bats knew better, the slightly sour looks on their faces told her so.

A hand came up to run through her hair and she buried her face in the woman’s shoulder as she began to cry even harder.

The officer was holding Duke and Damian at gunpoint as two citizens worked at trying to cuff them. He only put his gun back in its holster after he was sure that they weren’t going to be running anytime soon.

Marinette didn’t know for sure what the cop thought was going on, but she had a few guesses. After all, she worked in law enforcement too, however unofficially. If she’d seen someone in her state -- clothes hanging off her too-thin frame and shaking like a leaf after being pulled out of a suitcase -- she would have instantly assumed trafficking or, at the very least, kidnapping.

Knowing what the officer was expecting, she also knew exactly how to play into that idea. Really, the boys had had no chance.

“She’s our sister!” Damian tried to argue.

The officer, Ali, looked at the three of them with a skeptical frown. Damian might have passed as her family, they were both mixed white and chinese (he was also part arab, but half-siblings exist), but Duke definitely couldn’t.

“Did you know these men before… all of this, ma’am?”

She sniffled and brought a hand up to swipe under her eyes. Technically, if she were actually a trafficking victim, the answer would have probably been ‘yes’, most trafficking cases started out on the victim’s terms. She also knew that, when victims were truthful about this, they often got thrown into jail for prostitution. She didn’t feel like getting thrown in a cell.

“N-no. I was just going to work and they -- and they --,” she cut herself off, dissolving into sobs.

Ali pulled her into a hug and she tried to ignore the fact that his hand was definitely too low.

She could practically FEEL Damian and Duke’s annoyance. This looked bad for them, all three of the present bats knew it, and the real explanation wouldn’t be believed.

The two boys were filed into the back of a police car and Marinette was allowed to sit shotgun.

The cop offered her a shock blanket and, despite not being in shock, she took it. She was so unbearably cold despite her thick layers and the fact that it was the middle of summer.

She watched the cop walk around the car to the driver’s seat and everything was quiet as they started off towards the police station.

“You’re an asshole, Mari,” Duke said in French.

She glanced at the cop, but he just looked confused. Fair enough. English was a pretty common second language around the world because of business and tourism, but no one learned French if they didn’t have to.

She gave a wet laugh. “Yeah.”

The cop frowned. “What are they saying?”

She waved him off. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not!”

She fought back a bit of laughter and turned in her seat to look at the two of them. “What’d you boys really expect?”

“You’ve never tried to leave before, forgive us for thinking that wouldn’t change. It’s called…” Damian frowned for a moment before finding the term he needed: “Learned helplessness.”

“Tell me you didn’t pay attention in psychology without telling me. Learned helplessness is where you try a bunch of different things and nothing works so you learn not to try again. I never tried anything.”

“Oh so NOW she knows about psychological trauma,” complained Duke.

A true frown made its way across her face. “I’ve always known about psychological trauma. It was Hawkmoth’s whole thing in Paris.”

“She knows intellectually, she’s just woefully unable to apply the teachings to herself,” said Damian.

Marinette scowled at him. “Harley. Didn’t. Traumatize. Me.”

All she got were two eyerolls and she huffed, turning back around in her seat and crossing her arms. The boys switched languages and, after checking to make sure she didn’t understand, started chatting.

She slowly started to nod off, head resting against the center console. She was without her normal coffee, and she kind of regretted not waiting for Duke and Damian to get food before enacting her plan, and she’d more or less cried herself out earlier…

The only thing keeping her from sleeping was Ali’s hand, resting right on top of her head. She wanted to think it was innocent. In her experience, cops almost never were.

The chattering cut off when they came to a stop and she slowly lifted her head up and looked around, expecting a police station. Instead, she found a normal red light (or, at least, she was pretty sure that it was red, her vision was still tinted green). She frowned a little and turned to look at Duke and Damian…

They had disappeared from the backseat.

She shot up and hissed a curse. Of course they could break out of police cars -- now that she was thinking about it, she was pretty sure Duke had mentioned doing it before.

Ali looked back and she saw his face change from calm to confused to annoyed. He tried to smooth his expression back into a neutral one and assure her that everything was fine, but she didn’t really care about him anymore.

She reached into his belt and pulled his gun out of its holster. Safety off. Finger on the trigger. Evade the hand trying to take it away. Push him back with a foot until he’s pressed against a window. Check that he can’t move much. Point at his head.

“Thanks for the help,” she chirped. “Or, at least, for trying.”

She pulled the trigger.

Blood and gore splattered everywhere. Point blank range always had that effect. The shock blanket managed to keep most of it off of her, but some got on her face and in her hair.

She thought she’d be more disgusted. If not with herself then at least with the blood. Instead, she reached a hand up slowly to rest over where the blood had hit. It was… warm. She hadn’t expected that she could ever feel warm again.

She slowly looked at the body. It was gushing blood all over her foot and she found she almost didn’t care. She almost found herself smiling. It was soaking through her old sneakers, warming her in a way nothing else had since she'd been dunked in the Pit.

And then the color… kwami. It wasn’t green, it wasn’t brown or black like what normally happens when you mixed red and green, it was RED.

A sickening smile finally made its way across her face.

The screaming started. She pulled herself from her haze, released the body and watched it slump. Right. This was going to suck if she got arrested.

She shed her blanket and leaned over the body, checking for and taking everything she could use. Taser. Extra bullets. A baton. Tear gas. Wallet…

Yeah, that was everything, she was pretty sure. She, reluctantly, wiped the still-wet blood off her hands to pull her hood up and cover her splattered face and then slipped out the door. No one stopped her -- probably because of the gun in her hands -- and she was allowed to disappear down an alley.

Alright. She was free.

She wasn’t FREE free, obviously, the bats would find her eventually. But she had some time out. What should she do first?

… she should probably get the blood off. Getting arrested would suck.

She slipped out the other side of the alley and started weaving her way through the city in search of a gas station. There were a good amount in Tibet, so it didn’t take too long to find one. She ducked into it to wash the remaining blood off her face and hands and, after being prompted to buy something by a clerk in return for being allowed the pleasure of using their dingy bathrooms, bought a tiny bag of chips.

Then she was back to walking aimlessly. She made sure to switch directions often, occasionally even going back the way she’d just come. The less predictable her movements the better.

She nibbled at the chips as she went. She’d only bought them to get the cashier off her ass, but she actually was pretty hungry. She had to fight herself not to scarf the entire thing down.

Right, basic needs have been met, what next?

She pulled her phone from her pocket and checked the time. 20:00. The bats were definitely in the city.

She hesitated slightly. They probably assumed her phone was dead, even she had, so they probably hadn’t started tracking her yet…

She swallowed back her fear. She needed to do this before one of the bats realized and actually started tracking her.

A few clicks later, she was pressing her phone to her ear.

It didn’t even ring once before she got an answer: “Marinette?”

“Maman,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper.

Marinette could practically hear the way her mother’s shoulders slumped in relief. She rested her head back against the wall, tears springing to her eyes for what felt like the millionth time that day.

“We thought you were…” Her mother didn’t dare complete the thought aloud.

Marinette held back the ‘Well, I was, but I got better’ that was on the tip of her tongue. Her mother didn’t know about her activities as Ladybug and she was never going to. Marinette took a vow to protect when she started heroism, and that definitely extended to her parents.

“I’m alive. Surprise,” she said after a moment’s consideration.

Sabine gave a little laugh and Marinette didn’t care if it was forced because it was HERS. A sob built in her throat.

“I hope you know you owe me more explanation than just that, young lady. It’s almost been a year! Your father and I --.” Sabine stopped herself and softened her tone. “We’ve been so worried. Are you okay?”

She swallowed thickly. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m... fine. And… I can’t explain, there’s just so much and… yeah. It’s fine, I’m fine, everything’s fine. I just needed to hear your voice again.”

Her mother hesitated. “That sounds an awful lot like you’re about to disappear again.”

“I am,” she confirmed, because lying would hurt her mother more in the long run. Still, she almost wished that she could have lied because listening to her mother sob was almost unbearable. “I’m sorry. I can’t talk long. I just wanted to call and tell you guys that… that I’m okay. And that I love you.”

Her mother’s breath caught.

Marinette glared at the ground.

She waited for her mother to get her breathing under control.

“I love you, too, sweetie. Would you like to talk to Pere?”

She hesitated and then mumbled a no. She couldn’t. Talking to her mother was hard, but at least her mother was practical. Her mother knew that Marinette wasn’t going to change what she was doing. Her mother knew that Marinette was doing what she felt like she must.

Her father, though, her father would plead with her. He’d promise to protect her. He’d promise that she could come home, that they could deal with it together, that everything is easier to handle when you do it with others. And she just might believe him.

“Goodbye,” she whispered.

The phone slipped from her hand and she barely paid it any mind as it shattered on the concrete below.

She slowly slid to the ground beside her phone and rested her head in her hands. Tears that she’d been holding back since she started the call spilled from between her fingers. Her breath came to her in shaky gasps that were definitely not enough in the long run and her lungs hurt as she struggled for air between sobs but it was nothing compared to drowning in acid so she was fine.

No. Not fine. Fine implied that things were, if not going distinctly ‘well’, going vaguely in the right direction. Marinette felt like she’d seen a fork in a path and then ignored both choices in favor of whacking a new path through the forest. She knew, somewhere, that she was only getting further and further from where she’d originally intended and yet she couldn’t turn back. Because turning back would mean looking and seeing all the plants she’d killed on her way through the brush that hadn’t even needed to die and she couldn’t face that. She couldn’t. So she kept going. Kept praying that, somehow, she’d find her way back to the path.

So, no, ‘fine’ wasn’t the word. She was… she was dealing. She’d deal.

She took a few more deep, steadying breaths before picking her head up. She needed to leave. Tim would start tracking her soon, if he hadn’t already, and she couldn’t beat all the bats at once.

She chanced one more look at her phone. The call had disconnected and now she was staring at her home screen yet again. The picture of herself smiling at the camera with friends was cracked, her face lost in a spiderweb of broken glass.

Marinette took a deep breath and then brought her fist down on the phone. It shattered and went dark beneath her hand. Blood, warm and red, slowly dripped along her arm and she stuffed it in one of her pockets before she could start dripping on the ground.

She started aimlessly walking around again. She’d find a motel or something after a few hours. For now, she needed to be untraceable.

She knew she should take off her outfit. They were looking for someone in a hoodie and sweats. But she couldn’t. It was the last thing she had of either of them, of any of the bats. Even if they were on different sides, she still cared about them. She still found herself wanting them to be happy.

She just wanted Harley to be happier.

Which meant she was going to have to put some effort in.

She bit the inside of her cheek.

The bats would find her no matter what, it was a given. They had access to pretty much every camera in the world, access to satellites for the things they couldn’t see with the cameras. She could only evade them for so long. It wasn’t a matter of if, it was a matter of when.

Which meant that she needed to be the one to decide on when. It would never be an even fight, they had years of experience on her, but she had infinitely better chances if she caught them off guard rather than the other way around. She had to find them before they could find her.

She’d have to go online at a library or something to see if Bruce Wayne came along. Him leaving without much notice would probably draw Vicky Vale’s attention and an article would be made.

If he hadn’t then she’d have to figure out a way back to America. This was the better option, she thought. They wouldn’t expect her to be able to get back easily without a passport and a limited amount of money, so she might just be able to sneak up on Bruce.

If he HAD come along she’d start checking out motels and hotels. He’d get a bunch of rooms that were right next to each other, preferably ones that were linked together. She’d have to check for rooms with the lights on and blinds closed. Painstaking, but it could work.

Of course, it was also very likely that Bruce had some sort of safehouse here, or that she just wouldn’t happen upon the right hotel, and she wouldn’t be able to find him that way. If that were the case...

Her hands slipped into her pockets and she felt her fingers brush over the cold metal of her gun.

Well, she knew one way to attract a bat.

#i didnt know what iteration of lazarus pit i wanted to do for a while #and then my dumb acab brain was like 'kill a cop!!'#and so i did #it was fun #as for the rest of the chapter idk if i like it #too tired to change anything tho #alternate ending #alternative ending #alt ending #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #joker #harley quinn #harleen quinzel

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qqueenofhades · 4 years ago

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I really don’t want to start a discourse™, but I want you to know that I really appreciate how you write joe and Nicky in deo volente. So many of the fics I’ve read have placed yusef in the role of more sexually experienced and less devoted to god, while Nicky is depicted as an inexperienced and virginal priest/knight/monk and so forth and so on. Your narrative of joe out there rescuing people and being faithful, while Nicky looks back on his life of gambling and pleasures of the flesh ...(1/?)

Not to say that there’s anything wrong with either, obviously. I love guilty priest Nicky and repressed Nicky and p much every Nicky. But in the vast array of fics out there, it’s rare to see the opposite. Not that you’re working in a binary morally good/religious vs. not way. Your writing in the fic is really subtle and and your characterizations reveal a lot of depth. I just think it’s cool to see Nicky, average second son of a duke, drinking and gambling and feeling terribly guilty (2/?)

Guilty about the crusades and the fucking horror of crusade 1 without being excessively devout. Just an average dude. Not some paragon of virtue (btw, I’m on chapter 2 of the fic, so I don’t know how much your characterization changes moving forward. You have a lovely ability to combine your incredible knowledge of history, your beautiful writing, and these intimate details of the characters that make them fit— fit the canon and fit the history. (3/? Shit I’m sorry this had gotten way too long)

I enjoy the way you’ve really inserted us into the quotidian aspect of history. Aaaaaanyway— the discourse that I was afraid of: I think that a lot of fans of the movie that are generating fan content (tysfm to all of you beauties, btw 🙏🙏♥️) are westerners (which is a whole nother kettle of fish) and that carries a sort of ignorance about the Muslim world in the Middle Ages and this desire to simplify Europe as “Christian” “fighters for faith” etc. (4/? Fuuuuck. One(??) more)

And when we do that, we end up as characterizing the brown people as “not that”. The thing I love about this fandom is that people are definitely down on the crusades. I feel like all the fic I’ve read has been particularly negative about those wars, but the thing I love about your fic is that you don’t just say war is bad because people died and it was despicable and this pious white dude says so and this one brown person agrees. (5/6, I see the end in sight I swear it)

Instead you give us a larger cast of Muslims and Arabs and really flesh them out and give them opinions and different interpretations of faith, and I really appreciate that. The crusades were terrible, and we know this because these regular dudes who struggle with their different faiths and lives say so. And I just. I think that’s really great. Also, I fucking love yusef’s mom. I feel like more people would be accepting of the gift in this fashion and I think she’s lovely and (god damn it 6/7)

Aaaaaaaand. The bit where yusef returns and she’s already gone breaks my fucking heart. Also the moment where he’s like “I’m not sure about Abraham’s god, but my mothers god is worth my faith”?? Just really fucking great. So. Excellent fic. Excellent characters. Excellent not-being-accidentally-biased-towards-white-Christians. That is what I came here to say. Thank you so much for your amazing stories. I love them and I love history. Sorry about the rambling. idek how I wrote so much. (7/7)

Epilogue: tl;dr: you’re great.

Oh man! What a huge and thoughtful comment (which will in turn provoke a long-ass response from me, so…) I absolutely agree that no matter what fandom, I don’t do Discourse TM; I just sit in my bubble and stay in my lane and do my own thing and create content I enjoy. And I don’t even think this is that so much as just… general commentary on character and background? So obviously all of this should be read as my own personal experience and choices in writing DVLA, and that alone. I really appreciate you for saying that you love a wide range of fan creators/fanworks and you’re not placing one over another, you understand that fans have diverse ranges of backgrounds/experience with history and other cultures when they create content, and that’s not the same for everyone. So I just think that’s a great and respectful way to start things off.

First, as a professional historian who has written a literal PhD thesis on the crusades, I absolutely understand that many people (and regular fans) will not have the same privilege/education/perspective that I do, and that’s fine! They should not be expected to get multiple advanced degrees to enjoy a Netflix movie! But since I DO have that background, and since I’ve been working on the intellectual genealogy of the crusades (and the associated Christian/Muslim component, whether racially or religiously) since I was a master’s student, I have a lot of academic training and personal feelings that inform how I write these characters. Aside from my research on all this, my sister lives in an Islamic country and her boyfriend is a Muslim man; I’ve known a lot of Muslims and Middle Easterners; and especially with the current political climate of Islamophobia and the reckoning with racism whether in reality or fandom, I have been thinking about all this a lot, and my impact on such.

Basically: I love Nicky dearly, but I ADORE Joe, and as such, I’m protective of him and certainly very mindful of how I write him. Especially when the obvious default for westerners in general, fandom-related or otherwise, is to write what you are familiar with (i.e. the European Christian white character) and be either less comfortable or less confident or sometimes less thoughtful about his opposing number. I have at times tangentially stumbled across takes on Joe that turn me into the “eeeeeeeh” emoji or Dubious Chrissy Teigen, but I honestly couldn’t tell you anything else about them because I was like, “nope not for me” and went elsewhere rather than do Discourse (which is pretty much a waste of time everywhere and always makes people feel bad). This is why I’m always selective about my fan content, but especially so with this ship, because I have SO much field-specific knowledge that I just have to make what I like and which suits my personal tastes. So that is what I do.

Obviously, there’s a troublesome history with the trope of “sexually liberate brown person seduces virginal white character into a world of Fleshly Decadence,” whether from the medieval correlation of “sodomite” and “Saracen,” or the nineteenth-century Orientalist depictions of the East as a land variously childishly simplistic, societally backward, darkly mysterious and Exotic, or “decadent” (read: code for sexually unlike Western Europe, including the spectrum of queer acts). So when I was writing DVLA, I absolutely did not want to do that and it’s not to my taste, but I’m not going to whip out a red pen on someone else writing a story that broadly follows those parameters (because as I said, I stay in my lane and don’t see it anyway). Joe to me is just such an intensely complex and lovely Muslim character that that’s the only way I feel like I can honestly write him, and I absolutely love that about him. So yeah, any depiction of hypersexualizing him or making him only available for the sexual use and education of the white character(s) is just... mmm, not for me.

For example, I stressed over whether it was appropriate to move his origin from “somewhere in the Maghreb” to Cairo specifically, since Egypt, while it IS in North Africa, is not technically part of the Maghreb. I realize that Marwan Kenzari’s family is Tunisian and that’s probably why they chose it, to honor the actor’s heritage, but on the flip side… “al-Kaysani” is also a specifically Ismai’li Shia name (it’s the name of a branch of it) and the Fatimids (the ruling dynasty in Jerusalem at the time of the First Crusade) were well-known for being the only Ismai’li Shia caliphate. (This is why the Shi’ites still ancestrally dislike Saladin for overthrowing it in 1174, even if Saladin is a huge hero to the rest of the Islamic world.) Plus I really wanted to use medieval Cairo as Joe’s homeland, and it just made more sense for an Ismai’li Shia Fatimid from Cairo (i.e. the actual Muslim denomination and caliphate that controlled Jerusalem) to be defending the Holy City because it was personal for him, rather than a Sunni Zirid from Ifriqiya just kind of turning up there. Especially due to the intense fragmentation and disorganization in the Islamic world at the time of the First Crusade (which was a big part of the reason it succeeded) and since the Zirids were a breakaway group from the Fatimids and therefore not very likely to be militarily allied with them. As with my personal gripes about Nicky being a priest, I decided to make that change because I felt, as a historian, that it made more sense for the character. But I SUPER recognize it as my own choices and tweaks, and obviously I’m not about to complain at anyone for writing what’s in graphic novel/bonus content canon!

That ties, however, into the fact that Nicky has a clearly defined city/region of origin (Genoa, which has a distinct history, culture, and tradition of crusading) and Joe is just said to be from “the Maghreb” which…. is obviously huge. (I.e. anywhere in North Africa west of Egypt all the way to Morocco.) And this isn’t a fandom thing, but from the official creators/writers of the comics and the movie. And I’m over here like: okay, which country? Which city? Which denomination of Islam? You’ve given him a Shia name but then point him to an origin in Sunni Ifriqiya. If he’s from there, why has he gone thousands of miles to Jerusalem in the middle of a dangerous war to help his religious/political rivals defend their territory? Just because he’s nice? Because it was an accident? Why is his motivation or reason for being there any less defined or any less religious (inasmuch as DVLA Nicky’s motive for being on the First Crusade is religious at all, which is not very) than the white character’s? In a sense, the Christians are the ones who have to work a lot harder to justify their presence in the Middle East in the eleventh century at all: the First Crusade was a specifically military and offensive invasion launched at the direct behest of the leader of the Western Roman church (Pope Urban II.) So the idea that they’re “fighting for the faith” or defending it bravely is…

Eeeeh. (Insert Dubious Chrissy Teigen.)

But of course, nobody teaches medieval history to anyone in America (except for Bad Game of Thrones History Tee Em), and they sure as hell don’t teach about the crusades (except for the Religious Violence Bad highlight reel) so people don’t KNOW about these things, and I wish they DID know, and that’s why I’m over here trying to be an academic so I can help them LEARN it, and I get very passionate about it. So once again, I entirely don’t blame people who have acquired this distorted cultural impression of the crusades and don’t want to do a book’s worth of research to write a fic about a Netflix movie. I do hope that they take the initiative to learn more about it because they’re interested and want to know more, since by nature the pairing involves a lot of complex religious, racial, and cultural dynamics that need to be handled thoughtfully, even if you don’t know everything about it. So like, basically all I want is for the Muslim character(s) to be given the same level of respect, attention to detail, background story, family context, and religious diversity as any of the white characters, and Imma do it myself if I have to. Dammit.

(I’m really excited to hear your thoughts on the second half of the fic, especially chapter 3 and chapter 6, but definitely all of it, since I think the characters they’re established as in the early part of the fic do remain true to themselves and both grow and struggle and go through a realistic journey with their faith over their very long lives, and it’s one of my favorite themes about DVLA.)

Anyway, about Nicky. I also made the specific choice to have him be an average guy, the ordinary second son of a nobleman who doesn’t really know what he’s doing with his life and isn’t the mouthpiece of Moral Virtue in the story, since as he himself realizes pretty quick, the crusades and especially the sack/massacre of Jerusalem are actually horrific. I’ve written in various posts about my nitpicking gripes with him being a priest, so he’s not, and as I said, I’m definitely avoiding any scenario where he has to Learn About The World from Joe. That is because I want to make the point that the people on the crusades were people, and they went for a lot of different reasons, not all of which were intense personal religious belief. The crusades were an institution and operated institutionally. Even on the First Crusade, where there were a lot of ordinary people who went because of sincere religious belief, there was the usual bad behavior by soldiers and secular noblemen and people who just went because it was the thing to do. James Brundage has an article about prostitution and miscegenation and other sexual activity on the First Crusade; even at the height of this first and holy expedition, it was happening. So Nicky obviously isn’t going to be the moral exemplar because a) the crusades are horrific, he himself realizes that, and b) it’s just as historically accurate that he wouldn’t be anyway. Since the idea is that medieval crusaders were all just zealots and ergo Not Like Us is dangerous, I didn’t want to do that either. If we think they all went because they were all personally fervent Catholics and thus clearly we couldn’t do the same, then we miss a lot of our own behavior and our parallel (and troubling) decisions, and yeah.

As well, I made a deliberate choice to have Nicky’s kindness (which I LOVE about him, it’s one of my favorite things, god how refreshing to have that be one of the central tenets of a male warrior character) not to be something that was just… always there and he was Meek and Good because a priest or whatever else. Especially as I’ve gotten older and we’ve all been living through these ridiculous hellyears (2020 is the worst, but it’s all been general shit for a while), I’ve thought more and more about how kindness is an active CHOICE and it’s as transgressive as anything else you can do and a whole lot more brave than just cynicism and nihilism and despair. As you’ll see in the second half of the fic, Nicky (and Joe) have been through some truly devastating things and it might be understandable if they gave into despair, but they DON’T. They choose to continue to be good people and to try and to actively BE kind, rather than it being some passive default setting. They struggle with it and it’s raw and painful and they’re not always saints, but they always come down on the side of wanting to keep doing what they’re doing, and I… have feelings about that.

Anyway, this is already SUPER long, so I’ll call it quits for now. But thank you so much for this, because I love these characters and I love the story I created for them in DVLA, since all this is personal to me in a lot of ways, and I’m so glad you picked up on that.

#history #medieval history #queer history #dvla asks #long post #the old guard meta #anonymous #ask

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spiltscribbles · 4 years ago

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Any chance you could give us some Arabic speaking Remus headcanons? Loved your latest fic ❤️ 📚

OMFG gorgeous sugarplum! I legit only just was reminded of this while scrolling through my inbox right now! But my heart is finna burst!!! Thank you SO SO much and yes I would love to give some Headcanons about this! Especially since the next long story I’m working on includes this dynamic, and I’m so excited about it!! However, common disclaimer that while I am Arab and culturally Muslim even if I don’t practice like the rest of my family lol, I am Palestinian and not Syrian. So with every identity there are different experiences and customs no matter how closely intertwined. So I apologize for any inconsistency that a Syrian may read and disagree with, and please feel free to correct me<3 <3

The FIC this HC is from

So first off some background on his mum in the story

I chose the name Vivian based off a friend of a friend who’s uncle married a woman by that name back in Palestine, so it’s definitely extremely uncommon, but a fully Arab lady was named it, so like it’s my defense bahaha. But it also means lively, and coupled with Hussein as her maiden name which means beautiful, it just fit her personality to a t!!

She was born into a pretty secular family in Syria in the late 1920s, so there was a lot going on in that time period. But her dad was pretty influential, working in the government and such. Vivian was also the youngest of four girls and three boys so she was pretty spoiled tbh

She attended a boarding school in France through out her adolescence and decided to go to university there too, so she’s fluent in both Arabic and French, with pretty great English as well. Though she wasn’t exactly white passing, even though like a bunch of Syrians/Palestinians/Lebanese folk she was somewhat fair, she had distinctly Arabian features, like the large almond shaped eyes and thick lashes and thicker brows, and a long, largeish nose, accented by full lips. So she experienced a good amount of jeers and discrimination, especially when folks found out her surname. So I think she’s able to relate to Remus in that sense of being a wolf at least, and later on when he comes out as gay.

It was 1950 when she and a few of her girlfriends went to Wales for holiday after completing university. The second Lyall first spotted her in the woods while she was trying to make it back to the cabin near the Irish Sea with her mates, it was something like love, because duh. She was a fucking knock out!! A babe and a baddy! Literally so far out of his league its ridiculous! But on Vivian’s side, she was mostly just amused and a bit enamored by this cocksure Welshman who had the most endearing of crooked smiles that their son would inherit a decade later. So obviously she didn’t make it easy on him, but eventually she let him take her out on the last night of her trip, and was pleased to find out that they had the same sort of humor and the same passion for their careers and even the same love for the outdoors too.

They had a long distance relationship for two years while she went to grad school so she could teach about classics while Lyall himself was rising the ranks in the Ministry for regulation and control of magical creatures— Unbeknownst to her, the Floo network was very helpful with the distance. Just thank God Lyall himself is a Muggle born because he really had to fake the hell out of it lol.

So just to speed things up they got married on a lovely June evening in 1955, subsequent to Vivian excepting a professorial job in Cardiff after Lyall told her about the Wizarding world. At first Vivian thought e was tripping on some subpar edibles until he proved it by transfiguring her snuff box into a lovely broach that she kept for the rest of her life, So after Vivian was convinced, she became absolutely enthralled by all of the magic so completely.

They were trying for a few years when she finally became pregnant with Remus in 1959, and they were both so over the moon (pun unintended).

So like I said above, Vivian’s family are pretty secular, so I see her mostly practicing the cultural aspects of Islam. For example, every Friday— which is the equivalent to Sundays being the holy day for Christians— she lights up the instance that she always keeps herself stocked up on after her annual trip to Syria, instead of the typical candles she ordinarily prefers. And Remus swears that for the rest of his life whenever he smells it, he’s back to being a baby, puttering around the house and watching her dusting the shelves while humming quietly an Arabic song that’ played out the gramophone by a man who’s music would soon become regarded as the song of the people. Or Remus would recall being snuggled into her lap while she read him a novel on the windowsill. Or he’d simply remember listening to his parents laughter fluttering in the air while he fell asleep by the fire, subconsciously making the flower buds closest to him bloom with his untapped magic.

Remus’s first clear memory— thanks to the endless pictures— is when he was around four years old, before the attack, and they were staying in Vivian’s home town in Damascus. While the men congregated out doors for cigars and cards and the women in the living room chatting while snacking on watermelon seeds, his older cousins— who were all girls— dragged him off to one of the bedrooms and doted on him because he was the baby of that side of the family. And he remembers walking out in a set of one of their heels and a headscarf wrapped around his head which made his Mama and Tata and Aumties laugh out loud and croon over him, and all his uncles and Sido call him Aumty Remus.

The attack by Greyback happened soon after they returned to Wales, and I’m not gonna touch on it becs I’ not finna depress myself. But it was a January morning after his first transformation and he remembers that when he woke up, he saw the cookies stuffed with dates resting on his bedside with a glass of milk that Lyall had put a cooling charm on. And they’re indulgent treats that Vivian makes for both Eids every year even though they don’t celebrate them in any other way lol. But the cookies always reminds him of family and of feeling safe in his mother’s arms, and they still work to make him feel better even after the worst thing he has ever experienced in his short life.

Remus’s love of poetry came from both sides of his parents, but it was listening to his mother recite the story of Majnun Layla in it’s original Arabic that really made him glow for the art form, and brought him to discovering his favorites like Auden and Neruda.

There’s a ornate, wooden prayer box that has been past down on the Hussein side of the family for five generations, it was originally meant to hold a Qran but for the past three it’s simply just been a beautiful piece of decoration. So when Vivian gave it to Remus when he was headed off to Hogwarts, little Remus asked McGonagall to help him with locking charms so it could become a safe place for him to keep his most cherished of nicknacks ant momentos, so obviously, she silently added a charm to keep the wood nearly unbreakable and the extension charm atop of that, like Hermione with her bag, so that he could keep as many happy memories as possible inside of it, and she prayed that there would be so many that it threatened to burst.

The last time Remus opened the box was in 1996, when he was putting away the ring Sirius gifted him as a match to his own in some feeble promise of forever only weeks before James and Lily’s own engagement.

Once during first year, he and the lads were staying up late, trading stories about how they got their most ridiculous scars— after seeing the one that scraped across Remus’s left shoulder blade— But it got to a point where they were all feeling a bit nippish, so they went down to the kitchens for some of the chocolate pudding that was served during dinner that night. And Remus idly asked the house elves if they could make him a batch of Kinafa because he was getting home sick and missed when he and his Mama would dash over to the city whenever they were feeling antsy, and she’d take him to their favorite hooka bar after buying a round of the dessert— which is basically sweetbread stuffed with cheese— from down the block. And they’d stay sitting beneath the starlight, and talking about her job and his lessons from school while she’d let him try a discrete puff or two and they’d laugh about everything and nothing at all.

The next time they stopped by the kitchens one of the younger house elves presented him with the snack gleefully, and it tasted fine, just not like how they do back home. So Remus smiled warmly at Tipsy, the house elf, and thanked her with real sincerity.

But his face must’ve betrayed him because after easter break, Sirius plops down a fresh batch of them on Remus’s bed before leaping into his own, casually mentioning that he saw how grossed out Remus looked when trying the one the house elves made, and it was from a restaurant close to Grimmauld so it’s not that big of a deal, and then he rushed to cursing at James for stealing his favorite pen and swearing that if he broke it he’s gonna have hell to pay. Remus had only blushed and chuckled with a small smile on his face when he cut himself a small piece and finished the half sheet off with the rest of their house later that night during an impromptu party that the Marauders would become infamous for in later years.

It was the summer after second year when all the marauders visited Remus back home in Wales and when they heard Vivian call him Qamar practically every other sentence, which of course lead to endless ribbing and eventually to his nickname of Moony— even though it’s so fucking obvious and Remus loves and hates it in equal parts. God his friends are so fucking stress inducing!

Remus teaches the other marauders funny Arabic curse words and they use them in class so that they can talk shit about particularly disgusting Slytherins without them being any of the wiser. (Yes I did do this with my friends, and I’d do it again! POW! POW! POW!)

It’s from Vivian that Remus has an affinity for coffee as strong as shit, but also prefers his tea weak— specifically two sugars and a dash of milk. But seriously, if you’ve ever tried Arabian coffee you’d understand, that shit is so fucking strong it’s literally a hate crime LMFAO. But yeah, this habit is definitely a point of contention between him and Sirius— who’s actually so fucking posh no matter how much he wants to be punk, and he stands by only drinking black tea— like Merlin intended— and saying bugger off to any and all coffees. “Leave that shite to the French and Americans.” And Remus would try to keep himself from making eyes at him from across the table, because God Sirius is hot when he’s all fiery and impassioned, even when it’s about the dumbest, most inconsequential shit.

Something that’s sort of funny is that Remus was the first among them to become a fucking pot head and could drink them all under the table even though Sirius himself has got two stone and three inches on him. But Remus still refuses to eat ham, purely because he never grew up eating it and doesn’t care too now. Sirius had to specifically ask Euphemia and Monty to make turkey for Christmas dinner their sixth year just because he knew that Remus’s head would probably implode with the decision between being rude and not eating it or forcing himself to gag down the unfamiliar meat.

When Remus is really, really fucking drunk he definitely spends the night only speaking in Arabic! (Don’t look at me I’m trash just because I stole this from my own life lmfao) But yeah, it’s really fucking hilarious and Sirius swears to God he’s so fucking in love with him while listening to Remus ranting in the unfamiliar language. And he’s like positive that half the time he’s actually just cursing Sirius out but he doesn’t even care because it’s SO! DAMN! CUTE! And sometimes Sirius decides to speak French at a drunk off his arse Moony, who occasionally replies back in a stiff staccato before returning back to the easy Arabic. And it’s just a mess.

Ok so sadness warning

In my head, Vivian loses her fight against breast cancer the July after the Marauders graduate from Hogwarts, and afterwords Remus gets a tattoo of her name in Arabic on his chest, and the word for soul on the nape of his neck. He locks away that battered copy of Magnun Layla in the wooden box she gave him years ago, along with a woolen scarf that smelt like her perfume.

It’s Sirius who buys a set of prayer beads to hang off her photo above the mantel in the flat he and Remus share, and when Remus sees it he literally feels like he might crack open with tears, but opts to kiss Sirius thank you instead, and they stay tangled on the sofa for the rest of the day in quiet contemplation.

One night, in late 1979, while the war was only getting worse and worse— Sirius was hit by a cutting curse to the ribs. And it was really fucking bad, but thankfully James got him to his house in time for Lily to help and heal. He slept for the most part for nearly an entire day, but remembers snippets. Like when Remus had sprinted into the room with fear painted all over his soft features, and when James put a cooling cloth to his head. But most distinctly, Sirius recalls Remus gingerly lying besides him and Sirius talking gibberish at his boyfriend while Remus plunged his entire face against his back, eyes wet with tears and body shuttering as he squeezed him softly, saying something quietly in Arabic. Sirius obviously didn’t understand like 99.9% of it, but he did catch the word “Habibi,” which he instantly remembers as an old pet name Vivian use to call Remus with so much love it made her entire countenance sparkle. It’s an endearment that means beloved, or darling, and it feels like Remus is begging Sirius to stay with him and Sirius’s throat is still raw from the screaming, so he can only reply by dragging Remus’s hand up to his mouth and kissing his knuckles tenderly. And he knows that whatever he does for the rest of his days, he loves Remus Lupin with every cell in his body.

Oof this got mad depressing…. Chow anyways, I can add a picture of the container you’re suppose to use for the instance if anyone wants that?

Thank you again dear Nonny!!!

Ask Me For Headcanons About A Story I’ve Written Or For One You Want To See Written

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #MARAUDERS #THE HARRY POTTER SERIES #SIRIUSXREMUS #REMUSXSIRIUS #HEADCANONS #HEADCANONS BY LEN #FIC: MAMA LUPIN IS A BABE

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kirishimas-manly-eyeliner · 4 years ago

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Okay feel free to ignore this if you want it’s kinda just a huge rant thing about me thinking that my brothers might be racist so uh yeah, debated on being on anon for thsi or not for like ten minutes cause there some real personal stuff here. Kinda been bottling this up for a while and for some reason you seem like a good person to tell it to.

Tw cursing btw

So I’m white, might be a little sprinkle of Cuban but honestly have no idea besides that I’m white as hecc. I have four brothers, I’m also adopted, but because when I was adopted my biological brother wasn’t adopted too because he was already a adult. But my biological brother (just gonna call him bb if I refer to him again) is not white, we have different dads. I’m very much white and he’s black? I don’t really know, never asked and didn’t really see it as something important. I love him for him, his skin color never mattered in that. But if I had to describe it he’s a lighter black, maybe Arabic or Cuban? And most of my friends throughout my whole time living where I do, most of my friends are black, or Hispanic. So, as you can assume, I have lots of sympathy for POC. I have no idea what it’s like and try to support my friend any time they are put down for their skin color. (I may or may not have punch a kid once cause he said a friend of mine was disgusting and should “go back to her sick country” cause she’s a Muslim, apparently the kids grandpa died in 9/11 so liek I guess I can see where it’s from but like, dude……)

So I have three other brother, live with two of them cause the other moved out for college. So, now to the two brother might be racist part. Prepare to be pissed off 👍 /hj . So, when all the protests started at the begging of quarantine, my family talked a bit about it cause we had nothing else to do.

and these two straight, cis, white teens had the damn arrogance to BOTH say that they were “bullied for being white” and yeah, one of them was bullied very bad as a kid, but like??????? No?????? Just, no????? You are a cisgender white straight man????????? Who is considered attractive by most of your peers?????? YOU ARE NOT BULLIED, THERE MIGHT HAVE BEEN TIME WHERE SOMEONE TRIED TO SHAKE SOME SENSE INTO YOUR ASS THAT YOU LITERALLY ARE THE MOST PRIVILEGED PEOPLE IN AMERICA SINCE THE FUCKING BEGINNING AND YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO SAY THAT YOUR MADE FUN IF FOR IT??????? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?????

And MY shy ass didn’t say a damn thing because “it’s not my place to talk, I’m white as heck and have never been made fun of for being white”

And also, “racism it’s the even a big thing anymore”??????? PISSES ME OFF WHEN EVER I THINK OF IT TO NO END

Like, first of all, IF THERE ARE PROTESTS AND PEOPLE ARE BEING KILLED FOR BEING BLACK THEN I THINK RACISM IS STILL A THING !!!!!

Second, YOU ARE A MAN, A CISGENDER MAN!!!! BOTH OF YOU!!!!! MEANWHILE AT THE TIME I WAS STILL CLOSETED SO YOUR SAYING THIS SHIT IN FRONT OF YOUR “SISTER” WHO HAS SAID THAT “SHE” WAS PUT DOWN A NUMBER OF TIMES FOR BEING BIOGRAPHICALLY FEMALE BY BOYS WHO THREW ROCKS AT GIRLS IN FIRST GRADE????? WHO LITERALLY HAS A SCAR FROM A SHARP ROCK THAT WAS THROWN AT MY BACK BY SOME KID IN FIRST GRADE???????

THIRD, YOU ARE CIS GENDER!!!! Hey hey hey, buddy, imagine not being able to go outside without worrying that you’ll get killed while walking to the dollar tree because you drew a non-binary flag on your arm the other day and couldn’t rub it off!!!!! How great does that sound :D /s

Fourth, you are STRAIGHT!!!!!!! BEING THE GAY ONE IN THE FAMILY IS KINDA HARD! And then how much it hurt seeing them make jokes about slapping each other’s asses, and making fun of a kid cause he sounded gay (who literally became homophobic because of it, as a kid he was supportive of it, but now is sorta homophobic because he’s straight and has been made fun of for people thinking he’s gay), TOOK THE “pedophiles are being added to LGBT” FUCKING SERIOUSLY

LIKE, I WASN’T OUT AT THE TIME AND THEY STOPPED MAKING JOKES LIKE THAT AFTER I TOLD THEM, BUT THEY ARE SO HORRIBLE SOMETIMES I SWEAR!!!! I AHVE NO IDEA HOW YHEY GREW TO BE LIEK THIS BECAUSE MY MOM ALWAYS TELLS THEM TO FUCKING STOP BECAUSE ITS OFFENSIVE AND RUDE, AND MY DAD SHOWS THAT HE DOENST LIEK IT EITHER

so that’s my Ted talk, moral of the story, if your a straight white cisgender man stop complaining about it.

tw: racism, homophobia, transphobia

THAT SH!T PISSES ME OFF WTF

(DISCLAIMER: okay y’all, to be clear: i’m in no way bashing anyone who’s straight or cisgender. this is talking about the topic in general and how people have negative influences on others, but it’s not directly related to them being white, straight, and cis-- it’s about the way that they’re handling it and how immature those people are. please don’t be offended if you fit into any of those categories.)

okok, thanks for letting me know all of this info boo! just wanted to let you know that you’re one heck of an amazing person and i think you’re so so strong for still being here. so pls oml, GIVE YOURSELF A PAT ON THE BACK BECAUSE YOU DESERVE IT! and hey, despite all you’ve been through, i can’t stress HOW thankful i am that you haven’t let it get to you. you’re not a cold-hearted and rude person and that just fills me with so much love for you because that’s just such a beautiful thing.

BUT NOW.

THE BROTHERS.

BAE I AM SO SORRY.

now now i’m supposed to be loving and kind to everyone, but this- i- i don’t know how to sugarcoat this.

they are white.

they are cisgender.

and they are men, straight men, at that.

AND THEY HAVE THE AUDACITY TO SAY THAT THEY’VE BEEN BULLIED FOR BEING WHITE??

I JUST BLACKED OUT FOR A SECOND THERE

LISTEN, I KNOW THERE’S BEEN A LOT OF DISCRIMINATION LATELY. THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A VERY SWEET, KIND, AMAZING WHITE GUY GAL OR NONBINARY PAL SAYING THAT THEY GOT BULLIED IN GENERAL? THAT’S OKAY, COMPLETELY OKAY.

BUT IF THEY HAVE ALREADY CROSSED THE LINE MULTIPLE TIMES AND THEN CHOSE TO THINK ABOUT THEMSELVES FOR “being white??” like honey come again, what did they say?? like did someone go to you and say, “yooooo guys, i’m white!” and use their fingers to make their eyes bigger? and yet it’s okay when you, you stupid cis white straight man make your eyes smaller and say “ch*ng ch*ng” and sing it to a bunch of asian kids?? is that what it is to you?

CHERRY I AM SO SORRY WTF THAT MUST BE TERRIBLE

and then.

i am trying so very hard not to scream rn because i can FEEL your pain through this ask.

and tHEN THEY SAY “racism isn’t a big thing anymore.”

...i’m sorry, did i hear you correctly?

racism isn’t a big thing anymore?

RACISM ISN’T A BIG THING ANYMORE???

RIGHT, RIGHT, HOW ABOUT YOU TELL THAT TO THE MILLIONS OF PEOPLE WHO FOUGHT FOR BLM AND ASIAN LIVES AS THEY SCREAMED FOR JUSTICE?? HOW ABOUT YOU TELL THAT TO THE PEOPLE WHO’VE BEEN MURDERED JUST FOR BEING IN THEIR OWN SKIN?? HOW ABOUT YOU TELL THAT TO THE PEOPLE WHO’VE LOST FAMILY AND FRIENDS BECAUSE THEY WERE JUST BEING HUMAN.

AND THEN THEY DON’T RESPECT YOUR PRONOUNS??

i’m literally about to cry right now, that’s so messed up

AND I AM SO SORRY ON BEHALF OF WHAT YOU’RE GOING THROUGH, THIS MUST BE SO ROUGH RIGHT NOW AND I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TERRIBLE THIS MUST BE FOR WHAT YOU’RE GOING THROUGH.

BUT YOU

ARE

STRONG

AMAZING

OVERLORD

AND I AM VERY VERY PROUD OF YOU

FOR FIGHTING AND CONTINUING TO BE KIND TO OTHERS

ILY VERY MUCH AND I THINK YOU’RE A NEAT PERSON, REMEMBER THAT YOU ARE VALID. YOU ARE SO VALID. ILY.

#ellie rants #kme: kirishima-my-beloved

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imaginewithmgk · 5 years ago

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hiii ❤️ I love your work, could you do something like MGK and the reader goes to see the readers parents for the weekend, then it turns into a smut scene, please ❤️❤️❤️

MEETING THE PARENTS

request eleven

summary: colson goes to meet y/n’s parents

word count: 2,321

warnings: smut

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Colson follows me into my childhood bedroom and plops himself down on my bed. He runs his fingers through his hair and sighs.

“You okay?” I ponder as I look around, memories flooding my mind.

“Just stressed. Can I tell you something and you promise not to judge?” He says wearily. I turn around to look at him and furrow my eyebrows.

“Of course,” I sit down on the bed with him and run my fingers up and down his arm. He moves so that he’s sitting against the head of my bed and allows me to rest my head on his chest. He wraps his arms around me and follows my actions, rubbing his ring clad fingers along my arms.

“I’ve never met the parents before, like any of my girlfriends. I’m just super nervous,” I turn my head up to look at him.

“Awe baby, don’t be nervous. My parents are super chill,“

“I hope so. I’m just afraid they’ll judge me too quickly because of the way I look,” He admits.

“They won’t. Your personality will charm them I promise,”

“I hope so,” I manoeuvre my body so I can kiss his lips gently. The kiss quickly turns heated. He grabs my ass and tugs me towards him so I’m straddling his waist. I grind my ass into his crotch as he lets out a low moan. I smile into the kiss. He lifts up my dress so he can get a firm grip on my ass, before moving his fingers into the front of my underwear and rubbing my clit lightly. I gasp and begin to undo his belt but my phone rings, interrupting us. He groans in protest when I answer it.

“Hello mother,” I giggle.

“Hey sweetie, where are you?” She asks.

“I’m in my bedroom at the moment, just showing Colson around.” He grins and gives me a cheeky wink.

“Where are you?”

“Your father and I are just at the store getting a few last-minute things for dinner. Colson doesn’t have any allergies or issues with food does he?”

“No, he’s not picky.”

“Okay hun, we will be home in about 10 minutes.”

“No problem, see you then!” I smile and hang up the phone.

“They’re going to be home in 10,” I pout, not wanting our make-out session to end.

“Quickie?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Why not?” I shrug my shoulders and quickly run over to my door, locking it. Before I can make my way back to my bed, Colson pushes me up against the door and attaches his lips to my neck. He trails wet kisses from my neck down to my collarbones, making sure to not leave any marks. He lifts me up so I can wrap my legs around his waist. He uses one hand to hold me up, not sure how, and the other to pull my underwear down to the bottom of my thighs. I hurriedly unbuckle his belt and pull his jeans down as far as I can. I pull his boxers down too and move my head so I can kiss him. He slips his cock inside me and begins thrusting. He manages a few sloppy thrusts before beginning a rhythm. I hear the front door open downstairs and stare at him with wide eyes. He only smirks at me and thrusts harder, hitting my g-spot. I let out a loud moan but he uses his hand to cover my mouth. I lightly bite on his fingers as he continues thrusting to keep myself from moaning.

“I’m gonna cum,” He whispers and I nod along, signalling him that I am close. Colson lets out the most attractive grunt as he cums inside me, the noise sends me over the edge and I cum too. I kiss him passionately as he moves away from me and pulls up his pants. I pull my underwear up too. We stand there panting and staring into each other’s eyes as we hear a knock on the door.

“You in there Y/N?” I hear my dad’s voice.

“Y-yeah! Just going to the toilet and then I’ll be out!” I yell.

“Okay, see you at the dinner table!” He says. His footsteps slowly fade away as I turn to look at Colson.

“That was way too close,” He laughs. I just laugh with him as we make our way to my bathroom to fix ourselves up. Colson adds a few pieces of jewellery and fixes his hair as I use the toilet and then proceed to fix my makeup and messy hair.

We make our way to the dining room, but not before stopping in the kitchen to introduce Colson to my parents. I look over at him to see him fiddling with his rings, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this nervous. Let alone nervous at all.

“Mum? Dad?” I ask as they stand facing away from us. They turn around and immediately set their eyes on my boyfriend, both with a clearly unimpressed look on their faces. I knew they were going to judge his looks but hopefully, his personality changes their views. Never judge a book by its cover.

“Y/N! Oh, we’ve missed you so much!” My mum says, walking over to us and giving me a tight hug. My dad follows her actions.

“And this must be Colson, is it?” My dad asks shaking his hand. Colson nods.

“Yes, that’s me. It’s nice to meet you Mr and Mrs L/N,”

“You too son,” My mum gives him a hug. He smiles at them. “And please call us by our first names, Y/M/N and Y/D/N,”

“Okay,” He replies hesitantly.

“Is dinner ready?” I interrupt the awkward interaction.

“Oh, yes! You two go sit at the table and we will bring the rest of the food out,” My mum ushers us out of the room.

Colson and I sit on the same side of the table. He grabs my hand under the table.

“Don’t be nervous, I think they like you.” I give him a small smile, god I hope they like him. He just gives me a small smile back and squeezes my hand. My parents bring out the rest of the food and sit opposite us.

“Please serve yourself,” My dad says. We do as they say and begin eating.

“This food is dope- uh I mean very good,” Colson says awkwardly. I laugh at him and nod my head in agreement.

“My mum makes the best lasagna in Cleveland,"

"I totally agree,” He says.

“Thank you,” My mum replies.

“So Colson, unfortunately, Y/N has yet to tell us much about you. She said it would make for great conversation to know nothing about you when we finally met you.” Dad says, which makes Colson laugh.

“Did you grow up in Cleveland?”

“Yes and no. My family moved around a lot, I spent a lot of my childhood in Egypt and Kenya. I lived in Germany for a little bit and then eventually ended up in Cleveland,”

“That’s really interesting. Can you speak multiple languages then?” My mum asks.

“Funny thing, apparently when I came to the US I was just speaking Arabic to everyone.” All four of us laugh along.

“Do your parents live in Cleveland now?” Colson awkwardly clears his throat.

“My mom left me and my dad when I was younger, I’m not sure where she is. But yes, my dad lives here,” He says in a low tone.

“Oh I’m so sorry,” My mum apologises.

“It’s alright, I’ve gotten over it by now,” He chuckles awkwardly.

“I can’t believe you and Y/N never crossed paths considering you probably grew up in the same areas,” My dad says.

“I didn’t exactly grow up in the best area. Not around here,” He circles his finger, meaning the area we are in now.

“Oh right,” My dad replies. “So what do you do for a living?” Oh no, here comes the judgement.

“I um actually, I’m in the entertainment industry,"

"Oh, are you a manager or something?” Great.

“I’m a musician,” Colson smiles. “I’m not sure if you’ve ever heard of me, I go by the stage name Machine Gun Kelly. I also act though, um I was in a film recently called ‘The Dirt’. It was about the band Mötley Crüe. I played their drummer, Tommy Lee. And other films too,” He rambles.

“The famous Cleveland rapper Machine Gun Kelly!?” My dad exclaims. “And I love Mötley Crüe!”

“How do you know who Machine Gun Kelly is?” I ask, surprised.

“I’m up to date with the "youngins” darling,“ My dad jokes. I just shake my head in embarrassment.

"I’m so sorry,” I giggle at Colson.

“No that’s really cool that you’ve heard of me,”

“You’ll have to show me that movie sometime son,” My dad says.

“Of course. Although it can be a bit graphic at times,”

“That’s alright,”

“So, how did you meet Y/N?” My mum asks.

“I met her on the set of one of my music videos,”

“Yeah we actually met years ago but only began dating at the start of this year,” I tell her.

“This may be strange to ask but how do you have so many tattoos? That must hurt,” My mum says strangely. Here comes the interrogation.

“Uh yeah some of them hurt, but I’m sort of used to it now. I would love to show you all of them but I think most of them are in places too inappropriate for the dinner table.” He laughs, clearly regretting what he said right after.

“Excuse me?” My mum exclaims.

“Oh god. I didn’t mean it like that. I just uh have a lot on my chest and back, not just my arms. I don’t exactly want to strip right now."

"Okay! That’s enough of that,” I laugh and elbow Colson lightly. "Mum, Dad, how was your recent holiday?“ I say awkwardly. We continue talking through dinner, my parents still grilling Colson but they seem to have gotten over the awkwardness. Apart from when they asked him how much money he makes…

Colson and I made our way back to my bedroom.

"Jesus fucking christ,” He paces around the room. “That was so awkward. I can’t believe I said that shit to your mom. Fuck they probably hate me now. At least I didn’t swear though! Oh god,” He put his head in his hands.

“Hey, hey, hey,” I say in a soothing tone as I wrap my arms around his torso. “You did great. I think they really like you,"

"I hope so,” He kisses my lips gently. A knock on the door interrupts us. I open it to see my mum.

“Do you want to join us for drinks and a movie?” She asks. I look at Colson awaiting his answer.

“Yeah sure,” He smiles. My mum smiles back.

“I’m just going to get changed and then we’ll be down,” I tell her. She nods and closes the door behind her. I quickly change into sweats and one of Colson’s tops while he changes into sweats as well but puts on a loose tank top.

“You do realise they’re going to ask you a lot of questions about your tattoos now that you can see more right?” I smirk at him. He just nods.

“At least it can’t get more awkward,” We laugh together.

“Come on, let’s go,” I peck his lips and lead him out of my room. He grabs my hand and twirls me around so that I’m up against his chest.

“You look so sexy in my top and those pants,” He whispers as he kisses me deeply. I smile and pull away.

“Save that for later,” I wink at him. He lightly slaps my ass and chases me down the hallway.

We walk into the lounge room and sit down on the couch, Colson slings his arm around my shoulders and rests his other hand on mine.

“Oh my, you do have a lot of tattoos don’t you?” My mum questions.

“Yeah, I’ve lost count by now. With your permission, I can show you the rest if you’d like. I’m quite proud of them,” He gives an innocent smile.

“Sure! Y/D/N, get in here!” We both laugh at their antics. “Okay show us,” Colson just chuckles and takes off his tank top. I bite my lip as I watch his back muscles flex, his tattoos are so sexy to me and are honestly my biggest turn on which is awkward when my parents are in the same room as us. He shows his chest pieces and explains what some of them mean and then he turns around and shows them the huge “MGK” mural. He also pulls his pants up to show as many of his leg ones that he can without actually taking off his pants.

“I got a new one recently, that I haven’t even shown Y/N yet,”

“Wait really?” I become interested, I can’t believe I haven’t noticed. He lifts up his arm to see my name and our anniversary tattooed in the once bare space. I cover my mouth in shock. I walk over to him and trace my name.

“That is so cool! I love you so much,” I tell him before I realise what I had just said. We haven’t said “I love you” yet.

“You do?” He turns around and embraces me in his arms, picking me up and spinning me around.

“I love you too!” He says with the biggest grin on his face.

“What just happened?” My dad ponders.

“Well that was the first time we’ve said we love each other,” I say shyly.

“You guys are so cute!” My mum yells. She pulls us both into a hug, along with my dad. I’m so glad they’re getting along.

i wrote this at like 2am pls don’t judge

tagged: @2dead2function @s-j-g-x @bakerkells @mayaslifeinabox @Onlybadthingz @PumpkinQueenest19 @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @Feeding-into-darkness @xxkellsvixen19xx @lovemythsworld @xwhitewalkerx @deanwinchesterswife121 @jindongdongie

#ask #request #prompt #writing #machine gun kelly #mgk #colson baker #rook #est #est4life #est19xx #hotel diablo #smut #love #parents

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miracul0us-multishipper · 5 years ago

Text

Welcome to the back (Part 3)

First Chapter Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Thanks for your sweet comments! I’m in a storm of motivation, so here’s your third part today!

- - -

Lunchtime came, and with it the time to execute her plan.

Lila walked towards Felix, confident that this time, he wouldn’t be able to brush her off.

He was alone, so no Marinette to spoil her fun either.

“Excuse me?”, she asked and gave him her sweetest smile when he turned around. “I think you dropped this.”

She held out the expensive looking pen she’d snatched from his briefcase. Shocked he checked his bag, only to find that it was indeed missing.

“I... I didn’t notice.” He took it from her with the outmost care, then added “Thank you.”

She waved it off.

“Don’t mention it. I have quite the collection myself, for calligraphy, and I know how important these can become to you.”

Surprise washed over his face, softening his features.

“You do calligraphy?”

He’d taken the bait.

“Oh, just a little.”, she said humbly. “A librarian in Saudi Arabia taught me. Their alphabet is so fluent and pretty, it just kind of rubbed off on my handwriting.”

He looked a little suspicious, but also intrigued.

“Interesting. I should try learning arabic, then.”

“I can only recommend it. Sadly, I can’t do much calligraphy anymore. Ever since I sprained my wrist, my writing has never been the same again.”

She took two full seconds to look suffering, before cheering up a little.

“But that’s no problem. I can still write poems on my phone.”

“You’re writing as well?”

“Yes! I just finished one, do you want to see?”

She pulled him to the bench next to them and showed him her phone, careful to show off the picture of a violin she’d selected for her background. Then she opened her notes app and presented him her poem. Of course, she hadn’t written it herself. No, she’d simply taken one of his and changed it here and there until it was unrecognizable, but the general rhythm and atmosphere was the same.

“That’s... really good!”, Felix admitted slowly, rereading it. “It feels... familiar.”

“Oh, you write poetry too?”, she asked innocently and he nodded.

“It means a lot to me. As Da Vinci said: Poetry is a painting that is felt rather than seen. My poems are... very important for me.”

Lila beamed. She had him hooked, now she only needed to pull him in.

“You should totally accompany me to the Eiffel Tower this Friday! It’s the perfect place for gathering inspiration and ideas.”

“Uhm, excuse me?”, an all too familiar voice interrupted them. Lila sighed deeply.

“What is it, Marinette?”

The pigtailed girl looked as if she was about to scream, but Adrien behind her nudged her on. Around them, students started to gather, curious about what might happen. With two of the new students present, combined with the girl from the dramatic discussion earlier, it was bound to get interesting.

Lila smiled.

Felix watched Agreste push her forward with a frown. That boy sure seemed intent to test Marinette’s boundaries today.

“I wanted... I am here to apologize.”, the black haired student pressed out. Felix didn’t miss her choice of words. He had no doubt Agreste had pressured her into this.

“I didn’t mean to sound rude when I suggested asking Felix, this morning. You know, about your seating idea.”

Lila sighed and gave her a look of understanding.

“It’s alright. I know you’re not the most... eloquent with words. I’m sure you only wanted to help.”

Felix frowned. This was what they expected apologies for?! Not cutting him off or failing to ask him in the first place?

“I’m happy you’ve gotten this out of the way!”, Agreste commented and beamed as Ladybloggers boyfriend, whatever his name was, patted him on the back as if he’d just singlehandedly created world peace. What an odd class.

“That’s not everything.”, Marinette said to everyone’s surprise, as it seemed. Agreste’s face fell and he tapped her on the shoulder, but she didn’t react. Instead, she pulled out a very familiar notebook out of her purse. She swallowed, before holding it out to him. Felix froze.

“It was in my bag, and your name is written on the inside.”, she said monotonously. Resigned almost. “I swear I don’t know how it got there.”

The students around them gasped and whispered. Marinette pressed her eyes shut, but didn’t lower her hand until he’d taken his notebook back. Only then she looked at him, as if bracing herself for what was to come. He didn’t know what to think.

“You don’t know how it got there?”, Lila said accusingly. “Marinette, I’m glad you decided to give Felix his book back, but at least admit how you’ve obtained it in the first place!”

Marinette took a step forward, opening her mouth to defend herself, but Agreste grabbed her arm and pulled her back. He gave her a stern look, and Marinette shrank. Giving in to whatever Agreste had silently demanded from her, she turned back to Felix.

“I didn’t steal it.”, she whispered, more pleading with him than defending herself. Ladyblogger’s boyfriend laughed nervously.

“Marinette? Stealing? No, no, no, Lila, I’m sure there’s an explanation for all this.”

“Well, she did steal my phone before! And “borrowed” some other things if I remember right.” Ladyblogger herself answered, her eyes jumping from Nino to Lila to Marinette.

“Alya, I...” Marinette began, but Lila interrupted her. It seemed to be her speciality.

“No more excuses, Marinette! You have to apologize for what you did to Felix. His poetry means so much to him!”

The fight continued, with new accusations being thrown around until Marinette looked at the verge of breaking down. Yet she stayed planted into the ground, watching him, waiting for him to say something.

He looked down to his notebook. Nothing was missing, no dog-ears disfiguring his pages. He flipped through the pages, until something caught his eyes. On one page, directly next to the poem Lila’s writing has reminded him of, was a smudge of ink. Black ink, the expensive one he only used for rare occasions. He was familiar enough with his pens to tell them apart by the different shades of black they wrote in, and this particular ink was currently only in the pen Lila had returned to him just now.

He frowned. The smudge definitely looked like it was caused by a thumb, but Marinette’s fingers were clean.

“Marinette”, he asked, silencing everyone. All attention was on him and the girl in front of him. When he held out his hand, she was all but trembling.

“Can I see your hands?”

Surprised she looked up to him, then to his outstretched hand. It was silent enough to hear a fly buzz around on the upper floor. Hesitantly, Marinette placed her hands in his. They felt... warm. Soft. A bit hard at her fingertips, covered with tiny red spots where she seemed to have been injured by a needle. Was she sewing? She twitched a little when he brushed his thumb over her fingertips, and he realized he was letting himself be distracted. He blinked and focused on her thumbs. She had a small cut on her left one, almost healed, and her right thumb was adorned by the swirling lines of an almost circular fingerprint. The lines on the ink in his book were blurred, but definitely straighter than that. He let go of her hands, a bit disappointed at the loss of her warmth.

“She didn’t steal my book.”, he announced and Lila chuckled nervously.

“Really? H-How do you know that?”

He threw her a look that made clear he was more than aware of her role in this.

“There’s an ink stain in my book that wasn’t there this morning. But her hands are clean and her fingerprints don’t match with what little you can see in the smudge. Whoever took my book took one of my ink pens along, and the only one that was missing is the one you gave to me just now, Rossi.”

Another wave of whispers went through the students surrounding them, but he didn’t care. This girl had stolen his most priced possession and framed the only person for it that had ever respected his personal space in this whole goddamn school.

“Now, I’m sure you didn’t mean to, but that does sound like you’re accusing Lila.”, Agreste tried to play peacemaker, dense as always. He scoffed.

“So?”

“W-Well, there’s no proof!”

Felix stilled and Lila spoke up.

“I don’t think he meant it that way, Adrien.” she appeased the crowd. “He’s just faced a lot of stress for his first day. We can still figure out who really stole his poems tomorrow, right, Felix?”

He looked at her, slowly.

“That won’t be necessary.”, he assured, not believing that Rossi made such a fatal, silly mistake. “How did you know this book contains poetry?”

To to be continued

- - -

I’ll be tagging whoever asks for it in the notes, thank you for all that positive feedback! Part 4 is underway!

@a-6-yearold-inside @crazycookie13o @kuroko26 @sinfulfoxbeast

#miramu writes #welcome to the back #wttb #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #ml marinette #adrien agreste #felix leanne #ml felix #felinette fanfic #ml felinette

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omniswords · 5 years ago

Text

How to Open a Padlock, Part 1 [Nino Lahiffe/Camila Siddiq (OC)]

Four times Camila Siddiq ran into Carapace, and one time she found Nino.

I know I’ve been talking about her on and off on this blog, but I’ve had this piece I wrote about her ages ago, maybe a month or so after I even created her. Camila won’t make her Official Debut until the second half of Chronicles, but… here’s what things would be like if she were in the canonverse.

I hope you like it. I really hope you like it.

Before you start, just a quick content warning for explosions and an act of Islamophobia in this part. It’s. Shit’s real, y’all. And I want you to be safe, so take a step away if you need to.

[i.]

This is the sort of thing that’s only supposed to happen in horror stories on the news. In statistics. In social media, in hashtags, in videos blurred out for containing “sensitive content.” In some other country. Not here. Never here.

Camila isn’t supposed to become a statistic, but she just might be, in the Latin Quarter. And for all her supposed tos and shouldn’t haves, maybe she should have expected it after all.

She’s not particularly religious, not the way her parents are. But Friday afternoons are still sacred family time for her. They’re always blocked out for her to meet with her parents in front of the mosque after the lecture and prayer, and to treat them to lunch. It’s the one time she’ll go a little easier on the makeup, make sure her clothes aren’t too ripped or too sheer or too anything, and it’s mostly out of respect for her mother. Her father, as far as she’s concerned, is just there for the ride. Or, she supposes, the drive. It’s his car they all pile into, after all.

And the Latin Quarter isn’t so bad a place. It doesn’t have the same bustle as the eighth arrondissement, but it’s quaint, and quiet, and it feels like a movie sometimes. She’ll even stick around when she doesn’t have any more classes for the day, or even after her practicum, just to meet up with some classmates or friends for tea, book shopping, a casual game of Frisbee in the park or an adventure in one of the art-house cinemas.

It’s just not the sort of place she would ever expect to see thick, black smoke rising. Especially from the Grand Mosque’s dome. Or to hear screaming, especially from the people rushing out and the people still inside.

In the midst of it all, she can’t help but go stock still for a too-long moment, eyes darting around and scanning the crowd. This isn’t supposed to happen here. It isn’t supposed to happen anywhere, but especially not here. Not to her family. Not to her people. They haven’t done anything aside from wanting to live and be good to others. They haven’t done anything aside from wanting to do the things that bring them peace. For God’s sake, it’s in the name of everything they follow, everything they submit to. Why would anyone want to hurt that? Why are there people who still want to hurt that?

She should have known better than to think there was any country out there that could protect her.

Her mother. She can’t find her mother. But her mother should be so easy to find; she’s one of the few people Camila knows who still defies everything to wear her niqab, still gets slapped with the fine for it and everything. But every woman Camila sees pouring out of the side entrance, has her face uncovered, except where they guard themselves from the smoke with their sleeves. Some of them even have children in tow, and it makes her shake that they’ll have to carry this with them. That they’ll have to go around wondering if they’ll ever feel safe anywhere.

Her mother. She has to go get her mother.

Camila’s barely run a few feet before someone grabs her wrist and yanks her back. Before she can shout in protest, there’s an explosion that shakes the ground, and she screams instead and covers her head to protect herself. She’s gathered up in someone’s arms, against a body, and the ear-splitting sound of it is muffled by a shield.

Wait.

A shield?

Once the explosion subsides and the ground stops shaking, she looks up, slowly. There’s still chaos around her, noise and confusion and questions of when and how and why, but the person holding her barely acts like it. From what she can see under the hood, he’s all serious stares and gritted teeth, talking into some kind of communicator. To Ladybug. She hears Ladybug.

It’s him.

“Carapace?” she ventures to say. She’s surprised at how even she sounds. How she’s not breaking into scared sobs. Maybe it’s the stress hormones. Maybe it’s the fight-or-flight simmering in her blood. “What are you—”

“Akuma,” is his reply, and it’s only then that Carapace looks down to acknowledge her. “You can’t go in there, are you crazy? You don’t know what could happen if that guy gets his hands on you.”

“I don’t even know what is happening.” Camila never knows what’s happened. These akuma things were never a problem before she left home, and now it feels like they’re an everyday occurrence. An annoyance, until now. She struggles in his grip, but if anything, Carapace only holds on tighter. “And I have to go in there, let me go—”

“I can’t,” he says, covers her even more with his shield. “I’m not gonna let one more person get hurt if I can help it—”

“I’m not leaving without her!” she shrieks, and now she’s starting to shake, and she’s pretty sure her makeup is starting to run, and she doesn’t care, she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care what happens to her, as long as—

Carapace pauses, shifts back to hold her at arm’s length. There’s something almost… anxious in his eyes. She has to wonder how many times he’s felt this way. If any of these other superheroes in town feel it, too. “Who?” he asks. Soft. Maybe even a little scared.

It’s impossible not to trust him. She trusted him with her life long before they ever met. “My mother,” she croaks, and gestures in the air with a hand swiping over her mouth. “Her face is covered. I can’t find her.”

“I’ll get her,” he says, so firmly that she’d believe him if she didn’t already. He fits his shield onto his back, and gathers her up into his arms in a bridal carry. “But I’m taking you somewhere safe first. Can’t hurt your mother by letting something happen to you.”

Carapace has a point, as much as Camila hates to admit it. Reluctantly, she fits her arms around his shoulders—which are surprisingly, amazingly broad, and casts one last glance at the building, at her brothers and sisters rushing to safety and the lithe figures battling it out in the distance. It will all be fixed in the end, she has to tell herself. Ladybug will fix everything in the end.

Well.

Almost everything.

“You don’t have to look anymore,” Carapace says, a soft, gentle murmur that she can feel in his chest. And he turns her head away. His heart is pounding hard, she can hear that too, and he tells her to hold on tight before he leaps. She screams when he does, her stomach jolting like she’s on some roller coaster ride or an elevator drop, and she holds onto him even faster than before, and he tells her, “Don’t look down. Whatever you do, don’t look down.”

So she closes her eyes to fight off the temptation, and tries not to think about how Carapace is literally talking to her and carrying her, and settles for straining to hear the grumble of Arabic under Carapace’s breath. She knew he was Moroccan, ever since the Ladyblog confirmed it. But it’s still so strange to hear someone so above her, someone she and pretty much every other woman in her family look to, speaking words that are so familiar to her. Not that she’s heard many people swear in her dialect of Arabic—in fact, even the thought of it makes her shudder—but he drops a couple here and there, talking about a fucking akuma in the fucking courtyard, and how this Hawk Moth fellow had better prepare to meet God in his grave, and—

Oh.

Did he just—?

They’re tucked away near the Pantheon before she knows it, or can say anything. The fighting and the panic are still there, in the distance, and something pulls at her heart and makes her want to go back, makes her want to demand why Carapace took her away. It doesn’t take much from him to quiet that tension, though. Just an earnest look—something so familiar to her, painful in how she can’t place it for how rattled she is—and the same three words. “I’ll get her.” And then, three more: “Stay here. Please.”

She takes a slow, shaky breath, nearly slumping against the wall behind her. She would have loved to meet him some other way. Any other way. She just guesses there wouldn’t be any other way, if he only comes out when there’s danger. “Camila,” she finally says.

Carapace seems to freeze for a moment, fists clenched tight. But his stance relaxes, and his voice goes low and soft. “Is that your mom’s name?” he asks.

“It’s mine.” She swallows hard, fingers latching onto the gold hamsa pendant her grandmother gave to her years ago. “I figure you ought to know the name of the person who owes you one. Or two.”

For the first time since she met him, Carapace smiles. It makes his eyes glitter. Maybe it’d make her heart flutter, too, if he didn’t have somewhere to go. “Hey. You don’t owe me nothin’ but your safety.”

It’s not a very tall order, and she really does wish there were more she could do than just… wait. But if that’s all a superhero is asking of her, then maybe it’s all she needs. She steadies herself, stands up straight, can’t bring herself to look anywhere else but at him. “You…” she starts uneasily, clears her throat. “You think I’m pretty?”

He did say it before. How cruel someone had to be to attack such a pretty girl. Maybe he didn’t know she could understand. Or maybe he forgot. Either way, he blushes, deep red under that hood of his, and nods without a word, and then he’s off again.

Pretty.

Carapace, the hero of literally every Arab in Paris, thinks she’s pretty.

(Well. Of course she already knew she was. It doesn’t make her any less fluttery.)

The waiting game is the worst part. Having to listen for all those distant sounds, poking her head around the corner to look for the occasional person or two running away from the commotion, or maybe a bright green force field. Her body’s shaking so much that it’s almost hard to stand, but she said she wouldn’t leave. So she’s not leaving. She’s waiting. And waiting. Fixing her face, and holding herself together, and waiting.

When the flurry of ladybugs come and return the neighborhood to the way it was, she heaves a sigh of relief, and suddenly the waiting doesn’t feel so bad. It’s numbered, right down to the moment Carapace brings her parents back to her, and he slips away before she can even thank him again.

She hopes, in the time her mother is holding her together instead, in the time that her father is watching news of the arrest on his phone, that Carapace remembered her name.

(“I was there,” she tells Nino later over glasses of iced mint tea and sweets from Marinette’s parents’ bakery. “I was there, and I was scared to death, and I couldn’t do anything.”

Over the sound of a soccer match, Nino squeezes her shoulder, and then her hand. “But someone did,” he says, and he pulls her into a hug. “Someone did so you didn’t have to.”

Someone did, but it wasn’t her.)

#miraculous ladybug #camino #nino lahiffe #oc: camila siddiq #nino/oc #face in hands #please validation..............

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lunarnoona5342 · 4 years ago

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So I had a second attempt at a Pokémon X nuzlocke and beat it this time

For those who don't know, a nuzlocke is a self-enforced game mode of Pokémon where you can only catch the first Pokémon you encounter on a route, you must nickname them to encourage closeness, and if the Pokémon faint in battle, they are dead: you can no longer use them. I added an extra rule onto the route rule: I can catch the first Pokémon that comes from a rock smash on a route, since that's something that can rarely be done on routes anyway, and also I'm prone to killing Pokémon so I needed a fighting chance at this. With the rules sorted, we can move onto my second attempt at a nuzlocke (with my best friend Mar (@serpentine-fxrtune) beside me to help name my Pokémon and mock my dead ones with bonus friends Bread and Ariel (@catboy5000))

I played as a male named Takehiko because me, Mar, and a couple other friends have a Pokémon fan project thing going on between us and Takehiko is one of my characters who is Kalosian. When I was offered to be nicknamed Big T at the beginning of the game, I could not refuse. I picked Froakie to be my starter and already had naming issues, so I consulted Mar for a nickname. She suggested the French word for frog, and I just went with it because, yanno, Kalos is based on France. And so, I gained my first Pokémon, Grenouille. I go to route 2 and encounter the obligatory Pidgey (which doesn't count as my first encounter, I don't have any Pokéballs at this point) and sit through Serena teaching me to catch Pokémon (who btw I forgot existed in this game) by talking to Mar about something I remembered.

Me: I just wanna talk about SKZ's English names, specifically Changbin's name. Like it's normal, it's just Lewis, but CHAN TRIED TO CONVINCE HIM TO BE CALLED BARTHOLOMEW, THAT'S LIKE IF I TRIED TO GIVE BREAD AN ARABIC NAME AND CHOSE TO NAME HIM ABDUL RAHMAN, THAT'S NOT EASY TO SAY.

Me: Should I name my first Pokémon Bartholomew, for what Changbin could have been?

Mar, ever the enabler: Sure, I can't really stop you.

So I named the Weedle I caught Bartholomew, and proceeded into Santalune forest.

So we move on (and I'm just ignoring rival battles because they're just not it) and out to route 3, where I caught a Fletchling. Following on from my SKZ English names talk from earlier, I named the bird Sky, because Seungmin's English name is cute goddammit. So when I got to Santalune, I ran into a problem: I had no Pokémon that could be super effective against Viola. I head over to route 22 nearby after grabbing the roller skates to try and get Riolu for a first encounter. Instead of that, I got a Bunnelby.

Me: You are not Riolu... so you shall be named Not Riolu.

So instead of fretting over the type advantage Viola had on me, I chose to grind for higher levels to beat her Pokémon up with power instead; this is when the first casualty came in. Sky, the poor child, got killed by a Riolu using counter because peck didn't do the job of making it faint. Sky was the first to join the graveyaed (yes this is how I spelled it in game). Sky, though you were technically not Seungmin since you were female, you will be missed.

Also forgot to mention: Batholomew is a female too. Moving on-

So after spending a long time grinding, being a bit more careful this time, I finally felt like I was ready for Viola, and I was. I swept the floor with her, Grenouille carrying the team as he was a higher level than the rest. Upon reaching Viola's sister, Alexa, before route 4, I got an exp share, and then she reminded me of what happened in my first attempt at the nuzlocke.

Me: *says a thing about something being sad*

Me and Mar, at the same time: Alexa, play Despacito.

Mar: Name the Pokémon you catch on this route Despacito.

Me: Okay *gets a Flabébé*

Future me: *pockets memory for future Flabébé*

On route 4, I encounter a Skitty, but as I mentioned earlier, I am prone to killing Pokémon and end up killing the Skitty before I could catch it, so I just make my way over to Lumiose to get a Kanto starter after beating up all the trainers on the route.

So this was my conversation with Mar about which Kanto starter to pick (I have a grudge against Ch*rmander okay), and through this I chose its name too: Zekrom 💙

So on route 5 I catch a Furfrou that I nicknamed Floof because it floof and made my way to Camphier, where I went off with Shauna to get the Poké flute to get rid of the Snorlax blocking route 7. I collect the item, and on the way back I catch an Oddish that Mar named Pea for me. I got rid of the Snorlax by running the moment I interact with it - there was no way I'd fight that thing. Onto route 7, where I go into the purple flowers in hopes I get a blue Flabébé, but instead I got an orange one. Regardless of the colour, it was gonna be called Despacito.

In the connecting cave, I catch a Zubat that I named Ciel because I wanted to honour Sky by naming a bat the same thing, just Italian. I move on to route 8, where I get Shelly the Bagon, Shinju the Cubone from the Glistening Cave, and Itzy the Amaura from the fossil I got. It was on the other side of route 8 where the first of 2 rock smash Pokémon emerge, and I'm not sorry for killing the Binacle, it was Dwebble or nothing. In the Twitter thread I forgot to mention that I also caught a Helioptile that I nicknamed Frilly on route 9, but enough of that, now to Grant, the gym that killed my first Pokémon X nuzlocke...

Grant scared me a lot because of how I've always struggled to beat him even when I played normally: he's way too strong to just be a second gym leader. However, thanks to way too much grinding, I was able to beat Grant without any casualties.

So I can't remember how it happened, but at some point in route 10, Shinju died, I can't remember what caused it but it happened and ig I wasn't sad enough about it to remember. On route 10 though, I did get a Snubbull that I named Berri (Mar wanted to name it Ugli but I said No.)

So skip over Geosenge and off to route 11 and Reflective Cave, where I got Zappy the Dedenne and I then killed a Roggenrola by accident because, despite its sturdy ability, it still got hurt by Despacito's rocky helmet and fainted. Unfortunately this is where I lost 2 Pokémon. Kumi died to a Wobuffet that, idk what it did since I wasn't looking at the screen, but I'm assuming Kumi just couldn't take the counter, and fell to the same fate Sky did. Then, Itzy died too, by means I can't remember, but tbh it's me I probably did a dumb type matchup.

Either way I started making Itzy jokes to ease the pain of losing 2 Pokémon consecutively, like "maybe she just wasn't Icy, just on fire all along", and Ariel goes "perhaps she was just a wannabe... 💔".

By this point, my team consisted of Grenouille the Greninja, Zekrom the Charmeleon, Frilly the Helioptile, Despacito the Floette, Pea the Gloom, and Not Lucario the Diggersby (I renamed him from Not Riolu since it evolved).

Eventually, I get to Shalour and get the Lucario from Korrina, who I appropriately named Not DiggersB (Not Diggersby didn't fit so I improvised), and replace Not Lucario. I beat her in battle (without trying either I hadn't noticed I won until I was talking to Korrina again).

I gave up my route 12 encounter to get the Lapras the Pokémon breeder gifts you at the beginning of the route if you speak to him, and Mar named him Lettuce (because iceberg lettuce), and quickly grab myself a Tentacool from Azure Bay that I named Booze because it's water poison. It's when I'm grinding on route 12 for Ramos where I get my biggest casualty so far: Zekrom. Zekrom, the fully evolved Charizard, ready to take on the world, got killed by a Miltank that survived 2 hits from Zekrom and was able to land a bide on him.

Mar asked about Zekrom earlier because I got mocked for his death, and idc about it now but like, it hurt when it happened (yes I did threaten murder but my threats are empty, I'm not edgy I just swear a lot).

So I went and got rid of the Pokémon population of route 12 before *almost* going to Ramos. I noticed that I could go to route 13 before battling him, and it was there I could get a Slugma from the second (and final) use of the rock smash rule I had in place.

*over call*

Me: I'm gonna go take a risk and hope that I can get a Slugma on route 13 using rock smash.

Mar: Slipknot?

Me: *laughing* No, SLUGMA.

Mar: Oh, well you're naming it Slipknot now.

Needless to say, I got very lucky and got a Slugma on first encounter, and named it Slipknot. Unfortunately for me, however, catching Slipknot meant even more grinding for levels. Luckily, Courmarine is where you can get a lucky egg, which gives the holder more exp from battles, and with the use of Pokémon Amie, Slipknot caught up in no time (and evolved into Magcargo). Tbh the thing that took more time was bringing up Slipknot's affection on Pokémon Amie since you literally can't pet Slugma, which eliminates the main way to gain affection. The amount of times I played Tile Puzzle and Head It was quite a lot (never liked Berry Picker, stressful).

So I beat Ramos after pulling a risky move to protect Slipknot from Gogoat's ground move by bringing out Lapras and using ice beam to beat it. I bring the lights back to Lumiose city and go to beat Clemont, where the next big casualty happens - Not DiggersB. I had overestimated Not DiggersB's defense and lost him to an Ampharos that used thunder punch a bit too hard. This was a really bad death since I had a whole ground type in my box just sitting, waiting to be used, but nooooo, I had to used the fighting steel type with bone rush.

Not Lucario, in revenge for his counterpart, destroys Clemont's team, and we're off to Laverre. On route 14 I immediately catch a better ground type (Not a Fish the Stunfisk) and Not Lucario is relegated to the box again, the dirty HM slave. This means more grinding, passing the lucky egg over to Not a Fish, more PokéAmie, and more destruction of the Pokémon population (while also tryna level up both Pea and Despacito enough to get giga drain and moonblast respectively before evolving them into Florges and Bellossom).

To explain Pea and Despacito quickly (and Zappy too), they only evolve into their final forms when they are met with a sun stone (for Bellossom specifically and Heliolisk) and shiny stone (for Florges). I did have a sun stone but used it to evolve Helioptile int Heliolisk so I had to wait until I got to Anistar to get another sun stone, and I only got a shiny stone at the end of route 13, so I saved it until Despacito reached the right level for moonblast, then evolved it (thank you Mar for being the one who knew this info, I'm actual shit at Pokémon).

Anyway, I make it to Laverre, beat Valerie (and almost lose Pea that battle gave me a heart attack), beat up team flare in the factory, get master ball and big nugget, blah blah blah, get better clothes for Big T (which isn't much better male clothes in Pokémon is shit). I get a Foongus on route 15, consult Mar on a name because, once again, naming issues, and she names it Amanita for reasons I've honestly forgotten, and go over to Dendemille, where I redeem heart scales for better moves for Grenouille and Slipknot, and beat up more team flare.

Before I make my way over to Anistar though, I quickly go to route 16 to collect an obligatory Pumpkaboo (that I called Jack). I did (or tried to do in some cases) Pokémon Sword runs for my part of the fan project's E4 and on every file, I've caught a Pumpkaboo so it's tradition.

On route 17 I failed miserably at trying to catch a Delibird, which I wasn't upset about. I use the place to grind a bit more before I make it to Anistar. I grab the sun stone there to finally evolve Pea and just completely destroy Olympia with Grenouille.

So the game's plot "thickens" (aka Lysandre outright says he's the one in charge of team flare) so I do my protag thing, saving the world, when I have to deal with the most heartbreaking and stupid death ever.

Xerneas: *appears*

Me: Okay just master ball it.

Me: *accidentally picks quick ball*

Me: it might be okay it's the first turn anyway-

Xerneas, not expecting to battle so had moonblast ready for fun:👁👄👁 *kills Grenouille*

Me: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

This genuinely hurt me so much I wanted to cry, I was so close to getting Grenouille through it all and he dies to a misclick?! Luckily I got Xerneas in a master ball immediately afterwards. Since it counted as it was the only Pokémon I got in Geosenge, I aptly named it "YOU KILLER".

So I grind a bit more for Xerneas and make my way over to Snowbelle. On route 18 I got a Durant that I named Ditant because I couldn't spell, then got a Sliggoo on route 19 while grabbing sludge bomb for Pea so that she, along with Despacito, can be called the fairy killer.

Despacito the Dragon killer and Pea the Fairy killer honestly sounds so intimidating until you find out they're just a big flower patch and a weed, but they are scary, and can and will kill you without hesitation. I make it to Snowbelle and have to make my way to the Pokémon Village to grab Wulfric to be swept by a heavy metal band, and get myself a Trevenant I named Tree on route 20, and a Zoruark, that immediately replaced YOU KILLER in my party, from the village, and I named him Nuh. Nuh is basically the Muslim name for Noah, as in Noah's Ark Noah, so I did a grammatical joke based on that.

Nuh's Ark = the ark that belongs to Nuh

Nuh's Ark = Nuh is (Zoro)Ark

So I spend my time on route 21 accidentally killing the Ursaring I could've had and then ridding the waters of Lombré and Floatzel for Nuh using Pea. If someone had told me at the beginning of my nuzlocke that my star Pokémon would be a Bellossom, I would've laughed. After a while though, I felt ready. Pea, Despacito, Lettuce, Not a Fish, Slipknot, and Nuh (who I got a heart scale for to learn foul play) were all ready to go down Victory Road and beat the Pokémon League. On the way, I caught a Lickitung, my final Pokémon, that I named Balloon.

(I did have to leave victory road a few times because there's bits where you need to use strength, so I had to fetch Not Lucario because there was no way I was teaching any of my party a HM move this late in the game other than Lettuce learning surf and waterfall).

Going up Victory Road was a breeze (minus the multiple encounters in the caves), and I quickly made my way over to the Pokémon League. I went in, after healing my Pokémon, with an abundant amount of full restores to use freely (I had like P300k the money wasn't going anywhere).

I took on Siebold first, since he's the poetic guy and I wanted to show off Takehiko's abysmal fashion to him first. Needless to say, Pea beat him to a pulp (with Lettuce coming in clutch for his Gyrados by using thunderbolt). Siebold was by far the easiest E4 member.

Next was Wikstrom, whose Probopass had always worried me. It had sturdy, so every time Not a Fish tried to beat it, it'd just survive. Eventually, Wikstrom ran out of full restores, leading to it's untimely demise. Slipknot and Not a Fish cleared out the rest of his team easily.

I took on Malva next, who I legit didn't care about, and just had Lettuce spam surf until I beat her. It worked, of course, so that meant I only had one more battle to go: Drasna the dragon lady who, fun fact, is related to Iris, and is also therefore related to Leon and Hop!

I already knew Drasna would start with Dragalge, a danger to my dragon killer, so I sent out Not a Fish first just to get rid of it. I then sent Despacito out for her Altaria and Noivern, of which Noivern was actually able to land hits on Despacito, getting her in the yellow. Luckily for me, I had Pea learn Dazzling Gleam just in case I needed it, so I switched out Despacito for Pea when Druddigon came out, just to protect my big flower. Pea quickly handed Druddigon its ass as she beat it up without a hitch, and with that, I had finished the E4.

When I was checking if I needed to use my not so abundant amount of ethers and elixirs on my Pokémon, I was glad to find that I really only had to use it for Not a Fish's earthquake: I didn't have to use many moves against the E4, and earthquake was only down because of Wikstrom.

With my Pokémon healed up and ready, Despacito leading the party, I was ready to take on Champion Diantha. Her Hawlucha was up first, of which Despacito beat using moonblast in one fell swoop. She then went to beat up her Tyrantrum, who also fainted to a moonblast. She brought out Amourous next, aka what Itzy could've been, and Despacito used petal blizzard to beat it. The Amourous survived but didn't cause problems. I went to use petal blizzard but Diantha switched out for her Goodra, whose attack got boosted thanks to the grass type move.

Unfortunately for Diantha though, Goodra was a dragon type, so that thing fainted immediately afterwards thanks, once again, to moonblast. She brings back Amourous, who finally faints after a second bout of petal blizzard, and next up is her Gourgeist. It's at this point I finally let Despacito rest, bringing out my newly acquired Nuh, who comes out disguised as Slipknot. Nuh beats the Gourgeist in one move, meaning that Nuh's illusion is still up. Diantha brings out her final Pokémon, Gardevoir, and the battle is almost over.

I think the funniest part of the entire game for me was messing around with Nuh, because when Gardevoir used a psychic move: "It doesn't affect Slipknot..." Which is very funny considering it SHOULD affect Slipknot, it just doesn't affect Nuh, who's pretending to be Slipknot. Nuh takes the opportunity and uses foul play (as Slipknot, which also looks very peculiar) to take down Diantha's Gardevoir, and with that, I had beaten the champion. The nuzlocke was over...

Or was it?

Me: *getting fussy because the other 4 Sycamore pupils were getting credit for me single-handedly beating team flare*

Mar: NOONA THERE'S STILL A BATTLE LEFT, YOU NEED TO BATTLE AZ!

Me: oH

So the nuzlocke was *almost* over.

AZ was very very easy, the only issue I had was Lettuce not being up first to beat his Torkoal. His Sigilyph and Golurk were both very easy to beat, and nothing else really happened in the battle. With that battle over I had truly beaten my second attempt at a Pokémon X nuzlocke.

If you read this far, congratulations! You have read the equivalent of 75 tweets in (possibly) one sitting! Twitter kept capping me off every 25 tweets, so now I understand why Twitter au writers don't post abundantly. This was honestly so much fun, even though I did grieve over my dead Pokémon.

I wanna thank Mar for sticking with me the whole way, even though I was such a nuisance for asking every single time, without fail, what beats poison type Pokémon whenever I encountered one. When I said I'm shit at Pokémon, I wasn't lying: I'm Very Bad™ at the game.

I also wanna thank Bread and Ariel for just popping in during my run every now and again, even if all you wanted to do was mock me for Zekrom's death (which btw I don't get why you're still holding that to me? I'm more shocked you're not talking bout Grenouille lmao).

Would also like to thank my team, Pea the Bellossom, Despacito the Florges, Not a Fish the Stunfisk, Slipknot the Magcargo, Lettuce the Lapras, and Nuh the Zoroark (who, despite being a super new addition, pulled his weight very well). I wouldn't've won of not for y'all (Idc that they're fictional and can't read my thanks, I love them okay???).

Anywho, thank you for reading this if you chose to!

#noona.txt #long post #guess who forgot to taaaaaaag?#but yeah #take a shot everytime i say so #actually don't you might die #so yeah i pretty much copy-pasted this from my twitter thread #it was very fun as much as losing pokemon made me sad

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islamicrays · 5 years ago

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Salam , recently divorced , he left me for no reason , Allah is my witness that I never failed to please him , I’m still getting over him , but I ended up back at my mums, dealing with a non- practicing family on a daily basis , music , swearing etc, can’t even find a place to pray in without being interfered , sleeping on a couch, no space for me , emotionally abusive mother , blaming me for what happened to me , making me depressed even more , Patience , Alhamdulilah .

Walaikum Assalaam,

I understand you are going through a tough time and its even more difficult when you don't have a supportive family but remember Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala is with you and He won't burden you with something that you can't handle. With every hardship; their is ease. Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala test those whom He loves. If possible go for counselling if you can't then I am posting here an article how to heal after divorce and some quotes that will help you in shaa Allah

"Divorce…

The daunting and awkward topic that no one seems to want to discuss in public because of the stigma attached to it. Yes, divorces can be messy due to a number of factors; and when children are involved, it’s twice as complicated. You feel a whole array of mixed emotions that are difficult to internalize or accept. To be honest, this is perfectly normal because the reality is, the person you were so certain you would spend the rest of your life with, is no longer your life partner. A number of thoughts bombard you at once; how will I manage as a single parent, will I ever forgive my former spouse, how will society view me? How will I heal my broken heart?

The hardship of divorce

People often don’t realise how agonizing a divorce can be. On the surface, it may seem like two people are being unreasonable or irresponsible, but the truth is, most people do not realise the transgressions that have taken place behind closed doors which have caused a couple to decide to divorce. The reasons can be so vast; it could be an abusive partner, whether that is physical, mental, verbal or emotional abuse. At this point, I should mention that it’s important to realise the severity of any form of abuse. It could lead to psychological damage being embedded in an individual which in turn makes positive change difficult.

It could be that your partner is cheating on you, or that your spouse has left Islam, or just the simple fact that you both do not get along anymore. Whatever the reason behind the divorce, never forget thatAllah subhanahu wa ta'ala never leaves you and it is He who will bring you ease after hardship.

I personally find that in all situations that we perceive as a calamity, there is always wisdom behind it. Throughout this difficult period, it is absolutely vital for you to always be conscious of the fact that Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala tests those whom He loves, and that you should never lose hope in His Mercy.

Divorcing can be painful but it is one of many tests we may face in this life. During my experience, I have learnt a few things that I want to share with you to overcome this trial.

1. Hold on to your salah

Salah is the primary step to healing one’s self. I am a mother so I completely sympathise with mothers who are unable to pray their salah on time, but during this time of difficulty, you need your sujood! During a divorce, not only do you become consumed by all of your responsibilities, especially when there are children, but your emotions can paralyse you.

This is the time to reconnect with Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala in solitude and to release stress by speaking to Allah and asking Him for help. Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala commands us:

“O you who believe seek help through patience and prayer. Indeed, Allah is with those who are patient.” [Qur’an: Chapter 2, Verse 153]

2. Look for happiness in the mundane

During a divorce, it is very easy to let all the negatives be at the forefront of your mind rather than all of the blessings that Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala has given you. This is a dangerous mentality to have that can depress you. So whenever the hardships in life consume you, remember this ayah that Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala revealed to the people of Musa (may Allah be pleased with him) when they were being persecuted:

“If you are grateful, I will surely increase you [in favor].” [Qur’an: Chapter 4, Verse 7]

Take a moment to reflect on what you have to be thankful for. This could be a supportive family, children who smile, or even something as basic as having a hot coffee in the morning, or the fact that you get to wake up in the mornings and have functioning limbs…

We forget that even the simple things in life are blessings. Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala reminds us 33 times in Surat ArRahman:

“So which of your Lords favours will you deny?” [Qur’an: Chapter 55, Verse 13]

3. Take up a hobby

Find a way to occupy your time so that you do not become consumed by your emotions.

For me, a friend encouraged and pushed me to take up memorizingthe Qur’an. This honestly helped me in more ways than I could imagine. Not only did it help me develop my relationship with Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala, but it also pushed me to take the steps in learning Qur’anic Arabic.

SubhanAllah, words alone can not describe the beauty of learning the Qur’an and the sense of tranquility that encompasses you. The way Allah’s subhanahu wa ta'ala words can humble you in seconds and put you at ease, or how some verses correct your affairs through obedience to Him.

Alongside my memorization, I also started to take steps towards a healthcare profession, alhamdulillah,and I am still currently pursuing it. Give yourself something to strive for, and give your time a purpose with an achievable goal. Even if it just for an hour or two a day, if you take your mind away from the stresses of divorce, it will really benefit you spiritually and mentally.

4. Control your tongue

Divorcing with children is not the easiest of things to deal with while remaining patient. It is so important to control your tongue and not letshaytan allow you lose your composure, not only as a mother or father, but also as a person who fears Allah suhanahu wa ta'ala . There may be times when you are angry, but in this situation, your words can be like a sword andsuch words uttered in this state may not be forgivable or forgotten. The Prophet (peace be upon him) said:

“He who believes in Allah and the Last Day must either speak good or remain silent.” [Sahih Muslim].

Sometimes you are angry, you don’t want to forgive. You are hurt, and you feel violated. Divorce is hard. Especially when it drags on back and forth and there is animosity between the spouses, but it is for this reason that you need to be extra cautious of the words you utter. This is a time where shaytan knows you can accumulate sins by letting your emotions take control. So, don’t let him win.

5. Seek help

Talk to someone, a friend or a therapist and seek emotional support for internalizing your emotions. I was fortunate enough to have a very supportive family with me, however if you are a victim of abuse, then it is important to seek professional help.

Isolation may be okay for a short period of time when you are internalizing what has happened, but for long periods of time this could be detrimental to your deen and this is what shaytan loves. Surround yourself with people who remind you of Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala, and encourage you to seek knowledge so that your relationship with Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala strengthens.

6. Know that it gets better

This brings me to my final, and possibly, my most important point. Who can honestly say alhamdulillahand sincerely mean it when Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala has decreed a hardship for them? The majority of us struggle with accepting the last pillar of faith: qadar.

How many times do we ask: “why did this happen to me? What did I do to deserve this? If I could go back, I would have done things differently!”

In this situation, we need to put our trust in Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala and with no doubt in our hearts know that Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala has decreed what is best, and whether we see the wisdom behind it in this dunyaor in the akhirah is up to Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala. Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala only tests those He loves and these tests are designed to strengthen you and prepare you for what’s ahead.

One of the mothers of the believers, Ramlah bint Abi Sufyan (Umm Habiba), upon emigrating to Abyssinia, her husband had left Islam and became Christian. When faced between remaining with him or choosing Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala, she chose Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala. Her husband died shortly after from consuming too much alcohol. Being in a foreign country without family meant that she wasn’t left with many options, and so she decided to put her complete trust in Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala and live her life for His sake.SubhanAllah, Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala then replaced her husband with the greatest man to walk this earth. She married the beloved Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him).

Divorce is not the end, nor is it something that tarnishes a person or diminishes their worth. Sometimes relationships do not work out and it is important to remember that when you die, you die alone. When you meet Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala, you meet Him alone. It can be heartbreaking to lose the person you thought you would spend the rest of your life with, but no matter what happens, you will never lose Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala. He will always be there for you. Don’t let a divorce have permanent negative effects on you, use this calamity as a catalyst to get closer to Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala and I promise, just like I did, you will come out a stronger person."

- Iman Umm Samara

“Being divorced is not the end of the world. It could be the biggest blessing & lead to something much better, bringing about much goodness. Many people have found more compatible spouses & are leading happier lives. There is no point in holding grudges or becoming depressed over a marriage that did not work. Make an effort to look for a more appropriate spouse & the Almighty will open the doors!"

-Mufti Ismail Menk

"Dear fathers, there is no dishonour for you if your child return backs to you if things didn't work out and it ended in divorce.

Rasūlullāh ﷺ took back two of his daughters after they were unjustly divorced - and he showered them with even more love, honour, and affection. That is the essence of manhood."

Shaykh Mohammed Aslam

"To all those individuals going through relationship problems, separation, divorce, don’t despair! Live in faith. What may seem like a series of unfortunate events may be the first steps to an amazing journey"

-Qasim Rafique

You are in my prayers. May Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala make things easier for you.

Allahumma Ameen

#question

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starker-stories · 5 years ago

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An Accord (WIS), Chapter 10

Okay, let's try this again.

I posted this chapter Friday, like it was supposed to be, and then found an absolutely massive amount of serious mistakes. So I deleted it and spent the day fixing them.

So here's Chapter 10, take 2...

This fic is on a weekly update schedule. Every Friday.

Tumblr Chapter Links: ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4, ch5, ch6, ch7, ch8, ch9, ch10, ch11, ch12, ch13 AO3 Chapter Links: ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4, ch5, ch6, ch7, ch8, ch9, ch10, ch11, ch12, ch13

Tags: Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Polyamory Negotiations, Polyamory, Cheating, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Domestic Nightmare Tony Stark, Reconciliation, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, WinterIronSpider, Happy Ending, Clothed Sex, Domesticity, Peter Parker is legal age in the state of New York, College Student Peter Parker, Takes place about 2 years after Civil War. Closeted Character

Summary: “My boyfriends are super-villains,” Peter said giggling. “I’m the only pure innocent one in this place.” ——————————————————————————————

Chapter 10: Brooklyn

“I hate being the only person in this house that gets hungry,” Peter said, breaking their post-kiss snuggling session.

Bucky laughed. “I’ll cook.”

“Menus. By. The fridge. I am not waiting for one of Pretty’s delicious, but time consuming, Depression meals.”

Bucky climbed out of bed and started pulling his shirt on.

Tony shrugged. “If you want,” he said, climbing out of bed and not bothering to put his clothes back on. Bucky didn’t either.

Peter pulled his jeans on. “Not all of us are exhibitionists, Tony.”

“My body is a fuckin’ gift and you are blessed to see it,” he answered as he headed to the kitchen. To get the menus.

Bucky raced past him for the bedroom door, poking him in the stomach as he passed. “My body is a fuckin’ gift. You need to work out with me.”

“I’m going on fifty,” Tony defended.

“I’m in my second century. I’m cooking. I can only eat so much Asian food and pizza in a month.”

“Don’t let the teenager order dinner. He refuses to let any restaurant that doesn’t normally deliver make an exception for the billionaire in the house.”

“It’s not fair,” Peter argued, speeding past both of them using his spider abilities. He settled on the kitchen stool, waiting to see who would get to the kitchen next: Tony to the menu drawer or Bucky to the stove.

“You are depriving whatever poor waiter Molly sticks with bringing me dinner of a ridiculously huge tip,” Tony said, tossing the menu for Marea on the counter. “Touch that stove, Bucky, and I swear…”

Bucky picked up the menu. “So what’s Molly’s Place have to offer?”

Tony sputtered. “I’d tell Michael what you said, but I value my permanent reservation at his restaurant too much. It’s Marea and it’s the best restaurant in the city.”

Bucky looked at the menu. “Billionaire, right?” he asked, grinning.

“Leave me a few pennies in the bank account,” Tony said.

“Il branzino, il caulini e l'antipasto, il di manzo.”

Tony’s eyebrows headed for the ceiling.

“I’m fluent in Italian, Spanish, Catalan, French, German, Finnish, Hungarian, Romanian, Czech, Serbian, Russian, Chechen, Chinese, Korean, Vietnamese, and Arabic. Oh yeah, and English. All accentless except for English. Now that I’m me again, I can’t get the Brooklyn out of it.”

Tony hooked his arm around Bucky’s neck and kissed him. “I can live with the Brooklyn,” he said, happy that Bucky wouldn’t ever speak unaccented English again.

“And I was impressed by your Italian, French, Spanish, Russian, and Chinese!” Peter said.

Bucky shrugged. “He wasn’t involved in the overthrow of as many governments as I was.”

Peter burst out laughing, then caught himself. “I shouldn’t find that funny, huh?”

Tony chuckled. “Yeah, Pete. It’s fuckin’ hilarious.” He winked at Bucky. “Maybe not as many, but it’s a non-zero number.”

“You’re both awful!” Peter said, a smile still on his lips. “Wait. You didn’t,” he asked Tony, more seriously.

“Sometimes privatizing world peace is a less than honorable pursuit. And do you think the same people are running Afghanistan as were before my visit there? Not an official government on that one, but it counts.”

“Sorry. That mess was my fault,” Bucky said sheepishly.

“I’m sure he did a lot for Russia there, Pretty, but not arm the damn Taliban. That would be Howard and then me after your dead twin brother put me in charge. So yeah, Pretty,” Tony smiled, “a non-zero number.”

“My boyfriends are super-villains,” Peter said giggling. “I’m the only pure innocent one in this place.”

“Why do you think we keep you around,” Tony said.

“That’s why we keep you around,” Bucky said, almost in unison. They high-fived. And found their hands stuck together with webs.

“Where did you…” Tony said in shock.

Peter chuckled. “Bucky… how many guns do you have hidden in the penthouse?”

“A… lot,” Bucky said sheepishly.

“Tony,” Peter said in a sing-song. “How many of those bracelet thingys do you have laying around in case the micro-repeaters stop working?”

“Um… like he said.”

“Do you think I only have two webshooters?” Peter laughed.

“Get us out of this,” Tony said, irritatedly. “I have to call and order dinner.”

“I can do it.” Peter picked up a phone.

“I am not going to listen to you mangle the Italian language, kid. Get your super-villain boyfriends out of this. Or we’ll kidnap you and take you to our secret lair.”

“Wait,” Bucky said, “that sounds like fun.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Tony grinned.

“Yeah. It does,” Peter chimed in. “When I’m not fuckin’ starving! Karen, hit them with the dissolving fluid.” He aimed his hand at Bucky and Tony’s joined wrists.

Tony’s left eyebrow questioned him.

“Tony… of course I can move Karen to my webshooters like you move FRIDAY to your glasses. If you want your proprietary tech to stay proprietary, stop letting FRIDAY do everything for you.”

“He’s…?” Bucky started, incredulously.

“A genius? Yeah. Gonna put me out of a job. Give me the goddamn phone.”

“Nope,” Bucky made a grab for it. “I am not gonna listen to you mangle the Italian language.”

Which led to a string of cursing in said language as Peter facepalmed. “I am never going to eat.”

~~~~~

“That wasn’t Italian,” Bucky said as they finished dinner.

“Of course it was. I mean I am fond of Gargulio’s for old times sake, but Marea’s better.”

“Not the food,” Bucky said, making a dive for the last of the desert.

Tony laughed. “Not exactly Italian. But you didn’t speak it when you went to Gargulio’s did you?”

“Italian? Fuck, I could maybe manage proper English.”

“You would’ve heard the difference. It’s Napoletano. Like your English can’t lose Brooklyn? My Italian can’t lose Naples because I learned it from my mom.”

“She was actually from Italy?” Bucky said, still hesitant to bring up the subject.

Tony nodded. “She came here to go to university. An unexpected me put an end to it.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said quietly, looking down.

“Why? Did you kill her?” Tony asked.

“Yeah.”

“You gotta stop taking credit for his bullshit, Pretty.” Tony reached out and brushed Bucky’s hair back then lifted his chin, turning his face to him. “When those words were said, were you you?”

“I did it.”

“Not what I asked. Before 1945, would you have done that?”

“Never.”

“You didn’t kill her, Bucky.”

Tears welled in Bucky’s eyes. His jaw clenched as he tried to keep them back. Tony ran the backs of his knuckles lightly across his temple and his tears fell.

Tony scooted his chair next to Bucky’s. “You didn’t kill her.” He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against the side of Bucky’s head. He closed his eyes and his own tears silently fell.

Peter watched the moment pass between them. Tony’s mom’s death was something that had weighed heavily on him his whole life. He was finally getting closure. How could he be jealous of that? They needed each other right then. Peter stood and both men looked at him. He walked around the table and put kisses on top of, first Tony’s, then Bucky’s heads. “Take Bucky to bed,” he said tenderly. “I’m gonna go study.”

“Baby,” Tony said, looking up. He pinched the bridge of his nose after sliding his fingers over his eyes to wipe the tears. “Do you mind?” he asked Peter quietly.

“Not even a little,” Peter said. “Take him to bed.” He paused and brushed his fingers through Bucky’s hair.

~~~~~

“C’mere, Pretty,” Tony said. Their tearful moment past, he felt playful. He turned Bucky and pushed his back gently against the closed door. He draped his arms around Bucky’s neck and chuckled. “Peter’s shorter than me.”

Bucky stood straighter.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Fine!” He pulled himself up on Bucky’s shoulders, stood on tiptoes, and kissed him.

“Not used to taller guys?” Bucky grinned.

“Not in awhile, no.”

“Problem?”

“You’re shorter than me laying down, Pretty,” Tony said with a smirk, standing flat on his feet. He dropped his voice to a whispered purr. “And when I’m on top of you.”

“Fuck,” Bucky said on a long breath.

“Problem?” Tony asked as he grabbed Bucky’s hands and led him to the bed. They rolled facing each other, Tony on his left side, Bucky on his right.

“I’m used to being the most charming, smug, and seductive one in the bedroom, that’s all,” Bucky said laughing.

Tony kissed the laugh off his lips. He brushed Bucky’s hair back. “I love that sound, Pretty.”

Bucky ducked his head, resting his forehead on Tony’s chest. Who was taller than him laying down. “You asked me something when we were all talking earlier.” He put a light kiss on the square inch of skin underneath his lips.

“Hmm? And?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I know, baby,” Tony said tenderly. He’d watched it happen, Bucky slowly fall in love. When he settled into it, it made Tony realize his own love. Feeling actual love for anyone was new, brought out by Peter. Feeling love for Bucky, just as deep but different and needing both, was entirely outside of his experience.

“Will Peter mind?”

“I’m pretty sure Peter already knows. He’s just scared because he’s younger.”

“You’re younger than me.”

“I mean, being an adult. He’s not, but he’s more than just a kid. I kinda toss an extra five years or so on him from the shit he’s been through.”

“About the same age I enlisted,” Bucky nodded. “That’s about how he feels.” He paused. “I love him, too.”

“I know that. And both of us love you. Not just because you give great head.”

“Tony,” he said in mock complaint.

“Most seductive and tallest,” he said, tilting Bucky’s face up for a kiss.

Bucky laughed. “And I thought you were tickling Peter when I heard you two laughi… Oh fuck… He can hear us!”

“Not yet, but I’m gonna fix that,” Tony purred. He ran his palm slowly down Bucky’s chest until he reached his waist. He stopped briefly at the button of his jeans before unfastening it.

It took some entirely unseductive wiggling around before they were both naked and in each other’s arms again. Bucky’s kisses were biting and hot. Tony’s were possessive and deep. Their hands clutched and pulled. It was very much closer, tighter, harder, now!

“I know you like riding me,” Tony said, struggling to catch his breath. “Do you like it on your back?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bucky said, rather flatly.

“Not what I asked.” Tony rolled himself on top of Bucky. He reached his arms under Bucky’s shoulders and slid himself up along the man’s body. “Baby, that’s something you gotta get used to with me.”

“You talk too fuckin’ much during sex?”

“Okay, that’s two things you gotta get used to with me.”

“The leftovers of your fuckin’ Long Island accent make three?” Bucky grinned and bit again.

“All right, Brooklyn. Since you aren’t objecting…”

Tony found the lube under the pillow he always put it under and kissed Bucky through the awkwardness of doing so. One-handed he managed to squeeze enough of a dollop onto his hand to reach between them and stroke Bucky’s cock. He didn’t play, but directly went for things he’d discovered by rubbing him through his pants.

“Fuck,” Bucky panted, eyes wide at how fast he’d gotten so far.

Tony rubbed precome and lube over the head of Bucky’s cock. “Oh baby, that is… Fuck me, you’re gorgeous when you’re getting gone.”

“Getting? You’re gonna make me come.”

“I’m not gonna make you come before I’m ready to.” Tony took his hand off of Bucky’s cock, reached beneath his balls and slid his still-slick hand between his cheeks. The tip of his forefinger circled his rim and Bucky pushed down against it.

“Greedy,” Tony said, nipping his lip.

With only slightly less finesse than he’d done before — dammit! he and Peter were going to have to compare notes! — Tony coated his finger with lube and worked it inside of Bucky. “I’m not your fuckin’ child bride, Tony.”

“Ya ever think that I wanna do this because I…” Tony slipped another finger inside, “…like watching you?” He spread his fingers apart and slid his third in between them. “Fuck…” Tony moaned, watching the way Bucky moved when his fingers pressed up.

“What?” Bucky asked before he lost the ability to speak. From where he was lying… gasping… writhing… groaning… Tony wasn’t getting anything out of it.

“That, Pretty. That’s what I want. If I just want to get off, I can do that on my own.” Tony slid down a little which let his fingers push in deeper. They made Bucky gasp again. “This…” Tony breathed over his nipple before touching the tip of his tongue to it. Bucky’s breath caught. “…I only get with you.”

“From another person, you mean.”

Tony combined the movement of his fingers and the slow, wet drag of his lips across Bucky’s nipple. Bucky tried to move away from the overstimulation, but was held by Tony’s other hand on his shoulder. He could break free, easily, but he didn’t.

“I meant what I said, Bucky.” He dragged his open mouth down Bucky’s abs. The other man rolled his body up to meet his mouth. Kissing up the center of his body from his navel, Tony’s tongue swirled around the divot of his collarbone,

Bucky nearly came off the bed when Tony entered him. His back arched and Tony’s hands pulled him down, deeper onto his cock. He only thought about it after he’d cried out, but there was no way Peter didn’t hear that.

Tony pulled back with a long slow drag until he was almost entirely out of Bucky. Tony snapped his hips upward as he pushed hard and deep inside. Both hands on either side of Bucky’s head, his fingers tangled in his hair. He kissed him again, slow and soft, His thrusts were slow and long. He leaned up and whispered in Bucky’s ear. “I wanna learn you, Bucky.”

Bucky’s whimpers were nothing like Peter’s. Those were high, desperate, and pleading. Bucky’s broke into little short breaths, low and rising only at the very end. They started out demanding but Tony made them fall into begging.

Bucky groaned, his body broke out in a fine sweat, as Tony was managing to drive him fucking nuts with the way his thick cock scraped just the right way inside of him. Enough to get him hot but nothing more. Enough to make him need.

“Oh god!” Bucky cried out when Tony stopped playing and started fucking him hard. Not fast, but hard. He hadn’t realized that the two things could be separated. Bucky pushed down onto Tony’s cock. “Oh fuck Tony!” I didn’t…” His words were unintelligible. Broken on a rising moan. “That… could…” His attempt to make sense was lost to a loud cry. His cock dripped precome onto his belly.

“Around my waist now, baby,” Tony crooned and Bucky hooked his ankles across each other on Tony’s back. Tony stretched himself out over the taller man, pulling himself deeper as he slid up. Bucky’s heels dug in.

“Oh fuck, Pretty,” Tony moaned, his dark eyelashes fluttering. He snapped his hips sharply, seeking the depth that the new angle gave him. Tony reached up over Bucky’s right shoulder, and threaded his fingers into his long hair, holding his arm still, unable to move. But he said, “Hold me, baby.”

“Tony, no. I can hurt you.” Bucky realized that Tony meant for him to hold with his left arm.

He thrust in hard again. “Hold me, Bucky.” He kept Bucky’s right arm pinned with his elbow on the mattress under his arm, and Tony reaching up still into his hair.

Hesitantly, Bucky wrapped his left arm around Tony’s chest.

Tony kept a regular rhythm, deep and hard but not fast. He ached to go faster. Being inside Bucky was nothing like Peter. He knew Bucky could take it rougher. His body was used to responding to rougher. Tony hated knowing how that adaptation came about. He wasn’t going to blend himself into the body-memory that Bucky had of those times. So no matter how much his Pretty’s responses made him want to go faster, he stayed slow.

“Please…” Bucky moaned on a broken breath.

“Please what baby?”

“Faster. Please.”

“Mm hmm,” Tony purred as he dragged his lips, wet, open mouthed, across the stubble on Bucky’s sharply defined jaw. He went no faster.

“Tony,” Bucky drew out the name on a moan low in his throat.

“Mm hmm?” His thrusts were shallow, deep, and kept Bucky filled. The hand in Bucky’s hair lifted his head to where he could kiss him. It was Tony who bit, held Bucky’s lip in his teeth, and sucked. He nipped sharply and let go. As he did, the snap of his hips finally went faster. Tony felt the fingers of Bucky’s left hand dig into the muscle on his side. Then he heard the faint electromechanical whir of his arm’s strength being pulled back even as the man groaned, distracted with the pleasure of finally being fucked faster.

He released his hold on Bucky’s right arm and moved the man’s hand between them. He waited until Bucky wrapped it around his cock before he sucked his earlobe into his mouth. “Not yet,” he whispered.

Bucky’s eyes opened and he was about to say something when he saw Tony’s smirk. “Oh, fuck you,” he groaned.

Tony laughed softly. His words stuttered. “You can do it now… make yourself come… whenever you want. Or you can wait…” Tony’s smirk returned. “Gets better. Your… choice.”

“Fuckin’ hate you.” The whining moan Bucky made when Tony scraped his teeth along his neck and bit where it curved into his shoulder, proved his words a lie.

Bucky took his hand off of his cock entirely and out from between their bodies. He put it flat on the bed. “Now you have a lot to live up to,” Bucky said, Tony’s smirk transferring to his face.

Tony leaned back more on his knees and balanced his left arm near Bucky’s waist. “Gimme that hand,” he said, reaching behind himself, floundering around for Bucky’s left hand. He leaned forward, holding it by the wrist once he had it. He growled in Bucky’s ear. “I love you.”

Tony leaned back, pulling Bucky’s ass onto his haunches. When he rose up with his thighs, he fucked hard and deep. One hand was on his waist, urging him down to meet him. Bucky started pushing down to do that. Bucky was hot around him, the rocking movement and the man’s eagerness making him clench around Tony’s cock. Tony was groaning in pleasure, letting the powerful sensations distract him from the fear of what he was going to do. He took Bucky’s left hand and put it, flat palmed, on the center of his chest. The first test had been for Bucky. This one was for him. He was more deeply in love with Bucky than he wanted to admit. And Tony couldn’t love, not really love, without trust.

Bucky’s eyes went wide. He was going to object, but when he looked up at him; he saw Tony’s eyes tightly close. He watched as Tony pulled his lips into his mouth and bit them shut. He saw the wince of remembered pain and fear. He saw the struggle on the man’s face as the present warred with the past. He watched the two fight to reconcile. But Tony never moved Bucky’s hand away from the most vulnerable part of his body.

The man he’d betrayed so deeply, giving him that level of trust was unbelievable. “Oh Tony,” Bucky breathed out, overcome. He ground himself down on Tony’s cock, needing to be closer, and was rewarded with the man increasing his pace, pounding into him hard, but without anger or wanting to cause anything but pleasure. Bucky fell into babbling when Tony was at the height of his thrust and, more often than not, managed to hit his prostate. “Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck…”

Tony kept his eyes closed as his hand held the back of Bucky’s hand. Instead of the metal fingers curling around the edges of the arc reactor, trying to hurt him, Bucky touched with nothing but the flat of his palm. He moaned, raised himself up and held in deep, feeling Bucky surrounding him. Tony’s fear finally broke and he let go of Bucky’s hand.

He listened to Bucky panting, fast and shallow — catching, holding, shuddering, letting go. Small deep groans that ended on another caught breath. Bucky’s legs dropped from around his waist and he pushed up with his feet on the mattress, adding his force that of Tony’s as they fucked. Tony pushed himself deeper, ground their hips together, filling Bucky with his entire length. He opened his eyes and looked down.

“Oh Pretty,” he moaned at the sight.

Tony lost himself in those blue eyes, dark with desire, eyelashes fluttering until his eyes closed. Bucky’s lips parted with his ragged breathing — full and swollen, flushed bright pink, wet and shining.

Bucky’s scream was low and loud. His eyes flew open as, untouched, his orgasm tore through him.

“That’s it, Bucky. Come for me, baby. Oh god… oh fuck!”

Tony groaned as his breath held. Both breath and release escaped at the same time. As he shuddered as he came and fell atop Bucky. He draped his arms over his shoulders, under his neck, and held on as the quakes passed through him.

Bucky wrapped his arms around Tony’s chest. They held each other as gasps settled into slow panting and then as their breaths evened out. Yet once they had, they still didn’t let go.

Tony took Bucky’s face in both his hands and kissed him tenderly. He saw the wetness on Bucky’s cheeks and felt it on his own. “You are in control of you, Bucky.” He kissed him again. “You did not kill my mom,” he said quietly

“How did you know I wouldn’t…” He looked down the space between them at Tony’s chest.

“I just knew,” Tony said, brushing the long, sweat damp strands from Bucky’s face.

“I could’ve killed you.”

“Uh huh.” He paused for another kiss. “So can Peter. But, Bucky, look,” Tony said, rolling onto his side. He took Bucky’s left hand and pressed his fingertips onto his side where he had grabbed him while they were fucking. “Are there any bruises?”

“No, but I didn’t try to hold you hard.”

“Yeah, you did. You didn’t hear it. You were too focused on something else,” he said with an over-confident smile. “But I heard it. I heard you pull it back. The way I can feel Peter doing the same thing.”

“I’ve torn the shit out of beds before. I could’ve hurt you.”

“And Peter breaks headboards and walls and shreds my sheets,” Tony said with a shrug.

“You’re crazy.”

Tony chuckled. “Maybe. I just have a fetish for guys who can break me into little pieces — and don’t.” Definitely a fetish. Definitely a power rush of truly epic proportions.

“You made me come even after I stopped touching myself,” Bucky said smiling.

“He does that,” Peter said, coming into the bedroom. “A lot.”

“You give me too much credit, babe,” Tony said smiling as he noticed that Peter was carrying his clothes instead of wearing them.

“I have a feeling he doesn’t.” Bucky, who was still on his back, more or less in the center of the bed, held his left arm open wide for Peter.

Peter crawled onto the bed and over to where Bucky was and settled in his open arm. Though he pulled part of a pillow under his head. Resting it directly on hard metal wasn’t exactly comfortable.

“God that was hot. I came so hard,” Peter said as he kissed Bucky’s chest. He ran his finger through the mess on his stomach. Looking first at Tony, then up at Bucky, he put his finger in his mouth, sucked it, and smiled.

Tony reached for the towel he kept under the same pillow as the lube. He wiped Bucky’s stomach clean. Both he and Bucky chuckled and shared a glance before turning to accuse Peter. “You were sitting outside the door, jerking off to us,” he said.

“Not through all of it.” He curled up closer to Bucky, tangling their legs together. “I did get my studying done. Fast,” Peter added with a grin. “It was so different only listening. Having to use my imagination to see.” He slid his arm across Bucky’s waist. “Bucky gets to be in the middle tonight. How do you like to sleep? Side, back, stomach?” Peter asked, looking up at him. “We used to sleep spooned,” he began, not saying who the other one of the ‘we’ was. Steve, obviously. “But on my back is more comfortable.” He hesitated. “Body habit.” “On your back then,” Tony said. He’d seen the container tubes in Siberia that Bucky would’ve been put in, to sleep on his back. “Until your body decides on another habit,” he added with another little kiss to Bucky’s shoulder.

He balled up a pillow under his head and stretched out along Bucky’s side. Tony reached across Bucky’s stomach to hold Peter’s hand. Bucky’s right hand slipped up from between his side and Tony’s front, to join them.

#Starker #WinterIronSpider #WIS An Accord #Von writes stuff

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polygamyff · 5 years ago

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30. Part 4

I am feeling it right now, I just feel the nerves hitting me. My dad is so cool about everything but I don’t know how he does it, he is used to doing such things and has opened many of hotels, this is my first so I am scared that something will go wrong. I have been side tracked since Robyn came around in my life, I haven’t been here as much as I wanted to be “you look so nervous, don’t be. I know it’s a lot but you have been working towards this for years” Ally said to me while her head is in her Macbook, she has been busy “it’s been a long time coming but I have so much to contend with. I ain’t slept, I lied to Robyn and said I did but I couldn’t. Bryan done put make up on me, can you notice?” Ally looked up from her laptop “no, where? I mean your freckles are there” that is what I wanted to hear “that is good, I am just on adrenaline right now, it’s just a lot Ally. Fuck me, there is people out there ready to judge me so I need it go perfect, how is things?” looking down at my watch “fine, did you read your speech? I mean I did send it you” I paused thinking “you what?” I slapped my forehead “I didn’t I am going to do just fine, I am sure of it” feeling a hand on my arm “my baby boy, look at you. Maurice, I am so happy for you. Your dad has done nothing but be strict with you” hugging my mom back “you think? He has been hard on me but for the right reasons, I am glad you are here mom” pressing a kiss to the top of her head “same, I just want the best for you. I always worry about you, you think I don’t but I do. I barely see you” placing my arm around my mom “you know me, I am busy but I am always here for you mom and you know this, don’t think I ain’t. Just I got my life in Cali now I guess” I know that she does miss me a lot “how is she?” looking down at my mom “who?” I questioned “my grand baby that I know is here” letting out an oh “she is ok, she will be there” seeing my dad wave me over “can I see her?” moving away from my mom “I don’t know, I hope so. I need to go and see to dad.”

Ally followed behind me as I made my way to my dad “what’s up?” my dad placed his hand on my back “you need to take pictures son with the Saudi prince and his family, come” I be so lost “we will be leaving soon yes?” we will be late “yes we will be leaving” grabbing my suit jacket from Ally, luckily she got it for me. I swear she was on her laptop and then comes out with my jacket out of nowhere “Maurice, I got your daughter a gift from me. From my family to yours” the photographer is here, I better fix my jacket “you didn’t need too” shaking his hand after put my suit jacket on, he has his hand out to me “look there my friend” the Saudi prince said, looking at the camera and smiling. He waved over someone, letting his hand go “this is real gold” he opened the box “for your daughter, Reign in Arabic. Your daughter is always welcome here” I be thinking what this guy wants from me “thank you, I appreciate it. Thank you” smiling over at his wife “thank you” bowing my head to her “you bought things for my kids, I remember. Come, we take pictures in my home” closing the box, this was nice of him to do.

I have never seen so many Rolls Royce, I am sure there is thirty altogether, I am shocked to see but there is a lot of us and there is two spaces in the back each. Times like this I kind of wish Robyn was with me, that she was sat with me in the back but I guess I am stuck with my sister but it is better than being alone “this is just crazy, did we take every Rolls Royce in Dubai?” Nalah came up from behind me “probably, I didn’t get to ask how did you like the Prince’ home? It’s different ain’t it?” I chuckled “very, it’s so clean though and I mean I felt like they watch your every move and also no drinking. How the hell else do I get through my day but all is well, I am mentally here” Nalah is so dramatic, she is nervous because I will be coming at her about this shit if it falls through “I have informed Jay to start making them leave, so you both should arrive at the same time” Ally said, nodding my head breathing “look at my phone” Nalah grabbed my arm, looking at Nalah’ phone as she took the picture of us “my baby brother” she said a loud as she typed in “this is us” the Rolls Royce are coming around and one by one we are getting into the cars, these door automatically open too, that is crazy. Getting into the car and shuffled along, pulling my pants down a little as I got comfy in the car. I am stressed as fuck “has Naomi arrived? You should know” I asked “she is here, mom spoke to her. She said that Robyn is here and I don’t want trouble on my son’ day, Naomi asked if Robyn will be walking the red carpet and mom said yes. From what I know, her family will arrive first but you know her, she will purposely wait until you come” I can imagine so “mom sticking up for Robyn huh?” I laughed “she wants to see Reign, dad told her to leave it” my mom will end up going up to Robyn, I got a feeling.

My mom is fussing, she is acting like I can’t carry Reign when I can but then again my tits will probably fall out but Adam has put tit tape down, it won’t move. I honestly feel like I am going to be escorted out of this event, I mean what the fuck are they going to think of me. Placing the pacifier in my mouth as I picked up Reign, resting Reign on my arm and using my free hand to pull the pacifier out of my mouth and place it in hers “my beautiful princess” placing her over my shoulder, turning around slowly as I placed my hand behind her head. She always tries to move her head back now, looking to the side of me smiling, like now. She is wanting to look at me “hey baby, you want to see mommy yeah” Reign’ smile grew and her pacifier spat out and fell onto the floor “another one on the floor” pressing kisses to her cheek “we need to go now, like now. People, come on” Jay came in clapping his hands “I ain’t being disrespectful Robyn, and you can tell Maurice this but if you was my baby mother I would be on my knees, you are so beautiful” I chuckled shaking my head “I mean who the hell wouldn’t want to come home to this!” Jay is doing too much “I am telling Maurice this” Reign’ little hand placed onto my chest, she means so much to me. Just her little touch to my skin, to think she was in my stomach at one point “I think that she doesn’t listen to me, and men are going to stare!” here my dad goes “Thomas, stop!” here they both go “I think he jealous that both his wife and daughter are beautiful, and Terry you don’t look your age, you can still get it” my eyes bulged out “you what!” my dad spat, my mom put her hand on his shoulder “stop, let’s just go” Jay about to get beat up real soon.

He got us Rolls Royce’s, he is so damn flashy “Robyn Willis” the drive came over to me “uh, yes” I said in a whisper, Leon and I just stared at each other “please follow me” looking behind me “shall I take Reign?” I can’t forget my daughter “Robyn, listen to me. You go and have fun, me and your father will be here with her. If she gets really upset then we will say, you go. We will be behind you” Lenny looked at me “ok, I will be with your parents and Reign because I can’t leave Reign, Jay will be with you. Maurice wanted Reign and Robyn safe, I ain’t taking no chances so we splitting it” Lenny is really not playing any games “oh ok, he really said that?” Lenny nodded his head “you both mean so much to him, he’s made that clear of course. Let’s go now, we are supposed to meet at the some point but I think we are late” nodding my head, looking at Reign and my parents before I went “stay close though ok?” I want my daughter close “we will, have fun baby” I giggled as I walked off “let’s go beautiful” Leon held out my clutch “stop it, let me not ruin my high bun by getting in this car” also I don’t want my tits out and my ass showing.

I randomly shrieked out “what bitch?” Leon said, placing my hand up “I am so sorry, I just got nervous randomly. I needed to let it out, talk to me quick” I think I am going to have a panic attack “erm, what the hell erm. So you will be soon seeing Maurice, and friend. Look what I bought you” looking over at Leon “my engagement ring!” I spat “yes, I saw it on your bed and I know you have been rushing around. I want people to know how secure you are and I think you forgot” placing my hand over my mouth “I did forget, thank you so much Leon. What would I do without you!? My beautiful friend” pressing a kiss to his cheek “well girl, you’re a mess without me. Just put it on your finger, don’t leave such things laying around either” placing my ring back on “it’s not that, so when I was deciding on what to wear, Maurice rang and my mind got side tracked. Thank you!” such a life saver “we are close, can you hear the commotion? Also we are on the private road now. Lord knows I am hated and I am going to be there” this is a lot “and bitch, you listen to me. You are riding his dick, you got that queen status. Bitch, you are Sarabi right now. You are walking through all them haters, no matter what. You both love each other and he wants you there. Who cares for the rest” Leon is right, Maurice wants me there and he has asked for me to be there.

There is so many luxury cars here and I feel we are very much at the back “Maurice’ hotel is beautiful. Have you seen it, those spot lights make it look so dramatic. Are you going to be stood with him through it all!?” Leon asked, his face is pressed against the window “I am not sure Leon, I need to see him first. I think we are a little late too” Leon moved his face away from the window “oh shit, you think you missed his moment?” I shrugged “I am not sure because he text me saying his phone will be with Ally, I wasn’t happy but he said he doesn’t have the time and she can keep an eye on it but if I need him she will get him straight away so what can I say but I hope I haven’t” we are rather caught up in traffic, seeing Jay run by the car, he was in another car behind us “and where is he going? Ok this is a mess” I think I would like to miss the carpet so this is a good thing to me “that is sad on him if you have missed it you know, he wanted you there and you knew that, how the hell can we be that late?” Leon is right, I kind of feel bad now.

I am not sure if it was timed like this but to see Noami I felt a type of way about it, looking down at her hand and she has her ring on. It’s like everything felt in slow motion, hearing these people talking to me and mine and Noami’ eyes met. She is making it worse for me, and she knows it. I am actually being nice to her, I have been letting her off and she is doing this to me. Hakim came into my eye-view and he is so smug, but why. On my day, this is my day and they shouldn’t be on this carpet right now. My face softened as I see Malik next to Hakim, this can’t be. Looking around me and I had to double take as Kellen and Tiffany walked by me, my eyes never left his as they both walked along “Maurice, hey! Look at me!” Nalah spat “no” Shawn gripped my arm “no, you leave it” I want to kill him “I know” my dad said “I know, you don’t say anything, I know. You do what you need to do, it’s all for show now son. You walk now” my dad walked off “Maurice, it’s ok. Don’t worry about it, seriously” rubbing my face “where is she!?” glaring over at Jay “down there, I came running over. We are stuck in the damn traffic” looking down the rows of cars “Maurice you need to walk, this is your time” Lorraine said, licking my top lip “I will sort it, go!” Nalah spat, I don’t even want to walk this thing anymore “this is you Maurice, you can do it bro. You got this, let them hate. Come on!” Shawn patted my back.

Ally smiled at me “go on” I guess I am doing this alone, this gives me bad vibes every time, I just remember it all from my childhood with my dad and I hated it. My dad looks so proud, turning around to the cameras. I have had so many sponsors for this, I have linked many businesses to this hotel so it is a big thing. Looking to the side of me as the Saudi prince walked over to me, the shouting is just giving me a headache already “my friend” he shook my hand and then we posed for pictures, smiling wide as the pictures were taken. I never know what cameras to look at “come!” the Saudi prince shouted, he is shouting my dad over “proud of you son!” my dad really just kissed my cheek, shaking my head laughing “really?” he is a little too excited, biting my bottom lip looking at the cameras. Squinting my eyes from the flashing, I had to look twice. Seeing my sister waving her arms around, my face softened and I felt my heart nose dive, like I felt my heart just beat out of my chest, Robyn is here. Watching her decline Nalah from making her go, moving away from both my dad and the prince. She looks so beautiful, like no other shit matters right now. I would run to her but I don’t want to be too dramatic “Robyn!” placing both of my hands at the side of her face “you came so quick?” I am so happy to see her “I did, I came rushing. I power walked here, Nalah told me. You are upset” shaking my head as I closed my eyes “I’m good, you’re here” opening my eyes, I thought she wouldn’t come to this part and she would shy away from me and leave me with the mess. Robyn placed her hand over mine “they wanted me to go there to you, I got a little scared. You’re making me sad, what is it?” moving my hands away from her face “just you being here, you look so beautiful. I rather you go back now, nobody should see such beauty” Nalah touched my arm “you need to get on with it” I am just so happy, I am so happy she is here.

#Chrianna #Chrianna FF #Fanfic #Fanfiction

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