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homoose · 3 years

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Love Has a Learning Curve: Part III (x reader)

Summary: Spencer has to face Anita and Sam— and learns a little about reader’s past. Reader and Spencer babysit for Michael and Henry.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, a tiny smidge of hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: implied smut, drinking/alcohol, vague mentions of previous emotional/mental abuse (Owen)

Word count: 4.2k

a/n: This picks up right after the end of the tmsidk epilogue! I also worked two requests in here.

Series Masterlist

———

Spencer stacked the last of the tiny chairs in the center of the room, stepping back and dusting his palms on his trousers. He looked over to see Y/N playing a sort of container tetris with the bins of supplies in her closet. He smiled a little to himself, his head still in the metaphorical clouds with her confession of love.

She maneuvered the bins to her satisfaction and shut the closet doors, pushing against them to squeeze everything in until the latch clicked. She turned to see him watching her and wiped imaginary sweat from her brow. She gave him a wink and a grin, and he was falling all over again.

She perched on the corner of her desk with a tired sigh, and he made his way across the room to her. She reached for him as soon as he was within arms length, wrapping her arms around his middle. She snuggled into his chest, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Let’s go to dinner to celebrate.”

She laughed and looked up at him. “Celebrate what?”

He shrugged. “You. Summer.” He brought his arms around her shoulders. “Love.”

She smiled and scrunched her nose at him. “You just want me to say it again.”

His lips twitched. “Maybe.”

Her hands came to rest on his hips, her fingers squeezing lightly. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he answered immediately and rather dreamily.

“Yo, Y/L/N!”

The call of her name from the hallway startled them both. Anita began to step over the threshold, continuing, “You ready to get absolutely crunk tonight or— oh.” She stopped dead in her tracks, eyes tracking Spencer’s frame. “Dr. Reid.”

Spencer stepped back from Y/N, smiling a little awkwardly at the formality and giving a wave. “Mrs. Lopez. It’s, um— it’s nice to see you again.”

Anita hummed noncommittally, and Spencer shoved his hands in his pockets. She turned her attention back to Y/N. “So, are we going out or what?”

Y/N groaned. “Anita, I’m exhausted. Can we keep it low key? Oh!” Her eyes lit up with an idea, and Spencer could already see where this was going. “Spence and I were gonna get dinner to celebrate, um— summer. Call Sam; we’ll all just go together.”

Anita spared a glance in Spencer’s direction before sighing heavily. “Fine. But I’m drinking.” With that, she turned on her heel and disappeared back into the hallway.

Y/N chuckled. “I swear she’s not actually an alcoholic.” Her eyes landed on Spencer’s face, and she smiled gently. “I know you weren’t expecting a Meet the Friends night, but it’ll be fun.”

“She hates me,” Spencer surmised.

“She does not hate you.” Y/N stood from the desk, pressed a reassuring peck to his lips. “She’s just… protective. That’s all.”

…

Y/N was entirely wrong. Anita Lopez hated him. That was the only explanation for her absolutely icy demeanor.

They’d met up with her and Sam at a Mexican restaurant in Tenleytown. Sam was wonderfully kind and funny, even apologizing for having “flipped him the bird” the last time she saw him. And it was a good thing Sam was being friendly, because Anita was decidedly… less so.

Spencer understood completely of course. He’d broken Y/N’s heart. Penelope had been ready to hunt her down at the mere thought of him being hurt. As Y/N’s best friend, Anita had every right to be wary of him. She had every right to hate him. He’d just... hoped that she wouldn’t.

Thankfully, Y/N and Sam were more than happy to carry the conversation— he and Anita chiming in here and there. He learned that Sam worked as an attorney at a firm specializing in family law. She and Anita had two kids, Riley and Sidney— one in 2nd grade and the other in preschool.

“Y/N is still Riley’s favorite teacher ever,” Sam told him. “I mean, it helps when she’s also your aunt, I guess.”

“He didn’t get any special treatment,” Y/N insisted. At Sam’s raised eyebrow, she laughed. “Okay, maybe a little special treatment. But you raised a good kid! And I can’t help it that he was the most trustworthy of the bunch.”

“Oh my god, the field trip,” Sam groaned, rubbing a hand over her face.

“The field trip!” Y/N turned to Spencer. “My group of kiddos from two years ago— they were kind of a tough group.”

“Kind of?” Anita squeaked. “Let me just tell you, I can hear them through the floor. The entire middle school is literally dreading the day they make it upstairs.”

Sam piped in, “I chaperoned on said field trip to the zoo. And I vowed that I will never, ever go on another field trip. Ever.”

“What happened?” Spencer asked incredulously.

“So many things,” Sam baited.

Y/N covered her mouth to stifle a cackle, leaning a bit into Spencer’s shoulder. He couldn’t help but smile, looking around at the three women. Even Anita was chuckling, and she’d barely cracked a smile all evening.

“Okay, so many things happened,” Y/N started, “but the worst was—”

“The poop!” Sam wheezed. “The poop was the worst part of that day. The smell alone, oh my god.”

Y/N composed herself as best she could, gesturing over the table. “So after this nightmare of a day, we get on the bus, and there’s this— smell.”

“The absolute worst smell you’ve ever smelled, Spencer,” Sam assured.

“It’s awful. It’s so bad,” Y/N agreed. “And I’m literally going seat to seat, checking to make sure no one has shit themselves.”

“You could not pay me enough,” Anita chimed in.

“And I get to the seat that is very clearly where the smell is coming from. And I can’t, like— hold my nose, right? I don’t want to embarrass him!” Y/N turned to Spencer with flushed cheeks. “So I ask, ‘Sweetheart, did you have a bathroom accident?’”

Spencer let out a nervous laugh. “Oh no.”

“But oh, it wasn’t a bathroom accident,” Y/N clarified, waving her hand. “No, no— that would be too easy. This child had somehow managed to obtain copious amounts of poop from one of the zoo animals and packed it into his lunchbox to take home.”

Spencer could feel his jaw drop. “Oh my god.”

“So, he unzips his lunchbox and it’s just— overflowing with shit.” Y/N dropped her head into her hands, overcome with giggles.

“And don’t forget the worst part: his mom was on the field trip!” Sam lamented, throwing her hands up. “I will never understand.”

Y/N lifted her head with an exasperated grin, and he wasn’t sure if it was the story or the fact that she loved him, but Spencer felt like he could float away into outer space.

“I told you I had a lot of poop stories,” Y/N reminded him, drawing another round of laughs. As they composed themselves, the waiter came by their table to clear some of their plates and refill their water.

“God, I said we were keeping it low key, and then I drank half a pitcher,” Y/N complained, pushing back from the table. “I’m just gonna go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

She gave Spencer a reassuring smile, and he tried not to panic as she stood and left him with Sam and Anita. And because the universe was toying with him, at that exact moment, Sam’s phone began to ring. She pulled it from her pocket with a sigh.

“Shit— I’ve been waiting on this call all day.” She kissed Anita’s cheek and stood from the table. “So sorry; I’ll just be five minutes, I promise.”

With that, it was just the two of them, staring intently at their water glasses. Spencer was certain he should say something, but he wasn’t sure what. Anita broke the silence first.

“You know what’s annoying?”

Spencer wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “Considering that the issues one might classify as an annoyance vary for each individual person, there are over seven billion potential answers to that question.”

Anita tilted her head with an unimpressed purse of her lips. Spencer hedged, “And I understand now that it was probably rhetorical.”

“I actually kind of like you.” She leaned across the table with an irritated sigh. “I wanted to hate you, but I don’t.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, I’m, um— I’m glad to hear that.”

“You’re good for her. Smart, humble, kind. Enamored with her, as you should be,” she deadpanned. She dropped her chin into her hand. “Almost as hot as she is.”

He laughed a little at that. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.” She dropped her hand back to the table. She still didn’t crack a smile, and her gaze bore into him. “I don’t know how much you know about Owen, and she’d probably kill me for saying anything. But he was a real piece of shit.”

This was not the direction he thought this conversation would take. He didn’t know anything about Owen; he’d tried not to think too much about anyone Y/N might have been with before him.

“It didn’t start out that way.” She drew her brows together. “Well, I don’t know— maybe he was always an asshole, and he was just good at hiding it.”

She shook her head and leaned back in her chair. “The point is, I didn’t know he was treating her like garbage until it was too late. He was already all…” She gestured wildly around her head. “In her head, telling her lies about herself, fucking her up, isolating her. For years he did that. And then it took her years to get him out of her head. To— unlearn all the lies. To build herself back up.”

He could see her grinding her teeth, trying to calm down. He was intensely grateful to not be on the receiving end of Anita’s wrath. He was also immensely glad that Y/N had a friend like that. And his blood absolutely boiled at the thought of her ever feeling anything less than adored.

“You’re a fed or whatever, so I shouldn’t be telling you this,” she continued, “but I would love nothing more than to put that fucker six feet under.” She ran her hand through her hair, and when she continued her voice was the quietest he’d ever heard it. “All that to say, I… I wasn’t there for her when Owen was destroying her from the inside out. And I will never let that happen again.”

Anita locked eyes with him and her voice was resolved. “I like you, Spencer. And I want to keep it that way. So, just— don’t give me a reason not to.”

She didn’t drop her gaze, and he couldn’t quite think of the appropriate response. He opened his mouth, and then closed it again. His brain was still fixated on the idea that anyone had ever hurt the loveliest and kindest woman he’d ever met.

“Where’s Sam?” Spencer turned just as Y/N slid back into the chair beside him, a comforting hand coming to rest on his knee.

“Some bullshit from the office that her idiot partner can’t handle.” Anita raised her eyebrows at Spencer, and he nodded minutely. She shifted her gaze back to Y/N with a grin. “Don’t worry. I didn’t scare him too much.”

…

“Easy.” Spencer steadied Y/N with a hand on her waist as they made the way up the stairs to his apartment.

“Jesus, I’m so sorry. I just— really can’t drink like I used to.” She clutched a little at the railing, and he held his breath until they were at the top of the stairs.

He slipped an arm back around her waist as they crossed to his apartment door, fumbling with his keys and fighting back a shiver as she snuggled close and ran her hand low over his tummy.

“Can’t believe I’m tipsy from a couple margaritas.”

“To be fair, you had four,” he chuckled, turning the key and pushing open the door.

“Okay, okay,” she relented. “But I used to be able to have a whole pitcher and be totally fine.”

“A pitcher?” Spencer laughed as he locked the door and turned to face her. “I can’t even have one without being completely incapacitated.”

She ran her hands up from his waistband, over his chest, and wrapped them around his neck. “Mmm, so you’re a lightweight.”

“Very much so,” he confirmed, bringing his hands to her hips.

“Just one more sweet thing to love about you, sugar.”

He couldn’t stop the smile from stretching across his face at the endearment, the way that North Carolina dripped syrupy and thick over every syllable. She pulled him down to meet her in a sweet kiss, quickly deepening it as he dug his fingers into the softness of her hips. Her hands wound into his hair, tugging lightly and holding him close.

He broke away to rest his forehead against hers and catch his breath. She laced their fingers together and leaned on him while she kicked off her shoes. He toed his own off and then allowed her to lead him toward his bedroom.

She sat him down on the edge of the bed and straddled his lap, bringing her hands up to tangle in his curls once again.

Before she could lean in for another kiss, he murmured, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Sounds dangerous,” she teased, ghosting her lips over his.

“Ha, ha.” Part of him wanted to bring up Owen, but she was so happy and warm and comfortable in this moment. He didn’t want to ruin this night of celebration. He didn’t want to ruin this day that had been so full of love. They had plenty of time to discuss Owen.

He wrapped his arms around her middle. “You’ve met Penelope. I’ve met Anita. Now that the school year is over… we could tell Michael.”

She pulled back, and the smile she gave him could only be described as radiant, and he knew he made the right decision. “He’s gonna lose his mind.”

…

A week later, the pair of them were strolling up the sidewalk to the LaMontagne house. Will and JJ were long overdue for a date night, and Spencer had jumped at the opportunity for the two of them to babysit. When they reached the door, Spencer rang the bell and Y/N waited slightly behind him.

They could hear the joy from behind the door before it even opened, Michael’s high pitched giggle and Will’s booming laugh. Spencer was already leaning down in preparation, and Michael absolutely launched into his arms as soon as the door swung open. Spencer clocked the moment that Michael spotted her, purely because he practically squealed and squirmed right out of Spencer’s grip.

“I knew it!” Michael cried.

He wrapped himself around Y/N’s legs and squeezed tightly, and she rubbed a hand over his hair with a bewildered smile. Michael broke away to turn back to Will with a grin. “I told you.”

“You did, buddy.” Will gave Spencer a lopsided smile as Michael tugged Y/N forward by the hand. “Michael had an… inklin’ that uncle Spencer might be friends with Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Not friends, Daddy,” Michael said exasperatedly. “He’s her boyfriend.”

“Oh, excuse me, sorry.” Will held his hands up in apology as he stepped aside to let them all in the door. “Michael had a feelin’ that uncle Spencer might be Ms. Y/L/N’s boyfriend.”

Y/N’s cheeks had turned a very pretty shade of pink. “What— um, what made you think that?”

Michael waited patiently for her to take off her shoes. “Well firstly, he started picking me up all the time, which was nice but weird. And then he wouldn’t stop asking about you. It was kind of annoying.” Spencer made a choking sound, and Will stifled a laugh.

“You guys wear the same shoes, and you both love Halloween and tea and reading. I knew you’d like him if he could be a guest reader.” As he led her into the living room, Michael continued, “Oh, and you wore his purple scarf. He doesn’t let anyone wear the purple scarf.”

Spencer vividly remembered that morning— she’d slept over after a midweek date night in April. The temperatures in DC had plummeted overnight, and the outfit she’d brought left her woefully under-dressed for the chilly spring day. He’d wrapped her up in the soft, purple scarf without a second thought.

She caught his eye with a shrug, and Will tried not to look too smug. Spencer watched her be dragged further into the house, turning to Will with a sheepish smile.

“Well, guess I can’t take all the credit,” Will decided. “Who knew we had a mini matchmaker this whole time?”

Spencer huffed out a laugh as Michael pulled Y/N into the playroom. “This is the best,” Michael sighed. “Now we can play restaurant forever.”

…

Spencer pulled his legs up in the tiny chair, resting his elbows on his knees and taking a moment to watch the scene in front of him unfold. Usually on nights like this, Michael ran him ragged with demands for magic tricks, story time, and playing pretend. Tonight, he’d actually been able to catch up with middle school (middle school!) Henry, because Michael was totally and completely enthralled by Y/N.

She was helping with the last of the setup for the “restaurant,” organizing Michael’s menus and straightening his clip-on tie. Of course he’d seen her with kids before. But something about being in this playroom— one that he’d spent so many hours in, watching two of his favorite kids grow up— had him feeling warm from head to toe.

Henry had bounded down the stairs at the news that uncle Spencer was dating his former kindergarten teacher. He hadn’t realized that she’d taught Henry, too, although with the timeline of her teaching career he should have put two and two together. The generally reserved middle schooler had positively beamed when she gasped out, “Gosh, I always forget how tall you’ve gotten!”

And now three of his absolute favorite humans were in one room, and he couldn’t stop smiling.

“Hen!” Michael called.

Henry turned from his spot in the chair across from Spencer. “What?”

“You’re the chef,” Michael informed him.

Y/N tilted her head. “I thought I was the chef?”

“No, no, no.” Michael pushed her toward the kid-sized table. “You and uncle Spencer are on a fancy date.”

Henry rolled his eyes playfully and stood from the chair, pulling it out for her like a perfect gentleman. She beamed at him and gave him a wink. “Thank you, sir.”

She dropped lightly into the chair across from Spencer and laughed a little at his folded limbs. “You look very comfortable.”

He laughed and stretched his legs out straight. “The picture of comfort, really. These chairs were clearly designed with six foot men in mind.”

“I’m sorry I’m so under-dressed for our fancy dinner date,” she teased, dropping her chin into her hand.

“You look stunning, as always.” He gestured to the messy braid Michael had folded her hair into. “I especially love what you’re doing with your hair.”

She sucked in a dramatic breath, bringing up her hand to pat lightly at her hair. “You’re making me blush, doctor.” She peeked behind her and then lowered her voice. “I’m probably going to cry when I try to brush the rats out.”

He looked at her sympathetically. “I know the feeling. I think I’ve got a wide tooth comb, and I can help. I’ve gotten pretty good at detangling Michael’s handiwork.”

Before she could respond, Michael made his way to the table, holding a dish towel over his arm. “Good evening, sir, madam.”

“Good evening,” they chorused, with barely suppressed grins.

“Compliments of the chef.” Michael held out his hand to reveal two slightly smushed strawberries.

“Oh, wow,” Y/N said, eyes wide and gesturing to Spencer. “Honey, do you want to—”

Spencer waved his hand, eyeing the berries warily. “No, no, please, help yourself.”

Y/N held back a smile and accepted the strawberries, holding them carefully in her hand and turning her attention back to Michael. “Thank you so much. What a wonderful appetizer. Could we hear the specials?”

That helped Michael remember the menus, and he pulled them from his pocket and cleared his throat. He handed them the construction paper menus. “Our specials tonight are roasted octopus and a steak tartar.”

From the kitchen, Henry mumbled, “Tartare.”

“Tartare. Steak tartare is our special,” Michael corrected.

“Hmm, I don’t know if I’m that adventurous. Maybe my boyfriend is though,” Y/N told a grinning Michael. “What do you recommend for a picky eater?”

“My favorite is the chicken nuggets.”

“Well then, sign me up. One order of chicken nuggets.” Y/N handed him the menu.

Spencer was still perusing the menu for Le Chateau LaMontagne. He smiled at Michael’s handwriting, but particularly at the places where he could tell Y/N had helped. “Everything looks delicious,” he finally decided, “but, you know... I think I’m also going to have the nuggets.”

…

When the boys were finally in bed, Spencer and Y/N settled down in the living room to untangle the mess of her hair. She sat on the floor in between his legs as he gently pulled each braid strand free. He smiled at the way she arched up into his touch, shivering when his fingers brushed over her neck.

“You’re lucky,” he remarked, laying the last braid strand back into its original place. “Michael seems to have gotten a little better at braiding.”

She leaned her head back into his hands. “You detangled the whole thing?”

“Mmhm.” He leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, then her mouth. She brought her hands up to hold him against her, trying to deepen the kiss before laughing at the awkward angle and giving up.

He sat up as she stood and moved to the couch, snuggling up close to him and tucking herself under his arm. “I’m very lucky,” she agreed. “For many reasons.”

Her hand drifted to rest on his tummy, her fingers immediately tracing little shapes over the fabric of his shirt. He pressed a kiss into her hair. “And tired, too.”

“Hmm?”

He leaned his cheek against her head. “When you get tired, you, um— you start drawing on my stomach.”

Her finger paused. “Do I?”

“Yeah.” She shifted to raise her head to look at him, and he shrugged. “I don’t mind. I’ve just— noticed.”

She smiled a little sleepily. “You know I love all of you. But I— well, I don’t know, really. I just like your tummy.” She gave it a quick squeeze. “It’s just— nice and comfy and perfect for resting on.”

He covered her hand with his own and leaned forward to press their mouths together. She drew his bottom lip in between her own, sucking a little and then giving it a quick peck before pulling back and stifling a yawn into his chest. “Man, I am tired.” She snuggled back into him and resumed her tummy tracing. “What, um— what else have you noticed?”

He rubbed his hand down her arm and pulled her impossibly closer. “You like to play with my hair.”

“Mmmm, guilty as charged.”

He smiled at the sleep creeping into her voice. “I like it, too.” He ran his fingers up to her shoulder, and then back down to the crook of her arm, soothing her closer to sleep. “Hmmmm. You always have at least one point of contact on my body at all times. It’s usually your hands, but sometimes it’s your head or even your toes— like when you tuck them under my leg.”

“Ugh— I’m sorry. Clingy and putting my feet on you,” she mumbled.

She might have been joking, but Anita’s words were replaying in his head. He couldn’t change what had happened in the past. He couldn’t go back and prevent her from being hurt by someone else. But he could be different in every way. He could be open and honest and vulnerable with her like he’d promised.

“I’m not sorry. I love all of you,” he murmured, pulling her in closer and repeating her words back to her.

“Even my feet?”

He could also show her that there was absolutely nothing that he didn’t love about her. “Especially your feet.”

She huffed a sigh into his chest. “Y’got a foot thing I don’t know about?”

He laughed a little at that. “Only for yours. They’re very cute feet.”

“You’re weird,” she muttered, but she hugged him tighter when she said it.

“You love it.”

Her fingers on his tummy had come to rest comfortably just above his waistband, and he knew she was on the very edge of sleep. “Mmhm. Love you.”

He thought of all the little moments over the past few months.

Doesn’t live up to expectations? Sorry for overstepping. Are we dating? Sorry for being clingy. Sorry for taking so long to tell you. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

“I love you, too,” he murmured. “So much.”

———

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323 notes · View notes

phoneybeatlemania-bit-the-dust · 3 years

Note

It annoys me when people complain about Julian and call him “whiny “. The person that John hurt the most throughout his whole life is his own son! I feel like this gets glossed over because he was more attentive to Sean “At least he was a good father to one of his children”. John failed Julian massively. Having Sean should’ve motivated him to try harder with Julian but I feel like it demotivated him because he realised how much of Julian’s life he missed and that made him feel bad about himself. Even in May’s book she says that John would’ve avoided Julian for the rest of his life to avoid feeling bad about himself & the choices he made with his life. And even when he got his visa he was happy to fly to other countries but not the country containing his son! I mean c’mon that’s very shitty and inexcusable. People can’t relate to John’s callous treatment of Julian so it’s downplayed and undermined by the excuse of “Oh well, John was better with Sean”. I know John appeared more motivated towards the end but doesn’t absolve him of the damage and pain he already caused to his son.

I try to understand John’s neglect of Julian from his perspective - I don’t want to excuse or justify it, but I still want to know what was going through his head to make him treat Julian the way he did - but I just can’t really understand it in the same way I feel like I can empathise with a lot of John’s other flaws. Like I feel like I can understand Johns mistreatment of certain people, or his mood swings, or his anger etc. But when it comes to Julian I struggle to understand him, and I just think its such a shame that Julian never got the closure he deserved with John. But I guess a few things to keep in mind when discussing this are:

1. Alfs abandonment

That Johns father, Alfred, abandoned him at such a young age, this might have affected John in such a way that made connecting with children a real challenge. Of course, he ideally still would’ve made an effort to connect with Julian more - but I guess that this was 1963, and he was someone who at this point had had absolutely no therapy. John’s own father I think was placed in an orphanage around the age of 5, so this neglect and abandonment appeared to be a bit of a cycle within the Lennon family-tree. Alf didn’t develop the neurones to be able to connect with his son the way a father ideally should be able to, and therefore John had trouble forming these connections too.

A real tragic story regarding this disconnect is one that ive heard Paul tell a few times (see this interview at 6:24 to hear him tell it). He essentially compares his ability to just naturally connect with children, to John’s inability to do the same; Paul grew up in a household where children and babies alike were around all the time - and in addition to this, there seemed to have been a lot more affection involved in his early environment compared to Johns. So when Paul was able to pal around at ease with Julian, John asked “How do you do that?” - and its unfortunately just not something you can just learn. I think John did want to be able to relate to Julian, and a part of him wanted to be a real dad - but I guess he just lacked the initiative to do so, as well as not having the needed facilities provided for him to be able to function as “good” parent (< or in other words, that man needed alottttttttt of therapy omg—)

2. Aunt Mimi’s coldness

I think by now its sort of been established that im not Mimi’s no. 1 fan - I don’t hate her, and I think she genuinely loved John, but ive been pretty critical of what I perceive her parenting style to be like. One aspect of this parenting style is that I think she was cold and deprecating towards John, which I presume took a toll on his relationships in such a way that made him susceptible to cynicism and even bitter contempt towards those he loved most.

“She never hit him: her worst punishment was to ignore him…When she did, he’d plead, ‘Don’t ‘nore me, Mimi!’” - I think that this type of parenting style could have effected the way John relates to Julian, perhaps making him feel it was okay to abandon him, maybe as a result of some unrecognised childhood angst or revenge.

Theres also a story where I think John said something to Julian a long the lines of, “I hate your laugh!”. Like, Jules was just some four year old living his life and then John, his own father, had this massive fucking mood swing. I feel bad for Julian cause my parents were like this (had random fucking mood swings and said some pretty contemptuous things) so I can empathise with him. At the same time though, I feel like I can understand John getting these mood swings (although, I don’t think that showing that kind of contempt towards a child is at all acceptable, and assuming that this sort of thing was a regular occurrence, I would say he was emotionally abusive towards Julian. Maybe John got these mood swings from Mimi (check this post for more on that).

3. Yoko’s influence and isolation

I think we first have to take into account here that John had a history of neglecting and failing Julian, and from what im aware of, he only started making contact with him again during his ‘Lost Weekend’ after being encouraged to do so by May Pang. So I don’t think we can make Yoko take all the blame for Johns neglect of Julian (and certainly not his emotional abuse towards Julian). But I think we have to also account for the fact that Julian has stated Yoko would refuse to put him through when he would ring his dad. And I just don’t know how much John had to do with that - as in, I don’t if John knew Yoko was isolating him to the extent that she did, or if he was unaware that she was rejecting several important and significant figures in his life.

For what its worth, Julia Baird wrote in her memoir of John urging (or really, begging) her to go to Cynthias house and ask Julian to phone him, because he hadn’t been able to get through to Julian, and he was trying to construct a better relationship with him around this time (this was before Sean was born, like you said, he seemed to lose motivation with Julian after Sean was born). I don’t know why Julian wasn’t taking his calls around this time - John seemed to think it had something to do with Cynthia, perhaps it was an autonomous decision made by Julian, perhaps it was entirely just a misunderstanding; I don’t know.

When it comes to Yoko, im conflicted - to some extent, I think John was being manipulated by her, and she was clearly isolating (even abusing) him - but also, he’s a grown man, and so he had to take the initiative for his own life. So I don’t know, but id say she is still partly responsible for spoiling Johns relationship with Julian.

~ ~ ~

At the end of the day, all I can really say is that John was just a classic case of parents needing therapy before they start, y’know, parenting - but it was 1963, and thats just not something most people underwent back then, especially people with more complex and unrecognised traumas, as well as mental illnesses that, whilst prevalent, may not have been so apparent. To clarify that point, I think John could function well-enough in his day to day life to be able to get by, because I don’t think his traits of mental illness tended to disrupt his life to such a degree that he could not function (at least not in 1963, though in later years, id argue more so they did; but even still, I don’t think John tended to struggle with mania or psychosis etc.) But I think he was still dealing with mental illness in a way that wrecked almost all meaningful relationships for him, as well as made feeling love and functioning as an emotionally stable and consistent person, a real hardship and challenge for him. And this inability to feel loved and cared for etc. made being a parent, quite simply, impractical. He needed therapy, and its a shame he died before ever receiving real therapy because it would’ve been interesting to see how John might have come to terms with really acknowledging his failures as a parent, and because Julian might have gotten some real closure with his dad.

All in all, I think Phillip Larkin said it best

#sorry this took a minute #these aren’t all my thoughts on John and Julians relationship btw #i have MANYYY more obviously #but these are just 3 things to consider i guess #asks #anon #discussion #julian #abuse #john lennon #john #johns psyche #alfred lennon #bpd #cynthia lennon #cynthia powell #paul mccartney #julian lennon #complex relationships

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immaturityofthomasastruc · 3 years

Text

Emotional abuse is NOT to be normalized.

Hello everyone! Anon from the “

I’m a victim of emotional abuse

” post. And today I’m going to explain my story of the emotional abuse I went through.

My story begins as a lot do, online. I was about 10 years old so I didn’t know what were red flags, and what relationships I should avoid. I had a very toxic friend group back then that enjoyed self deprecation and honestly bullying each other, me included. We used to do the cringe roleplays children do and making cringe oc’s. I met someone we’ll call Rin.

Rin didn’t bully me like the others in the friend group and very often came to me for opinions, and over all talking without making me feel like utter garbage. I ate up all the praise, all the love and support Rin gave me. However, even as early as friendship, they would get angry at me if I did stuff they didn’t like and would sometimes ignore me, sometimes verbally assault me into apologizing for things I really shouldn’t have.

»»————-————-««

For context, Back then I was both unmedicated for anxiety and I was going through a harsh time with my aunt and cousins living with us. When I was 6, my drug addict uncle committed suicide and I’d been living with them for about 4 years by that time. (No, my parents nor aunt told us he committed suicide. at the time, don’t worry) They made my life HELL, constantly getting me in trouble and generally putting me down.

Context: Rin was 16 when i was 10.

»»————-————-««

One day I was doing our daily playing games with the friend group and Rin when one of our friends, Rose, Told us we’d make a *great* couple. By that time I had some feelings for Rin, we’d voice call occasionally, to me they weren’t a stranger. Rin had agreed and in hind sight I was kind of pressured into the relationship.

All of the behavior I mentioned before, where they would get pissy whenever I did something they didn’t like or get nice when I did something they *did* like got WORSE. It’s nothing like what media presents, because when people wish to manipulate you they will without hesitation.

Rin began threatening bodily harm, showing me cuts if I did something vaguely wrong. They would tell me I was worthless without them. That if I’d “Only just listen to me I could make you the best girl ever!"

They found it funny when I’d get squeamish over topics, continuing the conversations and saying that if I’d just tell them that I’d like it then they’d stop.

One day when I was 11, it just got too much for me so I said we needed to break up. You wanna know what Rin did?

They threatened suicide. They told me if I left them they’d kill themselves. That I was all they were living for. That I was the love of their life and if I left them it’d be my fault if they killed themselves.

I was 11, I didn’t know any better about the situation but I knew I didn’t want them to die so I stayed. I stayed in the relationship. I tried 3 more times to break up with the same result. the same threat of Suicide. Sometimes with photos.

After that original threat they began getting s*xual. They began mentioning we should meet up IRL, despite us being several states apart. They began describing what they’d do to my body s*xually when we met IRL. They told me that if I didn’t want to fulfill their fantasy’s I was a bad SO. That I should only exist to fulfill their wants and *their* needs. It didn’t matter what I wanted.

when I was 12, I finally had an out. They had been stabbed and sent to the hospital. They weren’t online so I took the chance and broke up with them when they couldn’t do anything about it. They tried when they got back but I was long gone.

Now normally Media presents this as when a trauma victim starts healing and returns to perfect normalcy. That isn’t the case. Its been at least 4 years since I left them, since I got out of that situation, but I still have the fears. Have the insecurities. I still hear their voice telling me I’m worthless, That I’d be better off a trophy on their wall. That since I’m not their perfect ideal woman I should just shut up and be the best wife to the next man that decides I’m worth their time.

my anxiety’s voice, once a always changing one *became* their voice. I’ve healed, I’ve moved on from the abuse but their voice haunts me. Their Abuse has left mental scars that will NEVER heal.

This is why having Mental Abuse of any form be normalized is horrible. because it means more people like me will go through situations like these. and not be allowed to escape because we’re "over reacting”. Because we’re “just in hysterics. it’s perfectly normal!"

this is a serious issue that shouldn’t be brushed under the rug. Miraculous Ladybug is the WORST offender of normalizing Mental Abuse I have ever seen. because I KNOW the red flags. I have trained myself to see them. To protect myself.

Normalizing normal little issues is fine. But mental abuse? never. NEVER should ANY form of abuse be normalized because it means more victims will appear. This shouldn’t even be a thing but here I am. Having to fight for people to realize this isn’t a thing that should be just accepted.

TL;DR: My first ex threatened to cause bodily harm when i was 10, and when i was 11 threatened suicide for me daring to try and break up with them. I escaped when i was 12, only barely. Now my anxiety has taken their voice and haunts me to this day.

If you’ve read this long, thank you! and have some

kittens

for what I just made you read. Thank you for your time.

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

First of all, I want to thank you for your bravery in coming forward to share your experience. I am so sorry you had to go through this. Nobody deserves to be treated this way.

Second, you still raise a valid point.

Media in general tends to downplay emotional abuse and parental neglect, a good example being Monica Geller’s relationship with her parents from Friends. Almost every episode featuring Monica’s mom showed her being insensitive to her daughter and constantly belittled her while undermining her achievements like prioritizing Ross’ new girlfriend over Monica’s weight loss in a flashback. Even if it was unintentional on her part, it still damaged Monica’s psyche, and this kind of treatment was always played for laughs.

The fact that even shows today tend to downplay mental trauma shows that people don’t really understand the kind of damage it can cause.

The way Chloe’s relationship with her mother is portrayed is a good example. At least Friends is targeted towards an older audience so it could be enjoyed in a morbid way by laughing at Monica’s misery, but at its core, Miraculous Ladybug is aimed at children. Children will see Chloe bonding with her neglectful mother and see it as normal, as a good thing.

The fact that Astruc still doesn’t get how bad Chloe’s upbringing was shows he doesn’t get mental abuse either.

You need to better understand mental trauma before actually trying to write it. Otherwise, you end up depicting mental abuse in the wrong way and give viewers the wrong impression of it.

#immaturity of thomas astruc #iota #thomas astruc #thomas astruc salt #chloe bourgeois #queen bee #queen b #audrey bourgeois

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potatoqueensays · 3 years

Text

Okay okay so I may have wrote an Irondad drabble. It's kinda like a character study or something, idk I just came up with it and was like yeah let's do this. I hope you enjoy!!

_______________________________________________

My World Isn't Perfect Without You In It

3,004 words

It started as a simple feeling.

Tony was in his lab with Peter on one of their lab days, as they always were on Fridays. He would work with the kid after Happy picked him up and they would work on whatever their genius hearts desired.

Tony didn't really find himself looking at Peter with pride until Pepper pointed it out to him, she would comment on how he seemed like a Dad all of a sudden with the kid hanging around more.

He would always deny it with that Stark charm of his of course, deflecting was one of his main traits when it came to his feelings.

"Pep, motherhood may look nice on you, but fatherhood isn't kind for me you know." Flattery was said to get you places, but Pepper was known for never taking his BS.

"Tony, I can tell the way you look at him, you love him, whether you want to face it or not." She grinned at him, she was always right, even if he didn't like to admit it sometimes.

He thought back to her words frequently, picking up on how his heart swelled with pride and warmth when Peter looked at him for approval, or whenever he would get a question right, or even when Tony himself was having a bit of trouble with an equation, and he was Tony Stark, he could do anything!

The kid wormed his way into Tony's cold heart, thawed down his icy walls with a flamethrower and melted his heart into a puddle of goo.

The billionaire could never understand how he became so fond of the kid so quickly, but he always knew the reasons he liked the kid. He was so selfless, kind, and brave. A true hero at heart and much better than Tony even thought he would be, he was everything Tony wasn't and more.

He wasn't even jealous at the kid when he would steal the light, his own best friend becoming fond of the kid and mentioning how he was practically his kid.

"Platypus, he's not a Stark, in any way shape or form."

"He may not be blood related to you Tones, but he's your son in everything else, he has your brains even, maybe even smarter than you!" Rhodey teased.

"I'm wounded, Honey-Bear." He placed a hand over his heart in mock hurt.

"Oh hush, you know it better than anyone else."

And if he did, he would never say it up front.

He was proud of the kid even in his worst moments. He would try to console the kid when he came to him for help when close to a panic attack (which broke the hero's heart, the poor kid didn't deserve any of the unfair treatment the world had, it was too cruel for such a pure hearted kid like Peter.) or when he had a nightmare when staying over at the tower.

Tony wasn't always the most physically affectionate, he would give pats on the shoulder or back, arms around shoulders to keep the person close, and side hugs, even if he didn't do full ones.

When it came to Peter however, he slowly broke out of his shell of that. He kept a hand gently over the back of the boy's neck, sometimes playing with the curls that rested there, occasionally giving a reassuring squeeze when Peter seemed a bit nervous or highstrung. It always got rid of a little of his own stress when the boy would lean into his touch, side hugs and pats on the shoulder were gladly accepted.

Even the occasional hand holding when the kid was kept in the med-bay after a stressful mission or patrol, he would keep his hand over the boy's pulse point to reassure himself that the kid was alive and well. He would keep one hand over the kid's wrist while he worked on his suit, improving how he could make sure the current problems never happened again, whether it be even a scratch or a stab wound, he wouldn't let Peter get hurt on his watch.

He would always keep an eye on the kid, letting Peter know that he could call whenever he felt he needed something, maybe even just to chat, the billionaire found himself even endeared to the chatter that came from the spider-kid, it was a nice comforting constant to fill the silence in his life, even if he worked in his suits with FRIDAY blasting AC/DC, he seemed to have a better preference for the chatty kid. He would invest himself in listening to what happened in his day, to what him and Ted did over the week, and even hearing about how Aunt May burned water when trying to boil pasta.

He was fond of the kid, the feeling that was so simple at the start but steadily increasing over time and getting fiercer and stronger with each visit to the med-bay or after every movie night that eventually had the boy cuddled up to him. It grew into a surge of protectiveness, a very parental feeling and yearning to make his the kid happy.

So yeah, he was fond.

He was in too deep, as he wanted the kid by his side for as long as he could have him in fact, he begun to realize that yeah, he liked the kid and was fond of his company, but even more so.

He loved the kid.

He loved Peter.

Tony had a crisis when he was having a revelation about his feelings towards the younger hero.

He felt parental, even if he kept denying the fact when everybody knew how he felt before himself. Even if he tried to hide his grin whenever the kid's smile lit up a room, even if he kept rolling his eyes affectionately and ruffled the kid's curls when they bantered.

So yeah, he loved him.

Loving was dangerous however, loving got you in difficult situations where you don't think and sometimes your actions get out of hand with how much you care.

He cared about Peter with his iron heart, he cared about the boy so loudly in fact it would almost creep those three words up into his throat when he loved too fiercely with kid.

That's how he found himself in a very dangerous situation.

Peter was hurt, badly.

And it was his fault because he loved him, he was someone he got too close to and now it was his fault.

He stayed too close even when he should have remained at arms length, but the kid had to get close.

The bullet was supposed to be for Tony, not Peter, but the kid saw it coming from a mile away and pushed the iron clad man away from the aim of fire and taking the punishment with all the confidence of a self sacrificing idiot.

Peter was laid up in the med-bay as Cho and her helpers ran around to try and nurse the kid, while Tony was trapped in his own mind with how much he let Peter get too close, how he didn't notice that the kid obviously loved him too, so much in fact that he took a bullet for him, when Tony specifically told him not to if something like that happened.

He couldn't find it in his heart to be angry at the kid, no matter how much he wanted to be, he wanted to scream and shout and punch the walls, blame the universe for giving him someone so precious and kind that he would ruin completely, to rip apart a kid's life. It was his fault that the kid was by his side now, wanting to be an avenger because he took him to Germany just to win a fight against his own team, his own family. Or what he thought was.

He was pushed out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder, Rhodey's comforting voice making it's way to the man in armor, ridding him of the terrible thoughts and guilt that went through him.

"He'll be okay Tones, he's tough, he can handle it, he always does." Rhodey reasoned, trying to take Tony down from his tower of guilt.

"But he shouldn't have to."

"He did what he did because he cares, I know you would do it in a heartbeat if he was the one about to be shot."

"Because that's how it should be, I'm the adult, and he's the kid. He's just a child, Rhodey, a child." The older hero sighed, his face visible as his helmet was open, anyone could easily see his terror and distress. He tried to tear his eyes away from the frittering med staff, but he could only think of Peter. His Peter. His self sacrificing kid that he loved too much, and now it had gotten him hurt, the panic gripping his chest like a vice and not letting go as he feared what worse could have happened to his kid.

"Listen, he'll be okay, I know it." There was no room for argument with his tone, even if Tony wanted to, he needed to be at Peter's bedside, he was always there no matter what, even if he was mad or trying not to think about his guilt, the boy's presence always seemed to calm him.

The hero sighed softly, nodding even though panic rested comfortably in his chest.

He had cleaned himself up after the fight, after seeing Peter taken away from his side as he bled out and was in pain, even under the mask for the spider-suit, Tony could tell by the way the white eyes of the mask were pinched. It haunted him how he thought of Peter's bambi eyes shining with unshed tears and pain under that mask, those bright doe eyes filled with innocence and brilliance.

He remained stationary by the kid's bedside as he was finally left alone in his room, his accelerated healing luckily used in this moment. Helen had said the bullet hadn't hit any major arteries or organs, so that was a plus, but it still was agonizing to think of the boy in any sort of pain, or to even think of Peter leaving his side. If that happened, he didn't know what he would do. If he didn't have Pepper he would certainly lose it.

He just loved the kid too much to let him suffer.

He had his Stark-Pad resting in his lap as he held onto Peter's wrist, the feeling of the pulse underneath his fingers much more reassuring than the beep of the heart monitor. He kept his eyes focusing back between the notes he had down for what he could improve on Peter's suit and on the kid himself, eyeing his chest to check his breathing and checking the face of the boy in case he was going to wake up anytime soon.

He looked at the features of the boy, taking in the curls swept over his forehead, they were always gelled back no matter how much Tony joked about it. He never had a problem with it, but it was always pleasing to know how the boy liked a hand combing through his curls, whether it be his aunt to Tony himself. His face always bright with a smile that reached to his chocolate doe eyes, shining with talent and excitement for everything and anything. From Star Wars to how the Iron Man suit worked, he was always so smart and inquisitive. The boy was a ray of sunshine in Tony's bleak life. Yes he had Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy, he loved them all to bits and they made his life so much better, but loving Peter was different. He was his son in everything but blood, and that didn't even matter. He was a bright light that warmed up even the coldest of hearts, thawing right through to make anyone wrapped around his little finger.

Tony loved him.

He realized he was looking too much at the boy and swiftly changed to reading the schematics of the spider-suit, although he didn't read far when he heard a small sigh coming from in front of him. He looked up to see those bright and beautiful doe eyes looking up at him with that same amount of adoration that made Tony's heart want to burst, he didn't deserve the kid in the slightest, but here he was with him.

"Good afternoon, bambi." He said softly, aware of how Peter was sensitive his surroundings after waking up in the med-bay, the lights always at a dimmer power than normal to accustom to the spider-boy.

"Hi Mstr' Strk'." The boy slurred, still tired from just waking up and having pain reducing drugs in his system. The man carefully let go of the boy's wrist to hit the button that alerted Helen that her patient was awake, he almost missed the small whine that came from the younger hero at the loss of contact, it cut right through his heart.

"I'm here kiddo, don't worry." He held onto the boy's wrist again, fingers resting over the pulse point with quick muscle memory at this point.

"M' srry.." The boy mumbled, relaxing slightly as he registered the touch again, wide bambi eyes drooping sightly in relief.

"What are you sorry for, kiddo?" The man wondered. Peter always apologized, whether it be for something as small as dropping a pencil or bumping into a dog. He had such good manners.

"Ar' you mad a' me?" The boy's speech improving only a little as his enhanced metabolism burned through the painkillers.

Ah, so that explains it, he was worried the billionaire was mad at him. He gently rubbed a circle into the boy's wrist with his hand, comforting the kid into relaxing and not stressing when he needed to heal and get rest.

The man softly sighed and put the Stark-Pad away on the side table, scooting a little closer to the cot as he could look the kid better in the eye.

"No bud, I'm not mad, anymore. But you worried me a lot, I have a heart condition you know." He moved his free hand to go over the boy's front curls that hung in front of his eyes, getting to see those baby browns even better as the kid leaned into the soft touch.

"I knda' had to, you'd do it too.." The kid had a point, as it was similar to Rhodey's, even Pepper would say something like that, and she was always right, so that had to mean that Rhodey and Peter were too.

"That's different Pete. You're a kid and I'm an adult, we seniors kinda have to take the bullet. Figuratively and literally." He chided gently.

The boy let out a small huff of frustrated air, which was absolutely adorable as his nose scrunched up and he eyed Tony with what was presumably a glare that equalled the look of a puppy.

"But we gotta prtect' each other, otherwise you'd get hurt much worse." He brought up matter of factly.

"Well, maybe that's a risk I gotta take for spider-babies like you." Tony provided ruefully.

"Nt' a baby."

Well you're my spider-baby. He almost wanted to say.

Luckily he was saved by Helen Cho coming in to do a small checkup on Peter, looking over his vitals and smiling softly at her patient.

"Hello Peter, how are you feeling? Any pain?" She eyed over her clipboard presumably to check over his vitals and wounds again, being very perceptive to how Peter responded.

"M' fine, jus' a little sore." At that, Helen nodded and worked on administering a little medicine into his system, making the boy sigh gratefully at that. Both Cho and Tony knew when Peter said he felt a little pain it meant more than he played it as.

"I'll be back in a couple more hours, get some rest okay?"

Peter nodded at that and watched as she left the room, now alone with his father figure mentor once again. He looked over at Tony with a dopey smile, looking very tired now, he was bound to fall asleep. He sightly tugged on the man's arm, they both know that was to invite the man to cuddle, which they never brought up out loud, but they both knew the other enjoyed it greatly. It helped assure Tony that Peter was safe and there, while Peter got comfort and protection.

The man sighted good-naturedly as he stood up to get beside Peter.

"Alright alright, scoot over, this isn't gonna be nice on my back later." He joked. Although he said that, he would gladly take a little pain if it meant having Peter safe in his arms.

The boy obeyed and scooted over quickly, allowing Tony to climb in and get comfy, then let out a small "oof" as the kid rested his head on his shoulder and clung like a koala.

The man chuckled, a hand coming up to cradle the boy's head and play with his curls, knowing that helped Peter sleep much faster.

"Okay cuddle-bug, you heard her. It's nap time."

"Nt' a bug." Peter mumbled, blissfully unaware how Tony's heart practically melted with how easy Peter fit in his arms. He was so small. They were like two pieces of a puzzle, father and son, mentor and mentee. They belonged together and they wouldn't have it any other way as they needed the other.

"Right, arachnid." Tony corrected himself, hiding his grin in the kid's hair as Peter let out a pleased hum, slowly drifting off to sleep.

"Night." Peter mumbled, slowly lulled to sleep by the soft rumbling of the older hero's chest as he responded in kind.

"Goodnight bambino." He mumbled, pressing a small kiss to the boy's hair as they soon both drifted off to sleep.

Yeah, Tony loved him, and he needed him in his life like Peter needed him.

Thank you to @polaroid15 for reading this before hand and your lovely comments!! 🥺♥️

#irondad #irondad and spiderson #irondad fanfiction #mine #honestly this is my first ever attempt at writing fanfiction #i normally write for classes or drabbles of my own characters #but i have never done other characters #also im not that good with dialogue but I tried #i hope you enjoy 🥺♥️#tony stark #peter parker #pepperpotts #but only like quickly #james rhodes #quickly as well

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besanii · 4 years

Note

Hi! Am rereading your shattered mirrors verse and I love it so much. Are we going to get the scene in which WWX explains everything that’s happened to him (with the poison) etc to LWJ after they meet wen yuan?? I’m dying for the angst but also fluff and comfort 🥺🥺🥺

@lurkingscientist asked:

I can’t wait to hear about all the sad things wwx experienced!!! :D my “stabby stabby stab stab stab” is feeling slightly neglected

Shattered Mirrors #61

“I haven’t told you everything.”

In the thirteen years Wei Wuxian had been gone, Lan Wangji searched desperately for every scrap of information he could get his hands on, from every channel he could access, in hopes of finding him. Or finding out what had happened to him. What he could find was piecemeal at best and unreliable at worst, often conflicting depending on the source. The result was him, driven mad by desperation and grief, chasing ghosts in the shadows until he could no longer tell what was real.

Even now, with Wei Wuxian back at his side these last two years, happy and content and safe, he still does not have a clear picture of what had happened during the war. If he’s being honest, he’s afraid to ask, and even more afraid to know. He tells himself it’s enough just to have Wei Wuxian by his side again. He doesn’t need to know, if Wei Wuxian does not want to share.

So Wei Wuxian’s confession punches the air from his lungs and he feels in its wake, his hands trembling where they’re entwined. Wei Wuxian watches him with the same care one would give to a startled animal ready to flee.

“That is,” he amends hesitantly, “if you wish to know.”

Lan Wangji inhales, and exhales again, with a shudder. Squares his shoulders. Looks him in the eye.

“Yes,” he says. “I do.”

It is Wei Wuxian’s turn to take a deep breath, the tentative little smile on his lips giving way to steely resolve. On his other side, Wen Yuan kneels by the bed, wordlessly offering his unwavering support. Despite all this, it takes Wei Wuxian some time to find the right words to convey the enormity of what he is about to disclose.

“I don’t know where to begin,” he admits with a shaky laugh, looking down at their joined hands. “I suppose you already know how Yunmeng fell.”

Lan Wangji nods. He has heard scattered details, enough to know that there had been a traitor in their midst, someone who had fed false information through their intelligence network while Wei Wuxian had been in Gusu. They had managed to secure Yunping, but sustained heavy losses that severely weakened their defences. The traitor had been found, but by then the Qishan Wen army was already at their doorstep, ten thousand strong, and they had no way out.

“We evacuated as many civilians as we could. Jiang Cheng, Jiang-wang and Yu-wanghou stayed behind to defend the city,” he says. His eyes and voice are distant, lost in his memories. “I took Shijie and we escaped via the lakes, with the rest of the civilians. Our priority was to get to Yunping, and then to Lanling. Shijie was engaged to Jin Zixuan, so they would definitely come to our aid—or at the very least, they would keep her safe while I gathered reinforcements.

“They were there,” he continues, still in that far-off voice. “Wen Chao and his men. They had split their forces to ambush us while we were defenceless. Our boats were burned, our people drowned—we in Yunmeng are strong swimmers, but even the strongest swimmers cannot survive when arrows rain down from the sky.”

He shivers with his next breath, but his voice is steady.

“I entrusted Shijie to my lieutenant, instructed them to use one of the overturned boats to cover their escape, while I distracted Wen Chao.” He smiles, but it’s stark and without humour. “We’ve had…altercations in the past, so I knew I would be an adequate distraction. I held him off for as long as I could, kept his attention on me. But I was only one person, and he had an army.”

The reports that had come out of Yunmeng around that time—the ones Lan Xichen had allowed him to read while recovering from his punishment, at least—had painted a picture so bleak, so devastating that he had wept. The lakes of Yunmeng, once teeming with colour and life, stained red with blood over the course of one night; and Lotus Pier, its seat of power, that had once risen from the depths of the lakes like a mirage, burned to ash. He had been back to the ruins of Lotus Pier in the intervening years as it was slowly rebuilt after the war—Gusu had offered aid wherever possible, in both money and manpower, as well as political support for the Yu family of Meishan, the maiden family of Queen Yu Ziyuan, who had been installed as stewards in the absence of the ruling family—but the shadows of war still haunts its streets and darkens its waters even now.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes fall closed and his fingers tighten around Lan Wangji’s.

“There’s a stronghold in Yiling,” he says. “Some call it the Burial Mounds, or the Mass Grave. Beneath the fortress, there’s an extensive network of cells that run beneath the mountains. That’s where they keep their highest security prisoners, the ones who get…special treatment.”

There is no need to ask what ‘special’ means, so Lan Wangji stays silent. His blood, however, runs cold—as cold as Wei Wuxian’s voice as he continues his narrative, detached.

“Wen Chao had a special—” that word again, spoken with such venom that it curdles in Lan Wangji’s stomach and burns his throat, “cell prepared. More a cage, really. Every second shichen, it would be submerged in water up to the neck, and stay there for another shichen until it was raised again. In the interim, the prisoner would be left soaking wet in the cold, damp cell.”

The memory of Wei Wuxian at the water’s edge, the frantic terror on his face as he struggles to breathe despite not having come into contact with it, the frailty, the susceptibility to cold and illness—it is all starting to fall into place, one horrifying piece at a time. But Wei Wuxian is not finished.

“There were beatings, of course.” A sudden, fierce anger wraps around Lan Wangji’s heart at the matter-of-fact way in which he says it. “Wen Chao always did have a sadistic streak. He liked to hang people up by the arms and have them whipped, or burned, or flogged. Sometimes he’d leave them there for more than a day, weighed down at the ankles, blindfolded, while they tortured others around them.”

A hand extricates itself from Lan Wangji’s death grip and peels back the edge of a sleeve to reveal the scars along his arms. Dozens of them, some longer and thicker, others as thin and fine as thread, criss-cross along the pale flesh. As he traces quivering fingers along the skin, Lan Wangji feels each cut, each slice, on his heart. Then Wei Wuxian turns his hand over, revealing a large, pale scar on the inside of his wrist, and a matching on on the other, too precise to be self-inflicted. He inhales sharply in realisation.

“Your hands—” he chokes, eyes wide as he stares at the scars. “He didn’t—”

Wei Wuxian lets the sleeves fall back down to cover the scars.

“If you fight back,” he explains woodenly, “they cut the tendons in your wrists and ankles. They’ll send a doctor to look over your injuries, of course. There is no benefit, no value, in a dead prisoner of war. That’s how I met Wen Qing and her brother, Wen Ning.”

“My aunt and uncle,” Wen Yuan, who has been silent until now, explains. Lan Wangji had almost forgotten his presence. He smiles sadly. “They were taken by my great-uncle as hostages to ensure our branch of the family supported the war effort, and served as doctors on the front lines.”

Wei Wuxian’s lips curl into a smile—not the harsh, bitter ones from before, but softer, tinged with grief.

“They took care of me,” he says. “Wen Qing was the best doctor in all of Qishan. There was no illness she could not cure, no injury she could not fix. And Wen Ning…Wen Ning was the kindest person I have ever met. Too kind, too gentle for war. They did their best to help me—slipped me medicines and food whenever they could, diverted Wen Chao’s attentions away from me when it got too much.”

His voice wavers and breaks.

“They died trying to get me out,” he says hoarsely. “First Wen Ning, then Wen Qing. And I couldn’t—I couldn’t do anything to save them—”

Lan Wangji gathers him into his arms, crushes him against his chest as he cries out in anguish, his body wracked with sobs. His own eyes are hot, and he sees Wen Yuan’s are also bright with unshed tears when their gazes meet over Wei Wuxian’s head. They stay like this until he quietens, curled in Lan Wangji’s embrace, eyes hollow and wrung out. Lan Wangji is about to suggest that they continue this another day when Wei Wuxian rouses himself with a shaky breath, and continues.

“They killed Wen Ning in front of me,” he says. “And then they forced Wen Qing to take the same deadly poison they had been using to experiment with on us—”

“Qianji poison,” Lan Wangji says before he can stop himself. Both Wen Yuan and Wei Wuxian turn to him in shock. He lowers his eyes. “You fell ill after your performance at Caiyun Pavilion,” he tells Wei Wuxian. “I had a physician brought in to see you.”

He is careful to leave out Mo Xuanyu and Madam Zhang’s involvement, but Wei Wuxian is not fooled. But rather than get angry, as they had feared, he only shakes his head and laughs.

“I should have guessed,” he says. “They always liked to make a fuss.”

“They care about you,” Lan Wangji chides him gently. “And I am glad they told me, so I was better prepared to take care of you like I promised.”

This time when Wei Wuxian turns into the cradle of his arms, it is out of exhaustion, as if a great weight has been lifted from his chest, and his eyes drift closed as Lan Wangji strokes his hair with gentle motions. There is still more to the story, Lan Wangji knows—and there are questions burning in his mind. But he feels the sag of Wei Wuxian’s body against his, the heaviness of his breath, and cannot bring himself to press him further. They have time. After a moment of silence, when Lan Wangji thinks him asleep, he stirs.

“I’m tired,” he murmurs. “So tired.”

“You’ve done well, Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji reminds him. “Get some rest.”

Wen Yuan excuses himself as Wei Wuxian hums and nestles deeper into his arms. Lan Wangji nods at him gratefully and watches him leave, keeping his movements quiet so as to not disturb Wei Wuxian’s rest.

“I think I’ll close my eyes for a while,” Wei Wuxian agrees, his words already starting to slur. “I just need…a little break.”

Lan Wangji presses a light kiss on his forehead.

“Take all the time you need,” he says. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

master post in sidebar!

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#dreamaholicsanonymous #lurkingscientist #asks #shattered mirrors fic #shattered mirrors au #lan wangji #wei wuxian #mdzs #wangxian #王爷机 X 花魁羡 #prince!lwj #courtesan!wwx #🥢#🔪🔪🔪🔪#torture mention cw #my writing

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starkerdestroyedmylifee · 4 years

Text

Thief

Peter tries not to feel the weight of his backpack as he makes his way up from the lab. He really does. But, it’s heavy.

‘Well, of course it is.’

Peter curses himself, popping up each step and hoping- praying- he doesn’t bump into anyone on the way. It’s still heavy, though. Even with his super-strength; heavy, and metal, and not his, because he really, really shouldn’t have it.

At all.

When the day had begun, Peter’d played the part of ‘devastated mentee’ to a T. His eyes had been puffy, exiting his aunt May’s car, rubbing his runny nose on the cuff of his suit.

No, not his suit.

Some store-bought thrift that didn’t quite fit his shoulders. A black jacket with fabrics frayed at the base, and dress-pants not quite long enough. Pepper had offered paying to get something tailored, but Peter’d declined quickly. It didn’t feel right, taking money from Mr. Stark’s fortune, even beyond the grave. They hadn’t known each other well enough. Which is odd, considering he’s currently attending said man’s funeral.

Peter tries not to linger on the fact that he’s technically (Technically meaning actually) stealing from Mr. Stark, and instead makes his way through the crowded living room. The majority of guests seem to be winding down now, what with Tony’s eulogy all said and done. Only soft, meditated tones, and consoling hands on shoulders, and Ms. Pepper Potts- smiling politely, but dead on her feet- striking up some conversation about sewage. He meets her gaze, and the weight of his backpack is bone-breaking.

She doesn’t walk over to him, thankfully. Of course, he’s just another kid wrapped up in her late husband’s antics. The invitation sent their way had been courteous at best, but worded as something that was supposed to happen, despite being a bit inappropriate. Peter’s a stranger, after all. And, what happens when you invite strangers into your house?

They steal your stuff.

Still, Ms. Potts nods his way. Soft; disinterested. Her gaze quickly slides over him, onto another guest far more deserving of her attention. Despite this, Peter’s back goes rigid for the few seconds spent on him. He holds his breath- freezes- before letting it out in relief.

‘This is horrible.’ Peter thinks to himself. ‘I’m literally going to hell for this.’

It doesn’t matter at this point. Not with his mind fogged in an overwhelming cloud of grief, or his eyes still stinging from such a heavy cry, or his throat burning from yet another wave of anguish. ‘No,’ he decides, tapping his aunt’s shoulder. ��It doesn’t even matter at this point.’

He feigns a stomach ache, by which May thinks he’s playing sick to escape the depressing atmosphere of his idol’s funeral, and drives him home before Happy can so much as woo her to stay at his place.

Up the stairs.

Through the hallway.

Into his bedroom.

He shuts the door. Crumbles to pieces. Because-. Because, he finally starts realizing what he’s just done.

‘Oh, god. Oh god, this is so much worse than I thought it would be. This is- This is literally the worst idea I’ve ever had. Stupid, stupid, stupid!’

Peter can’t help his hands from shaking as he lifts the metal helmet out of his bag. It’s cold against his skin, which only makes his mouth go dry. Mr. Stark used to wear this. He used to wear this, and it’d been cold. Heavy and cold.

“...I really fucked up.” He says out loud, which only seems to solidify it.

Well, he can’t take it back now. Not if Pepper ends up noticing that it is gone. A monument. A goddamn trophy of Mr. Stark’s. One of his earliest models, with the classic red spray and golden faceplate. Christ, if he’d wanted it so badly, why didn’t he just buy a replica?

Because it wasn’t the same.

It isn’t the same.

But, damn it all, it’s also not his.

Peter had just wanted something to remember Mr. Stark by, and-. God, that helmet had called to him like a siren.

‘Mr. Stark would want you to have it.’ His brain had supplied.

Which-.

Uh.

No.

No, he would not want a literal child hanging onto his legacy like a fucking baseball card, instead of in a museum, or some well-maintained pedestal, or in a safe to be preserved for the next thousand years. Tony had been over the top like that. He liked to think his work was worth something. It was meant to adore.

The thought of Peter one day throwing it on top of his dirty laundry made him want to cry.

“Oh, god. Oh- Oh, shit. Okay, Peter. This is-. Oh, shit.” He tosses Mr. Stark’s helmet on the bed, and really does almost cry. A High-Tec, revolutionary piece of hardware, worn by Earth’s savior had just been thrown on his rumpled bedsheets, and goddamn fucking shit Peter is definitely- definitely- about to have a panic attack. He throws his arms up.

“That’s it.” Peter rambles sharply. “I’m screwed. I am so screwed, because I-. Oh my god, is it chipped? Of course it’s fucking chipped, Peter. It-. It’s Tony’s. Of course. Oh my god, I’m going to jail.” He peeks out the window, half-expecting to see cop cars at the entrance of his apartment complex. “Why did I do this?”

That’s the big question. Up until this point, Mr. Stark had only ever been an idol. Then a mentor. Then a father figure.

And, then-.

Okay, no. Peter is not going there. He paces around his room, onto his walls, the ceiling, hanging off his fingertips before plopping back onto his bare feet. He sighs, cursing, before making his inevitable journey back to the helmet.

Picking it up, his senses note a slight rise in temperature. It’s still cold, obviously. His room is well-heated though, unlike the lifeless cellar they’d had it cooped up in just hours before. Which makes Peter feel a little better about things- he smiles, tilting it this way and that. ‘Ha! A real home.’- before noticing a patch of crumbs on the helmet’s jaw from when he’d eaten Cheetos on the bed, wiped his fingers against the sheets, and seamlessly forgotten to throw them in the wash.

Peter almost faints.

Luckily, they’re easily wiped away by some bed-side tissues (Peter tries not to remember what he uses said tissues for. He’s already mortified by his poor treatment of it.) He sits on the bed with a huff, settling Mr. Stark’s tech in his lap like a pet. Peter runs his fingers over it apologetically, but it doesn’t feel like enough. Nothing feels like enough. He sighs, lowering his head.

“I bet you think this is pretty funny, huh?” Peter supplies, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Well, it’s not… It’s a little funny, but only because I know you’d probably have some quippy one-liner set up for me.” He falls onto his back, bringing the helmet to rest against his chest. Breathing out through his nose, he raises the metal mask just above him, so he can stare up at it. His bedroom light catches the surface of gleaming red, and Peter feels like a dirty slob just touching this rare treasure.

“Something like…” He pauses, thinking for a moment. “‘Oh, Peter. Looks like you’re a head of the game…’ That was really bad.” He chews his lip. “‘Sorry, kid. I want you to fill my shoes. This is a little much.’ God, no. That doesn’t sound like Mr. Stark at all.” Peter turns onto his side, letting the helmet lay against his pillow. They stare intimately at each other. ‘They’ being Peter and a lifeless curve of metal. He pulls the mask a bit closer.

“‘Woah there, Spiderman. At least buy dinner before you take it to bed.’” Peter turns his face into his pillow, groaning pitifully.

“Why are helmet jokes so hard?” He pauses, mulling his complaint over. “Okay, that one wasn’t bad.” Like that, Peter angles his face to check on the helmet, and looks to see its reaction. Which creeps him out, of course. Alright, so maybe there are even more implications to stealing his idol’s helmet then the fact he stole it. Maybe it’s just bad to have an inanimate object symbolic of Mr. Stark around him.

‘No shit.’ Peter thinks to himself, drawing a hand down his face.

Still…

He places a finger along the metal mask’s faceplate; feels the cool of its surface, the crisp curve of each indent. It’s nice. Really, really nice. Which is exactly why he has to pull away and face the wall of his room.

‘Nope. No chance. Time out, Peter.’

He closes his eyes, counting back from one hundred. He does it seven times. Eight. It doesn’t matter. Peter turns around to face it again, and does exactly what he’d been doing before. His fingers map out the metal slabs, just imagining what it must’ve been like inside.

‘It probably smells like him.’ Peter’s brain coos.

‘What? Like booze, and sweat, and morning breath? Is that what you’re tempting me with?’

‘Yes.’

It doesn’t smell like Mr. Stark, for the record. It smells sterile and lifeless and unworn, like someone went and purged it of everything Tony. Which, Peter assures himself, is completely, totally fine. It doesn’t bother him a bit.

Not one bit.

Not when he slips a hand inside and feels the strange padding used to cradle Mr. Stark’s head. Or when he pulls it out, not devastated to find the man hadn’t shed any hair. Nope. Not even a little. Because that would be weird, and a little obsessive. A lot obsessive. It’s not like Peter could clone Mr. Stark if he had any kind of DNA. It’s not like Peter wants to.

He checks his alarm clock, the same one still ticking five years after the blip; 10:47.

Not crazy late. On the contrary, it’d be amazingly early for the hyper-active teen to turn in just yet. That’s what he tells himself as he reaches over his night stand, tugging the string of his lamp light. The room goes dark and Peter tries (Read: fails miserably) to fall asleep. Looking his crime in the face anymore than he already has to is punishment enough, at least for today.

He tries to ease his muscles, but they just won’t let up. There’s a weight in his bed that he’s not used to, and it sets all his human nerves on edge, even with his Spidey-senses dormant. Peter should put it in the closet, but he can’t bear the image of allowing it to collect dust. On the contrary, the thought leaves him choked and wanting a glass of water he doesn’t have the energy to grab. The idea of mistreating anything Tony Stark-related has the young vigilante in shambles.

Which is why he soon finds himself rotating around to face the helmet in his bed. Even through darkness, he can make out a sharp outline of lunar beams streaming in through the window. It’s soothing. It’s reprimanding. Peter sniffs, blinking away what feels like an ocean of tears.

“I’m sorry…?” He offers shyly. His tone breaks, shoulders bunched, brow pinched with a grimace only offset by the flush of his cheeks. ‘At least here,’ Peter thinks to himself, ‘I can get some kind of closure.’

Which is exactly what leads him to kiss the metal armor.

Soft, across where he’s sure Tony’s lips would be located. It’s quick. Innocent, really. If things weren’t so different in the 21st century, people might mistake it for a platonic peck. Because Tony- brave, wise Tony- was like a father to him, in the only way he understood a father could be. It’d been so tender, after all. With those sweet, thin fingers caressing, not pulling, and palms that cradled, not smooshed. Nothing demanding. Nothing sexual. Just a good ol’ fashion kiss, which lasts no more than a few seconds.

Peter promises himself it isn’t anything else. It’s a platonic kiss on the lips. Which is a thing. It is, but other people might make it out to be something more. Someone like MJ would probably cackle her ass off if she knew he’d given the mask a kiss, as short as it is.

The few that follow after are a bit longer.

By the time Peter finishes, he’s relaxed in the worst way possible. He feels groggy, worn at the lips, and shitty as all hell because that last kiss had definitely been excessive.

And, okay.

Peter has a massive crush on Mr. Stark.

It’s terribly obvious. And tragic as shit, since the man is dead. Despite reminding himself, he can’t help but cling onto that damn feeling of metal on chapped, teenage lips. He feels sleepy, and he suddenly doesn’t want to be. It feels immensely inappropriate falling asleep next to a helmet he smooched to pieces.

Like sleeping next to Tony in Peter’s perverse, miserable fantasies.

Where Ms. Potts is away on business, and Mr. Stark is oh-so alone, and oh-so desperate for some kind of bodily touch. Where Peter is his sexy young intern, who has the confidence to wear feminine lingerie under his work clothes, and doesn’t mind brushing hips. They could make hot, passionate love in the lab for all he cares, and Mr. Stark would call him Baby, and Peter would call him Daddy, and it would hardly be funny to say in the moment, though he might snort when thinking over it later.

Best of all, Tony likes Peter best in his fantasies.

Parker is his favorite.

It’s only ever fantasy, though. Peter knows better than to indulge it.

In a conflicting fit between putting the helmet away, or pulling a sheet over top, or entertaining the notion of sneaking it back in place before anyone notices it’s gone, Peter decides to give the mask his bed while he sleeps on the floor. He’d much rather give Mr. Stark his best than chance disrespecting the man’s memory in favor of comfort. He obviously can’t be trusted, getting too close to Tony-related objects.

Laying on his bedroom floor twiddling his thumbs, Peter can’t help but wonder: What has my life come to?

#Starker #Peter x Tony #Tony/Peter #Fic #I don't know anymore guys #I miiiiight continue this??#Or maybe I'll just leave the babe to suffer

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lunasilvermorny · 3 years

Text

Maria Black - Harry Potter OC

Introduction:

This is my HP OC that I created a long time ago, when I was around 12-13 y.o. (so, you know... it’s been a while!)

Over the years I’ve developed her story more and more, changed it as I got older and basically kept the headcanon alive for years - but I never wrote about her. Everything I had I kept inside my head, and all the potential stories remained as nothing but a day-dream.

Until today! (or a few days ago, when I came up with the idea.)

It’s time to document this headcanon, even if it’s not going anywhere serious other than some stories and drawings.

I can’t emphasize it enough - I made most of it during the mid/late 2000′s, waaaay before the Cursed Child. So please don’t associate any part of my HC with this terrible excuse of a canon. JKR already proved that her judgement is questionable, so for me the only thing that is canon are the books and my headcanon relates to them and nothing else!

Anyway, let’s dive in!

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Bonus drawing from baby-OP:

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General plot:

Maria is the daughter of the Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange and was born a few months before they were sent to Azkaban. Her aunt Narcissa took her in and she was raised by the Malfoy family.

When she was about 5/6 y.o., she went to Azkaban to see her mother. (in the headcanon, her father died in Azkaban). She got scared by the Dementors and when she tried to find the exit, she came upon Sirius’ cell. This encounter changed her life and made her realize that her family is one of the “bad guys”, and she’s decided to leave the first chance she gets.

The day she left to Hogwarts was the last day she spent with her family.

Since it’s a HP OC-insert kind of headcanon, she befriended Harry, Ron and Hermione and was practically the 4th member of this friend group. So most of the plot of the headcanon correlates with the plots of the books, so I’m going to focus more on the individual parts that doesn’t relate the regular plot.

Before she got to Hogwarts she asked to be referred to as Maria Black and not Maria Lestrange. In the future she’d also legally change her name.

Because she’s decided to never go back to the Malfoys ever again, she was basically homeless for the first two summers away from Hogwarts. She mostly relied on magic (around other wizards, so no one will know she’s a minor using magic) and some friends that let her stay with them every once in a while.

(The is a LOT more, so if you’re interested, keep reading ^^ )

After the 3rd year was over, one of her friends that was an exchange student from Beauxbatons, invited her to spend the summer at his house in France. The reason he wanted her to come over was because his father was a coach for the French junior-league Quidditch team and wanted him to let her into the team, so in the future she’d be able to become a professional player. He knew that she plans on filing for Emancipation of minors, that will strip all the legal rights from her family and free her from them - but for that she needed a sufficient income. Her friend’s father was glad to help and after she showed him her skills, he let her into the team. When she was 15, she got into the professional league. (I based this part of the HC on the fact that Viktor Krum was also a student, when he became a Quidditch star.)

Sirius was the most important figure in her life and became like a father figure to her. Through him, she also felt that Harry and her (although not by blood) were related.

For a long time, the ending of the headcanon was that Maria killed herself after Sirius was murdered, but in recent years I’ve reversed this decision and kept her alive for the duration of the book and beyond that.

During her 6th year, after her mother already escaped Azkaban, she was forced to hide in Hogwarts (she wasn’t allowed to keep her role in the Quidditch team anymore), because Bellatrix made it clear that she’s going to kidnap Maria and force her to join Voldemort’s side.

She was able to avoid this fate only up to the plot of the 7th book, that’s when she was finally captured and held hostage in an attempt to force Harry’s hands and save her. However, before she was kidnapped, Maria asked from the Order and Hermione that if she’s ever to fall captive, to prevent Harry from saving her at all cost, since it’s an obvious trap.

Frustrated by the fact that the trap hasn’t worked combined with Maria’s general resistance, Bellatrix tortured her daughter for the entire duration of her incarceration, mostly by using the Cruciatus curse on her over and over again. At a near-dead state, Bellatrix used the Imperius curse on her to try and make her fight on Voldemort’s side at the Battle of Hogwarts, but Maria was too weak and wasn’t much of use to her in the end.

After the fight, Maria was in a coma for a few months and even after she woke up, she had a very long recovery period. The worst expression of it manifested in her PTSD from the Cruciatus curse that caused her to scream in agony almost every time she went to sleep. At some cases she was in such bad shape that no one was able to wake her up.

After a partial recovery, she returned to her pending career as a Quiddich player.

Her relationship with Fred Weasley:

Maria was fairly popular and had dated a few people (in a non-serious way, due to her age), but her first love was Fred Weasley. They’ve started dating in secret when she was in her 5th year.

During the 6th year, she has prepared him for the possibility of the kidnapping and asked him not to come rescue her if it ever happened.

In the summer after her 6th year, to reassure her that they will both survive the war, Fred gave her a ring and told her that after it’s all over, they’ll get married. (It wasn’t a proposal per se, but an attempt to give her hope when she was sure she’s going to die.)

Maria wasn’t aware that Fred died since she almost met the same fate herself at the Battle of Hogwarts, and found out about it from George after she woke up from the coma.

Her relationship with Neville Longbottom:

At the beginning, no one knew she’s Bellatrix’s daughter. People were suspicious of her during year 3 (after all, she is Maria Black) because they thought she was assisting Sirius (and at some point there were rumors that she was his secret child), but it wasn’t until year 5 that the news about her being Bellatrix’s daughter has spread out by Malfoy.

Maria considered Neville a close friend and was afraid of his reaction once he finds out, but even though he had to get over the initial shock, he told her that he knows that she’s nothing like her mother, that she has proven she’s on their side and that he’s not going to judge her over something that is out of her control.

After the Battle of Hogwarts, during her recovery, she’s met Neville’s parents and also spent time with them while she was admitted. The fact that she was tortured by Bellatrix too was a bonding factor and made her and Neville even closer.

After a few years, Neville and Maria have started dating, but their future together in unknown.

PTSD and irreversible damage:

I mentioned that due to the torture she experienced, Maria suffered from PTSD, caused primarily by the Cruciatus curse. She would have recurrent nightmares that caused her to scream and cry in agony, as her body turned and twitched, as if she was under the curse.

In most cases people were able to wake her up, but in more severe cases, she was able to stay in that state for hours. The worst case was a day and a half without a break. She was taken to the hospital by apparition, but the snap switch in location has severely worsen the situation and she was taken to the ER (or a magical equivalent of an ER), where she was under treatment for days until the outburst finally got under control. She was in a coma for two months after that and had to go through the long recovery once more.

In addition to that, Maria also suffered an irreversible damage in her reproduction system. Bellatrix knew she doesn’t share her purist views, so to make sure she doesn’t “taint” the family legacy with a mixed-blood offspring, she completely destroyed the system, to a point that it was almost impossible to reconstruct, even with magic. Maria went through many treatments, but was eventually considered infertile.

Her relationship with the Weasley family:

Maria was accepted as one of the family back when she was still in Hogwarts.

Even though her relationship with Fred was a secret - Molly, George and Ginny knew about it. After Fred’s death, Molly has told Maria that she still views her as a daughter and said she’s always welcome at their house.

She usually spent the holidays with them and came to visit Molly and Arthur almost every weekend. She usually brought game-tickets to anyone that was interested, especially when she’s started playing for the biggest teams. (Nothing will make me do the proper research of all the Quidditch teams, so let’s just suspend our disbelief just a bit more, because I don’t have a specific name.)

Her relationship with the Malfoy family:

During the year she was Bellatrix’s prisoner, she was held captive at the Malfoys’ mansion. Even though Bellatrix showed nothing but cruelty to her, Narcissa secretly tried to help her, mostly by giving her food during starvation punishments, clean her room and at extreme circumstances - heal her wounds.

Even though she hasn’t set her free, Maria appreciated the fact that Narcissa risked herself by helping her, so after she heard about Lucius’s death, she agreed for a reconciliation.

Although there were some push-backs (especially from Ron), she accepted an invitation for dinner at the Malfoys’ mansion, where she reconnected with both Narcissa and Draco.

After that she came to visit every now and then, although not as frequently as she visited the Weasleys.

Maria and Harry:

As I mentioned before, Maria is basically an OC inserted into the main plot, so she’s best friends with Harry, Ron and Hermione.

Harry and Maria always had a sort of sibling connection, that was reinforced by their connection with Sirius. After his death, they referred to each other as the only family they’ve got left. (Even though Maria technically had Tonks, but that’s a story for another time.)

Maria and Ron:

Their friendship was a bit more complicated. Although not romantic in nature, they had a mutual crush on each other at a certain point (but nothing came out of it), and they always had a certain tension afterwards.

They also have very different personalities and got into many conflicts. Ron usually accused Maria of being a fake friend, because she was very friendly in nature and had many friend-groups other than the main three characters. Maria in return accused him of being too judgemental and had a hard time taking him seriously.

However, with all the flaws, they also had many things in common - their love of Quidditch, their disregard to the rules and in general they had a lot of fun hanging out with each other.

Maria and Hermione:

Probably have the rockiest friendship out of the three main characters. They are almost opposites, aside for their academic approach. Maria is more reckless and easy going, and she usually can’t handle Hermione’s stiffness.

Maria was especially sensitive to any criticism of Sirius, and they had many fights over it during their 5th year.

But even though their friendship wasn’t ideal, when it came to real struggles, they were there to support each other, especially emotionally.

Her special connection to Sirius:

Sirius was the catalyst that made her realize that she was born to a dark wizards family. She’s met him only once (before the events of the 3rd book), but it was a strong enough impact that affected her entire world view.

She put Sirius on a high pedestal and saw him as a parental figure. He was the first in the family to openly rebel and she followed his footsteps when she left the Malfoys’ household. This is also the reason why it meant so much to her that she was sorted into Gryffindor and not Slytherin.

During the 3rd year, everyone suspected that she helped sneak Sirius into the castle and was covering for him, since she refused to accept the accusations against him. She didn’t have any proof that he’s innocent and Sirius never told her that he is, but she was determined that he’s a good guy.

After Sirius escaped, he hasn’t kept in touch with her as much as with Harry, but it didn’t discourage her. She had a feeling that he’s hesitant to accept her because she’s still Bellatrix’s daughter and never resented him for it. However, after his death, Lupin told her that Sirius was very proud of her and had greats hopes for her - he just didn’t know how to show it.

Dobby:

Since she grew up with the Malfoys, she has known Dobby her entire life. They were pretty friendly toward each other, but they were instructed not to talk with each other.

Once, she tried to give Dobby clothes to set him free, but because she wasn’t technically a Malfoy, it didn’t work. After that, Lucius forbid Dobby from ever interacting with her again.

AUs:

Did you really think I don’t have like 200 different AUs for this headcanon? Of course I have! I’ve been building this headcanon since I was a literal child!

My favorite AU is the one where Fred didn’t die in the Battle of Hogwarts, and he and Maria got to be together after all. They usually get married (although there is a variation where she broke up with him instead), and in one AU in particular, healers are able to restore her fertility and they have a child together.

Maybe in the future I will make more posts about these AUs.

HPHM

Since Luna is very close with the Weasleys too, in most AUs Maria gets to meet Luna and the two become friends. Luna is also Maria’s private healer, since Maria gets injured a lot during Quidditch games.

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

There is so much more!!

But I will leave something for future posts :)

#my art #drawing #my headcanon #hp headcanon #harry potter #harry potter hc #harry potter oc #oc #original character #hp oc #maria black

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originalhybridnik · 3 years

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harry potter: why it’s not “just for kids.”

the other day, this girl i know told me, “why the hell are you reading harry potter? it’s for kids only.” i’m 17, and, well, close to adulthood. i don’t reply to her, because, often, when someone asks me something like this, i have a huge explanation, lasting for a long time, and people don’t like it. so, i’m gonna give my explanation here.

harry potter. the boy who lived. the whole series is loved by millions of people in the world, from different age groups and from different parts of the world. it’d be an understatement to say that i love the series. i’ve read the books, seen the movies, even read the supplementary books, as well as harry potter and the cursed child. i’ve seen the fantastic beasts movies as well. and i’ve read the books not once, not twice, not even thrice. i’ve read the series 8 times.

here are the reasons as to why harry potter isn’t for any specific age group.

(spoiler alert to everyone out there) trigger warnings: foul language, death, slavery, discrimination.

1. harry potter, the kid who was orphaned at the age of one, the boy who had no family but his nasty muggle uncle, aunt and cousin, the name known to every wizard and witch, the one-year-old who weakened voldemort to the brink of death. this boy has gone through more pain, sorrow and grief than any fictional character i’ve read of. provided, it doesn’t seem so. but, take it from someone who has read the series as much as i have, he isn’t what he apparently seems to be. j.k. rowling gives us a glimpse of his life before hogwarts, just a mere glimpse. this small portion shows us the amount of bullying he has to go through. he has absolutely no friends, and his cousin’s gang was always behind him. his aunt and uncle starve him for the tinniest of mistakes and he did not even know the real cause of his parents’ death. he has no one to talk to, or be with. he lives in a cupboard under the stairs. his aunt and uncle are certain to “bash out” the magic in him by keeping him away from the wizarding world. he is constantly treated like trash, and he has to do all of the dursleys’ work whether he wanted to or not.

2. he gets a letter from hogwarts, and he isn’t allowed to read it. he keeps getting more and more of them, and he still isn’t allowed to read them. the letters arrive at such a pace that uncle vernon decides to move into a small hut on a rock in the middle of a sea. he then gets his letter hand delivered by hagrid, the keeper of keys at hogwarts. he finally catches a break, and goes to hogwarts, the prized boy who apparently killed voldemort. during his first year at hogwarts, he and his closest friends, ron and hermione embark on a quest to keep the philosopher’s stone from voldemort’s reach. the three 11-year-olds have to get past a three headed dog, past the devil’s snare, one of the deadliest plants in the wizarding world, past a door that could be opened only by catching a flying key scattered across many other flying keys, play on a life size board of wizard’s chess-where ron sacrifices himself so that harry could continue, which almost kills ron, past a room with 7 containers of potions which could kill them if they weren’t smart, and finally to a room where harry meets professor quirell who has provided his body as a refuge for voldemort, who manifests on the back of his head. harry faces the man who killed his parents before he could even speak, and he almost gets possessed by voldemort, because he’s probably the only one who could have the stone, as the mirror of erised could give it only to the person who wanted the stone, but not for a selfish reason. he kills quirell, but voldemort gets away. you see, this shows how deep the first book is. i mean, as a kid, i never understood the sacrifices made, by any of the characters. but, as i read the book again, i understood why what happened happened. it became obvious to me. this shows that we can enjoy the book as a child, without realizing the deepness, and as teens and adults, we get the sacrifices made, the blood shed, the connections forged, and most importantly, how important it is to recognize the values left behind, and, for once, try understanding that this series, even if written for kids, is suitable, and, important for older readers as well.

3. ronald weasely, the sixth child in a relatively poor, and commonplace wizarding family that turns out to be the most loyal, brave and worthy wizarding families ever. he grew up as a wizard and knew a lot about the wizarding world, especially it’s prejudices. he’s the perfect example of a trustworthy, loyal and brave friend. he deserves a lot more than the unnecessary hate he gets. he befriends harry potter, a famous kid that didn’t know anything about his true self, and sticks with him forever. throughout the series, we see this brave boy sacrifice a lot for his best friend. book 1, he sacrifices himself, AN ELEVEN YEAR OLD, for a boy that he knew for less than a year. book 2, he’s ready to walk into a forest, following his WORST fear, spiders, into their fucking home. book 3, he’s ready to follow a mass murderer(not really a mass murderer, but yeah) to help his best friends. book 4, even though he gets jealous and stops talking to harry for a while, we totally get what he was gong through. book 5, he fucking walks breaks into the ministry of magic with his best friends to fight the most feared group of dark wizards and witches ever. book 6, he’s ready to fight anYone for his best friends. book 7, HE’S READY TO RUN AWAY AND FIGHT THE MOST FEARED WIZARD EVER, for his best friend.

all of this, ALL OF THIS, just shows how mature he is, how much we can learn from him, and, most importantly, how wrong it is to title this series as one “for kids”. we see a mere boy sacrifice himself, put his life in danger, time and again, for his best friends. if that isn’t something every human being should be exposed to, then what is?

4. hermione granger, another important character, throughout the series, born into a muggle family, living her life as a smart, bookworm, one day, gets a letter, getting accepted into the best wizarding institution, and, unlike the dursleys, her parents are proud of her and she’s all set for this magical experience. she never anticipates the hate or the prejudice that, is shown towards her and children like her, born into a muggle family. “mudblood,” they call them, exactly the kind of discrimination imminent to THIS DAY all over the world. whether it’s on an international standard, or within a country, whether it is race, caste, gender or preferences, whether it’s against a group or an individual, it’s exactly like this. the whole concept of blood status shows us how deep the books are. it shows us how mature we need to be to understand this. it shows us how we need to think more about this and implement this in real life. a kid from a “pureblood” family, namely, draco malfoy, is the first person to use this, in book 2. it just shows us how parents like his encourage their kids to discriminate people based on their lineage. i won’t point to a specific issue but all of us know of examples, whether we’re the offenders or the offended.

5. slavery is a very important issue touched upon in the series. even though we see harry free dobby from the malfoys, there’s very little importance given to the base, the root cause of what dobby went through. he was a slave to a rich family that considered itself above anyone without “pure blood.” but, we see this very issue taken up in a book 4. we see hermione take a stand against the improper and infuriating treatment of house elves, by organizing a committee called S.P.E.W(society for the promotion of elfish welfare). we see her force people into taking part in this, and even though it’s by force, we all see where she came from. if you don’t know, house elves believed they had only one true purpose in life, to slave around for their owners, without being respected or treated well, and no matter what. we see winky, another elf, previously working(for lack of a better word, cuz that wasn’t working) for bartemius crouch, who’s absolutely against the idea of being paid or even being free. despite seeing dobby and how he enjoyed freedom, she was absolutely against it. again, we see how such an important and deep issue was addressed in a way that makes use all understand, despite our age, that EVERYONE is equal, no matter what. if you STILL think it’s a book for kids only, please continue reading.(continue anyways)

6. can we talk about how the magic-folk have had to live in hiding forever because people are afraid of them? they’re treated like they’re inhuman, trash and most importantly, like they deserve to die for being born with a power for magic?

7. as long as we’re talking about discrimination, we can also look into the fact that, squibs(non-magic folk born into magical families) are looked down upon? they’re tortured, and they receive as much hate, if not more, as “mudbloods.”

8. a special trigger warning for this: TW /death. THROUGHOUT the series, we see some of our most beloved characters die. spoiler alert: in book 1, we see how james and lily were ruthlessly killed by voldemort, orphaning a one year old boy that’d be famous for something he never knew he did. honestly, it wasn’t even his doing. in the same book, we see the killing of unicorns, the consequences of killing a unicorn and drinking it’s blood, AND the killing of professor quirell/voldemort, and even though he/they were the bad person, it deserves to be a part of this list. book 2, we see a young tom riddle get killed in the end, we see how young myrtle got killed, we see students getting fucking petrified by a monster, an inch away from death. book 3, we see how sirius black apparently killed 13 people and was an accomplice to his best friend’s murder. book 4, we see cedric die as a direct affect from the killing curse. we see harry get tortured by the cruciatus curse. we see the most feared wizard reborn, and, not to mention, we see his weakened form in the movie. book 5, we see the rampage that voldemort causes, killing more and more people, muggles and magic-folk alike. more importantly, we see harry’s godfather, sirius black die. we see the pain harry goes through. book 6, again, we see not only voldemort’s actions, but the use of sectumsempra by harry on draco, and how snape killed dumbledore. book 7, we see SO MUCH death. from alastor (mad-eye) moody to fred weasely, from severus snape to remus lupin and nymphadora tonks, so many fucking deaths. we see harry potter die.

9. can we talk about the phrase “lamb for slaughter”? most of us have heard of this phrase at least once. i cannot think of another explanation of this than the way it’s shown in these books. albus dumbledore literally prepares and protets harry for seventeen fucking years just so he can get get killed by voldemort in the end. this teaches an important lesson to everyone that, sometimes, you need to do what you think is right. even if an adult cares about you more than anything, sometimes they do things they believe in and end up hurting kids.

10. can we talk about how bill weasely got bit in the face by an untransformed werewolf and got deformed for life? even after this, fleur didn’t leave him. if this isn’t a lesson to us about what true love is, then, what is?

11. let’s talk about love. firstly, about how much harry, hermione and ron love each other. they’re the true example of best friends. they were together through everything, there for each other in the worst of times, and for the happiest of moments, and will probably be together until they die. secondly, can we talk about how when people are truly in love, they don’t care about appearances. all they care about is what’s on the inside. this is clearly shown by fleur(check point 10). ALSO, we see tonks sacrifice herself with remus, in the final battle. we see dumbledore care about harry so much, love him so much, despite everything else. we see the love family has. we see harry and hermione become a part of the weasleys. we see harry and ginny fall in love. we even see snape’s love for lily. we see so much love. now, this is something very important for all of us. whether we’re raised in that way, or we are exposed to it later in life, we need to learn that love is important in life.

12. can we talk about the torture neville’s parents, among countless others, went through? because of voldemort? and his death eaters? do you still think these books are for kids?

13. can we talk about how a group of 15 year-olds form a group to learn how to fight in the real world, because of a careless ministry of magic and a cruel teacher? it shows us values of leadership, team work, and most of all, how important friendship is. we see a part of this group march into a battle against death eaters, and, possibly, even voldemort himself, without fear of death. for one moment, look at how brave one is when one is with one’s true friends. this teaches us so much.

14. CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW A CRUEL TEACHER MAKES A 15-YEAR OLD BOY SCAR HIMSELF WITH THE WORDS “I WILL NOT TELL LIES” JUST BECAUSE SHE WAS TOO ADAMENT TO BELIEVE THE TRUTH? do you still fucking think this series is for kids?

15. can we talk about how all the magical creatures are treated cruelly? from elves to centaurs, it’s cruelty at it’s finest. are you still convinced it’s a book for kids just because it has magic?

16. can we talk about how much trauma a reader experiences throughout the series? i mean, i’m absolutely grateful that i went through this trauma, because i came out as a better person, in not one, but, multiple ways. we journey through seven years of happiness, sorrow, pain, love, and so much more. we see our favorites get killed, we see how sometimes, people are misunderstood. we see how everyone is born good, but it’s our childhood and the way we’re raised that makes us bad. this is not something all kids understand. an older person can read this series, go through all of this, and will come out as a better human being.

17. how many of you remember the way snape was treated as a kid? huh? by harry’s own father and his friends. this is a shout out to all the bullies out there that think they can do whatever they want and not care about consequences just because they’re stronger, or more famous, or more good-looking. this fucking teaches kids to NOT bully anyone.

this is more than just a series for me. it let me into this new universe where i experienced so fucking much.

if this wasn’t enough for you to at least consider the fact that these books are not “just for kids,” i’m sorry, but you’re just being morons. you don’t wanna even consider something that goes against what you say and that’s your problem, not ours. so, STOP HATING ON THE WIZARDING WORLD COMMUNITY AND GET A FUCKING JOB.

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jalebi-weds-bluetooth · 4 years

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TS: Farak/Difference [2/3]

Read Part 1

---

Four minutes and forty two seconds.

The time it took for his parents to argue and commit suicide.

Thirty hours.

The time it took for Khushi to faint from her internal bleeding, without anyone noticing.

She bled when she held his heart. She bled when they hugged. She bled when the family flung their discreet accusations and disappointments.

She bled when he blamed her for ruining Anjali’s life.

She bled when he called her the biggest mistake of his life.

And he hadn’t noticed.

Because much like her heart and mind, her injuries had been too deep for him to see.

---

Hemorrhagic shock due to rapid, delayed intra abdominal blood loss.

She was alive, barely.

Akash watched his wife take the news with unparalleled bravery. Her lips pressed tight, eyes glassy, but not a tear rolled down Payal’s cheek.

The same could not be said for the rest of his family.

Arnav had burst into a fit of rage and denial until he finally fell silent. Devyani slumped on the seat and started muttering prayers, her aged hands shaking with every utterance. NK sat by her, offering her the comfort a stunned Manorama couldn’t give. Yet, his clenched fists revealed his suppressed anger.

Payal remained frozen as the surgeon, Dr. Zayed, rattled off the rest of the things necessary for Khushi’s treatment. Blood transfusion, surgery. They needed a family member to sign the surgery consent form.

Arnav snatched it.

All operations and surgeries carry the risk of unsuccessful results, complications, injury or even death.

“What’s the success rate of this procedure? How can I sign this!” Arnav faltered, re-reading the terms and conditions.

“Bhai,”

“Akash, call Aman and gather the statistics of-” Stripped away from his anger, Arnav was desperate.

“Arnav ji,” Payal stopped him with a gentle touch on his shoulder, “Shayad Khushi might die during this operation but if we waste any more time, she will die.”

With a gentle determination, she took the consent form from him.

“And, please, get a checkup done.”

“Payal I am fine-”

“Khushi said the same.” Payal choked, “And if anything happens to you, I don’t think Khushi could take it.”

Akash’s pull did not have the power of Payal’s words. Arnav gave one last look at the ICU and headed down the hall. Dr. Zayed gave an understanding, sincere nod, and gestured to Payal to sign the consent form.

“We’ll try our best,” Payal’s hand shook as she gave a watery smile to Dr. Zayed.

“Payal, I’ll handle-” Akash approached her and the doctor. She stepped away before his hand could touch hers.

“Doctor, aap hame bataiye, what else do we need.” Akash stilled, his hand mid air. Ever since Khushi had been hospitalized, Payal neither spoke, nor looked at Akash. Did she blame him? How was he at fault? How was anyone at fault!

“Does she have any blood relative?” Dr. Zayed asked.

“She has-” No one. A chilling reality swept across Payal, apart from Khushi’s aunt - Amma- Khushi had none she shared blood with. Any other tie was met with gratitude and a humble nudge of obligation. There was never a sharper reminder of Khushi being an orphan.

Unfortunately, Babuji’s words of heart bigger than blood didn’t matter.

“An aunt,” Akash frowned, it was the first time Payal referred to her mother as such.

“Do you know her blood group?”

“B negative.”

“I’m afraid Mrs. Raizada, she isn’t compatible. Is there anyone else in her family with-”

“She doesn’t have anybody,” Payal’s voice shook.

“Payal, yeh kya keh rahi ho, we are all there for her.” Akash interrupted, hurt by her thinly veiled accusation. Dr. Zayed kept to himself, not missing the strain in the couple before him.

“Mrs. Raizada, do you know anyone who has O positive or-”

“I’m O positive.” Payal cut in, expectation and hope springing in her eyes.

Dr. Zayed sighed in relief. They were in short of blood owing to the major accident that took place a few hours ago. He collected the form and quietly, with as much as fact and as little as false hopes, conveyed the truth of Khushi’s situation to her sister and brother-in-law.

“Mrs. Raizada, we’ll take a quick test for further compatibility and pregnancy, after which we can-” Dr. Zayed stopped at Payal’s stricken face.

“Pregnancy?” She asked. Akash turned to his wife in wonder, his heart pounding for the best news in the worst time.

“Yes it’s necessary as one cannot donate blood during pregnancy,” Dr. Zayed watched the woman who hadn’t cried at the news of her sister’s possible death, crumble in shock.

Akash crouched and placed his hands on her shaking knees. There were so many questions he needed to ask her. Payal remained rooted to her spot, her world collapsing in a moment.

“Mrs. Raizada, are you-”

“I might be, I don’t know…”

---

Positive

It was the best news of Akash’s life.

It was the worst for Payal’s.

She stared at the ICU. Khushi’s lifeless body was hooked to numerous tubes. The last time Khushi was this pale, she was an eight year old child pulled out of a car crash.

“Payal, we’re preg-” Akash choked, tears of happiness clogging his throat.

“She’s never asked anything from me. No earrings, bangles, sarees or dolls. She would even ask for a ladoo, making sure I wouldn’t want it so she could eat it.” Payal whispered, running her fingers on the glass door separating her and her sister.

“One time Akash, this was the one time she needed something from me and I couldn’t give it to her.”

“We will find the blood for her.” Akash’s smile fell when she stepped away from him, again.

“Payal this is not your mistake-”

“If not telling you and your sister the truth about Shyam was a mistake, so is this.” Payal brushed her tears aside. How could she have missed out on Khushi’s weakening health? What kind of an older sister was she?

“That’s something different Payal. You could’ve told me the truth. Khushi could’ve-”

“And so could Arnav ji. Bas farak iss baat ki hai, that you would never yell at him.” Akash stepped back, her words unmasking his hypocrisy and unfailing faith in his brother. He had known that if Bhai hid the truth, it was for a reason.

Why could it not apply to Payal and Khushi? And how could he question Bhai when he’d just been home from a kidnapping, scarred and traumatized?

With Khushi in the ICU, Akash realized that he no longer had the choice to ask questions to the only woman who had nothing but smiles for him.

---

The doctor ruled Arnav a miracle for not sustaining any permanent injury given the nature of his injuries. Arnav walked out of the physician’s room, his head pounding at Devi Maiya’s cruelty.

He needed no reminding of her existence. Not when Khushi vowed he’d believe in her Devi Maiya in her absence.

Yet, he was blessed with every miracle possible.

Payal whirred by him, frantically punching keys in her cell. Akash remained slumped on the seat, distraught.

Distraught?

Arnav jogged up to Akash and nearly yanked him up from his seat.

“Bhai? Are you alright-”

“That doesn’t matter. What happened? Why are you…” Arnav paused, his heart hammering in fear. Khushi.

“Khushi, please tell me she’s not-”

“No Bhai,” Akash held his brother, “But we’re falling short of blood. She’s O positive and so is Payal but Payal can’t donate because she’s-”

“What the fuck are the blood banks doing?” Arnav interrupted.

“There’s been a major accident nearby, the hospital is running low on blood.” Arnav kept quiet. There was only one decision left.

“Akash, you’ll look after the family right?” Akash was surprised at Arnav’s strange request.

“Of course Bhai, but-”

“Good. I trust you.” Arnav left to find Dr. Zayed.

---

“Mr. Raizada, we don’t allow this in most cases-”

“And this is an exception doctor. We’re short of blood and I’m in perfect health, your own doctors checked me. I’ve checked it with my assistant, you are allowed. I’ll make sure of it” Dr. Zayed battled his ethics as Arnav continued debating with him.

“Above all I’m O negative, a universal donor. If I can’t save my wife then… meri,” Arnav refused to complete the sentence. He grabbed Dr. Zayed’s hand.

“Please doctor.”

“Alright Mr. Raizada, but you will be under strict observation once your blood is further tested for compatibility.”

And again, much like the rest of Arnav’s life since Khushi, Devi Maiyya dropped another miracle on his lap. Arnav and Khushi were perfectly compatible.

---

The Raizadas panicked as Arnav was rushed into the room for a transfusion. Payal collapsed on the chair in relief, and Akash held her, his brother’s words finally dawned on him.

Devyani rolled the prayer beads in her hands, while Manorama remained uncharacteristically quiet. Both the women held the other for support. In supporting and caring for Anjali, they wondered what pushed them to take a stand against Khushi. When all in all it had been one man responsible for the events.

Shyam Manohar Jha.

It was easy to believe someone’s secret was responsible for their tragedy, rather than their own gullibility and lack of suspicion.

The last few words Khushi spoke to them floated in their minds and shame filled them. Yes, Khushi had committed a mistake but she was family.

And a family never counted the mistakes.

NK bounced in with his group of friends, rushing them to the transfusion center. Akash was amazed at NK’s capability to bear a smile in these trying times.

---

“What’s there to not smile?” NK asked, piling up a tray of tea for the grieving family, “I know Khushi ji is going to be alright.”

“I hope you’re right. Today deserves to be a good day.” Nk nearly dropped the tea cups and engulfed Akash in a hug upon learning Payal’s pregnancy.

“But Payal, she’s-”

“-devastated.” NK completed, “How can a sister smile knowing the child in her didn’t allow her to save her sister?”

“NK, how’s Payal at fault? She couldn’t have predicted she would be pregnant right when Khushi needed blood.” Akash reasoned.

“Exactly Akash bhai. Khushi ji and Payal bhabhi too were at no fault for not sharing. There’s no way they could have predicted their silence would lead to this.” NK dropped his smiles, staring hard enough to unease Akash.

“NK, it’s different-”

“-It’s not.” NK cut in, his tone razor sharp, “Imagine if they told Di the truth on time and unable to bear it, she would commit suicide. Or if none of you believed their truth and cancelled your weddings - leaving Payal bhabhi abandoned at the altar yet again. Ya phir, the blame lies on Di and all of you for not sniffing out Shyam’s weird behaviors and excuses.”

NK sat down beside Akash, hoping the latter’s sensibilities helped.

“Payal bhabi blames herself for the same reason you all are blaming Khushi ji and Payal bhabhi. And in all this mess, it’s sad that no one gets it that if there’s anyone to blame - it’s Shyam.” NK seethed. Somehow, despite all the truths, Shyam had emerged victorious and had managed to break the family into pieces.

Akash groaned into his palms, his head hurting with all the truths. There was no reasoning in Shyam’s malicious words as he threatened Arnav for grabbing his collar.

A fear crept up Akash’s spine.

He only wished it didn’t take Payal’s grief, Khushi’s injury and Arnav’s panic for him to understand that Khushi and Payal were a part of the family.

---

Arnav lay on the bed, staring at his Khushi in remorse and agony. The regrets were too much to count, and he fervently thought against anything related to God.

“The day you believe in God, I won’t be next to you,” She huffed, the pain in her bandaged finger miniscule next to the words inflicted by him to her. Arnav had lost sleep since that night, breaking every nightmare with Khushi’s name on his lips.

He couldn’t apologize, nor cry. He just continued to stare, hoping she’d wake up one more time for him.

---

Read Part 3

---

A/N: Third part will be up soon. A big thank you to @ridzmystique for checking on this story and pushing me to complete Farak. Thank you for reading/liking.

#ipkknd #iss pyaar ko kya naam doon #ipkknd ff #ts: farak #fanfiction

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offtopicoverload · 4 years

Text

Disney Princess - 2

Day late, but oh well, I got it done and that's an accomplishment in itself.

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

T Rating (just grumpy Aurora in this one lol)

Aurora x f!MC (Rylen Damen (changed it lol))

~4.3k

Read on Ao3

Aurora Emery is tired.

She’s incredibly tired, of anything and everything. She can barely sleep anymore, she can barely relax, and now she can barely focus on her work. Which is arguably the worst of the three, since this is her livelihood, her passion, her priority. It’s what she’s always excelled at, it’s what she’s poured years and years of her life into, and now she doesn’t even know what she’s reading and has to restart at the top of page 268, for the fourth time now.

But instead of rereading once more, she huffs, slams her textbook shut, and falls back on her bed, staring up at the plain, empty ceiling as if it will solve all her problems for her. Unfortunately, it doesn’t, and that fact only further irritates her. She turns on her side, facing her open window and the lights spilling into the ill-lit room through the glass panes. Lights from the buildings surrounding her own, lights from traffic swimming in the current of the street, lights from neon signs and street lamps lining the sidewalk, lights that provide a tiny glimpse of sunshine in the chilling dark of night.

Her phone buzzes from behind her, shaking the comforter underneath her, and, with a sigh, she tosses her arm backwards and searches for it, her palm fumbling along her comforter as she does. When she finally finds it she grips her case tight as she draws her arm back, and unlocks it to find a notification from Rylen Damen. ‘Hey Princess,’ Aurora rolls her eyes, ‘How’s Jonathon Quell? Did you figure out what was wrong?’

She sighs, pulling her other hand from beneath the weight of her body, and begins typing, ‘It was a bacterial infection. His results arrived this morning and we ran through his treatment plan this afternoon. He should make a full recovery,’ she sends, dropping her phone back to the bed as she does.

But of course, that’s not the end of the conversation; it never is with Rylen. Aurora’s phone vibrates again, and she turns it on to find ‘:DDDDDDDDD’ staring back at her, her mind immediately replicating the obnoxious smile Rylen has when she’s excited.

Her lips twist as she stares at the obscene image, an image she cannot fathom sending to a colleague when discussing patients, an image that she hates she knows it’s actual equivalent to, before she begins typing with another sigh, her curiosity getting the best of her, ‘Not that I’m advocating for this professional conversation to turn at all casual, but why not use emojis?’

‘I dunno,’ pops up almost immediately, ‘Just always used them. Old habits die hard, I guess,’ arrives just as quickly.

‘Okay,’ Aurora types, somewhat eagerly for a change, ‘Now are we done here?’ She taps the side of her phone case - some random black one with red flowers she found at the store she bought the device from - distractedly, waiting for her escape from this horrendous exchange.

Rylen’s response is just as fast, a few dots bouncing before grey explodes on the screen, ‘Ouch, Princess, you really don’t like me.’

Aurora rolls her eyes at her screen, frown firmly in place as her fingers fly back to the keyboard, ‘This is a professional interaction, and if we have run out of professional material to discuss, then this conversation has come to an end.’

‘You must be a blast at parties,’ Aurora rolls her eyes again, a seemingly constant urge when around Rylen or even interacting virtually, just as her phone pings again, ‘Sorry, *professional parties*’ she corrects.

And Aurora barely suppresses another eye roll, frowning heavily at her screen, even as her lips fight against her to quirk upwards the tiniest amount, ‘I don’t go to parties.’

‘No kidding.’

Aurora glares at the letters, at the challenge held within them, at the unbridled insult staring her in the face. ‘Do you?’ she retaliates, the faintest droplets of hurt welling somewhere inside herself.

‘Too busy. Why, you asking me out? ;)’

Aurora shakes her head exasperatedly with an exhale from her nose, simultaneously fighting against the growing smile on her lips even harder. She forces it away as soon as she realizes it’s there, her jaw clenching and nostrils flaring in irritation as she decides it’s time to put an end to this absurdity provoked by Rylen, ‘Enjoy your evening, Damen, I have work to do.’

‘Night, Princess,’ buzzes her phone for the last time, a final message to bookend a conversation Aurora would rather not repeat again, but she knows she will. And it’s some odd mix of infuriating and oddly comforting, knowing that even if she tries to shut her up, Rylen will still be there chattering away, coming up with joke after joke, tease after tease, all presumably to force Aurora into smiling or something of the like.

Rylen once asked Aurora if her muscles were incapable of moving like that, of lifting in a smile, and Aurora scowled in response. Rylen put her hands up in self-defense, eyes wide as she explained that she was only curious why Aurora never looked happy, that it was an innocent question. And Aurora’s terse reply had shut her up quite quickly: “If I find something that makes me happy, then I’ll smile.”

Aurora sighs, letting her gaze shift to the blank, unassuming ceiling once again. Her eyelids fall shut as she sucks in a deep breath, steadying herself as best she can, working to dissolve her irritation and annoyance as her chest rises with each calming breath. Then she launches upwards, grabs her textbook, and flips it open to page 268 to continue reading. After what feels like forever, she’s managed through each of the passages she needed to read, and gathers her books and papers to settle them on her desk.

She flops back on her bed after she clears it, staring at the dull, boring ceiling for another quiet moment before scooting up to the pillows and tossing the covers back. She sinks into her pillow, hating how unfamiliar the sensation has become in recent weeks - maybe even months - and grabs her phone to set an alarm. She moves to plug it in on her nightstand, but before she does, she opens her messages again, scrolling to her last conversation for one final text: ‘Night, Damen.’

---

An alarm blares near Aurora’s head, startling her awake just as sunlight creeps above the horizon outside, glinting through her still-open window and bathing her in yellows and oranges. With a huff, she turns off the blasting noise, suppressing the urge to throw her phone against the wall as she does, and crawls out of bed reluctantly. She retreats to the bathroom for a quick shower and throws on her scrubs when she’s done, just two more steps in the constant routine that’s been her life for years now.

She leaves the apartment without breakfast, she enters Edenbrook without any greetings or warm welcomes, she works her shift without any breaks or breathers. She works until she has nothing to work on, until the nurses are looking at her funny as she orders exam after exam, and until her aunt’s calling her into her office. Only she wishes she could just keep working, keep ignoring her aunt and keep helping people, it’s the entire reason she’s here, anything else is a distraction, a waste.

Another buzz shakes her phone as she exits Harper Emery’s office with a huff, her features twisted in frustration as she shuts the door behind her with a thud. She stalks down the corridor outside, glaring at anyone that dares to look in her direction, interns and residents alike. She stops outside a patient’s room, pulling in a deep, steadying breath as her phone vibrates in her pocket once more.

With a roll of her eyes, she pulls it from her pocket, flicking open to the last person she wants to talk to, but is the least surprised by at this point. ‘What about Cynthia Lane?’ is the first one she sees. ‘Did you figure out Nathan McAllister too?’ is above it.

She rolls her eyes at the messages, at the gall of Rylen to insert herself into hospital affairs from her apartment, miles away. ‘They are in my care for a reason, Damen, I assure you that all your previous patients are fine,’ she types back, tapping her foot as she does.

‘Sorry,’ fires back almost immediately, as if Rylen was waiting on the edge of her seat for some sort of answer. ‘You’ve definitely got this,’ a beat later, with a smiley face tacked on the end, before one last message arrives, ‘Just keep me updated? Please?’

Aurora sighs, tapping her foot and considering a response. But she can’t think of any outside of providing Rylen with her request, so she pockets her phone without sending another message and steps into her patient’s room, forcing a tight smile on her lips. He smiles back, though much more relaxed, and she runs through the usual, familiar, boring routine that’s starting to drag on her day by day, wearing her down quicker than it should. And all the while, she plans out her analysis of this patient for Rylen, focusing her energy on the recent addition.

---

A day later, Aurora’s flying from room to room, floor to floor, and wing to wing. And she hates it. She hates that she’s running around like a chicken with its head cut off, she hates that she’s the only one working, alone in the stark halls, and she hates that her aunt refused to listen to her earlier, ignoring her words and piling more charts in her arms.

She tugs a door shut behind her, already scanning another chart as she hurries down the hall to the next room. She repeats the process all morning, lines and lines of exams, results, treatments, medical histories, anything and everything fill her mind, imprint on the back of her eyelids, drown her in monotony and the emptiness of Edenbrook today.

Her phone buzzes against her as it rests in her pocket, an annoyingly familiar sensation now. And she doesn’t even have to guess who it’s from; no one else texts her, least of all when she’s in the middle of a shift. She pulls the offending device out with a huff, immediately greeted with ‘Didn’t see you at the hearing.’

Aurora’s jaw clenches, eyes alight as she drops her stack of papers on the nurse’s station she’s found herself at. ‘For your information, I’m working, rather than wasting my time on something so ridiculous. This is a hospital, people need help, and you’re stealing all the decent doctors from them,’ she types furiously, irritated at both her situation and the circumstance the entire hospital has found itself in, all because of Rylen.

She waits for a response but after a minute or so, it’s clear she’s not going to receive one. She shuts her phone off entirely, jamming it in her back pocket as she carries on, a scowl plastered on her face as she works, and works, and works. She meets with new patients and attendings, she assists old ones, she even discharges two, but the entire time she’s irritated and frustrated and just so tired.

Nearly the entire hospital’s at that hearing, she has every right to be there, too. This impacts every single member of the staff, she has every right to know what could happen to her career. This affects one of her colleagues, she has every right to know what’s going to happen to her, whether or not she’s going to see her in the hallways and put up with that absurd grin that she can call upon in a fraction of a second.

She sighs as she exits another room, flicking through her files and folders and stack of papers, and starts for a nurse’s station, dropping papers off with the few people still working. She forces a smile at Danny as he beams at her, before spinning on her heel and starting for the atrium, gritting her teeth as she marches down a series of hallways. She drags a hand through her hair as she draws near, finding a crowded atrium as she exits into it. She grits her teeth as her aunt spots her, waving her over with a smile.

She obliges, snaking through the gathered groups of doctors and observers until she reaches one Harper Emery. “Aurora, perfect, I was just about to send a page for you,” she greets cheerily.

Aurora forces a minuscule smile back, opening her mouth to respond when Harper cuts her off, “I have new assignments for you, I’m guessing you finished your previous ones?” she inquires with a smile.

“Well, actually,” Aurora begins, shifting on her feet and forcing herself to meet Harper’s gaze, “I was hoping I could come watch the hearing to see the outcome,” she explains.

Harper shakes her head, “No, you should be working,” she answers, rather sternly.

Aurora bristles at the tone, “Everyone else is watching the hearing, why can’t I?” she counters, her lips twisting downwards into a frown.

“Because, Aurora,” Harper begins gently, Aurora only further bristling, “this is the perfect chance for you to pick up some extra cases,” she smiles encouragingly.

“But…”

Harper ignores her quiet protest, “Report to Dr. Alondra, then Dr. Mirrielees.” And Aurora can’t take it. She can’t take being ignored and forced to walk those empty halls when everyone else gets to be a part of something so important, and crucial, and she can’t take that she can’t be there to see what happens to Rylen. Harper’s continued, “Tell them I sent you -”

“God, Aunt Harper, would you just stop?” Aurora explodes, “You don’t listen to me! Ever since I got here, you’ve used me to feel like you’re still practicing.” Her face has contorted into an brazen scowl now as she spits the words.

“That’s… that’s not true,” Harper stammers, staring at Aurora in disbelief and simultaneously attempting to wrangle the surprise on her face.

“No? Tell me how much you love being chief, then,” Aurora challenges, drawing herself to her full height. “Tell me how you don’t miss being a surgeon. How much you love paperwork and kissing up to scumbags like Declan Nash! How much you didn’t care about getting back in the O.R. the other day!”

Harper plasters on her own scowl now, “Aurora, you can’t talk to me this way!”

Aurora only laughs coldly in response. She’s done with the ‘can’t’s and the ‘no’s, she’s done with being her aunt’s lap dog, she’s done with conforming to someone else’s ideals for her. She’s done with this, with all of this. “You know what the hilarious thing is? Damen is exactly who you’ve always wanted me to be and you’re letting Nash railroad her out of a fair hearing.”

Harper doesn’t respond, her face tight as Aurora meets her gaze in challenge. She can feel pressure building behind her eyes, but she’s not giving up, she’s not giving in, she’s not losing this fight like she’s lost countless others. If she has to work herself to exhaustion, alone every step of the way, she’s doing it on her own terms.

Harper only huffs, turning away from Aurora and striding in the direction of the hall that’s held the hearing. Aurora turns too, storming across the atrium with her face set in a glare, firing it at anyone stupid enough to stare at her, to acknowledge the raised voices that came from her and Harper. She sneers at some random intern that still doesn’t get the message, and they quickly avert their eyes.

She turns forward again, and, for the second time today, Aurora catches Rylen’s gaze across the room. Only she’s not interested in conversation this time, she’s not interested in wishing Rylen luck as she faces the demise of her career, she’s not interested in even holding her gaze. She’s not interested in anything to do with Rylen Damen, plain and simple. “What?” Aurora snaps at her.

She watches Rylen stutter for a second, her eyes displaying her evident shock at whatever’s just occurred before her, until a grin splits her lips in half a heartbeat, “Thanks for standing up for me.”

Aurora’s frown remains firmly in place as she meets eager eyes, “That wasn’t for you, Damen. That was for me.” She stands taller, flicking her gaze away from Rylen’s, “But you’re welcome anyway,” she mumbles awkwardly, her feet already moving again as she retreats from that stupid smile, that smile that seems to be Rylen’s default, that smile that was present in the fourth floor supply closet.

She retreats in the direction of the hearing’s hall, slipping inside carefully to remain as unnoticed as possible. She takes a seat, slumping in it in the back corner behind two random interns that won’t stop chattering, even as the hall begins filling up, even as the board retakes their places, even as everyone else within the grand room slowly quiets. It’s become still enough that Aurora can hear what they’re saying now, even as they whisper, “Dude, she killed someone,” one of them insists, “Throw her in jail, she’s fucking crazy.”

Aurora jerks forward in her seat before she can even consider reacting, lips pulled back in a snarl as red sparks in the corners of her vision, “Hey!” she hisses, a low, vicious sound. The interns turn, eyes wide, and Aurora focuses in on the one that uttered something so ridiculous. “You wanna stand up and tell everyone that? Or you gonna keep whispering like a coward?” she hisses again, watching his features slowly morph from surprise to fear as he takes in not only the person speaking to him, but the expression on her face.

His jaw falls open as he glances to his friend, eyes wild and face quickly flushing red. But his friend only leans away, hands raised in surrender as he abandons his friend to the wolves. Or, more accurately, a furious Aurora Emery. He turns back to her, stuttering incessantly, “I, um, so - er - I didn’t - that’s - well - okay - er, I, uh…” he stalls, face paling as Aurora sinks into her seat again.

“Then keep your mouth shut,” she snarls, a slight sense of pride blossoming in her chest at the way the intern adamantly nods his head, turning back to his friend just to get laughed at. She’s about to snap at him too for treating her understandable frustration as something comedic, when Rylen retakes her spot at the podium, the entire hall silencing immediately.

Aurora taps her foot anxiously as she watches Rylen standing at the podium before the gathered group of attendings. She watches the way Rylen stands ram-rod straight, her spine like a ruler and her body rigid as she stares ahead, eyes trained on the people before her, the people judging her. She watches the way Rylen relaxes some as she mentions her friends, turning back to them with a small smile, the words like an activator, alighting something inside her.

She watches the way Rylen uses that fire, her face settling into stone as Dr. Chandra asks her a final question, “Do you regret what you’ve done?”

Her jaw sets as she speaks, clear and determined, her voice ringing in the hall, “I regret distracting us from what matters. This hospital is full of sick people who need our help. But instead we’re in here, debating the consequences of my actions. So if you’re gonna pull my privileges, let’s get it over with. Because all of you need to get back to work,” she accuses, fingers gripping the podium and knuckles turning white.

And Aurora watches the entire speech with a slight smile crooking her lips, some combination of self-satisfaction and pride swirling in her stomach, stirring her, provoking her to shift forward, knees on her elbows as she watches intently. As she watches the vote that determines Rylen’s entire future, that might even determine Edenbrook’s entire future. “The seven panelists will now vote whether to revoke Dr. Valentine’s privileges at Edenbrook,” Harper begins, adjusting in her chair and looking down towards the other panelists.

Until the door at the back of the hall swings in, a low voice booming throughout the room, “You weren’t going to start without me, were you?” Dr. Banerji’s cheery tone echoes, stealing every pair of eyes in the room as he enters, an intern Rylen knows - Landry, Aurora corrects - helping him walk down the aisle.

Aurora’s eyes flicker to Rylen, to the shock on her face as her mouth hangs open, the artificial lighting playing in her wide eyes. Rylen blinks, still processing the man before her, “Dr. Banerji?” she whispers, and it’s too far for Aurora to hear, but enough for her to make out the shape of Rylen’s lips as she murmurs.

“Sorry for the wait. Once he woke up, I got him here as fast as I could,” Landry announces, still aiding the older man towards the board of gathered panelists, carefully and slowly.

“Naveen, what are you doing here? You said you were retiring,” Harper’s standing now, palms flat on the table as she gapes at Banerji with her own wide eyes.

Dr. Banerji laughs lightly, albeit weakly, “I should have said I was expiring,” he clarifies with a grin, somehow unafraid in the face of death. “Until yesterday, I was on the verge of death. Sepsis of unknown origin,” he continues.”Unknown, that is, until Dr. Damen gave up her last day to prepare for this hearing by solving my case.” Rylen’s cheeks flush as she bows her head, avoiding the eyes settling on her. “Now then, I believe that seat still has my name on it,” Dr. Banerji beams to the board.

Declan Nash jumps to his feet, his face beet-red, “Cyrus! Stop this!” he whisper-shouts in the direction of one of the panelists, earning a panicked expression from the doctor in question.

He fumbles to follow the order just given to him, “That’s, uh, fantastic news, Dr. Banerji, but I’m afraid it’s too late for you to vote. Procedure and all…”

“You never were a good liar, Cyrus,” Banerji tuts disapprovingly, even with his grin still firmly glued to his face. “Now then,” he takes his seat, Landry retreating to the audience, “Given the circumstances of my resurrection, I think we all know what I’m about to say. That’s going to be a ‘nay’ from me.”

Two more ‘nay’s echo Dr. Banerji, until the attention falls on Harper. Her brow furrows as she visibly regards her options, eyes roving across the hall before coming to rest on… Aurora. Aurora meets her gaze, attempting to force the anxiety from her eyes as best she can, still slumped in her seat and tapping her foot, an unstoppable beat that shakes her entire body as it continues and continues and continues, just like Harper’s gaze pinning her to the spot. Just like the nerves squirming inside of her, just like the exhaustion eating away at her.

Declan mutters something to Harper, every feature on his face drawn tight, a snarl splitting his lips as he glares at her, still bright red.

Harper draws in a deep breath, finally removing her eyes from Aurora and settling them on Rylen, Aurora relaxing as her heavy, contemplative gaze leaves her. “Dr. Damen, you’ve proven you’re someone who focuses as much on what a patient wants as what their body needs…” she pauses, Rylen visibly twitching with anxiety at the gap in speech. “But we’re not here to save bodies. We’re here to save lives. I vote nay,” Harper nods, Rylen instantaneously melting on the spot.

Her head bows to the podium, her shoulders rising and falling with deep, steadying breaths as the board continues, three more ‘nay’s sounding and applause beginning to echo at the prompting of Bryce Lahela, another of Rylen’s friends, a surgeon. But Rylen doesn’t move, eyes glued to the podium as she grips it, potentially even harder than before, her knuckles pale as they remain clenched.

The room spins into chaos around her, cheers from her friends, a few disappointed murmurings that Aurora may have to stamp out, and the shouts of Declan Nash as he attempts to fight the resolution. It’s mayhem, pandemonium, but the entire time, Rylen stays frozen, a peaceful island escape from the waves of disaster.

When Rylen’s head finally shoots up, a brilliant smile is on her lips in a heartbeat as she steps around the podium, nearly skipping as she walks to the board with her hand held out. She stops at every single panelist, shaking their hand and sharing small conversation with them, even the ones that worked for her downfall. By the time she reaches the end of the board, she’s almost bouncing on her feet as she turns back to her friends, rushing over to tackle Sienna Trinh in a hug, lifting her off her feet as she does.

All the while, Aurora’s sitting in the back of the hall, her foot no longer tapping as she shifts her gaze to the floor beneath her feet, observing the light playing of it, reflecting, creating shadows from nothing. That’s all it takes, is one spark, one illumination, one flicker to send the world careening to a stop or to kick it back into action. All it takes is one catalyst, one butterfly effect, for Aurora to sit alone, facing the floor as Rylen celebrates her victory. One tiny domino for her phone to buzz, ‘Looks like you’re stuck with me, Princess.’

It takes a second, but Aurora grins at the letters, at the message. Unabashedly, she grins for what feels like the first time in forever, not caring who sees, not caring what someone will think at Aurora Emery smiling and what that could possibly mean. She even snorts at the next message, the next letters, because she knows the exact beaming smile it’s meant to convey, the smile still sparkling across the room: ‘:DDDDDDDDDDDDDD’

#choices fanfic #open heart fanfic #oh dp #aurora emery #aurora x mc #not my favorite chapter with all the action #but were gonna get some more emotions going again soon

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fmdduri · 3 years

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word count: question 1 is 402 words, question 2 is 316 words, question 3 is 283 words, question 4 is 342 words, question 5 is 268 words, question 6 is 351 words. reward: +5 tracker points.

1. assuming your muse has changed in some way, be it internally or as a result of a change of the external factors around them, how is your muse different? these can be as small as an opinion on a song they hadn’t released previously or as big as a major change in their background.

probably the biggest changes of duri, comes from the fact that he now is aged down to being born in the year of 1994. i always felt like it would be better for duri to be younger, but because he was already well established, he continued to be in his hag days. however, thanks to the restructure, i was able to finally make duri part of maknae line of his group, in this case being titan. it’s a little change, but it really makes me pretty happy.

with this change, as well, comes some slight background changes. duri has now become a trainee in january 2009, training for two years until january of 2011, which was when titan had debuted. before, duri had only trained for about two months, before he had debuted as the member of a group. this change also removes him from completely his military enlistment before debuting, due to age - which is fine, because i have future headcanons involving enlistment that are in my head, that probably won’t be shared, but they’re there!

opinion wise on things, i think the only opinions that duri has is a bit of a favor for the infinite releases, over the other releases. that might just be the second gen stan in me, but infinite is one of my ults (shinee and cassie still taking the first two spots, of course,) but they’re definitely tied with exo. however, overall, duri really enjoys their discography, and has no completes about it whatsoever.

one small thing that changed as well as the name of people in his life. i changed the names of his parents, as well as his uncle and aunt. now, his father is bonju, his mother is aeri, his uncle is bongki, and his aunt is choa. this is a small change i wanted to reference as different, just because i mentioned them all often and they had different names before.

one last change that i think is important to mention is that even though duri has never had a scandal attached to himself - he has had a saesang issue, which simply just comes with titan - it also doesn’t help that he’s always been clean from scandals, so more seemed to attach themselves. however, duri is a titan member that bc entertainment decided to protect from them, so it’s a problem that doesn’t really stick around for him.

2. what does your muse think of their company and their group?

bc entertainment is seemingly a bit of a mixed bag - at least, that’s how it feels to duri. he feels really lucky to be in bc entertainment, as they’re considered to be the best of the best, and they’re probably the reason why titan became “the kings of kpop” in the first place, nonetheless. not the mention, bc entertainment has given duri so many great opportunities for his career outside of however, he wonders if bc entertainment fully cares about their artists in general. since he’s struggling himself with mental health and bc entertainment has a bit of a problem with overworking duri, he can’t help but to wonder if they cared if he came to them? or if they’d notice something wrong with him? generally, he’s a bit on the fence.

when it comes to his group, titan, duri really loves titan. he enjoys the music that they have put out thus far (of course, give or take a few of their later years tracks, but it’s nothing major) and believes that he’s been a great fit for titan. generally, duri has no problems with titan at all. even though he may be a member that doesn’t have any scandals, whereas other members may (based off of the group description), he believes that things simply happen and don’t believe any member of the group is really at a fault for getting caught up in something. simply, things happen, that’s how to put it. however, duri did have a hard time with titan at first because a lot of people believed he didn’t fit the concept, so he had to work really hard to prove that he was able to handle the concept. now, fans and netizens see that duri is able to fit himself into whatever concept is needed based off his charisma and stage presence. in general, he loves titan as a whole.

3. is your muse on their first contract or their second? if they’ve renewed, what were their feelings around that at the time and what were their hopes for their second contract? if they haven’t renewed, what are their current thoughts on the end of their eventual first contract?

duri is currently on his second contract with bc entertainment and titan. when it came to renewing, duri was more than happy with renewing because bc entertainment was still treating them rather well. he can’t say he felt anything negativity towards bc entertainment, simply because of the fact that he was getting work in and out of titan itself. though, there was a bit of a wish to have some solo songs. of course, maybe there’s the same wants of more of a break because titan is one of the hottest groups on the scene and it’s clear that even with things that have happened, titan isn’t going anywhere. the group still has a hold on the industry and truthfully, he hoped that’s something that would continue to happen with the second contract. so, when it comes to hopes for his second contract, he was hoping to finally see a solo debut within the midst. thankfully, that was something that had come the next year, and he had gotten his hope for the second contract. another hope had been to get more than one solo project a year - at this time, he had only gotten either a brand ambassadorship or variety show main cast a year, with nothing else happening to him, and bc entertainment seemingly wanting duri to mainly stay within the realms of titan itself. this was something else that came to fruition, with him getting more projects each year, essentially working more into that realm of “overworking.” but, duri is rather happy and wishes he could be gay in the open - but, that’s clearly something that he has to continue to wish and is just that, a wish.

4. what are your muse’s goals and motivations?

duri’s most personal goal/dream is probably be get married and have kids. of course, this is something that can’t happen right now, and probably won’t happen for a good while, since there’s still so much to do as a member of titan and as a soloist, so he has to continue on simply just not doing. however, it’s something that’s just really up there and something that he really wants for himself. for now, though, he’ll settle with dogs and a cat as his children, his fur children - they’re just as much of family as humans are.

another more personal goal that duri has is to do more for charity. for the longest time, he’s always done charity work. however, he feels like he could so do more, and would love to maybe become an ambassador for something of that sort. however, bc entertainment seems to not push for it all that much, so he assumes he’ll have to advocate for it himself. though, maybe they think his own person works of charity is more than enough, instead of gaining a ambassadorship for that.

career wise for goals, seems to be a bit more extensive for duri. of course, duri would really like to release more music wise. it would also be cool to chart higher than he has with his music, but he’s not complaining because he’s still done rather well. not to mention, the chance to do more osts for dramas. besides for that, he’d like to have more main cast variety jobs. this is something that he has a lot of fun with, where he really just gets to show off himself some. he enjoys making appearances on shows, but he’d love to have something a little bit more permanent once again. he’s sure he’ll manage to get there, of course. following that, duri would also love to have some more brand ambassadorships. however, he’d really enjoy some brighter ones, like what he has done for baskin-robbins and coca-cola, as a few others were seemingly not as bright.

5. what is one conflict, internal or external, that your muse is currently dealing with, has recently dealt with, or will need to deal with in the future?

the one conflict that duri has been slightly dealing and needs to deal with in the future is his mental health. due to the car accident that occurred when duri was five years old, he suffers with post traumatic stress disorder. when he was younger, this was something that was dealt with and he even kept up with it as a trainee. however, as duri got really busy with titan, as well as the established career claims, he seemingly fell off in treatment. this caused him to have a relapse with his mental health, sometime down the line. currently, it’s probably at it’s worst, and something he’s slightly dealing with. however, because it’s something that he’s really managed to ignore for a bit, pretending that he’s perfectly okay, and telling people that he’s okay - it needs to be dealt with in the future, but he continues to really just ignore it. not to mention, he also has insomnia that goes along with the ptsd, so more often than not, he’s exhausted, rather than well rested. he treats it with multiple cups of coffee, which definitely just makes it worst - but, that’s how he has to get through a schedule. simply, there seems to be a lot that really goes along with this, along with often being haunted in his dreams with the scene that changed constantly, before he’s waking up sweating and sobbing. will he figure out how to ask for help? or will he continue to suffer? it’s most likely the former, simply because he’s rather embarrassed that he has gotten bad all over again.

6. if your muse has established career claims, what are their thoughts on their career so far? if they do not, how do they feel about not having individual activities yet? what would they like to do in the future, if anything? if they don’t have ambitions for individual activities, explain why.

duri has an established career in modeling, variety, & songwriting. thus far, he’s really happy with his established career. it wasn’t something that he was really expecting, thinking that he’d have more osts or something along those lines, with bc entertainment most likely wanting to use his voices - since they did keep him hidden when he was a trainee, due to his voice and not letting him do anything during those two years. however, it’s a bit interested they wanted to use his face and his likeness for both modeling and variety instead. however, duri can’t really complain because he really liked being the ambassador for both beanpole and baskin-robbins - arguably he liked being the ambassador for baskin-robbins a bit more, since he felt it fit himself a bit more. but, he does understand getting a beanpole ambassadorship. when it came to being placed on main casts for variety, he did really enjoy those as well, especially cool kiz on the block. sure, he’s not really sporty (besides for being an avid gym-goer.) but, he really did enjoy doing the neighborhood sports and this was what had gotten him really more comfortable with variety, and it proved he was a good accent for variety. however, his next main cast wouldn’t come till 2018 with dunia: into a new world. truth be told, he didn’t really get it at first, but once he did, it was clear there really was something there. he had fun with the concept and the whole being brought back to life in the game was a cool addition. of course, duri really, really enjoyed getting to write for titan. he has full writing credits for b-sides: light, playboy, she’s dreaming, and lights out. he also had full writing credits for one title track, kokobop.

in the future, duri would like to continue this track of modeling, variety, and creative claims. of course, he’d also like more solo musics, but those are givens. in general, his career will be completely focused on music, modeling, variety, and creative claims - keeping himself to those 4 areas mostly.

#famedrstask1 #car accident mention tw #ptsd tw #beth has managed to make me even more excited for the restructure

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homoose · 3 years

Text

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part III (x OC)

Summary: Spencer has to face Anita and Sam— and learns a little about Maggie’s past. Maggie and Spencer babysit for Michael and Henry.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x OC

Category: fluff, a tiny smidge of hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: implied smut, drinking/alcohol, vague mentions of previous emotional/mental abuse (Owen)

Word count: 4.2k

a/n: This picks up right after the end of the tmsidk epilogue! I also worked two requests in here.

Series Masterlist

———

Spencer stacked the last of the tiny chairs in the center of the room, stepping back and dusting his palms on his trousers. He looked over to see Maggie playing a sort of container tetris with the bins of supplies in her closet. He smiled a little to himself, his head still in the metaphorical clouds with her confession of love.

She laughed and looked up at him. “Celebrate what?”

He shrugged. “You. Summer.” He brought his arms around her shoulders. “Love.”

She smiled and scrunched her nose at him. “You just want me to say it again.”

His lips twitched. “Maybe.”

Her hands came to rest on his hips, her fingers squeezing lightly. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he answered immediately and rather dreamily.

“Yo, Brooksy!”

Spencer stepped back from Maggie, smiling a little awkwardly at the formality and giving a wave. “Mrs. Lopez. It’s, um— it’s nice to see you again.”

Anita hummed noncommittally, and Spencer shoved his hands in his pockets. She turned her attention back to Maggie. “So, are we going out or what?”

Maggie groaned. “Anita, I’m exhausted. Can we keep it low key? Oh!” Her eyes lit up with an idea, and Spencer could already see where this was going. “Spence and I were gonna get dinner to celebrate, um— summer. Call Sam; we’ll all just go together.”

Anita spared a glance in Spencer’s direction before sighing heavily. “Fine. But I’m drinking.” With that, she turned on her heel and disappeared back into the hallway.

Maggie chuckled. “I swear she’s not actually an alcoholic.” Her eyes landed on Spencer’s face, and she smiled gently. “I know you weren’t expecting a Meet the Friends night, but it’ll be fun.”

“She hates me,” Spencer surmised.

“She does not hate you.” Maggie stood from the desk, pressed a reassuring peck to his lips. “She’s just… protective. That’s all.”

…

Maggie was entirely wrong. Anita Lopez hated him. That was the only explanation for her absolutely icy demeanor.

Spencer understood completely of course. He’d broken Maggie’s heart. Penelope had been ready to hunt her down at the mere thought of him being hurt. As Maggie’s best friend, Anita had every right to be wary of him. She had every right to hate him. He’d just... hoped that she wouldn’t.

Thankfully, Maggie and Sam were more than happy to carry the conversation— he and Anita chiming in here and there. He learned that Sam worked as an attorney at a firm specializing in family law. She and Anita had two kids, Riley and Sidney— one in 2nd grade and the other in preschool.

“Maggie is still Riley’s favorite teacher ever,” Sam told him. “I mean, it helps when she’s also your aunt, I guess.”

“He didn’t get any special treatment,” Maggie insisted. At Sam’s raised eyebrow, she laughed. “Okay, maybe a little special treatment. But you raised a good kid! And I can’t help it that he was the most trustworthy of the bunch.”

“Oh my god, the field trip,” Sam groaned, rubbing a hand over her face.

“The field trip!” Maggie turned to Spencer. “My group of kiddos from two years ago— they were kind of a tough group.”

“Kind of?” Anita squeaked. “Let me just tell you, I can hear them through the floor. The entire middle school is literally dreading the day they make it upstairs.”

Sam piped in, “I chaperoned on said field trip to the zoo. And I vowed that I will never, ever go on another field trip. Ever.”

“What happened?” Spencer asked incredulously.

“So many things,” Sam baited.

Maggie covered her mouth to stifle a cackle, leaning a bit into Spencer’s shoulder. He couldn’t help but smile, looking around at the three women. Even Anita was chuckling, and she’d barely cracked a smile all evening.

“Okay, so many things happened,” Maggie started, “but the worst was—”

“The poop!” Sam wheezed. “The poop was the worst part of that day. The smell alone, oh my god.”

Maggie composed herself as best she could, gesturing over the table. “So after this nightmare of a day, we get on the bus, and there’s this— smell.”

“The absolute worst smell you’ve ever smelled, Spencer,” Sam assured.

“It’s awful. It’s so bad,” Maggie agreed. “And I’m literally going seat to seat, checking to make sure no one has shit themselves.”

“You could not pay me enough,” Anita chimed in.

“And I get to the seat that is very clearly where the smell is coming from. And I can’t, like— hold my nose, right? I don’t want to embarrass him!” Maggie turned to Spencer with flushed cheeks. “So I ask, ‘Sweetheart, did you have a bathroom accident?’”

Spencer let out a nervous laugh. “Oh no.”

“But oh, it wasn’t a bathroom accident,” Maggie clarified, waving her hand. “No, no— that would be too easy. This child had somehow managed to obtain copious amounts of poop from one of the zoo animals and packed it into his lunchbox to take home.”

Spencer could feel his jaw drop. “Oh my god.”

“So, he unzips his lunchbox and it’s just— overflowing with shit.” Maggie dropped her head into her hands, overcome with giggles.

“And don’t forget the worst part: his mom was on the field trip!” Sam lamented, throwing her hands up. “I will never understand.”

Maggie lifted her head with an exasperated grin, and he wasn’t sure if it was the story or the fact that she loved him, but Spencer felt like he could float away into outer space.

“I told you I had a lot of poop stories,” Maggie lamented to him, drawing another round of laughs. As they composed themselves, the waiter came by their table to clear some of their plates and refill their water.

“God, I said we were keeping it low key, and then I drank half a pitcher,” Maggie complained, pushing back from the table. “I’m just gonna go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Shit— I’ve been waiting on this call all day.” She kissed Anita’s cheek and stood from the table. “So sorry; I’ll just be five minutes, I promise.”

With that, it was just the two of them, staring intently at their water glasses. Spencer was certain he should say something, but he wasn’t sure what. Anita broke the silence first.

“You know what’s annoying?”

Anita tilted her head with an unimpressed purse of her lips. Spencer hedged, “And I understand now that it was probably rhetorical.”

“I actually kind of like you.” She leaned across the table with an irritated sigh. “I wanted to hate you, but I don’t.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, I’m, um— I’m glad to hear that.”

“You’re good for her. Smart, humble, kind. Enamored with her, as you should be,” she deadpanned. She dropped her chin into her hand. “Almost as hot as she is.”

He laughed a little at that. “Thank you?”

This was not the direction he thought this conversation would take. He didn’t know anything about Owen; he’d tried not to think too much about anyone Maggie might have been with before him.

“It didn’t start out that way.” She drew her brows together. “Well, I don’t know— maybe he was always an asshole, and he was just good at hiding it.”

He could see her grinding her teeth, trying to calm down. He was intensely grateful to not be on the receiving end of Anita’s wrath. He was also immensely glad that Maggie had a friend like that. And his blood absolutely boiled at the thought of her ever feeling anything less than adored.

Anita locked eyes with him and her voice was resolved. “I like you, Spencer. And I want to keep it that way. So, just— don’t give me a reason not to.”

“Where’s Sam?” Spencer turned just as Maggie slid back into the chair beside him, a comforting hand coming to rest on his knee.

“Some bullshit from the office that her idiot partner can’t handle.” Anita raised her eyebrows at Spencer, and he nodded minutely. She shifted her gaze back to Maggie with a grin. “Don’t worry. I didn’t scare him too much.”

…

“Easy.” Spencer steadied Maggie with a hand on her waist as they made the way up the stairs to his apartment.

“Jesus, I’m so sorry. I just— really can’t drink like I used to.” She clutched a little at the railing, and he held his breath until they were at the top of the stairs.

He slipped an arm back around her waist as they crossed to his apartment door, fumbling with his keys and fighting back a shiver as she snuggled close and ran her hand low over his tummy.

“Can’t believe I’m tipsy from a couple margaritas.”

“To be fair, you had four,” he chuckled, turning the key and pushing open the door.

“Okay, okay,” she relented. “But I used to be able to have a whole pitcher and be totally fine.”

“A pitcher?” Spencer laughed as he locked the door and turned to face her. “I can’t even have one without being completely incapacitated.”

She ran her hands up from his waistband, over his chest, and wrapped them around his neck. “Mmm, so you’re a lightweight.”

“Very much so,” he confirmed, bringing his hands to her hips.

“Just one more sweet thing to love about you, sugar.”

She sat him down on the edge of the bed and straddled his lap, bringing her hands up to tangle in his curls once again.

Before she could lean in for another kiss, he murmured, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Sounds dangerous,” she teased, ghosting her lips over his.

He wrapped his arms around her middle. “You’ve met Penelope. I’ve met Anita. Now that the school year is over… we could tell Michael.”

She pulled back, and the smile she gave him could only be described as radiant, and he knew he made the right decision. “He’s gonna lose his mind.”

…

“I knew it!” Michael cried.

He wrapped himself around Maggie’s legs and squeezed tightly, and she rubbed a hand over his hair with a bewildered smile. Michael broke away to turn back to Will with a grin. “I told you.”

“You did, buddy.” Will gave Spencer a lopsided smile as Michael tugged Maggie forward by the hand. “Michael had an… inklin’ that uncle Spencer might be friends with Ms. Brooks.”

“Not friends, Daddy,” Michael said exasperatedly. “He’s her boyfriend.”

“Oh, excuse me, sorry.” Will held his hands up in apology as he stepped aside to let them all in the door. “Michael had a feelin’ that uncle Spencer might be Ms. Brooks’ boyfriend.”

Maggie’s cheeks had turned a very pretty shade of pink. “What— um, what made you think that?”

She caught his eye with a shrug, and Will tried not to look too smug. Spencer watched her be dragged further into the house, turning to Will with a sheepish smile.

“Well, guess I can’t take all the credit,” Will decided. “Who knew we had a mini matchmaker this whole time?”

Spencer huffed out a laugh as Michael pulled Maggie into the playroom. “This is the best,” Michael sighed. “Now we can play restaurant forever.”

…

And now three of his absolute favorite humans were in one room, and he couldn’t stop smiling.

“Hen!” Michael called.

Henry turned from his spot in the chair across from Spencer. “What?”

“You’re the chef,” Michael informed him.

Maggie tilted her head. “I thought I was the chef?”