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heartpascal · 1 year

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when the sun goes down

▹— joel miller x platonic!f!reader

▹— summary: joel doesn’t talk about you, until he does

▹— a/n: this one might be kinda ,, weird?? idk if i like how ive written it!! its kinda different to my usual fics !!! + the ending is kinda funky idk

▹— warnings: fem!reader (she/her used), reader is dead , mention of reader getting infected , grief, loss, guilt, lots of angst, small mention of suicidal ideation, referenced murder, mother tess, father joel, uncle tommy, ellie asking inappropriate questions tbh, think that’s everything but let me know!

▹— taglist: @rhymingtree @sleepygraves @wnstice (everything) @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @lemonlaides @fariylixie0915 @faceache111 @randomhoex @canpillowscry @pedropascalsrealgf @star-wars-lover @coolchick333 @soobsdior @rvjaa @sunflowersdrop @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear (pedro)

masterlist

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When Joel had been a stranger, Ellie would have never even had the thought to guess that you or Sarah had existed. The man seemed… too stoic, too unbothered, or perhaps, too bothered. She was never really sure what Joel was, back then.

But over the weeks, then the months, and then the years of knowing Joel Miller, it had become increasingly obvious that there was a distinctive daughter-shaped gap within him. It had left a cavernous space in the man, which Ellie had done her very best to fill, even if she would never have admitted it to anyone.

It was clear in the way Joel had tied up her hair when she was sick, in the way he knew exactly what she needed to hear, even when she didn’t know herself. It was obvious in the way he responded to her argumentative nature, her spitting words, his protective behaviour.

Ellie hadn’t even really thought about it, until the day she and Joel arrived at Jackson, until Maria revealed what the two names on that chalkboard meant. After that, it all started to make sense, and she had finally believed that she understood Joel Miller in some deeper way, in a way that actually mattered. She didn’t think about what she was doing back when she had argued with Joel, when she had spluttered out, “I’m not her, you know.”

Your name hadn’t even been mentioned, back then, and Ellie hadn’t known at the time that when she had said her, Joel didn’t know exactly who she was talking about.

Either way, he made it clear that Ellie shouldn’t be mentioning anybody Joel had lost. Certainly not you or Sarah, or even Tess.

After the whole… hospital fiasco, Ellie wasn’t sure she had ever understood Joel, after all. She’d been numb, to some extent, when she and Joel had finally made it back to Jackson, back to Tommy and Maria’s warm house, with their surprisingly peaceful baby. The first time she had visited their house, she hadn’t even noticed your name up on the chalkboard, a new addition, one without any dates below it, but written with as much care as the others.

It was the second, or the third time, maybe, that Ellie noticed the brand new name up on the chalkboard in Maria’s living room. She had been even more hesitant to talk about it than she had been to talk about Sarah and Kevin, so Ellie had figured that the loss was fresh. She hadn’t asked again, for a very long time.

Tommy, unsurprisingly, had been the one to tell her. A long day after a nightly patrol had the man exhausted, and he was two glasses of booze in when he had seen Ellie squinting up at the chalkboard as she was around for dinner.

“He ever tell you about her?” Tommy asked, fresh glass of booze gripped in his fist as he settled down on the sofa, looking up at the board with something numb in his eyes.

Ellie had said your name like a question, eyes scanning between the board and Tommy with furrowed brows. At Tommy’s nod, Ellie had shook her head, turning to Tommy like a child ready for story time before bed.

Tommy took another sip of his drink, sucking his teeth before he finally spoke. “He never told me what happened to her,” He said, eyes fixed on the board as if information might appear. “But I figure he must blame himself, whatever happened. She was fine when I left, but I’m guessing gone by the time you were around.” Tommy continued, looking to Ellie, who nodded. “Don’t know when exactly it happened. He’s real tight lip about it, even more so than he is about Tess, but I don’t blame him. She was his second chance.”

“Second chance?” Ellie repeated, eyebrows raised.

Tommy nodded in confirmation. “Found her not long after the Outbreak. She took to Joel straight away, poor kid. After Sarah, he was… different, but Joel, he looked after that girl like nobody else would’a.”

Some of the things Joel had done or said made a lot more sense to Ellie, in light of this information. You had been Joel’s second chance at protecting his daughter, his redemption, and he had failed. It was no surprise, in that case, that he had been as protective as he had. Or that he had tried to dump Ellie with Tommy, back when they first got to Jackson.

Joel believed he was a failure.

It was quite the realisation for Ellie.

She noticed more, after that. Like the way Joel would stop in the street when he saw people who must have held a certain resemblance to you or to Sarah. Or the way he would stay up late into the night, staring blankly at the darkening world around him as he sat on the porch. Ellie noticed just how much effort Joel put into looking after her, as if afraid that something could happen to her, or she could just disappear. She also noticed the way his eyes lingered on Tommy’s chalkboard, each time they visited.

Ellie thought that maybe, some day, Joel would wind up talking about you on his own. But days passed, and then weeks, and then they’d been staying in Jackson for close to two years, and nothing.

If it hadn’t had been for Joel sticking his nose into Ellie’s business, she probably would’ve never even revealed to him that she knew of your existence. Or at least, your connection to him. But Joel Miller was nothing if not stubborn, and when Ellie had been down for more than two days in a row, he stopped minding his business.

Joel was all comforting words in the face of a preventable loss on a patrol, and Ellie was sick of it.

“It ain’t your fault, kiddo. Nobody blames you for what happened, and you oughta talk about it to somebody.” Joel had said, voice warm and concerned like any father might be, and Ellie couldn’t help but snap after the day she’d had.

“It’s always one thing for you and then another for me, Joel!” She said, baring her teeth at the man, who only looked as confused as ever. “I’m sick of it. Stop telling me things that you know aren’t true, just because you feel guilty!”

His arms had been crossed defensively over his chest at her words, his eyebrows furrowing, the crease between them more prominent than ever. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, voice gruff and warning, as opposed to the previous tone he had been taking with her. He was practically daring her to go on with what she was insinuating.

“That you want to believe your kids dying wasn’t on you! And that’s great, Joel, but this was on me. It was my fault.” Ellie had spat out, arms wide out by her side, their stances opposing one another. She was accepting her guilt, acknowledging it, realising it was true, where Joel had only ever taken the blame, lugging the guilt along with him for years as if hoping it could disappear.

He had been sure, for a moment, that Ellie had taken to physical blows, but he realised in the silence which had followed her words that the pain was all him. She was right, which to Joel, was the real kicker. He had a knack for projecting onto people, for being defensive over guilt as if it reflected his own. As if, somehow, Ellie being guilty meant that Joel certainly was, too.

Maybe Ellie was right, but even if she was, Joel was in no mindset to admit it. How could he? He couldn’t even bring himself to talk about you, too scared that Ellie would see him for what he truly was; a failure. How would Ellie have responded to that? It was the exact reason he hadn’t told her the truth about the hospital, about what he had done, about the lengths he would go to. She might have seen him violent before, but never to that extent. Never against people she cared for.

If he told Ellie the truth, he would have to admit that he had failed a third child. Perhaps not quite in the same way as he had failed you and Sarah, but in some capacity, he would lose her, too.

Joel had been a selfish man for a very long time, by then. It was no surprise that he opted for the path that would allow him to keep the only child he had left. Who could blame him? Even Tommy, in some strange way, had understood his actions. Especially after his baby had been born, Tommy couldn’t blame Joel for doing what was necessary.

A parent’s love for their child was unrelenting. And Joel took that sentiment very seriously.

But Ellie couldn’t understand. She wouldn’t.

So, in that moment, he had levelled her with a look that put all parental glares to shame. “Go to your room.” Joel had instructed, voice flat, cold. Ellie, in her shock, had done as she was told, which was unusual.

This time, however, when Joel told Tommy of what had occurred, his brother hadn’t agreed with his actions.

When Tommy explained that Ellie didn’t know about you, or about Sarah, and certainly didn’t understand the relationship the two of you had had with Joel, he could see how she could’ve said something so… distasteful. After all, Joel had never told Ellie exactly what had happened to Sarah, let alone to you. Hell, he didn’t speak about you at all. He didn’t want Ellie to believe that he would fail her next.

But the talk was overdue, and the silence in the house had been suffocating Joel, and he noticed how uncomfortable Ellie had been, too. So he had no choice but to steel himself, to grip a mug of coffee, give up on slowing his heart rate.

When Ellie walked through the door, having been out with her friends all day, she stopped short at seeing Joel sat on the couch, looking more stressed than she had seen him in a long, long time. “Sit down.” Joel said, his words catching and tumbling out, as he gestured towards the armchair opposite the couch.

Surprisingly, she sat. “Is everything… okay?” She asked, hesitantly.

“I think it’s time I have a talk with you,” Joel admitted, his fingers squeezing the mug tightly. “You were right.”

“As always.” Ellie responded instantly, an instinctive response that generated a scoff of laughter from Joel, soothing his stressed brow the slightest amount. She cringed, but relaxed at his expression. “About what, exactly?”

“About it being one thing for me, and another for you. It’s not fair of me to ask you to talk about things, if I don’t talk right back to you.” Joel said, slowly, trying to sort through his thoughts before he fumbled another important father-daughter talk, as he had done many times before. “I’m goin’ to tell you about my girls.”

“Joel, you really don’t—”

He interrupted, “No, I do. And I want to.”

Ellie nodded after a moment, settling down in her chair, finally placing her backpack by her feet. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Joel repeated. He took a deep breath, squeezing the coffee mug once more. He said your name, the syllables almost unfamiliar for how long it had been since he had said it. “She, well, I—… She got Infected, ‘bout six years ago.”

Ellie sucked in a harsh breath, sure she knew what had happened after that. It was a story she knew, all too well. Joel scratched at the hair on his cheek, grinding his teeth together. Remembering it all, remembering you was… hard. But it was also refreshing. As if showing the parts of you he’d held to his chest for so long was a weight, lifted from his shoulders.

He didn’t want to talk about that part, about the time he failed you, about what he’d done for you, but other things? He could talk about those.

Joel remembered the years he had spent with you, watching you grow, spending weeks of his life searching for gifts for every assumed birthday. He remembered teaching you how to read, gifting you books, helping you learn how to survive. He remembered the bond you’d shared with Tess, the time the two of them would spend doing your hair for you, with whatever supplies they could manage.

Telling Ellie about you was probably the most vulnerable Joel had ever been with her. It was certainly the most open he had been. It felt like, for the first time in a very long time, he had his heart stitched onto his sleeve.

There was so many memories of you, so many he’d kept to himself for years because Tess had never been able to talk about you, because he couldn’t bring himself to, either. He worried about memories he had forgotten, about how much of your face had faded into obscurity, about how inaccurately he recalled your laugh, your voice.

He thought that, perhaps, his very worst fear would be that if he let go of these memories, if he let other people look upon them alongside him, he’d forget. Joel wasn’t sure he could be open and hold on tight enough. What was too much? How much could he say before he forgot it all? How much would he remember if he didn’t analyse them in his mind? If he let Ellie listen to the moments he held most dear?

Joel didn’t want to forget.

But if he didn’t tell anybody, then who would remember you, after Joel was gone?

There was Tommy, he’d considered, but he knew Tommy’s memories were corrupted, taken over by Firefly nostalgia. No, despite Joel’s being older, his memories of you were certain to be more reliable.

“Here,” Joel said, eventually, his throat feeling tight with the effort of holding back tears. He pulled out a folded up print, one he had gotten out just that afternoon. It was crumpled and degraded with age, but the image remained true. “This is her.”

Ellie took the photo from his hands, the image being of you. It was taken when you were a kid, back when he’d first found you, back when FEDRA had been doing photographs, before all of the printing supplies ran out. It wasn’t a happy picture by any means, merely an image of you, stood in front of a white background with a scared look on your face, dirt smeared across your nose, but it was you. And to Joel, that was enough.

He much preferred to think of you that way, rather than your last moments. It was the only thing that allowed him to let go of that last picture of you, the one that haunted his mind.

When Tess had died, the only thing that gave Joel some peace was the belief that she would have reunited with you. That you wouldn’t be alone, anymore. Often times, in the events after your… well, after he lost you, Joel had considered following you down that path. He had prayed to the God he had once believed in, he had cried out for any divine interference to stop what had happened from being true. But no matter how much he prayed, how much he cried, you were gone.

You had given him a purpose, after Sarah. Joel doesn’t think he would’ve made it this far, if it hadn’t been for you. And it feels so… wrong. He thinks, now, that Ellie had provided him with a purpose, after you.

“So, you raised her in the apocalypse?” Ellie asked, looking down at the photograph fondly, running a thumb along the yellowing picture.

“That I did.”

“Lucky kid.” Ellie said, not nastily.

“I dunno, kiddo, I’ve not always been the best…” Joel trailed off, unsure if he could actually refer to himself as your dad, after everything. After what he had done. Or, rather, what he hadn’t. “We did our best, me and Tess. Hell, even Tommy pitched in.” Joel decided on, after a moment.

He remembered the times Tommy would agree to look after you, to babysit, if such a thing existed in the apocalypse. Usually, it was when he and Tess were going outside of the QZ for supplies, occasionally for the Fireflies, which was why Tommy was allowed time away from his war against FEDRA.

One such time, Joel recalled, he and Tess had returned back to the ransacked apartment they had been assigned to find you and Tommy curled up on the decaying couch, which had only one cushion, asleep. A blanket had been wrapped around your shoulders, and Tommy had your newest book held in his lap.

In that moment, Joel had so wished that he could’ve taken a picture. He remembered a picture of almost the same scene, of Tommy and Sarah on the couch in his old house, in front of a still-playing TV. He regretted not taking the photo albums when they left, back then. Even now, he often felt a pang of regret over how much of Sarah’s memory was reliant on his own.

“Tess raised her with you?” Ellie questioned, almost surprised, but she could remember the way Tess had acted almost… maternal. Not to mention her optimism, her hope, when there was a possibility of a cure. She wondered if that was because of what had happened to you.

Joel nodded, going on to tell the tale of Tess teaching you how to shoot, when you became old enough to handle a gun, when it became apparent that you would need to handle one. He remembered how you had missed all but one shot by your second lot of ammo. He remembered how frustrated you had been, how Tess had told you to suck it up and try again, with that good old no-nonsense attitude.

Ellie could almost imagine Tess saying that, could almost picture how annoying that must’ve been for you as a kid. It was almost amusing to try and picture Joel and Tess raising a child in the apocalypse, especially given how the two had been when she had met them, herself. She tried to imagine that Tess being a mother, but came up empty.

“Did she, y’know, call you dad, or whatever?” Ellie asked Joel, after a moment of hesitation. She wasn’t sure if that was inappropriate to ask, but she was curious. She couldn’t imagine calling Joel ‘dad’ to his face, even though he was the only father she had ever known.

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“Dad!” You yelled, jumping up from the couch and away from Tommy, successfully waking him up in the process. You stumbled your way to the door as Joel swung it open, already dropping his bag to the floor. He was used to the greeting party, but you didn’t often shout him, in fact — did you ever? And since when did you call him ‘dad’? “You’re home! Did you get it?” You asked, jumping into his awaiting arms.

Joel squeezed you tightly, feeling a mixture of guilty and relieved that he was glad to be back, to come home to the child he had yet to fail. He thought about where you could have learnt that word, that name from, and could only come up with the new books Tommy had been helping you with while he and Tess had been away.

“‘Course I got it,” Joel responded, his voice gruff but full of warmth and humour. “Who d’you take me for?” He asked, grinning at your laughter and the way you squirmed from his hold to get to the backpack he’d dropped beside his feet.

“What’re we reading next, then?” Tommy asked, drawing Joel’s attention over towards the sofa, where his younger brother was smiling fondly. You hurried over, attention easily drawn away, and showed Tommy the book you’d taken from Joel’s bag, the one he’d managed to scrounge on his journey outside with Tess.

Joel was quickly drawn from his memories of the journey by you calling out to him once more. “Dad, are you coming to read with us, or not?” You asked, exasperated, and Joel grinned as he came over, his heart aching in his chest at the name, at the nostalgia of the activity.

“You bet.”

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“She did.” Joel answered, after a moment of him being distracted, thinking of that very first time, thinking of the way he had fallen back into the title with such familiarity. He wondered if you would have been much like Sarah, had you been born before the apocalypse. Sometimes, he wondered that about Ellie. Often, he had to remind himself that you and Ellie weren’t his biological kids, and if it wasn’t for the apocalypse, he wouldn’t have had you.

He doesn’t like the way his chest aches at the thought of that. It might just be the only reason he’s grateful for the apocalypse that had ruined the world.

“She would’a liked you, y’know.” Joel said, almost absentmindedly, as if that comment didn’t make Ellie’s chest warm with appreciation, with pride. As if it didn’t make her wish that she could’ve met you, could’ve proved that comment correct.

“I think I would’ve liked her, too.” Ellie said, quietly, watching the way Joel reminisced, his eyes glazed over as he stared at the photo she still held. He smiled after a moment, and she was sure he was imagining what his life would’ve been like, had all of his kids met.

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lucky-clover-gazette · 4 months

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captive prince book 1 highlights & annotations

chapter 13 & final notes

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

It was true; it was somehow not even a surprise, more like a truth that had grown for some time on the edge of his awareness, now brought into sharp relief.

some damen brain insight! he’s not stupid or oblivious. he just ends up distracted, often, due to the more pressing things in front of him and/or subconscious avoidance.

‘You can’t go to Delfeur,’ Damen said. ‘It’s a death trap.’

YAYYYYYYYYYYYYYY damen doesn’t want laurent dead!!!! 🎉

‘Is your reputation so far in the dirt that you think the Council will choose your uncle for the throne anyway, unless you prove yourself?’ ‘You are right on the edge of what I will allow from you,’ said Laurent.

but he does allow SOMETHING, which is new

‘Take me with you to Delfeur,’ said Damen. ‘No.’ ‘Akielos is my country. Do you think I want her overrun by your uncle’s troops? I will do anything in my power to prevent war. Take me with you. You will need someone you can trust.’ Speaking those last words, he almost winced, immediately regretting them. Laurent had asked him for trust last night, and he had thrown the words back in his face. He would receive the same treatment. Laurent just gave him a blankly curious look. ‘Why would I need that?’

context: laurent is delusional about his capability to overcome near-insurmountable odds alone. this frustrates and concerns damen, and he isn’t able to let it go, even though he hates laurent. his values and honor come first. laurent is both confused and mildly amused by damen’s concern, because he doesn’t expect anyone—especially not damen—to actually care about his well-being.

Damen stared at him, suddenly aware that if he asked, ‘Do you think you can juggle attempts on your life, military command, and your uncle’s tricks and traps by yourself?’ the answer was going to be: Yes.

i love laurent. i love that his stubborn determination is very much a virtue, but also something that occasionally makes him act like a total idiot. and damen sees this, and understands this, for better and/or for worse.

‘He asked me to bed you, then report back to him.’ Damen was forthright. ‘Not in those words.’ ‘And your answer?’ That, unreasonably, annoyed him. ‘If I’d bedded you, you’d know it.’ There was a dangerous, narrow-eyed pause. Eventually: ‘Yes. Your style of grabbing your partner and kicking their legs open does stand out in the memory.’

the fact that laurent allowed this kind of banter to happen at all is kind of a big deal. he was definitely close to smacking damen about it, but went for a half-hearted insult instead. for laurent, that’s basically a white flag. and it’s even more meaningful, since the exchange was related to sex, which has proven to be a vulnerable topic.

‘My dear brute,’ said Laurent, ‘I want you to rot here.’

context: laurent is exhausted, stressed, and delusional about his immediate future. damen wants him to survive (for now), to see things realistically, and feel the urgency of his circumstances. i don’t think laurent cares if damen rots—he just wants him to stop saying true and helpful things.

also, this is just kind of a hot thing to say. something about the conflicting affection and contempt. i don’t know.

‘Are you that sure of yourself?’ Damen called after him. ‘I think if you could beat your uncle on your own, you would have done it already.’ Laurent stopped in the doorway. Damen saw the cupped yellow of his head, the straight line of his back and shoulders. But Laurent didn’t turn back to face him; the hesitation only lasted for a moment before he continued out the door.

he’s right! laurent knows he’s right! he’s just too proud and delusional to admit it!

probably because to laurent, admitting weakness only results in vulnerability and pain. he wouldn’t believe that anyone would actually want to offer him help without an ulterior motive. so his guard stays up, and he does what he needs to do alone.

Laurent was leaving tomorrow. Laurent, infuriating, intolerable Laurent, was pursuing the worst possible course, and there was nothing Damen could do to stop him.

“i hope she fries / i’m free if that bitch dies / i’d better help her out” (buffy the vampire slayer, once more with feeling)

It was easier to blame the death of a boy on mischance than that of a young man about to ascend to the throne. Damen could see no reason why boy-Laurent should have escaped that fate. Perhaps familial loyalty had held the Regent back . . . until Laurent had blossomed into poisonous maturity, sly-natured and unfit to rule.

context: the regent kept laurent alive as a child and teenager so he could [redacted] >:(

Laurent could inspire homicidal tendencies simply by breathing. Kastor, he thought, had no idea what lay across the border. Kastor had embraced an alliance with Vere. He was vulnerable, ill-equipped to fight a war, the bonds within his own country showing cracks to which a foreign power had only to apply pressure.

the dramatic irony here is insaaaaaaaane. damen your cognitive dissonance is showing

Did Laurent really believe he could do this alone? Laurent would need every weapon at his disposal in order to navigate this course alive. Yet Damen had not been able to persuade him of that. He was aware, not for the first time, of a fundamental inability to communicate with Laurent. It was not only that he was navigating a foreign language. It was as though Laurent was an entirely other species of animal.

romance is two strong-willed and competent people communicating despite the odds, becoming stronger and more competent together than they would be apart. also doing improv comedy to survive the horrors

He touched the starburst pattern at his shoulder. He was dressed in Laurent’s colours, and bearing his insignia. That was a strange feeling.

kinda hot. like the collar and cuffs, but they actually earned it.

submission vs. respect theme, etc.

He was to serve and obey, as any man.

but NOT, notably, as a slave.

‘Sleeping in his tent?’ ‘Where else?’ He passed a hand over his face. Laurent had agreed to this?

i love how damen’s follow-up question isn’t necessarily, “do i agree with this?” but “how the fuck did LAURENT agree to this?”

After a long moment, Damen said, ‘Whatever else you think, I don’t share his bed.’ It was not a new insinuation. Damen wasn’t sure why it rankled so much now.

probably because there is something resembling mutual respect developing between damen and laurent, so the implication that their interactions are entirely sexual is offensive. submission vs. respect again!

‘If I’d sent them after you,’ said Laurent, ‘I would have told them you went out the only way you knew, through the courtyard off the northern training arena. Did you?’ ‘Yes,’ said Damen.

hot.

The pre-dawn light bleached Laurent’s hair from gold to something paler and finer; the bones of his face appeared as delicate as the calamus of a feather. He was relaxed against the doorway of the stables as though he’d been there quite a while, which would explain the colour of Jord’s face.

laurent lean #9. smug eavesdropping.

And he did not need gilt to be recognised under a parade standard, only the uncovered bright of his hair.

i’m counting this as damen likes blondes mention #6. implies that laurent is “parade standard” simply because of his pretty hair.

Laurent paced forward. His eyes passed over Damen in turn, displaying jagged distaste. Seeing him in armour seemed to have drawn something unpleasant from the depths. ‘Too civilised?’ ‘Hardly,’ said Laurent.

context: “i cannot fucking believe i’m dressing up my brother’s barbaric killer like a veretian and letting him join my traveling party”

‘What is he doing here?’ ‘Captaining the Guard.’ ‘What?’ ‘Yes, it’s an interesting arrangement, isn’t it?’ said Laurent.

oh, he’s SEETHING. humor as deflection.

‘You should throw him a pet to keep him off the men,’ said Jord. ‘No,’ said Laurent, after a moment. He said it thoughtfully.

context: mainly i think laurent knows that govart’s unsatisfied libido is likely to make him screw up. but also i’d like to believe that he’s just super over the pet stuff

Laurent took it without saying anything. He tucked it carefully into a fold of his riding clothes. Then after a moment, he reached out, and touched Nicaise’s chin with one knuckle. ‘You look better without all the paint,’ said Laurent.

oh he cares about this kid so much, and clearly values his gift. this is the most affectionate we’ve seen laurent in the entire book.

‘Do you think a compliment will impress me?’ said Nicaise. ‘It won’t. I get them all the time.’ ‘I know you do,’ said Laurent.

“so did i.”

‘I’m coming back,’ said Laurent. ‘Is that what you think?’

context: this is meant as a comfort to nicaise, but nicaise hears it as a threat.

neither of them believes that they would ever deserve or receive protection.

‘I’m coming back,’ said Laurent. ‘To keep me as a pet?’ said Nicaise. ‘You’d love that. To make me your servant.’ Dawn passed over the courtyard. Colours changed. A sparrow landed on one of the stable posts close by him, but lifted off again at the sound of one of the men dropping an armful of tack. ‘I would never ask you to do anything you found distasteful,’ said Laurent.

context: this is the truth.

It didn’t surprise Damen that Laurent was popular with the townspeople. He looked the part, all bright hair and astonishing profile. A golden prince was easy to love if you did not have to watch him picking wings off flies. Straight-backed and effortless in the saddle, he had an exquisite seat, when he was not killing his horse.

NICE VS. GOOD THEME! damen thinks that if the townspeople saw laurent as he does—a bitch—they would realize that he isn’t good. because he still believes, most of the time, that niceness equates to goodness. and so every pleasant quality laurent possesses—his appearance, his title, and his skills—is in opposition with his unpleasant behavior. laurent’s unpleasant actions and qualities are, simply, Not Good. and damen is too distracted by laurent’s more tasteful qualities to consider how his distasteful decisions could be more ethical than they appear (for example, mercy killing the horse his uncle poisoned).

inversely, we have damen and akielion slavery. damen knows the gentle submission of slaves in ios, and the way their masters “honor” them—in that, he sees goodness. but when he sees the cruel way veretians treat akielion slaves, he sees wrongness, which he then advocates against. but what he can’t see, is that “palatable slavery” (gag) is still slavery, and just as wrong in akielos as it is in vere. and it is just as evil of akielos to partake in the institution, if not more evil since it’s their institution in the first place, than whatever is going on in vere.

damen has moral integrity. he has a mind and he uses it. but he also has a massive blind spot, because he believes that everyone else in the world is as honorable as he is.

laurent has the opposite blind spot. he doesn’t expect anyone to be honorable, ever. least of all his brother’s killer.

the two of them make a good team.

final notes

damen likes blondes mentions: 6

laurent leans: 9

(nice)

character elements to watch out for:

laurent perspective context (knowing what i know, what sense can i make?)

laurent & nicaise

laurent coping mechanisms (pretending, delusion)

damen coping mechanisms (avoidance, distraction)

damen reconsidering the ethics of akielios

mutual moral arbitration

series themes:

niceness vs. goodness

submission vs. respect - “there is no honour in obedience”

suffering alone vs. fighting together

pain and humor

honor and integrity

sex, power, innocence, violence

trauma, desire, consent

#YAYYYY!#done book 1 #this was super fun #capri #sam reads capri #captive prince #damen of akielos #laurent of vere #lamen #please feel free to share your thoughts!!

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daintylotusflower · 9 months

Text

The Hunt: Epilogue ONE

The Strategist - Asher Carson

We had to move rather quickly, as the place was getting crowded by now. Not just because we arrived, but also because of the saved girls who really needed to get away from this horror place.

Volkov and Kyle were quick, professionals, as expected, when hurrying everyone into secure cars and hurrying everyone to drive off. Naturally none of the fathers and sons wanted to leave their daughters and girlfriends alone, so it was a cozy family trip driving outside of the city.

Everyone needed some fresh air to breathe, though a few amongst them didn’t have lungs to live anymore.

I looked at Killian through the mirror while driving.  King’s daughter was seated on his lap, head buried in his neck. She was asleep, or fainted from all the exhaustion.

Poor girl.

The last days were sure a nightmare for her but the happenings from the last hours must’ve truly knocked her out.

„LANDON DON’T“

It was Levi King’s voice that echoed from the other room when we just stepped into the playfield of the devil. Aiden was quick to interrupt his bickering with Kyle to rush to his cousin and nephew. 

His nephew, a tall brunette copy of Levi King, was standing in the middle of the room and shot a man that was captured and beaten, right between his eyes.

He was breathing like an angry bull, his body tensed and his eyes… hollow.

Aiden rushed to his side with his cousin and they quickly took away the gun.

 „Landon! This won’t —“

„Nothing, will bring her back“ I felt the hair on my neck standing up.. he sounded like..

He sounded like fucking Arianna. Empty, soulless and ..gone

I heard about the King men and their lack of emotions and ..heart.. Aiden has been a long-life friend and I witnessed him and his son with my own eyes but this.. this was entirely different.

Aiden was a ruthless son-of-a-bitch but he still had humanity in him. He was maybe -okay most definitely - not sharing the same moral compass as the rest of the world, but he had some.

But Landon King ? He looked like the epitome of anarchy and doom at this very moment.

„What’s going on here?“, Kyle entered the room and looked at the dead man like it was another piece of trash in the hallway.

Volkov entered too, hands in his pocket. He looked around rather calculative and somewhat annoyed by the fact that he had to leave his daughter’s side to come here.

Kyle stepped closer.

„Landon? King? What’s going on?“

Something was off, when Aiden pulled Landon away by his neck and Levi held his arms back when he tried to free himself from his uncle.

They both rushed out of the room but not before Landon was yelling at them to show the prove.

Prove?

Prove for what?

Glyndon stirred in her sleep, her fingers gripping into Killian’s chest. She was having a nightmare. Killian’s jaw tensed and he pulled her even closer, whispering things into her ear I couldn’t decipher. It seemed to work.

„How long, Dad?“, my son sounded tired.

„An hour left“

„We can’t be going too far away from these bastards. It will only give them the opportunity to flee!“

„I don’t think they want to run, son“

„They will.“ Our eyes met through the mirror for a split second and it was like I saw myself in his eyes. Like that time when Arianna died and I blamed the world for it and stupidly my own love. But especially like that time when I found out the truth and Reina was taken away from me. And I saw her beaten up in her own blood. The rage over what had happened and how I almost lost the love of my entire fucking being, was so fucking overwhelming, I would’ve burned the world for her. Including myself.

„They will“, I agreed and something flashed in Killian’s usually emotionless eyes.

Surprise?

I nodded towards the rode.

 „We will take a break-“

„I don’t need a break“, he cut me off, stroking Glyndon’s hair back while he continued gazing out of the window.

„No. You don’t“ I wasn’t being sarcastic. I knew that he couldn’t rest until justice was served.

„But Glyndon might when she wakes up. She needs water and something to eat until she gets the nutrition’s from the doctor“

Glyndon had been captive for what seemed like days without food or water. Killian did his best by nurturing her as much as he could when they rescued her. Naturally a doctor was supposed to see her and give her a nutrition boost but because of recent event’s we all needed to pack as quick as possible and change locations.

Some men stayed there, including Aiden, Kyle and Eli to go over everything.

They wanted to be sure that they had seen and found every clue possible, before joining us.

I halted at a gas station and got out, opening the door on Killian’s side.

„What are you doing?“, he looked at me with furrowed eyebrows.

„I’ll pump gas and check with the others. You go and wash your damn face, grab some snacks and water for Glyndon and come back“

„I won’t leave her“, he said with a final tone.

„I’m here“

„Kill..“ I sighed and crouched down. I slowly lifted a finger and stroked a hair out Glyndon’s face, my son tensed visibly.

„Stop that“, he threatened. I allowed myself a little proud smile at that, before cupping Killian’s head and forcing him to look at me.

„You are my son Killian. And no matter what happened between us in the past and how far we are in healing.. this.. all of that doesn’t fucking matter in this situation. Because I want you to be assured that you can always, fucking always trust me“

I leaned our foreheads together. „Trust me, son. Glyndon has become my daughter the moment you brought her home and I saw you -“

„Normal“, he looked at me calmly. He didn’t sound accusatory, merely like he was stating a fact.

„Being yourself!“, I corrected him. „I know I wasn’t the best father you deserved. But let me prove to you, that no one will love you like I do son. Trust me, okay? I’d protect my daughter-in-law with my life if necessary! “

Killian’s nostrils flared and I let him go so he could look down at Glyndon’s face for a second.

He didn’t answer nor reciprocate in any form. I didn’t expect him to because I knew he wasn’t doing emotions. But him putting Glyndon softly into a comfortable sleeping position and getting out of the car was already a big prove of trust.

I straightened so he could get out of the car. I locked the doors after closing them. He nodded once before he disappeared to grab the snacks.

While pumping the gas I dialed Aiden’s number.

„Are you done?“

„Almost.“ I heared painful groaning in the background

„Did you guys arrive at the location?“

„Almost“ I gave him back his answer. „Will you be there on time?“

„Don’t worry, honey, I know you can’t do shit without me“

I smirked.

„Fuck you, King“

„I pass“ He replied and hung up.

Being able to fight with Aiden gave me still a form of sanity in this whole damn mess. I texted with the others, apparently some of them already had arrived.

Killian came back a few minutes later, looking a bit fresher than before. Some water droplets were dripping down from his hair strands and gave him a much more awake look. He was carrying some snacks. Maybe a bit too many for the remaining hour. He looked into the car, checking if Glyndon was still asleep.

„Feeling better?“

„No“, he answered calmly. „Not yet“

I nodded, knowing what he meant. I paid for the gas and sat into the driver’s seat and surprisingly, Killian joined me on the passenger side after covering Glyndon with his jacket and making sure that she rested well in the back.

I allowed myself a small smile.

„What did he mean?“, I asked into the 20min silence. From the corner of my eye I saw Killian’s muscles flexing.

„Who“

„Her brother. What did he mean by -“

„Not now, Dad“

I furrowed my eyebrows and passed a large truck before answering.

„I don’t think there are any better moments, son“ 

He sighed and I watched his Adams apple bob in silent. Was.. Killian struggling to tell me something? No, that can’t be. My son would never struggle with the truth. He didn’t have that empathy level.

„But there are worse…“, he mumbled.

Normally I would argue with him, fight with him and blame him for how he was not responding and hiding important information from me. But just a moment ago I asked him to trust me and ..I needed to trust him too.

I needed to trust in his ability to know what was right now and what was .. just not necessary at this moment.

Levi King calls my son a few minutes after, and he assures him that Glyndon is save. They arrived and were waiting for us. I could see that King was not fond of leaving his little baby girl only after finding her again but he had his hands full with Landon and Nikolai, who was giving updates on his other son.

By all the information I got, he was poisoned.

And though I could see that the elder King wasn’t the greatest fan of my son, I knew that he trusted him in protecting his daughter.

“Tell me about Ilya”, I try this time. We still had 30min to go and there was nothing wrong with getting all the information’s I might’ve missed.

“He betrayed us, what else is there to tell?”

Ilya disappeared with Knight and his daughter, Jeremy’s girlfriend Cecily.

When they were rescuing Annika, Ilya used the opportunity when shit went down to free the men that had been captured and kidnap Knight and Cecily when realizing that the latter was remembering things she shouldn’t.

“What motive does he have?”

“You mean besides Maya?”

I tilt my head down, contemplating. “Why didn’t you tell Jeremy earlier.. maybe he would’ve been more careful-“

“I doubt that”

Killian looked back to Glyndon when she made a soft noise in her dreams. He reached back to stroke her hair back, not for her, but for himself.

Because he needed her touch just like a drug.

I waited for him to continue.

“Otherwise, it would be my fault, or rather my stupidity for not understanding it earlier but it’s not that”

Killian’s finger started drumming against the window.

“It’s about the fact that Ilya wasn’t so sure about what to do himself.”

I lifted one eyebrow.

“How do you know?”

“Cecily was about to be kidnapped again. Shortly after she was rescued. Ilya checked the room. Now knowing what we know, it’s clear that he was in onto the plan. He knew the room was rigged and yet lied to Jeremy it being safe.”

He stopped drumming and for a moment it seemed like he was lost in his thoughts.

“We dissected the room and quickly found all the cameras and hidden traps. But I also saw something, that I didn’t understand at the beginning.”

I looked over to him intrigued.

“The window. Apparently, it was shut when the men came.”

“So?”

“Are we not using our brain Carson?”

I smirked. “Watch it, punk!”

I could deal with big mouth and provoking Killian. He was much better than soulless Kill.

He chuckled humorlessly.

“So, we established that Ilya chose and prepared the room for Jeremy. Cecily woke up from the men entering the room because the window wasn’t open like it was supposed to be. They had to crash in, which woke up Cecily.”

I raised my eyebrows. It made sense.

“So, you think Ilya did it on purpose, so Jeremy had a chance to rescue her?”

Killian shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s a theory”

“Why would you think that? Maybe the men were really just too dumb? Maybe they didn’t expect Jeremy to be close by or for Cecily to wake up.”

“Possible”

My son took a deep breath and rubbed his chest, right over his heart. The physical exhaustion was slowly eating him up.

“But I don’t think they planned everything so perfectly, only to fail at such simple tasks.”

“And why would Ilya kidnap Cecily and her father now, if he wanted them to have a chance?”

“Because his motive is Maya, Dad.” He turned his head to look at me and for the first time it seemed like an ounce of empathy was swimming in his cold blue eyes.

“Ilya didn’t betray Jeremy, just to betray him. He did it because of Maya.”

“Are you defending him?”

“Would you?”

Killian looked at me when I stopped at a red light.

“Defend him?”

“No. Betray your –”

“No”, I interrupted him as flashbacks filled my mind.

“I would never not communicate and hide my problems ever again”

I felt my son’s eyes on me and though we had never told him about his aunt, he knew that a certain family member gave us the worst time of our lives.

She almost made me lose my one true love but she was only so strong because we allowed her to be. We never talked, never shared our pain with each other which is why we almost lost each other for good.

“Ilya should’ve talked to Jeremy.”

My son turned his head back and a silent filled the car until I slowly saw the airport trajectory.

“What is this?”, Kilian asked as we saw our friends and family standing in front of Volkov’s private Jet.

“Would you?”

“What?”

I parked next to the scattered cars and looked over to him.

“Would you betray your own to safe Glyndon?”

We looked at each other for a long moment, his icy blue eyes vibrating with intensity as he thought hard about his answer.

He looked over to Glyndon who was softly sighing in her sleep when he answered.

“Yes”

Though I didn’t suspect a different answer, I couldn’t help the sting in my chest.

“Because she is my empathy. Without her, I don’t own a different perspective.”

He nodded over to her.

“So, with her being save here, I can rationalize what you are saying. It’s understandable and it’s…” He furrowed his eyebrows as if he was tasting his words “it’s probably the right thing to do. The moral-ethnical and socially acceptable way of seeing this.”

“But.. it’s not how I function Dad. Not how I will ever work. Glyndon is my only sanity so if she disappears-“

“You’d lure your cousin into a trap?”, I interrupted. I knew I had no right to feel attacked. I knew he was being brutally honest with me which I appreciated. Fuck, I appreciated it so much, even though the truth about my son would always hurt me.

But I was proud of how reflective he was and most of all, how he was trying for us all.

Even if he said it was only for Glyndon, it wasn’t true.

It was maybe because of Glyndon, which is why he learned perspective and patience, but he had always put on a mask in order to not hurt us, hurt his mother.

Even if he acted like he didn’t care and yes, yes because of how his brain worked he might not.

But he cared differently.

He adjusted to us to not make us feel sad even if he wasn’t aware that that was a form of empathy.

Killian’s eyes darkened.

“Never. Mia… “ He broke eye contact as he looked out to the others, Adrian Volkov looked at me expectantly.

“I am not defending what Levitsky did” He spat his name like a curse.

“That motherfucker deserves a slow death for what he did to Mia”

He looked then at me again, a shadow darkened his eyes now. Making him look deathly. Ruthless.

“But if someone asked me to exchange Landon for Glyndon. I gladly would”

I allowed a low chuckle knowing how much my son hated his girlfriend’s brother.

The corner of his mouth twitched for a split second before he nodded towards the others.

“We are sending the girls off, right?”

I nodded.

His jaw tensed and he looked back at Glyndon again. Desperation and reluctance were written in his face.

“She will be safe”, I assured him.

“She will be safe”, he said, emphasizing the last words when he met my eyes.

He wasn’t assuring himself or me.

It was a dark promise.. almost like a threat.

Astor’s boy and Aiden’s younger boy decided to stay with the girls.

Well, not quite freely.

Nash’s youngest daughter was clearly a mess and her boyfriend would’ve rather chewed his own leg then to let go of her in any circumstances.

Her father clearly approved, though I knew that Cole would never admit that out loud. But he needed to focus on his still lost daughter and I could tell that he was relieved that she didn’t need to stand alone through whatever she’s been through.

Aiden’s youngest son, Creighton, wasn’t as easy to convince.

But he wasn’t happy with neither staying nor leaving with Annika.

He knew that she needed to head back home, that she needed to leave this hell hole and he wanted to stay with her and protect her but at the same time the need to kill was also there. Present.

It was a back and forth until Adrian grabbed him by his shoulder and looked down on him though they were almost the same height and told him to choose himself just like Annika did too before.

I didn’t know what they meant by that.

Without using the words for it, Adrian basically told him, that he wanted him to stay with his daughter.

Creighton looked back before they entered.

“I want the one who took her”

And then he disappeared into the plane. It was clear as day what he meant by that.

He wouldn’t be here to find those men and punish them for what they did but he wanted to have at least one to torture which would be the one who took Annika in the first place.

Adrian nodded.

I didn’t look when Killian hugged Glyndon to his chest and I didn’t listen when he whispered her that he loved her and that he would come back as soon as the fuckers who did that to her would be bleeding.

Levi approached his daughter shortly after and helped her inside.

His son was nowhere to be seen.

The girls would be sent back to one of Adrian’s hidden houses and would have the best security to protect them.

We watched the plane start from afar when Jeremy’s phone went off. He had been quite the whole time, watching in silence when I knew that his soul was shattering.

“WHAT?”

We all looked at him tensed when he yelled into the phone. His eyes met Levi’s who stepped closer.

In return he held his phone out and put it on speakerphone so everyone could hear my nephew talk.

“Like I said. Levitsky is here. Knight and Cecily are here too.”

We looked at each other in disbelief. Why the hell is Ilya back?

“Is Knight alright?”, Astor asked, stepping closer.

“He lost a lot of blood and is unconscious at the moment.” He waited a beat. “Cecily is with him and my men are with her”

This information was clearly for Jeremy who was now basically killing his phone with his death grip and laser eyes.

Nikolai growled like he was trying to control his beast.

“He also brought the antidote”

“Are you sure it’s the correct one?” Levi asked now taking Jeremy’s phone. The latter’s muscles ticked but he didn’t stop him.

“It’s the only one we have Mr. King... we need to hurry”

“Nikolai! What if it’s a trick-?”

“It’s not”, Killian cut in, looking at the phone with an empty look.

“How do you know, Carson?”

I looked back at my son.

“Brandon was already dying. What difference would a few hours make?”

Levi bit down on his teeth at the image of his son slowly losing his life.

“Don’t let him out of your eyes Niko!”, Jeremy barked in before they could continue to argue about Ilya’s intentions.

There was a moment of silence on the other line. Nikolai didn’t sound like himself. I knew his boyfriend was fighting for his life at this moment but knowing that he received the antidote should actually make him sound. -maybe not happy.. but more alive?

So why did he still sound like he was trying to make Brandon breathe again.

“He’ll stay. He.. is waiting for you”

Jeremy hissed, his jaw ticking with unleashed anger when he grabbed his phone back.

“Send me the fucking location of the hospital Nikolai and so help me God when I see him because he wished he’d run away”

“You’d be surprised”, Nikolai echoed with an almost hollow voice and hung up.

What was that supposed to mean?

Jeremy didn’t wait to find it out as he rushed to his car, his father following. I knew that Adrian also had a vendetta against Ilya for betraying his son like that.

“How are we sure this is not a trap?”, Astor asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“I don’t think so”, Killian threw in.

“What? Do you think he suddenly had a change of heart?”, Levi spat. His tone towards my son was pure poison and I was about to punch his fucking face for that.

“Not a change but maybe a loss..”

Again, his eyes swam into a further nothing when I could practically hear his brain working.

“What are you saying, Kill?”, I asked.

“I said I would betray my people for Glyndon, Dad. Now empathize with me. When would I come back?”

He looked at me – no, past me. Like he was chasing a long-gone shadow.

I furrowed my eyebrows thinking about his question.

What did he mean?

When would Killian come back?

Especially like Ilya. Why would he all of a sudden try to help? Seemingly?

If he wanted to safe Maya then-

My eyes widened when realization slapped me.

I felt like someone poured cold water over my head, freezing me to my bones.

“Mr King. Please show me the picture of Mia”

Mia? Wait – why Mia?

Levi looked at me for a second before he looked back at my son.

“Why?”

He just reached out his hand, waiting for him to give him the phone.

After three heartbeats Levi reluctantly handed him his photo after opening something and –

Fuck- FUCK

Was this my heart breaking?

My lungs that were shuttering?

The corners of my eyes blackened for a moment when I blinked, my eyes desperately trying to focus on the picture in front of me but my body was revolting to even witness what I was seeing.

No, no, no. Not my little princess. Not my beautiful, innocent niece!

Not M-

“Maya. This is Maya”

Killian’s voice came out like the reapers.

Dark and lifeless.

Gone.

“The message said-“

“It’s a lie. Only to pitch Landon against us. This is Maya.. ..I ..recognize my cousin”

A heavy and dark blanket laid upon us as we all stared down to the picture. No, not everyone. Astor, Nash and King were avoiding it. So they knew before.

And.. I looked at Killian.

He knew too. He didn’t see the picture, obviously a mix up happened between the twins, but he knew that his cousin died. That’s why he wouldn’t tell me.

“That’s why Ilya came back”, I whispered.

That’s the only reason Killian would come back too. If it was too late. If he had lost Glyndon. Only then he’d help for a last time.

Maybe him not because of guilt but because of revenge. To stop them from plotting and pull them all to hell with him.

“Maya is..”

“What about my daughter?”

The voice belonged to my brother-in-law. Kyle Hunter who stepped out of Aiden’s car together with him and his son Eli.

He had stayed with them behind to clean any mess they might’ve left with their last snooping and got rid of unnecessary attention.

We were so indulged that we didn’t even hear them approaching, yet alone getting out of the car.

Levi snatched the phone back from Killian and everyone kind of stepped away from the circle we all built.

“We got Ilya”

Killian announced to his uncle. “We are heading to the hospital; Brandon is being treated.”

I refused to look into Kyle’s eyes as I followed my son back to the car, but a strong arm stopped me.

“Ash”

The familiarity broke me for a second and my eyes met with Aiden’s who was looking at us from a few feet away with a calculative look.

“What did you guys talk about? What happened to my daughter?”

I felt like needles were piercing my skin and a heavy stone was setting in my throat.

“She-“

Sudden gun shots interrupted me when we found ourselves in the middle of an attack.

Kyle pulled my head down and we ran to the next car, jumping in.

I checked if my son got in safely but gladly there was nobody left on the open field as we raced out of danger. How the fuck did they find us so quickly?

I dialed Aiden’s number, and he picked up after the first ring.

“Did everyone make it?”

“Yeah” I heard him driving over a man.

“Everyone’s safe.” He sounded too calm.

“Put it on loudspeaker”, Kyle grunted next to me.

“How many can you see King?”

“A few. Your little trap worked.”

I furrowed my eyebrows.

“You brought them here?”

“We were on a hunt remember? Time to catch the prey.”

I looked back and saw Aiden behind us, both him and his son looking almost bored as multiple cars were chasing them.

“By putting everyone in danger?”

“We didn’t. We knew they would come, obviously” Aiden stated through the phone. “Why chase them when we can let them follow us.”

“Work smarter not harder” I smirked, and I knew Aiden was doing the same. It was his motto since I could remember.

“How did you lure them in?”

I asked, not quite understanding yet why they were suddenly so open with their attacks.

“Simple”, Aiden said with and obvious undertone. “Find out that Adam is not the only one behind this shit and kidnap their accomplice who most definitely would spill his whereabouts with a tiny bit of torture”

“What a pussy”, Kyle grunted, obviously speaking about a session they both had when we left.

How long were they gone exactly?

But wait? Accomplice? As in-

“It’s not Adam Herran behind this?”

“Oh he is”

“But he apparently wasn’t alone”, Kyle commented while he made a sharp left turn, the car chase getting more difficult as we snaked through the traffic.

I furrowed my eyebrows.

“Who?”

“An old high school friend”

I waited.

“Christopher Vans”, he spoke darkly.

#rinakent #daintylotusflower #fanfiction #legendofgods

36 notes · View notes

blu3cl0v3rs · 11 months

Text

Summary: Garmadon and Co. move into the monastery.

Warnings: Wu is in denial

Prompt: New Beginnings

Extra: Set in pre-canon. "And Co." are Ray, Maya, Libber, and Lily. Wu is in denial of being a father, but Ray and Garmadon will not shut up about it. I am sleepy so this probably sounds a bit dead.

"So this is what you've been doing in my absence?" Garmadon asked after he knocked on a giant red door of the Monastery.

He had walked in on Wu as he guided Morro through proper katana form.

The brother's locked eyes.

"Morro, you've done a great job today, but I think we're done for now. Do you mind cleaning up everything?" the blonde asked kindly.

Morro simply bowed and dragged the training dummy and bokken to their respective storage places, disappearing into the monastery afterwards.

Garmadon approached his younger brother. The two stood face to face, tension thickening the air as silence flowed between the two.

"Is this the boy you've been writing about?" the elder brother asked.

"Yes, that was Morro." The younger brother confirmed. "Where are the other four?"

"They are… coming." The brunette turned to the stairs, where spiky brown hair popped up from a distance. "It has been a long journey."

"I see. Good thing Morro and I prepared rooms for you all ahead of time." Wu stepped forwards to be next to the taller man.

The two stood in weighted silence.

The eldest sighed, "I missed you, Brother."

"As did I." The younger quickly brushed off any dirt accumulated from training.

Ray clambered up the stairs, huffing with each step he took. Maya, Libber, and Lily followed up behind. All of them at different levels of exhaustion, ranging from Libber, who was bent over with her hands on her knees gasping for air as fat beads of sweat dripped down her round pale cheeks and thin neck, to Lily, who was slightly winded as she dabbed sweat off her brow and jogged up and down the same three steps, giving encouraging words to the other women with her.

"Why," Ray asked through labored breaths, "do you live on top of a mountain?"

The blonde man smiled, "There's a nice view."

"Eughhh… I need… a bath," Libber groaned as she collapsed against the wall of the monastery, scooching over to a shaded area.

"Same, I forgot how tall this mountain was," Maya agreed.

"Oh come on, it wasn't that bad," Lily received two deadpan stares.

"Maybe for you because you love rock climbing," Libber grumbled before slouching inside to bathe. Maya and Lily followed suit.

Ray straightened up eventually. "So, where's your kid, Wu?"

"What?"

"Your kid. Y'know, agh what was the name, Mollo? No, Mono? Ah, Morro!"

"Wha- hah! Morro is not my kid."

"You sure, Brother?" Garmadon piped up. "You seem quite fond of him."

"I can be fond of a child without adopting him! Besides, he's only my student."

"Sure, because you definitely wrote about discovering his favorite food like he's your student," Ray rolled his amber eyes. "Just accept it, you're a father now."

"Which means I'm an uncle as well," Garmadon quietly realized.

"Again, Morro is just my student. Besides, there's no way he sees me as a fa-"

"Sensei."

The three men turned to see their topic of discussion waiting patiently by a door into the building.

"Excuse me for interrupting, but I completed my task," the boy said after he came over.

"Good job! Let's go inside now, okay?" the younger Dragoni crouched to be closer to Morro's eye level.

The boy with a green streak nodded happily and softly made his way back into the temple.

Ray and Garmadon shared a look as Wu rose to his full height and followed, waving the two over.

"Not a father, he says," Ray mumbled before heading inside with Garmadon.

Bokken - wooden sword used to train in kenjutsu, or japanese swordsmanship

#ninjago #morro #ninjago morro #morro ninjago #morro master of wind #morrotober #morrotober 2023 #morro wu #lego ninjago #garmadon ninjago #ninjago master wu #ray ninjago #ninjago libber #lily ninjago #maya ninjago #i'm sorry this took so long #again #i'm playing catch up rn

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oh-surprise-its-me · 1 year

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Roy/Jamie prompt: Phoebe's mum ends up in the hospital with a mild ailment and Roy runs himself ragged trying to take care of everything. when he starts to crack, he tries to hide away and breakdown only two sets of arms, one large, the other small, come around him and hold him tight. Jamie and Phoebe have a bias against their Roy falling apart with no one to pick him back up. Roy realizes Jamie is his family and that he wants him with him in every step of his life from now til the end. Jamie feels the same.

Jamie had been sleeping at Roy’s house for the past two days. Roy looked awful on Thursday. He couldn’t let him keep doing that to himself.

So far Jamie has let Phoebe paint all of his nails. The hot pink glitter toes look killer. The black on his hands nails is something he’s definitely going to do again.

Phoe has been trying to convince Jamie to help her dye her hair. He’s been refusing. That was hours ago. She’s been asleep for a while when Jamie decides to find Roy.

He ends up in front of Roy’s bedroom. He knocks. There’s a noise then Roy opens the door. “Yeah?”

Jamie blinks. Shit Roy has been crying. Jamie grabs him. Doesn’t even think before he does. He pulls Roy into his arms. Roy drops like dead weight. Jamie slides to the ground with him. “It’s okay. I know. It sucks. You’re doing so good though.” There’s a sob.

Suddenly Phoebe is there. She throws herself onto Roy’s back. Holds on so tight. “You okay uncle Roy?” Roy pulls back out of Jamie’s hug. He pulls Phoebe in between them. “Yeah hon. Just got tired.”

Jamie knows what tired means. Overwhelmed. Stressed. Exhausted.

“Alright you two let’s get in that giant bed of Roy’s yeah?” Phoebe hops up. Roy is staring at Jamie like he’s just realized something.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Jamie slams back on the ground fro where he was trying to help Roy stand. They land on the ground. Phoebe sticks her head over the side of the bed. “Obviously you love him. He’s here with us.”

They can only stare at her. “Mummy says you two deserve each other.”

She flops back into the pillows.

“Love you too. You know.”

Roy thinks maybe he finally lost it. “You’re fucking with me.”

“Money!”

Jamie brushes the tears off of Roy’s face. “Baby why would I fuck with you. I’ve loved you for years. Just took a while for you to catch up.”

Roy shakes his head. “We’ll talk more in the morning. Come on.”

Jamie stares at the bed. “You want me to sleep there too?” Roy pulls Jamie up. He shoves him on the right side. Phoebe in the middle of them. She flops over onto Roy’s chest.

Jamie reaches out and takes Roy’s hand. They’ll talk in the morning.

It’ll be a good morning.

#ted lasso #jamie tartt #roy kent #jamie x roy #royjamie #phoebe kent #roy kent x jamie tartt #thanks for the ask !!#i hope you like it!!

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astaldis · 3 months

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My June of Doom 2024 Masterlist

The fics are all for The Witcher (novels & books)

Altogether 52 prompts used and 24,138 words written.

Thank you so much, @juneofdoom for the inspiring prompts and for creating this gorgeous whump event 😘❤️

Prompts: 1 "Help me." & "Fetal Position", 5 "Bite" & "Swelling", 7 "What happened?"

Help Me, He Whimpers

While collecting firewood for the campfire, Jaskier goes missing in the forest. When Geralt finds him, a surprise is waiting for the Witcher. And it is not a nice one. (Words: 2,158)

Prompts: 2 "Scream", 7 "Nightmare", 23 Trembling, alt. "Please don't leave me."

The Witcher And The Kraken Of Hate

While safe in Kaer Morhen, Ciri is having a nightmare - again. To distract his child surprise from her dark memories, Geralt tells her a story - the story of a boy who became a Witcher in order to slay a giant kraken. Perhaps Ciri can even learn something from the story. Let's see if she will. (Words: 4,034)

Prompts: 3 "Hiding" & "Stalking", 7 "Stumbling", 11 "Collapse" 24 "Stitches" & "Bandages"

How I Met Your Uncle

Walking home through the forest one night, you are stalked by an eerie, white shape - a spectre. Will it freeze your heart and rip you apart or will someone come and save you? (Set shortly after the Battle of Brenna in which Coën did not die. Words: 2,083)

Prompts: 2 "Scream", 4 "Impalement", 5 "It's not as bad as it looks.", 22 "Cauterization" and 29 "I'm so cold."

A Spear Through The Chest

During a fight against the Usurper's men, Cahir saves Emhyr's life but is severely injured in the process. (Words: 1,749)

Prompt: 6 "Flinch"

"Ouch" Says The Bard

"Ouch!" Jaskier exclaims, flinching back from Milva ... (Words: 150)

Prompt: 8 "Chair"

The Chair

This chair is special, and definitely not one you would enjoy sitting on. Why? Read and find out. (Words: 300)

Prompts: 3 "Well, well, well ...", 4 "Does that hurt?", 6 "Flinch", 7 "Nightmare", 9 "Accident" & "Blame", 10 "Can you hear me?" & Fear, 11 "Collapse" & "Bleeding Out", 14 "What were you thinking?", 16 "At least it can't get any worse.", 18 "I'm fine." & "Headache, 20 "Panic Attack", 23 Trembling, 25 "Guilt", 27 "Or What?" & Defiance, 28 "Numb", 29 "Fever"

The Interrogation Game

Shortly after the fighting at Aretuza, Sabrina Glevissig bumps into somebody by accident. It is the enemy commander who gave the order to shoot the dimeritium-tipped arrows at them! (Words: 11,835)

Prompts: 12 "Grief", 25 "Guilt"

Can You Hold Me One More Time

After the battle of Aretuza, an exhausted Tissaia finds a little solace in Yennefer's arms. (Words: 300)

Prompts: 13 "Sacrifice", 14 "Human shield", 26 "Rage"

Red Rain

Francesca's world shatters when Filavandrel sacrifices himself for her.

(A Thanedd Coup Sonnet in iambic pentameter, Words: 112)

Prompt: 15 "Presumed Dead"

NOT DEAD!

One last time Fringilla looks back at the high walls of Cintra before she flees north. (Words: 300)

Prompts: 19 "Sobbing", Alt. "Broken Glass" & "Obedience"

Breaking

Cahir kills Gallatin (in iambic hexameters). (Words: 140)

Prompts: 24 "Blankets", 26 "Choke", 28 "Say something!", 30 "Shock" & "Asphyxiation"

The Grape

Jaskier, Radovid and their fluffy foundling Esmeralda are having a nice evening in front of the fireplace together. Until something decidedly not nice happens. Can Jaskier save his comma prince? (Words: 1,000)

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cityandking · 1 month

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5, 35, 54, 62, 83 for dai, minah and narayani!

ty my dear! // 93 fun oc asks

5. What’s their relationship with their parents like? What about other relatives?

DAI — dai's relationship with his dad is good! they're incredibly similar and dai has always looked up to t'velle as a role model and an inspiration and a source of wisdom. it's been a little strange to come home and have that moment of realizing his dad is also just A Guy. dai's relationship with his other parent is largely nonexistent, as they were an earth djinn who used their final Wish to wish daichi into existence as a fuck-you to dai's horrible grandmother, and dai has some very complicated feelings about that—some pride, some guilt, some grief. he's been reading through musa's diary and it's bittersweet to see parts of himself reflected in someone he's never going to get to meet. beyond that, dai gets on well with his uncle, does not get on well with his grandmother (the bitch), and is fond of (if often exhausted by) his cousin lhoris. (and of course, he loves his other dad pelor so much, and historically he's gotten on well (if awkwardly) with his other other dad tempus) MINAH — minah was absolutely a daddy's girl growing up and wanted to be like him and do him proud. her family got along well, though they had their usual spats and arguments. unfortunately her parents are dead, so there's not much of a relationship anymore. (she misses them horribly) NARAYANI — rani's birth clan is gone and she never knew her parents, but she was taken in and raised by clan lavellan as a sort of collective village+child thing, and she loves—loved—them all very much. she was closest to one of the elders who was something of a grandmother to her and really took her under her wing, but she considered the entire clan her family. it wasn't their fault she grew apart, not really. she just spent so long being the thing that protected them that she forgot to be their da'ayani

35. What is the easiest way to annoy them?

DAI — insist on things being true when they aren't. the more inane and stupid the better. dai would have hated the lolz so random era of internet humor. MINAH — complain about helping with things that everyone else is doing. she doesn't mind some kvetching but there's a time and a place, y'know? also, nosiness NARAYANI — every single unthinking, unconsidered word out of a shem's mouth is annoying to her. "the elves" she's already tuning you out.

54. What is their current hairstyle? What have been some of their past hairstyles? Which was their favorite hairstyle?

DAI — currently he's got cornrows capped with little gold beads and a sorta black/gold ombre thing going on (it gets lighter at the ends). in the past he's had long locs, a buzz cut, and natural hair. when he has a minute to restyle it, he's gonna go back to locs, but shorter this time. this vibe MINAH & NARAYANI — answered!

62. Have they ever been betrayed? How did it affect their ability to trust others?

DAI — he's definitely been screwed over and is far less trusting of people than he was before the campaign, but I'm not sure he's been in a position to trust anyone enough for being turned on to feel like a betrayal. he felt a little betrayed when zaref first revealed he was a void tiefling/got them trapped in the void, but he's level-headed enough to know that wasn't actually a betrayal. MINAH — yes. as we've all seen, she's totally normal about it (girl has intense trust issues) NARAYANI — absolutely, but she's slow to take it personally. she's got plenty of other stuff going on that makes her wary of trusting others; past betrayals don't change much. (she also insists—once, firmly, when someone brings it up, and then it never comes up again—that what solas did wasn't a betrayal. it was a lot of other things, but she never felt betrayed by his actions. she is, perhaps, a little biased)

83. Can they swim? How well? Do they like to swim?

DAI — yes, mostly just enough not to drown. I think he probably learned from one of the soldiers during the rebellion (I'm not sure his dad even knows how to swim? I guess there might be underground lakes in Il'hesa but I'm not sure I'd trust them). he's ambivalent about it; the water is nice but he tends to sink like. well. like a stone. also he's died underwater twice now and that kinda puts a damper on beach days. MINAH — yes! she grew up near a river and enjoys swimming. one of the best parts of traveling with the troupe was camping by a lake or a river and getting to take a dip. NARAYANI — yes, very well. she enjoys swimming on a hot day and the freedom of moving through the water. it's a pity the south is so cold

#incredible how dai's family went from his dad (off screen) to like half a dozen guys with complex relationships #plus the god dads can't forget the god dads #...now that I think about it daichi's existence is very ''planting seeds in a garden you never get to see'' oof #da'ayani [da'alhani] - 'little wilderness'#these were fun thanks my dear #memery #daichi #minah #narayani

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classpect-crew · 4 hours

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The Heir of Hope: Plurality and Personal Narrative

It took plurality, of all things, to realize that my greatest strength lies in Hope.

Hope is the Aspect of fantasy realized. Those who wield it are like the Magician of the tarot, capable of shaping the world according to their whims. With each thought, as Terezi wisely points out, we are helping to create our own reality; in the Domain of Hope, there is no greater truth. The Hopebound are storytellers and passionate consumers of media. They are the center of their own narrative, at times unable to conceive of anything outside of it. They may even strip other people of their agency—of their Life—in an effort to force them to make sense in their existing worldview. Dissenting allies become obstacles at best, and enemies at worst. And yet, should they yield ground to the autonomy of others, allowing the story to ‘write itself,’ they will find themselves swept up in a much more meaningful adventure than they could have possibly imagined.

Hope is the Aspect of the imagination, brimming with ideas and just waiting for an outlet to fully realize them in the material world. It is the Aspect of magic. It’s the reason I’ve been able to treat the Classpect system as a foundation for performing magic myself, seeing the world in terms of the Aspects, a bit similar to the way the ancient Greeks saw the four elements of fire, water, earth, and air reflected and embodied in all things. I now understand my recent obsession with restarting over and over in Baldur’s Gate 3 as an imbalance between Heart and Mind: in order to avoid addressing my latest identity crisis, I’ve tossed myself into a roleplaying game with a million different possibilities, and I’ve exhausted dozens upon dozens of hours trying to play every possible role, wearing every possible mask, creating every possible character.

I’m a storyteller—it’s in my blood. My father, and his father before him, and every relative of his that I’ve known have all been the same. Our family reunions were filled with wild tales sprinkled with half-truths, like the time my dad came across a particularly randy buck in the middle of the street—he swears he saw the buck stomp his hoof and wink—or the way my great uncle got his glass eye after a hunting trip when his own father mistook him for a turkey. My maternal grandmother is the same way. I named myself Taliesin in honor of that, and also to tap into some part of a greater legacy of storytellers, just like the historical and mythological Taliesin himself, and all those who have taken his name before me.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had more people in my head than I’ve known what to do with. I have a veritable menagerie of colorful characters, some going back many years, who have taken up residence in my brain folds. It never occurred to me that they could become more than just puppets for me to play around with, reflecting my own dreams, desires, and fears in a way that felt safe. Separate. That was before one such puppet, Vivienne, cut her own strings, looked me dead in the eye, and told me “I want to be real, too.”

She did so not long after taking control of my body when I was in a cannabis-induced haze, speaking to my girlfriend in a voice that definitely wasn’t mine. When I came out of it, she asked “was that an invocation thing, or a headmate?” (I’ve had a few experiences with invocation, when a deity decided I could help one of their followers by passing along a message that, frankly, could have been an email.) I determined fairly quickly that although it wasn’t mine, the voice was coming from my own head. Thus began a long and very weird journey navigating my plural identity that all began when a character I’d had for a dozen years decided she wanted a chance at experiencing sentience.

It was eerily reminiscent of Brain Ghost Dirk, a sort of thoughtform that becomes real for a while because Jake believes in him that much, but also because so much of Dirk’s journey involves splitting himself off into different versions of himself. The more I interact with Viv, the more real she becomes. It feels like the effort is mutual, as if she’s using our conversations—among other, more intimate interactions—to become a fully fleshed-out person, joining me in my head as someone with her own agency, rather than just a sort of ‘hack’ my brain was using to override executive dysfunction.

When I discovered the practice of ‘tulpamancy,’ though controversial in some circles, it occurred to me that I could perform a feat like this willingly, given enough time and effort. Still, while the tips I found were helpful, I never really found them necessary for my own work. Hell, I was already doing it with Vivienne, working intuitively with her in ways that just made sense. It was something that came to me naturally, and still does. It feels like a natural gift—like an inheritance. I inherited the ability to dream up these stories, these characters, and make them real. Anyone who’s spoken with Viv, especially in person, can speak to the fact that she and I are distinct in a way that’s profound and meaningful.

There are many other connections I’ve made with the Heir of Hope: the soul-deep wellspring of faith and optimism that I’ve been able to draw from in the darkest times of my life, or the incredible effects of my religious journey as I’ve explored the vast reaches of conviction and doubt alike. Yet, those feel too obvious, too much like low-hanging fruit to write a whole damn essay about. That’s why I’ve written instead about the legacy my family has left for me, and the ways I’ve turned my storytelling into a source of personal power.

I’m not just the center of my own narrative, but also its author. At the same time, there are millions of characters, just like me, who are entitled to their own agency. They exist within my head and without it, living out their own lives, becoming more and more real with every thought, every word from their lips like cobblestones on a road to self-realization. There are times when I need to put down my pen and just take it all in, without trying to take control of the story or change somebody else by force.

I am a storyteller. I am a captive audience member. I am a character in a narrative as big as the universe itself. I am the Heir of Hope.

#classpect analysis #classpect #homestuck #heir of hope #heir class #hope aspect #plurality

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mlobsters · 3 months

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supernatural s1e10 asylum (w. richard hatem)

(this is a rewatch, so spoilers abound)

search up, as my kids would say, what to do when your fixation takes a left turn. spn is definitely still my main thing, but i also just completely lost interest in trying to watch it again. i thought having the project of doing my little writeups for the eps i hadn't done would carry me along, like it did through the episodes/season i struggled with, but alas. not so much

lot of the little xfiles sound effect being used in this teaser bit with the cops searching the building. ps i've learned a lot about the history of abuse against disabled folks including the history of them being placed in institutions like this from imani barbarin (crutches and spice) and current disability advocacy etc; give her a follow.

dude that's a sweet little car, wonder if that's someone on the cast/crew's. in a different life i would have been down to mod my car too (i have a little 2006 black acura rsx that i love dearly)

the coloring and darkness i can't tell if that drip out of the ghostly possessed cop is blood or the black goo lol

such a pretty shot i love it and it's got that @dappermouth gothic americana vibe in spades and i kinda wanna paint it somehow. juxtaposed with the most bland boring font in the title screen lol

DEAN Caleb hasn't heard from him? SAM Nope. And neither has Jefferson or Pastor Jim. What about the journal? Anything leads in there?

thanks for the links to the characters from the transcript, wiki! trying to pay attention to what all the boys know about other hunters etc. also kind of creepy note in the caleb wiki entry: According to Jo's Journal, Jo was forced by her mother to refer to Caleb as "Uncle Caleb."

SAM After all that happened back in Kansas, I mean...he should've been there, Dean. You said so yourself. You tried to call him and...nothing. DEAN I know! (He rummages through his duffel) Where the hell is my cellphone? SAM You know, he could be dead for all we know. DEAN Don't say that! He's not dead! He's – he's... SAM He's what? He's hiding? He's busy?

the sass on the "he's busy?" made me laugh out loud

SAM (snorts) This is a job... Dad wants us to work a job. DEAN Well, maybe we'll meet up with him? Maybe he's there? SAM Maybe he's not? I mean, he could be sending us there, by ourselves, to hunt this thing. DEAN Who cares! If he wants us there, it's good enough for me! SAM This doesn't strike you as weird? The texting? The coordinates? DEAN Sam! Dad's tellin' us to go somewhere, we're goin'.

(little crispy R on weird)

SAM makes a bitchface and sighs.

okay transcriber 😂 dean's so relieved to get some orders

psst dean i think you're supposed to act at least a little mad or somethin after getting thrown around by fake-mad sam

i was trying to find a gif of dean spider monkey'ing over the chainlink fence but instead ended up in the tags of a gifset of that scene with sam shoving dean and apparently some people read this as dean was hurt (emotionally) by sam being too rough with him because he's mad about other stuff? which is 100% not what i got from his reaction. if that's what he was going for, i did not pick it up

DEAN Shoved me kinda hard in there, buddy boy.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

i'd expect a "look" to be like, wtf bro? not kind of... dazed and almost smiling

well. i can't find a gif of what i was looking for and i am reminded of why i don't search for spn stuff across the site vs just a blog that i know rb's lots of gifsets. i think that's enough for tonight

i just made the gifs instead 🧍‍♂️🤸‍♂️🧍‍♂️

also realizing why watching these first season episodes is especially exhausting, there's so much backstory and and character establishing going on that i have Thoughts about damned near every scene when they're talking, so it's just a lot of me prattling on and on. it's like a book report for every episode. because if i'm gonna talk about the episode, i'm gonna Talk About the Episode.

DEAN Let me know if you see any dead people, Haley Joel. SAM Dude, enough. DEAN I'm serious. You gotta be careful, all right? Ghosts are attracted to that whole ESP thing you got going on. SAM I told you, it's not ESP! I just have strange vibes sometimes. Weird dreams. DEAN Yeah, whatever. Don't ask, don't tell.

a) you see dead people too, dean b) ->

Pride Program offers personal perspective on ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ era

By Stefanie Hauck DLA Land and Maritime Public Affairs

When Jason Guthrie was in the Navy, he thrived for the first time in his life, garnering many accolades, challenging assignments and promotions. But one moment brought his upward trajectory to a screeching halt, resulting in his discharge in 1996 after four years of service. Guthrie, who served during the “don’t ask, don’t tell” era, spoke about his experiences as a gay man trying to find his way in an unaccepting world, during the 2024 Defense Logistics Agency Land and Maritime Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer Pride Month program June 5 at the DLA Land and Maritime Operations Center Auditorium on Defense Supply Center Columbus. “Don’t ask, don’t tell” stipulated that gay service members were not required to disclose their sexual orientation, but could still be dishonorably discharged if they were discovered to be gay. Thousands of service members – including Guthrie - were drummed out of the service under the law until its repeal in late 2010.

... His early interactions with other closeted gay military members around him, eventually led to his acceptance that he was gay at a time when “don’t ask, don’t tell” was the new law of the land. Guthrie said at the time it all seemed so straight forward. “You don’t ask me, I don’t tell you,” he said about the law. “It seemed to make perfect sense to me but many of my fellow closeted service members did not agree with that compromise. So, we all did the best we could to live our lives and pursue our military careers.” He focused on his work and was determined to be the best sailor that he could be. And by keeping social distractions to a minimum, he thrived in his early Navy career being promoted often and receiving many awards while working in strategy and policy for the chief of Naval Operations at the the Pentagon. ... After a tour in Bahrain, where he worked as an awards writer for the commander of U.S. Naval Forces Central Command, he arrived at his last duty station in 1996 at a low point after ending his first serious relationship prior to rotating back to the United States. “I was in the U.S. military and in the closet,” he said, “I knew I would need to transfer again, and he would not be able to join me.” What would be his last assignment was challenging for him in many ways. He had a roommate again after living independently for a while, and the people he worked with resented his rapid rise in rank and his previous ‘cushy’ assignments. “I was in a low mental state and had a hard time connecting with people,” he said. This is where he said he made the biggest mistake of his military life by inviting someone into his room while his roommate was away at work. He thought it would be OK to do so because his roommate who was a flight mechanic was on a different shift. However, his roommate did show up while he had that individual in his room. “That’s when I heard a sound I’ll never forget. A key entering the door lock,” Guthrie said. His roommate did not say a word, went about his business and left while Guthrie and the individual were hiding under the bed covers. “I went to work the next day thanking God I dodged that bullet,” he said, “But my relief was soon replaced with fear when I was called into the command master chief’s office a few days later.” That conversation revolved around working out the issue with his roommate, but the impasse was so great it was reported to the unit’s legal office, resulting in several rounds of questioning until Guthrie admitted that there was another man in his room and that he was gay. The next four months were torturous for Guthrie, while he went through the process of getting discharged from the Navy.

i was gonna include some history of DADT but i think this story is more important. the policy only ended in 2011. i know don't ask don't tell was a common punchline for many years, i'm the same age as them, i get it. i also think it's gross. it's that casual homophobia of the time period where people are sort of more openly chill about queer people theoretically, but they're still a joke. and the joke here i guess is sam's psychic stuff is freaking dean out and he doesn't want to hear it? but he's the one that brought it up. whatever, man.

(wikipedia) After the policy was introduced in 1993, the military discharged over 13,000 troops from the military under DADT.[111][231][232] ... In September 2021, on the 10th anniversary of the Don't Ask, Don't Tell repeal, President Joe Biden announced that the Veterans Administration would start providing benefits for service members who received other-than-honorable discharges (before DADT was enacted and while it was in effect) because of their sexual orientation.[215]

anyway. sigh.

DEAN Hey Sam, who do you think is the hotter psychic: Patricia Arquette, Jennifer Love Hewitt, or you? SAM pushes DEAN, who laughs.

so we gotta round it out with a little bit of calling sam a girl, of course. people call this flirting, i call it teasing with sort of a rotten core of a joke. i have a tag for it, as i go through the rewatch - the more overt (to me) things about masculinity/gender policing in the show. i think i miss some of that stuff. hey fellas, is it girly to have psychic powers

DEAN Man. Electro-shock. Lobotomies. They did some twisted stuff to these people. Kinda like my man Jack in Cuckoo's Nest. (makes crazy eyes and grins at SAM)

at least his impression bombed :p (my mental check: jack nicholson is the actor, jack nicklaus is the golfer; showing my age, natch)

i don't mean to pick on dean. just unfortunately the writers saddled him with most of the ~problematic~ lines. this is another case where i tend to zoom out and blame the writing and mentally keep it a little separated from the character. which isn't fair but it allows me to continue liking him :p and i'll even give that okay, so he was more homophobic as a character at this age in this time period and he grew past it. which he did, mostly. but then they'll have something like the 8x23 thing and then i squarely blame the writers (and honestly probably jackles too) and keep it separate from dean entirely because it's inconsistent to him at that point and nonsensical.

woof. shut up, bro.

SAM Dean. When are we going to talk about it? DEAN Talk about what? SAM About the fact Dad's not here. DEAN Oh. I see. How ’bout...never. SAM I'm being serious, man. He sent us here... DEAN So am I, Sam. Look, he sent us here, he obviously wants us here. We'll pick up the search later. SAM It doesn't matter what he wants. DEAN See. That attitude? Right there? That is why I always get the extra cookie. SAM Dad could be in trouble, we should be looking for him. We deserve some answers, Dean. I mean, this is our family we're talking about. DEAN I understand that, Sam, but he's given us an order. SAM So what, we gotta always follow Dad's orders? DEAN Of course we do.

i know you'll come around, dean, but let that simmer for a second. that's fucked up.

laughing at the idea that you could get a same day/next day appointment with a psychiatrist even in 2005

not in his usual little sneakers. kinda look like hush puppies or the like. but then his boots were slip ons too, once he moved to those. and jared still wears some of his old spn boots lol, mentioned at a con recently

huh! another actual brand. men's health magazine and that looks like.. damon from tvd? on the cover? oh, funny, it's seann william scott (the only way i dredged that one up after finding a picture was thinking he might have been with kutcher in dude, where's my car? [he was])

our generation (myself included) loves a long sleeve under short sleeve shirt

ELLICOTT You. Now I'll make you a deal. I'll tell you all about the Roosevelt riot, if you tell me something honest about yourself. Like, uh, this brother you're road tripping with. How do you feel about him? DEAN Dude! You were in there forever. What the hell were you talking about?

to be a fly on that wall. that said, i have faith in sam's abilities to bullshit well enough that doctor man buys his story. or maybe he took the opportunity to rant consequence-free, who knows!

hey sammy's got the camcorder out at the hospital, like they used in bloody mary? i thought that was a one and done (they may have used it since and i didn't notice/think about it too)

SAM This place is orbing like crazy.

IT'S ORBIN' TIME! haha also apparently only mentioned in this episode. but it did get a wiki entry because it was in the official website definition thing

KAT And Dean? He's your boss? SAM No.

partners, baby

brooke nevin / sydney sweeney

she reminds me of sydney sweeney a bit. pretty, blonde hair, with big eyes and similarly shaped mouth. apparently brooke nevin was one of the kids in the animorphs tv show? i didn't read those books, they were after my time. i got one or two for my kids but my oldest was very meh so i haven't gotten any others

nicholas d'agosto / tom welling in smallville

and the boy (nicholas d'agosto) who i, for whatever reason, think he looks like smallville version clark kent in this episode (having literally never watched smallville and only seen commercials) was harvey dent in the gotham tv show. which i also didn't watch! i don't watch many things. LOL which i conflated with the show misha was on. gotham... knights? haha. oh, and misha was harvey dent. that's even funnier

KAT My dad took me skeet shooting a couple times.

girl, me too! and my brother worked at the trap and skeet range in high school in az. iirc he was working in the little house that launches the clay targets

DEAN Yeah. They were rioting against Dr. Ellicott. Dr. Feelgood was working on some sort of, like, extreme rage therapy. He thought that if he could get his patients to vent their anger then they would be cured of it. Instead it only made them worse and worse and angrier and angrier. So I'm thinking, what if his spirit is doing the same thing? To the cop? To the kids in the seventies, making them so angry they become homicidal.... Come on, we gotta find his bones and torch ’em.

okay, i had forgotten this was the explanation to why sam says what he says in a minute. 📝

so i guess it was just drippy nose blood from the cop at the start, since it's not possession it's.... whatever brain zappy mind meld the evil doctor ghost man did. gotta have some indicator that sammy's under the influence too

DEAN We gotta burn Ellicott's bones and all this will be over, and you'll be back to normal. SAM I am normal. I'm just telling the truth for the first time. I mean, why are we even here? ’Cause you're following Dad's orders like a good little solider? Because you always do what he says without question? Are you that desperate for his approval? DEAN This isn't you talking, Sam. SAM That's the difference between you and me. I have a mind of my own. I'm not pathetic, like you. DEAN So what are you gonna do, huh? Are you gonna kill me? SAM You know what, I am sick of doing what you tell me to do. We're no closer to finding Dad today than we were six months ago. DEAN Well, then here. Let me make it easier for you. Come on. Take it. Real bullets are gonna work a hell of a lot better than rock salt. Take it!! DEAN You hate me that much? You think you could kill your own brother? Then go ahead. Pull the trigger. Do it! DEAN Man, I'm not going to give you a loaded pistol!

just thinking about how the premise is basically taking existing anger and ramping it up to the nth degree, and what the implications are of that in this. we know sam is independent and doesn't like being told what to do (relatable), and is very frustrated with dean's willingness to follow dad's orders instead of defying them in a more concentrated effort to track him down. playing dad's game of him sending them on hunts through the most ridiculous methods possible. i'd be pretty damned frustrated too. and i also understand, but have a harder time relating to, where dean's coming from. he was raised in a way that he understood from a way too young age that following orders was a matter of life or death, and that he had to keep sam safe, he had the burden and responsibility laid on his little kid shoulders. i can only imagine how hard it would be to break away from that lifetime of conditioning.

so that said, just thinking about how dean would reconcile this. trying to think about it without considering what we know about how dean feels and what he's worried about later, and just what we know at this point. but it's hard to think about it without considering the conversation in 1x16 where he lets his guard down and pretty much begs sam to stay with him and dad instead of going back to school when it's all over. in the pilot, he says he can't do it alone - which sam says yes he can - but dean says he doesn't want to. so we know he missed sam and wants them to be a family and partners. but at this point sam still is scrabbling for normalcy and independence and for this to be a short term situation.

so i guess my question to myself is, do i think this planted more seeds of doubt for dean that sam doesn't care about him the same way dean does. but we've got 1x12 faith coming up soon, which should tell dean something about sam's commitment to him. not enough to soothe his concerns, obviously, and even if sam's ready to trade someone else's life for dean's without a moment of concern, he still doesn't want to stay hunting long term with dean at that point. tough situation. when staying with your person means also having to do this horrible life-risking job with virtually no option for settling down, having a family, stability, safety and comfort.

(at which point i think about how they do eventually get most of that, but then dean dies and sam has to go on without him for so long and i get incredibly sad again. when the happy ending makes you cry every time you think about it for more than 5 seconds... i've gotten a lot out of fixating on this show but occasionally i wish i hadn't)

gives him a pat and apologizes for knocking him out

dean boot update: still not the logger boots

and for inexplicable reasons, evil doctor ghost man turns into a statue and breaks apart on the floor when his bones are burned lol as opposed to the standard ghost burning up sitch

crawled over to take refuge/(literally) protect sam's ass from crumbling ghost statue haha

SAM I'm sorry, man. I said some awful things back there. DEAN You remember all that? SAM Yeah. It's like I couldn't control it. But I didn't mean it, any of it. DEAN You didn't, huh? SAM No, of course not. Do we need to talk about this? DEAN No. I'm not really in the sharing and caring kinda mood. I just wanna get some sleep.

i mean, yes, you need to talk about it. and it kind of breaks my heart. dean is a mess. he only has had two points of stability in life, and sam left for 4 years and then john ghosted him. so he's twisting in the wind, trying to hold on to sam who is looking to leave as soon as possible, and the uncertainty of what's going to happen with john... it's just all so miserable.

so for the second time we get sam on the brink of freaking out over the nonsense of the no contact/cryptic contact from john and then john comes through with something. a message before, a phone call now. iirc jdm too was frustrated over what an ass he was being dodging the kids constantly

Throughout the season, Morgan became frustrated at times due to his character's avoidance of his sons, stating, "It pissed off everybody, it pissed off us as actors, it pissed off the audience watching, because none of us really knew where we were gonna go." However, he reasoned that John's motivation for his actions was due to having knowledge that nobody else had.[25]

you'd think i was getting paid by the letter to write these damned things. good grief.

#supernatural #spn 1x10 #spnwatch #spnrewatch #spn homophobia #spn and masculinity #the perpetual nonsensical unpredictable pop culture database of dean winchester #richard hatem #brooke nevin #nicholas d'agosto #don't ask don't tell

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negative-speedforce · 3 months

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Ngl, I still think of Siv everytime I listen to The Prophecy. It’s just so her

It's so them tho???? And yes, I am about to use this as an excuse to do a full lyrical analysis of why it's her.

Hand on the throttle/Thought I caught lightning in a bottle/Oh, but it's gone again

After Gina's murder, Siv thought she'd never find love again. Then, Hailey crashlanded into her life and Siv fell hard and fast. However, when Hailey found out the truth, that they were actually the supervillain that she'd been hunting for months, their shaky rapport fell apart.

And it was written/I got cursed like Eve got bitten/Oh, was it punishment?

Siv sees her powers as a curse. She didn't ask to be the way that they are, and the more "eldritch" side of their powers are absolutely terrifying and near-impossible for them to control. She definitely sees that lack of control as a punishment for their failure to save Gina.

Pad around when I get home/I guess a lesser woman would've lost hope/A greater woman wouldn't beg/But I looked to the sky and said

Siv isn't one to dip into hopelessness. But they are well known for their desperation and loneliness. The fragile line between good and evil that Siv walks is a lonely one, and all she wants is to be known and loved.

Please/I've been on my knees/Change the prophecy

Siv's actually the subject of a prophecy! If you've been sticking around for long enough, you'll know that Morgan Stevens, the previous leader of the Akintola-Stevens coven and Cassandra's uncle, died overdosing on his own magic trying to rewrite the future that he saw- one where the future rests on Siv, who he saw as mentally unstable. When Siv finds out about this prophecy, it's absolutely terrifying- they didn't want this responsibility.

Don't want money/Just someone who wants my company

They're legally dead, and therefore broke af. But instead of the money that they could've inherited from Eobard, they'd rather just have someone who wants her for who she is.

Let it once be me/Who do I have to speak to/About if they can redo/The prophecy?

She's never going to admit it, but she wants nothing more than to be normal. If they could go back and keep their powers from ever manifesting, they would. Watching all their friends move on with their lives, falling in love, starting careers, graduating college, etc, while they were denied all those things feels like torment, and she's desperate for just a piece of that for herself.

Cards on the table/Mine play out like fools in a fable, oh/It was sinking in

The "fools in a fable" are Siv and Gina. Gina made her choice to not tell her girlfriend about Eobard's plans, but Siv blames herself for not figuring it out themself. There's almost a mythological metaphor there, some kind of Romeo/Juliet or Orpheus/Eurydice.

Slow is the quicksand/Poison blood from the wound of the pricked hand/Oh, still I dream of him

Switch that "him" to a "her" and we get another Siv/Hailey metaphor. Siv's secrets spoiled all the work that her and Hailey had put into their relationship, which died before it could fully begin.

And I sound like an infant/Feeling like the very last drops of an ink pen

She knows she's pathetic. But they've been surviving for so long without truly living, and it's exhausting.

A greater woman stays cool/But I howl like a wolf at the moon/And I look unstable/Gathered with a coven round a sorceress' table

Siv is... not the most mentally stable person on the planet. For someone who's been through what they've been through, she's actually fairly stable, but at the same time, they're willing to try just about anything to get back the life they had before, no matter how dark that path leads.

A greater woman has faith/But even statues crumble if they're made to wait/I'm so afraid I sealed my fate/No sign of soulmates

Siv doesn't see much of a future ahead for her. As much as she's fighting for a world where she can actually feel happy, safe, and loved, they know that if they keep on the path they're on, either their thirst for revenge is going to overtake them and her and Eobard are going to continue chasing each other until they're both dead, or she'll lose herself completely to her rage and grief. Either way, the path ends with the death of the self.

I'm just a paperweight/In shades of greige/Spending my last coin so someone will tell me/It'll be ok

Borderline Personality Disorder, baby!!! Siv's a textbook case of it, and as such, she struggles with self-image and emotional regulation, going through episodes of dissociation and deep self-loathing, and they often need help from others to get through that. In those moments, their desperation for external validation (and human companionship in general) really shines through.

#ask revan #oc shit #angst-is-love-angst-is-life #siv thawne

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legendarceus · 1 year

Text

volo is cynthia / cyllene is cyrus au: family trees

and also me talking about them :)

put below keep reading bc its gonna be a lot lmfao

cynthia (volo) family tree

cynthia is cogita's grandkid! her parents weren't present so cogita raised her until, of course, she got disowned for the whole trying to destroy the world thing. cogita sadly passed away before they could truly reconcile.

while there is no canon ancestor to iris, i think its fun to say that cynthia met iris' ancestor and they had kids and 200 years or something later, iris exists and cynthia gets to meet her great great great great grandchild or something. we'll come back to iris in a minute :)

i also think that lusamine also decended from cynthia, which means gladion and lillie also are related to cynthia! not that its important but you know. giant family.

i do ship cynthia and diantha. i think diantha is one of the few who know that cynthia is immortal but was most definitely the most recent to find out. iris is not aware of this. but these three are found family anyway <3

speaking of found family, prof. carolina and cynthia's younger sister are purely adoptive of sorts. but they're still found family. love them. wow cynthia 2 found families thats crazy.

cyrus (cyllene) family tree

yes this looks odd without context but we do have context so it doesnt matter. cyllene x laventon is canon and you can pry it from my cold dead hands. too bad cyllene got widowed and then found out they were immortal AND trans after laventon died.

anyway, cy and lav were married and akari + rei were their adoptive kids. ingo was akari and rei's adoptive uncle too but that isnt relavent to the family tree. also laventon is a distant relative to leon and hop :) maybe he had siblings or cousins who are great (x?) grandparents to them. who knows.

anyway damn cyrus why do you got 2 found families. but yeah team galactic is naturally cyrus' found family of course. he is his commanders exhausted adoptive father since all of their families suck lmao

mars family tree

i think mars and cynthia have the biggest family trees. anyway mars' was the first one that i did incase that wasn't obvious lmfao, but anyway, lets get into it!!!

arezu is ariana's great (x?) grandmother. ariana had a spouse that she had mars (maria at the time) with, but then she left them once she was like 'oh shoot im having silver!!!', so mars is vaguely aware that silver exists somewhere out there but she has no clue who he is otherwise. and then ariana and giovanni are married and had silver, who has no idea who mars is (he'd probably go through a crisis if he looked at sinnoh news, so lets keep it that way). silv and mars have a 9 year age gap btw just throwing that out there

silver found a new dad (lance) and some really weird teenagers about his age who he got stuck with. he's dating one of them. you have to guess. (i already know which one but im leaving it up to the mind bc silver isnt the focus in this au so imagine whatever you want).

mars and her silly little astronaut friends are her found family! i think arezu would flip her shit if she found out her great (x?) granddaughter was adoptive siblings with that one criminal lady (coin). but hey its fine!!! mars has her weird spaceman father and her weird astronaut siblings and life is good (mostly)

arezu deadass just has a bunch of decendants who commit various crimes

saturn / jupiter family tree

i grouped these two together since they've got the smallest family trees.

saturn is (obviously) a decendant of coin, but he has no contact with his family and hasn't spoken to them in years by the time pokemon platinum takes place.

jupiter and fantina are siblings (fantina is older by a few solid years) but they really don't like eachother. they have little contact with eachother and dont exactly speak often. but they do wish eachother happy birthday sometimes so thats a plusside i guess.

and of course saturn and jupiter both have found family with team galactic. awww how sweet :)

#galactic boss cyrus #champion cynthia #galactic commander saturn #galactic commander jupiter #galactic commander mars #pokemon #pokemon au #btw if it says “pronouns (pronouns)” then the parentheses is what the character would go by if they. you know.#figured it out. did some self reflection. werent 200 years in the past.#coin they/them is real in my heart but you know #miss fortune sisters #btw i gotta mention that candace and saturn are really really really distantly related

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calciseptinefic · 1 year

Text

then out of nowhere, somebody comes and hits you with an ooh la la la, ooh la la la, ooh la la la, ooh

Marvel || Wade Wilson/Peter Parker || Part 12 notes: Title from 'Mad Sounds' by Arctic Monkeys. Many thanks to babygato for her beta on this chapter. this fic is also available on ao3 warnings: none

← previous: Part 11

Wade’s head is a mess as Peter tells the story of him and the other Wade.

It begins the way Wade already knows it does: Peter was fifteen when he was bitten by a radioactive spider and got his unique powers. It was a thrill, at first; he was strong when he had once been weak, and the possibilities of being someone more than poor, puny Peter Parker went to his head. Doing good for nothing more than the sake of helping others did not cross his mind until his inaction led to the death of his uncle.

"I was angry," Peter tells them softly. "One of the people I loved the most in the world was suddenly gone and the man who did it was still... out there. Sure, I stopped purse snatchers and returned stolen bicycles and got the occasional cat out of a tree, but I was definitely looking for that man. Looking for trouble. And I found both, eventually."

Wade tries to listen. Tries to pay attention and tries to follow along. Tries to imagine Peter younger and smaller, shaking with guilt and rage as he confronted the man who murdered his uncle, tries to empathize with how easy it would be to kill—not just because Peter had the proportional strength and agility of a spider, but because killing was easy when revenge felt like justice.

"I didn't know the guy was involved in bigger things, and I got in over my head," Peter explains. "Sixteen and already on Kingpin's radar. They put a hit out on me and... well..."

Peter is telling Wade this story for a reason. To apologize, maybe, or to explain why he kept the truth from Wade. He sits on the edge of the couch cushion, folded hands tucked between his knees, and tells them that, in his universe, Wade Wilson is a mercenary infamously known as Deadpool. He was contracted by the mob to bring Spiderman to them, dead or alive, and when he accepted the job, he didn't know that Spiderman was a teenager. He knew, several hours after, because Peter didn't realize that the low level buzzing in his brain was a warning that someone was following him; he just went home, tired from a long day of classes and patrol, and collapsed onto his bed while Deadpool watched him from the opposite rooftop.

But this story doesn’t make Wade feel any better or any less lied to.

In fact, it might be making him feel worse.

"I hated him, at first," Peter says, smiling sweetly down at his ring. "I thought he was crude and obnoxious and a little holier-than-thou than warranted, given that he was a mercenary for hire. But under that he was funny and sincere and always tried his best. Life had dealt him one of the shittiest hands it could and yet there he was, protecting a stupid teenager from the mob, buying me tacos and keeping me safe despite the danger it put him in."

"A big marshmallow," rePete says, turning his gaze to Wade.

"Don't look at me," Wade says, shaking his head. "I’m not him."

"Yeah, sure." Peter rolls his eyes. "That's why you immediately let me sleep on your couch. Fed me. Sheltered me. That's why you let me drag you all over New York even though you didn't believe me."

Surprised, Wade says, "You knew?"

"What, that you didn't believe me?" Peter snorts. "Come on, Wade. I've known you for ten years. I know what you look like when you're analyzing a situation from every angle—"

Ten years.

For Wade, it's the last straw. For the past two days, he's been hyper-vigilant: trying to keep Peter safe while constantly running into wall after wall after wall; trying to ignore a surge of inappropriate feelings every time Peter smiled at him; trying to wrap his brain around the reality of alternate universes and super powers and magic. All he’s been doing is trying and he’s exhausted to learn that most of it was for nothing. The sudden loss of that stress leaves a vacuum behind, an emptiness that's easily filled by his confused and aimless anger. He interrupts Peter with a snarl, slamming a fist down on the coffee table with a loud bang.

"But you don't," Wade snaps viciously. "You don't know me. You can't know me. You just—you broke into my apartment, and I tried to shoot you, for fuck's sake, and you decided, 'Oh, this man is my husband in my universe, so that's alright'?" Wade's voice has steadily risen to a shout, and his throat tight with the force of it, face hot. "You made all these blind assumptions about who you thought I was, Pete! Do you even know how fucking stupid that is? I could have killed you!"

Wade knows he looks terrifying—teeth bared in frustration, scar stark against his skin, shoulders rounded for a fight—but neither Peter seems to be scared. They're just staring at him with their big doe eyes, mouths pinched into identical frowns, clearly upset but not at him.

For him.

"Fuck you both," Wade snarls, getting to his feet. It's hard beneath the weight of their combined stare, but he needs to get away. Not out of the apartment but just—away. Mindlessly, Wade snatches the dirty plates and utensils off the coffee table before storming into the kitchen; he dumps everything into the sink, cranks on the hot water and squeezes out some dish soap. There's no real division between Wade and the Peters except for the kitchen island, but having his back turned to them is enough.

You're a good man, Wade Wilson, Peter had said. In every universe.

A big marshmallow on the inside, rePete had said.

You make it very hard to love you, Vanessa had cried.

Wade waits until the sink is full to turn off the tap, suds threatening to spill over the sides. When he dips his hands in, the water is scalding; he hisses at the prickling sensation, but doesn't pull out. The key is acclimation. Soon, his body will adjust, and he'll forget that it's supposed to hurt.

The apartment is quiet as Wade starts on the veritable mountain of dishes that has been building up for the past two days. He grabs the green scouring pad and begins to scrub, and scrub, and scrub at crusted-on food and coffee stains. Having something to do with his hands helps—he’s always been a doer—but as his fury seeps from him, he begins to feel the soreness of resentment and exhaustion.

Peter comes over when most of Wade's anger has faded. He pulls a clean towel out of a nearby drawer and silently starts to take the washed dishes from Wade, drying them and putting them away. There is no hesitation as he does so; maybe he and the other Wade—Peter's husband—keep them in the same places.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Wade asks as the dishes dwindle steadily down. He’s calm enough now to ask the question that sits at the root of his sudden rage, but it still leaves his mouth like an accusation. "That you're married to... other me."

Peter finishes wiping down the stainless steel pan in his hands. Puts it back. Waits for Wade to give him another dish to dry and huffs when Wade purposefully keeps his hands submerged in the water.

"A few reasons," Peter admits begrudgingly. "At first, it was because I didn't want you to treat me differently or feel obligated to help me. You were already being so nice to me—flirting with me—and I didn't want to come out and say, hey! Guess what! You're my husband in my universe!" Peter sighs. "You were already giving me so much that it felt... selfish, to want more."

"You totally could have," Wade tells Peter, handing him a wet plate. "I was already invested."

"But that's why I couldn't, you know?" Peter wipes the plate more thoroughly than necessary before putting it in the cabinet. "You had already decided to help me and I know that when you decide to do something, you give maximum effort. Not telling you was also a way to remind myself that you aren't my husband, because you two are honestly so similar. I'm sorry I flirted with you constantly, but—"

"Wait, what?" Wade frowns, turning his attention away from the other plate in his hands to Peter. "You were flirting with me?"

"Since I got here," Peter drawls. "Thanks for noticing."

From the couch, rePete stifles a snort of highly amused laughter.

"Huh," Wade says. "I thought you were just comfortable with me."

"I am comfortable with you," Peter says, "because I've been married to my Wade for five years and—before that—we dated on and off since I graduated high school. And I know you don't want to hear it, but you're really not that different. Not in the ways that matter."

Wade gives Peter the last plate, letting him dry it and put it away, before saying, "I'm sorry I shouted." Staring down into the sink, Wade watches the suds break slowly on the surface of the water. "It's been a long two days."

"Tell me about it," Peter commiserates, bumping his hip gently against Wade's. It's a mirror of the movement rePete did earlier, and any hard feelings Wade might have still harbored for being compared to his other self vanishes. He can't fault Peter for drawing parallels when he does the same thing for Peter and rePete. Wade knows and appreciates that they're individual beings with unique experiences, but it's impossible not to acknowledge their similarities.

Argument settled, Wade and Peter fall into a comfortable silence as they finish the dishes. Or—that's what would have happened, if Peter's head didn't snap up, suddenly and brutally alert. Wade puts the mug he was holding out back into the sink.

"Pete?"

"Do you feel that?" Peter asks stiffly. He steps away from the sink and turns in a slow circle, eyes darting to every corner of Wade's apartment. "My spidey-sense is going crazy, but I can't pinpoint where it's coming from."

Wade doesn't feel anything. He briefly closes his eyes to try and use his own intuition to feel what Peter's feeling. Nothing. He opens his eyes, and is about to tell Peter as much, when a huge wave of not-right washes over him. It makes every hair on his body stand up, gooseflesh breaking out on his arms and the back of his neck.

"Baldy?" Wade gasps.

"No," Peter answers, still looking around frantically. "Still in the tub."

"Then what—"

A roar just beyond the edge of audibility forms from no direction. It is more sensation than sound, a mute noise that makes Wade think of damp construction paper being slowly torn down the middle, but infinitely magnified. It doesn't hurt—not in the way pain hurts—but the nerves in Wade's body are misfiring as something grows larger and larger between the atoms in the air.

"Umm, guys?" rePete all but yelps, clambering off the couch. He points a shaking finger at a thin shimmer sliced into an empty space by the wall. "What the hell is that?"

Both Peter and Wade dash into the living room. Hands still damp from washing dishes, Wade reaches under the couch to yank out the glock and spare magazine he has strapped to the underside of the frame; he slaps the magazine in place and unlocks the safety, lining the sight up with the steadily growing disturbance in his living room. The bigger it gets, the more unignorable that sensation of not-right becomes, a nauseating drone that settles into the hollows of Wade’s teeth and bones.

"Stay behind me," Wade barks at rePete, who is already behind him, fingers clutched in the fabric of Wade's sweater.

"Don't have to tell me twice," rePete says.

Next to Wade, Peter has shifted into a ready stance, his attention focused solely on the strange phenomenon occurring before them. The vague shimmer distorting the air becomes a roil and begins to spark. The small specks of light flare brightly, briefly, before breaking away harmlessly and disappearing. They are like the ones produced when Baldy used his magic, though these are warm gold instead of sickly green.

"Another spell?" Wade asks.

"Yeah," Peter answers. He’s still crouched, ready to attack or defend, yet the tightness in his shoulders have loosened. "But—Wade—I think these are—"

The shimmering cut in the air explodes without sound or heat, cutting Peter off. RePete yelps, moving completely behind Wade, as the golden sparks multiply to a near blinding shine. They whirl madly in a wide circle and—within it—there is an alleyway, empty and dim.

For a moment, nothing.

Then—

A tall, broad man steps through. His huge boots make no sound as they touch the floor. He's dressed in red and black leathers from head to toe, wearing a full cowl mask and a tactical belt; he’s armed to the teeth, carrying enough weaponry to take out a small squadron, including small knives and explosives and a pair of katanas. He also has a huge gun in each hand, the metal gleaming, and he radiates so much wrath and ill-intent that Wade's finger twitches on the trigger of his pistol. In Wade's experience, situations like these end better if he shoots first. Wade might have gone through with it too if—at the same time the man stepped through the glowing circle—Peter didn't step between them, arms flung out wide, and shout,

"Wade! Not an enemy!"

In tandem, Wade and the masked man who stepped through the portal point their guns at the floor.

What the fuck? Wade thinks at the same time the man in red-and-black asks, "Pete? Are you—"

"I'm okay," Peter answers quickly. His voice is high and thin, like it was last night, before he began to cry. "Wade, I'm—"

Wade watches as the other man holsters both guns and opens his arms. Peter lets out a single, choked sob—his only hesitation—then launches himself across the living room, over the coffee table, and into the man's arms. The man doesn't even stagger as Peter’s full weight hits him. He just holds Peter easily, wrapping his bulky arms around Peter's torso and tucking his face into the crook of Peter's neck. For a moment, they just hold each other tightly, relief evident in every line of their bodies.

Shock replaces every single one of Wade's thoughts. He knows that he's missing something—something important—but the past hour has left him emotionally exhausted. That fatigue combined with the sight of Peter clinging to some weirdo who just came through a magic portal is currently putting a serious strain on his mental processing power.

"God, baby boy, I'm so glad we found you," the man says, his low and raspy voice sounding as though his vocal chords went through a rock tumbler. One of his big, gloved hands runs up and down the length of Peter's exposed spine. "I fucking missed you."

"I missed you more," Peter burbles back, voice thick with unshed tears.

"I missed you mostest—"

"Break it up," interjects a third, new voice.

Wade automatically swings his glock back up and points it at the second person coming through the portal. This man is handsome, in an evil magician sort of way, with a pointed goatee and flashes of pure white at his temples. He's wearing dark blue robes of extremely ambiguous ethnicity and a crimson cloak. The long length of the cloak flutters gently in a non-existent wind while the man literally floats further into Wade's apartment, his feet hovering several inches off the floor.

"Strange," Peter greets. He lifts his head from the shoulder of the man holding him to do so, but otherwise stays put. "Good to see you too."

Strange. Wade's tired brain restarts with a twitch. Stephen Strange.

The Sorcerer Supreme from another universe.

Levitating in Wade's apartment in Queens.

"Holy shit," Wade says, lowering his gun. Every bizarre thing that happened within the last ninety seconds shifts into a frame of perfect understanding. His stare swings away from Strange's face—seriously, that perfectly arched eyebrow is a paid actor—to Peter and the man holding him. To his alternate self. Who... winks at him.

"Hey there, handsome," Deadpool croons. "First time?"

"Wade," Peter warns, finally untangling his limbs from his husband's body. "Be nice."

"I was being nice," Deadpool mumbles as he lets go of Peter just enough so Peter can slide to the floor. They're still pressed together, bodies a line from chest to thigh, Peter's curls brushing Deadpool's chin. "I was being complimentary, even! That hair: swoon-worthy! Those eyebrows: smoldering! Clear skin highlighted by a dashing, debonair scar—"

Peter elbows Deadpool in the ribs. Hard. Wade winces in sympathy—Peter's elbows are dangerous, and he has the bruises to prove it.

"As charming as this all is," Strange interrupts, raising his voice as he floats further into Wade's living room, "this portal will not hold indefinitely. We are here to bring Peter back to his universe. The sooner he returns, the more likely we will be able to prevent the untold tragedy of an Incursion, a world-ending cataclysm that will end the lives of trillions—"

"Christ," Wade mutters, resisting the urge to scrub at his tired eyes. "He talks Shakespeare worse than Baldy."

Behind Wade, rePete adds dryly, "It must be part of the core curriculum at wizard school."

RePete is still largely hidden behind Wade, but he's gotten to his tip-toes to peer over Wade's shoulder at the scene unfolding before them; he has both hands on Wade's back, using Wade as a balance. When Wade giggles at his commentary, Deadpool's head snaps back towards them, spotting rePete for the first time.

"Oh. Em. Gee." The white eyes of Deadpool's mask widen and he covers his mouth with one hand dramatically. "Is that... Petey-Pie, take two?"

"That's offensive," rePete says. "How do you know I'm not the original?"

The noise Deadpool releases is caught between what a human throat is capable of and the shriek of a deflating balloon. His head swings from Peter—who is pinching the bridge of his nose—and rePete, who takes a tentative half-step forward and waves.

"I'm pretty sure I've died again," Deadpool says in disbelief, one hand clutching at his suit over his heart. "Not one but two baby boys? Both of them sassy and sexy? There's no way I'm sneaking past the pearly gates to get into that kind of heaven, so maybe I'm hallucinating again?"

"Alternate universe, Wade," Peter reminds his husband gently.

"Right." Deadpool straightens, one arm still slung around Peter's shoulders. The wide and charming grin he dons is the same one Wade uses when he wants to fight or fuck. Wade doesn't know what's more disturbing: the fact that he and Deadpool share mannerisms or that Deadpool can emote clearly through his mask. "This might be a little off the cuff, but… You guys come here often?"

What, Wade thinks as rePete chirps, "Nah, first time," and Peter simultaneously hisses, "Wade, no—"

"I did not open an interdimensional portal for you to proposition your alternate selves," the Sorcerer Supreme says icily. He floats further into the living room and holds out his arms, palms upturned and spitting more golden sparks in a display of power. It would be impressive if his shin didn't accidentally bump the corner of Wade's coffee table. "Ahh—goddamnit—"

Wade and Deadpool burst into identical giggles. Strange drops to the floor and glares at them, attempting to straighten his still fluttering cloak. The cloak must have a mind of its own because it continues to roll in gentle waves despite Strange's tugging.

"Come on, funky magic man," Deadpool wheedles. "An orgy of this caliber is like, a once in a lifetime opportunity! Or—wait. I dimension hopped in December and met my zombie counterpart, so I guess it's more like a once in a yearly occurrence?" Deadpool shrugs. "Didn't fuck, though. That guy was even uglier than I am, sheesh."

"Be that as it may," Strange interjects, raising his voice above Deadpool's continued muttering. "We have come to retrieve you, Peter, before your presence in this universe causes permanent damage. The sooner we return, the smaller the ripple effects will be."

"What about the guy in my bathtub? I don't know how much longer he's gonna remain unconscious and I really don't know how to handle non-metaphorical Death Eaters." Wade asks, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "He's from your universe too, isn't he? Don't you need to take him?"

"Bathtub?" Strange repeats, as though that was the weirdest detail in Wade's sentence and not the 'from your universe' bit.

"Yeeeeah," Wade says slowly. "Do you not have bathtubs in your universe?"

Strange opens his mouth to answer. He's clearly frustrated—Wade can see it in the downward angle of his eyebrows and the tightness of his mouth—but he does not let Wade goad him further. He simply stops himself and takes a deep, calming breath, and says faux serenely, "We have bathtubs."

Next to Wade, rePete does a very bad job at turning his laugh into a cough.

"We had to incapacitate him, earlier," Peter explains to Strange. "He attacked Peter, thinking he was you in disguise, and after we knocked him out, we brought him here. His magic is kinda like yours, but green. And not nearly as strong."

"Perversions of the natural forces used by magic manifest as different colors." Strange looks past Wade and rePete to the bathroom, the door partially ajar. "Purple and red are the most common, derived respectively from the teachings of the Dormammu or Cththon. Green is indicative of the Order of the Forsaken Ones, who were cast out by the first Sorcerer Supreme, Agamotto, for their heresy." He pauses for dramatic effect, though the gravity of his words is ruined by his still moving cape, the red cloth jerking around like the tail of a dying fish. "It is… lucky, then, that you fell into this universe."

Peter tilts his head to the side and asks, "Considering?"

"This world, Earth-82467, is not devoid of magic. No world is. But it is hidden here, buried deep and far, and incredibly hard to access. In our universe, a member of the Forsaken Ones would be a formidable opponent. Here, they would only be able to access a fraction of their usual power." Strange looks down at his hands; Wade can see that the fingers are scarred and trembling. "Yet since I am bound by different laws than the Forsaken Ones, it is possible that—in this reality—I would have been unable to defeat them."

"So you're saying that my precious Petey Pie saved your ass," Deadpool sing-songs.

"By accident and happenstance, yes," Strange snaps. Then, to Peter, he dips his head in acknowledgement. "But I am not ungrateful. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Peter returns.

Clearly done with the awkwardness of gratitude, Strange crosses the living room threshold, passes Wade and rePete, and enters the bathroom. With his back turned, it's difficult to see what he is doing, but the large, expanding motions of his arms are reminiscent of the way Baldy spellcast. Warm light fills the small space—a literal sparkle of magic—and the webbed-up body of the Forsaken One rises out of the tub. When Strange exits the bathroom and heads back towards the portal, the body bobs along behind him; both Wade and rePete take a step back from it, perturbed.

"Strange," Peter says.

The Sorcerer Supreme pauses at the threshold of the portal, cocking an eyebrow.

"Can we have five minutes?" asks Peter. When Strange hesitates, Peter adds, "I'll keep it PG. Promise."

Strange's gaze flickers from Peter's face to Deadpool. Deadpool kicks up a foot and flattens a hand under his chin; add in a halo and a set of baby angel wings, and he'd be the leather-wearing, katana-wielding picture of innocence. It isn't fooling anyone.

"Five minutes," Strange concedes. "And if you are not back in our dimension by that time—"

"I thought we were keeping it PG?" says Deadpool. "I mean, the fic rating is M for Mature Audiences, so it could have adult content. [ Proceed ] or [ Go Back ]? Myself, I'm always logged in on multiple devices—"

"I will never understand you," Strange hisses. Then—with a dramatic whirl hindered by asynchronous twitching of his cloak—the Sorcerer Supreme and the unconscious form of the Forsaken Dipshit cross the portal back into their original dimension.

"We bonded," Deadpool says into the silence.

RePete barks a laugh. "Does bonding mean something different in your universe or…"

"No, it definitely means the same thing," Peter says. "It just means something else to Wade."

"I've been thrown out a window three times in the past twenty-four hours," Deadpool tells them cheerfully. "One time, the window was actually open first!"

Wade legitimately does not know if Deadpool is joking or not. He himself has been defenestrated a half dozen times, and none of them have been fun overtures of friendship. Wade considers asking, but before he can even open his mouth, Peter reaches up towards his husband's masked cheek and gently says, "Wade."

Deadpool tilts his head downwards.

"We don't have a lot of time," Peter says. "And I want to talk to Wade before we have to go."

"Leaving me for the better looking version, baby boy?" Deadpool teases. "I thought you liked the forgotten slice of salami that is my face."

"Forever my favorite kind of meat," Peter grins. Then, more seriously, "Without commentary, please. It's important."

"Ugh, fine," Deadpool whines. "The things I do for that ass."

Peter rises onto his tiptoes and presses a kiss against Deadpool's mouth. It's a small gesture, but it speaks to the years they've been together; it's the kind of kiss that can only be given after it has been given a thousand times. It should make Wade jealous, as the other things concerning Peter and his spouse have made him jealous, yet it does not. Seeing this kiss only makes Wade ache.

Falling back to his heels, Peter and Deadpool separate for the first time since the portal opened. Peter's hand skims down Deadpool's arm, a reassurance, before he turns around and walks towards Wade. Over the top of Peter's head, Wade makes eye contact with Deadpool; Deadpool smiles and gives Wade a thumbs up. He's startlingly blasé about the fact that he's interacting with an alternate version of himself, though Wade supposes that, after a while, one gets used to the weirdness.

"Kitchen?" Peter suggests.

It's as good a place as any, and Wade follows Peter back to where they had been minutes before. The sink is still filled with water, though most of the suds have dissolved, leaving behind a murky sheen. In the living room, Deadpool has approached rePete; whatever conversation they're having is no more than a low, undecipherable murmur.

"So." Wade rubs the back of his neck, unable to look at Peter directly for fear of what his face will give away. "I guess this is goodbye—"

Peter makes the same high, choked noise he made when Deadpool came through the portal, and flings his arms around Wade's shoulders, face tucked into Wade's throat. Wade immediately wraps his arms around Peter's waist, closes his eyes and dips his own head down, hiding himself in Peter's embrace. Wade hasn't been hugged like this in years. Not since Vanessa. He feels a small part of him break as he hugs back, uncaring that he's holding Peter too tight.

"I'm so glad you broke into my apartment," Wade tells him, voice low. He can feel the hot threat of tears building behind his eyes. "Pete—"

"I know, Wade," Peter whispers. "I know."

For a minute, they say nothing. They just stand there and hold each other. Wade—who has a reputation for being a chatterbox even in the most dire of situations—finds himself unable to speak. He wants to tell Peter everything he feels roiling in his chest, but articulating those feelings into the right words is impossible. It shouldn't be. Wade's only known Peter for two days. Two long, odd days in which he's done things he's never done before: he's shot at a shadow; made a spider-themed superhero some pancakes; attempted to read several scientific papers about space-time; tried to track down the most powerful sorcerer in the universe; participated in a fight with a wizard from another dimension; met an alternate version of himself; and found himself here, back in his apartment where it all started, saying good-bye to the man who changed his life.

"I'm never gonna see you again, am I?" Wade croaks.

"Probably not," Peter says. His voice is as gentle as Wade has ever heard it, but each syllable still feels like a blow. Wade knew, conceptually at least, that he would have to eventually say goodbye to Peter; he just didn't think it would be so soon, and the sense of sudden loss swells in his chest.

"It's just…" Wade swallows. "You made me feel… less alone."

Peter inhales shakily. Loosens his arms. Falls back just far enough so he can reach up with both hands and cradle Wade's jaw. His thumbs are under Wade's still closed eyes, brushing away the tears that have managed to escape. The tenderness of his touch is a contrast to the crushing weight of Wade's loneliness; Peter's presence had kept the worst of it away and, for the first time in years, Wade had been unburdened and happy, if not carefree. To go back to the way things were even forty-eight hours ago feels cruel.

"Wade," Peter says, smudging more of Wade's tears from his cheeks. "Baby, please. Look at me."

Helpless to do anything but obey, Wade opens his eyes. Peter's own eyes are glassy and his mouth trembles as he attempts a watery smile.

"I'm so happy I got to meet you," Peter tells him. "Both again, and for the first time. But we both know that I don't belong here. This isn't my universe, and I need to go home."

"I know." Wade's hands briefly tighten around Peter's waist in contradiction. "I just… wish we had more time. I'm not ready to be alone again."

"You won't be." Peter's hands slide further back, fingers overlapping on the nap of Wade's neck, and give a reassuring squeeze. "I don't know if you noticed, but this universe's version of me is standing in your living room, flirting with my husband, who is another version of you. And maybe it's corny of me, but I like to think that in every universe that has a me and a you, we're… together."

"That is corny," Wade admits. "But I like to think that too."

Peter smiles again, and it's more solid than the last one. He says, "It will be okay," and slowly releases Wade. A wild thought tears through Wade's brain—what if he grabbed Peter and just never let go—but he knows Peter's right. No matter how much Wade wants him to stay, Peter needs to return to his universe. Wade's hands slide from Peter's body and fall limp to his sides.

"Five minutes, Peter," Deadpool says, raising his voice slightly.

"Alright," Peter answers. He touches Wade's cheek one more time—the side of his face that's marred by his scar—then heads back to the living room. Wade follows as though he's being tugged along by an invisible string. He watches unblinkingly as Peter gathers the folded remnants of his Spiderman costume from underneath the coffee table, bundling the red and blue spandex beneath one arm, then goes to stand by his husband. The portal shines golden around them, illuminating their bodies in warmth.

"Got everything?" Deadpool asks, holding out a gloved hand.

"Yeah." Peter slips his hand into Deadpool's. "Let's go home."

Both of them look back as they go through the portal. Deadpool gives a wink and a jaunty salute—the same thing Wade would have done, if their roles were switched—while Peter gives a small wave. He says, "Thank you for everything, Wade," and then—

And then they're gone.

The portal fades without fanfare. The circle shrinks, cutting off the bridge between their dimensions, and the golden sparks of magic fade to nonexistence. All that remains is Wade's familiar apartment and the two people who stayed.

For a long moment, Wade stares at the negative space where the portal had been. His glimpse into the world beyond and the lives it contained feels like a metaphor. It probably is a metaphor—something about love, something about chance, something about possibility, blah blah blah—but Wade doesn't want to think about it right now. Right now, it still hurts. Hurts not because he lost it, but because it happened. It's a clean hurt, though, the kind Wade knows he'll get over once enough time has passed; the kind of hurt that will be eventually forgotten, and replaced by fondness and nostalgia.

"So," rePete says gently, walking over to Wade.

Burying his hurt for later, Wade scrubs the last of the damp from his face and turns to look at rePete. No, that's not fair. Wade turns to look at this universe's Peter Benjamin Parker. Peter, who doesn't trust Wade like other Peter did. Peter, who doesn't know Wade like other Peter did. Peter, who likes Wade enough to flirt with him, but remains both a stranger and a potential future.

"So," Wade echoes.

They stare at one another silently. Assessing. Acknowledging. Wade's seen how in love Other-Wade and other-Peter are, and he can admit that he wants that. He wants it so badly he can feel it like a knife that's been left in him for too long, deep and aching and bleeding sluggishly. But as much as he wants to be known—like he is, in another universe, by another Peter—Wade is completely, soul-shakingly terrified. He's been alone for years. Not just in the three years since he and Vanessa broke up, but in the years before that:

As a dishonorably discharged fuck-up taking odd jobs to meet ends.

As a soldier who learned a million ways to kill someone but couldn't form a single genuine emotional connection.

As a snotty teen who broke rules and had his bones broken.

As a scared kid who missed his mom.

Wade wants to be somebody to someone. And he knows he might have that with the Peter in front of him, if he can take this small leap of faith, if he can put in the work, if he can allow himself to be vulnerable enough to be known. It's not like it was with the other Peter—who already trusted him, knew him—but if it means having something like that? If it means not being alone?

Wade can be brave.

"Okay, elephant in the room," Wade says, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. His eyes slide from Peter's face to the coffee table, still a little off-kilter from where Strange had slammed his shin into the corner. "But our alternate universe selves are like, super in love and happily married, and frankly, I'm jealous of those assholes. And I'm not saying that we're obligated to... follow in their footsteps, because I know that I'm not exactly like that Wade Wilson and that you're not exactly like that Peter Parker, but honestly? Cards on the table?" Wade gives a small, choked laugh. "You're overwhelmingly the kind of guy I go for—in multiple universes, it seems—and I would absolutely kick myself if I didn't at least try to get your number."

"Are you... asking me out on a date?" Peter asks, his tone vaguely unsure.

"Uh, badly, but yes." Wade takes a deep breath. Squares his shoulders. Looks up at Peter, with his big doe eyes and his freckles and his thick brown curls, and says, "I, Wade Wilson of Earth-867-5309 or whatever the fuck that wizard man said, am formally asking you, Peter Parker, out for an awkward dinner of greasy wings and cheap beer, whichever night you are available."

Peter bites his bottom lip and tilts his head to the side, and asks, "Whichever night?"

He still sounds unsure. Wade tries very hard not to deflate and jokes, "Too desperate?"

"Well, it's only..." Peter checks his watch. "Four in the afternoon, and we did just eat, but I could really go for that beer. This afternoon has been an absolute clusterfuck, and I don't want to process it until I'm alone in my shower."

"Gonna have a little existential crisis?"

"Medium sized one, probably." Peter drags a hand through his hair before grinning at Wade. There's a mischievous twist to it that makes Wade go weak at the knees. "Anyway, there's a pub near my place that does three-dollar domestic pitchers until six. Unless… you want to wait?"

"Fuck that," Wade replies. "Let's go get crunk on cheap beer and make awkward small talk. Talk about the weather. Talk about our exes. Religion, politics—literally anything but the multiverse, please."

"Agreed. The multiverse is definitely third date material."

Third date. Just the suggestion of it makes Wade smile so wide that his scar hurts. It makes him think that Peter wants this as much as he does, that Peter saw the same thing Wade saw when their counterparts came together. It won't be easy—no strong relationship is built without testing its foundations—but it will be worth it. Wade and Peter have seen that.

"Oh, and Wade?" Peter says. "One more thing before we go."

"What is it?" Wade asks, raising an eyebrow. "It's too late for take-backsies, you know."

"Not a take-backsie," Peter assures.

"Okay then." Wade spreads out his arms wide, as though daring Peter to give it his best shot. "Lay it on me, Parker."

Peter grins. Takes a step forward. Both of his hands slide around Wade's neck, pulling him down, and then Peter is kissing him, firm and sure. Surprise keeps Wade still for less than a second—but surprise cannot hold against the rush of happiness and giddy delight that quickly follows. Wade tilts his head to deepen the kiss and his fingers come up to clutch at Peter's denim clad hips; he can hear the way Peter's breath hitches, feel the way Peter smiles against his mouth. It's their first kiss but, somehow, it's like they've done it before. Like the kiss is an infinite constant within infinite possibilities.

And as they fall further into one another—standing together in the apartment where it all began, and then continued—Wade decides he can live with those odds.

end.

#spideypool #deadpool #spiderman #wade wilson #peter parker #pairing: wade wilson/peter parker #rating: m #fandom: marvel

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