#so these three are normally close in age in my mind like 14 to 16 or something but lol it's pkmn so i have a lot of conflicting hcs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

incoherentbabblings · 3 years

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Hi!

I love your content, your love for TimSteph, and I was actually going to ask what you love so much about them. I, for extra credit for English, decided to write an analysis of Stephanie (and why I love her so much), but I just got into comics, and cannot really put my feelings for her in words ... which is odd, considering how much I love her and writing. Also, I was going to do a section on why TimSteph is narrative genius, and I needed help elaborating on that too.

Could you help me out, please? Thanks!

(I feel the need to mention that I have read quite a lot of comics with Stephanie in them, though not all. I'm not much of a comic book fan, but I'm really interested in the Batfamily!)

I'll be very happy to write out bullet points that you could talk about, and feel free to go through my ask and I'll babble/TimSteph meta tags for anything that you think may be worth discussing in your own words - there's like four or so years of stuff there to spark your brain.

HOWEVER!!!! Keep in mind though that much of what I have written is half based on textual evidence and half me just writing what I like/wish would crop up in canon.

For example, yes I like to draw comparisons between Tim being cold and Steph being warm, moon and sun and so on, but there's genuinely nothing in text to hint as this being an actual character trait or symbolism. If anything Tim's stated to be warm several times, more than Steph.

So, and I am sorry to be so blunt, but if I take your request in bad faith for a moment, don't use either directly or indirectly what I've written for your work. Especially without actually going and reading the arcs I talk about. A lot of the time it doesn't hold up under genuine textual scrutiny, and we want to be good academics here! There's Death of the Author and then there's me making crap up because I want to include it in a fanfic. Not the same thing! My blog is called IncoherentBabblings for a reason after all!

I will therefore say this: If you want to write about Steph as a character, I would use the below video as a point of reference. Using the below, you can then go into why she resonates with you the way she does, or why her relationship with Tim is so interesting to you.

youtube

If I were you: focus on her dynamic character development: cynical to idealistic. And use three points in her publication history to do this: her introduction in Detective Comics, War Games, and Batgirl. I am sorry to recommend War Games as something to read but it is important to her character. Use the Stephanie Brown Wiki to help!

That lends itself to a biography of her character, a look at her motivations and values, her role within the batfam, and so on. You can also use this to make comparisons with her peers, specifically Tim moving in the exact opposite direction development wise; Babs and Cass in their approaches to Batgirl; and the other Robins through her similar character progression as Dick, which in turn allows her to be a good mentor to Damian, and finally how her character arc runs perpendicular to Jason's. Does that make sense?

Anyway, let's get going! If I were to write an academic piece on Stephanie, these are the main points I would work through. In other words, this is what I would do. You probably will not need nor want to go into this level of depth, and you will want to make it much more personal about why she resonates with you, which may be different to why I love her. So don't worry about touching base with all of them. This is like... 10,000 word essay level stuff. And don't get overwhelmed. I've taken your request far too seriously is all.

Again, I can't write it for you! You gotta do the reading and writing I'm afraid.

...But I still wrote 1,500 words anyway. Gosh darnnit.

Steph’s Character Development

Always keep three points in her character history in mind – her aged 14/15 in her introductory arc in Detective Comics, her aged 16 in War Games, and her aged 18/19 in her Batgirl run.

How does she change? How does she grow as a character? What events caused these changes? Compare that angry 14-year-old trying to choke her father, to the 19-year-old crying happily on the roof. A lot happened between those two points! Outline the main plot beats.

Steph's Role as a Batfam Character:

Protagonist or Antagonist: Supporting Protagonist

Static or Dynamic: Dynamic (think of her character development - angry to alturistic; she softens in her life outlook and in the way she treats others as the years go by)

Minor or Major: Minor and we all mourn that fact :(

Foil or Symbolic: A foil to Tim Drake (and to a lesser extent the other Robins, specifically Jason Todd)

Importance of the character/Position in Society: Fourth Robin, third Batgirl, own superhero. Tim's girlfriend, Cassandra's best friend, one of many of Bruce's 'children'. Initially introduced just as a one-off character for a small arc in Detective Comics, brought back with the intention of being a supporting character to Tim Drake, and eventual love interest. Eventually gained enough popularity on her own terms to support her own solo comic, but has since returned to a supporting role. The character she supports, at the end of the day, is Bruce Wayne.

Motivation

What influences their decisions?: Stephanie's dynamic characterisation comes in here. Compare her motivations during her introductory arc, versus why she does what she does in War Games, versus why she dresses up at Batgirl - Stopping her father, getting Batman's approval, need for redemption.

What do they value?: Values emotional openness, vulnerability, second/third/fourth chances.

Goals/Hopes/Dreams: No long term goals/hopes/dreams in the domestic sense... Continue to be vigilante. Be respected by her peers. Continue to improve self worth through deeds. Graduate college?

What are their views: Views the justice system and police as corrupt, but still trusts in the inherent goodness of people. Focus is usually on the individual, rather than societal or structural.

Actions

Behaviour, Attitudes, Impact on Story and other Characters, Internal Struggle (Wants versus Needs): This is why I think you are best to look at three points in her story - Intro Arc, War Games, Batgirl. Focus on her Wants versus Needs - Steph's take a very long time to align, but they finally do in Batgirl.

Character development is usually driven by the conflict between what a character wants. The plot forces them normally to confront the fact that what they want is not gonna work out, and what they needed instead takes priority.

Everything usually goes tits up for Steph when she is in the driver's seat of the narrative because what she wants from a situation is rarely what she actually needs to happen. See every time she seeks Bruce's approval. She wants it. She absolutely does not need it. And only as Batgirl do we get that acknowledgement, which coincides with her being at the healthiest point in her life emotionally. Look at what she wants as Spoiler during her introductory arc, as Robin/Spoiler during War Games, and then as Batgirl. Why is she so unhappy in the former two? Why have her wants finally aligned with her needs with her time as Batgirl?

Character Traits

Personality: Cynical but perky. Sardonic but sincere. Think about how she changes over the time. This can be attributed to her different writers, but - for example - is there a universe reason for why Batgirl Stephanie is so much more socially awkward than Spoiler Stephanie?

Strengths & Weaknesses: Link these two together because Steph is a very good example where her strengths as a character can simultaneously be a weakness. Her determination can lead to her making ill conceived decisions. Her empathy can lead to her putting her trust in the wrong people. Her forgiving nature can lead to her being taken advantage of. Her temper, whilst landing her in hot water, can also just as often get her out of it.

Relationships

How do they interact with others: Focus on which characters pop up in all three arcs – Steph and her parents; Steph and Bruce; Steph and Tim. I am chucking Cass out the window here, sorry Cass, but if you’re focusing on these three arcs, Cass doesn’t really fit in.

How others view them: Conditional love/affection from her father and Bruce. Unconditional love/affection from Tim and her mother (though both are not without serious pitfalls).

How they view others: Stephanie has explicitly never loved her father. She has also never explicitly hated him either. What does that say about her? Look at her changing closeness with her mother. What changed between them, and again, what does that say about Stephanie? Crystal got sober, supported Stephanie through her pregnancy, Arthur was removed from their lives, Stephanie makes a conscious effort to be closer to her after returning ‘from the dead’, though continues to lie consistently to her. Stephanie admires Bruce, whilst also right from the get go insisting she does not answer to him. She never quite lets go of wanting that approval.

How does society view them: Her outsider role within the Batfam. She never quite belongs, and at points her closest relationships are actively discouraged from seeing her. Which Tim specifically never entertains. This outsider nature bites literally everyone in the butt during War Games. Her outsider status is still in place by the time Batgirl concludes, due to its largely self-contained nature as a book, but this is less being an outsider more having earned to right to operate independently. Trust has been given and earned.

Dialogue

What does she say and how: A teenage girl in New Jersey from a working class background has a very distinct voice. She does not mince words, nor does she hide what she is feeling. If she is happy, she will say so. If she is annoyed, she will say so. What she won’t do is ask for help when she needs it, due to her background formulating a need for her ‘to do things on her own’.

Think of famous/important Steph quotes from the three arcs I keep talking about – the excuse me if I don’t jump when you bark, the I really was part of the legend, the only variable you can control is yourself. These show how Steph views others and herself.

When I was writing I Would Have Loved You, I literally made a spreadsheet where I have picked out what I think are pertinent quotes from every New 52 issue featuring Tim or Steph along with a synopsis that explained what they were up to/what the main theme of the issue was. Not saying you should do the same because I’m just that goddamn anal when it comes to this sort of stuff, but the point is – look for quotes by/about Steph which highlight the above things we’ve talked about. You have thirty years to go through!

Author Intention

What purpose does this character serve?: A character that young female readers could get attached to – the every girl/girl next door archetype or a character that young boys could have a crush on – the kind of girl who’s into the same sort of stuff as you, I think Chuck Dixon once said of her, from her initial appearance. Fodder for Bruce and Tim’s man pain in War Games. Batgirl it’s a combination of filling the void for a female lead solo character in the batbooks, but also tonally taking on a much lighter and self-contained book that new readers could jump into very easily, directly compared to the more lore heavy Batman, Detective Comics, and Red Robin books.

What is the author trying to communicate: Steph’s character shows that determination can only get a person so far, a support system and doing things for the right reasons (again remember that want versus need argument) is the only way a person will genuinely succeed.

What is her main theme?: Balancing cynicism and idealism – doing acts for the right reasons, and discovering what these reasons actually are.

...

Is this even usable for anyone but myself? Possibly not!

Still... Go write! And good luck!

#ask and i'll babble #stephanie brown #tim drake #timsteph #dc #anon i am sorry if i misconstrued your intentions #but i hope if nothing else this helps you verbalise why you like steph and timsteph by extension #good luck for your writing!

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swanlake1998 · 3 years

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Article: Ashton Edwards Talks Gender, Pointe Training, and Ballet’s Future

Date: February 1, 2021

By: Charlotte Barnett

Ballet has always had a complicated relationship with gender. In the classical roles we watch on stage, men play princes and heartbreakers who leap high in the air and take up entire stages with large, masculine steps. Women play tragic characters: swans who die, village girls who go mad from heartbreak caused by said heartbreaking princes. Their steps are light, quick, and on their toes in satin shoes. And, though created hundreds of years ago, these templates of traditionally gendered classical roles still inform how young dancers are trained. Boys are taught to jump, turn, and lift girls above their heads. Girls are taught more spritely, elegant steps, and around the age of 12 or 13, they go on pointe.

Classical ballet is notoriously slow to greet modernity, but with Gen Z now reaching professional age, ballet companies and schools may soon be forced to reckon with the demands of this unapologetically diverse generation.

Ashton Edwards is one such young dancer challenging the rigid gender norms of the art form. In their second year as a Professional Division student at the Pacific Northwest Ballet, Edwards, who uses she/he/they pronouns, is training in both pointe and in men’s classes, with hopes for a completely gender fluid career in their future.

Observer: Tell me about how you got your start in ballet.

Ashton Edwards: I started when I was four years old back in Flint, Michigan, where I’m from. We had field trips through my school, it was called Super Saturdays where local public schools would get to try all the different arts – instruments, acting and dancing – and if you had some talent, you would get a scholarship. So I went to the school of performing arts starting at age four, started doing strictly ballet when I was 6, and then I got very serious about it at 14 when I went to my first summer intensive. I went to PNB’s summer intensive in 2019, then I became a PD when I was 16 for the following year.

Observer: Had you done any pointe before you got to PNB?

Ashton Edwards: I just started a few months ago, actually. I borrowed some shoes from my friends. A few friends my age had fallen out of love with dance and had all these old pointe shoes laying around, so they gave them to me. Then over the summer and through quarantine, I was just trying different things with them, learning steps from all my favorite ballets. And then I reevaluated my life – what I wanted to be, who I wanted to be and what I wanted to do with my career. I couldn’t find a reason why I couldn’t dance all the roles I wanted to dance. Male and female.

Observer: Wow, from what I’ve seen it looks like you’ve been wearing pointe shoes for years – how many months exactly has it been?

Ashton Edwards: I remember, because I was taking a lot of photos at the time. It’s been since March 20th of last year.

Observer: That’s incredible. How did it feel putting on that first pair, what was the adjustment period like?

Ashton Edwards: When I started actually dancing with them, it became more natural. But at first, putting them on and just standing on toe, I would always just say it doesn’t feel like ballet, it felt like a circus act. Like I was on stilts.

Starting out, I connected with a lot of different dancers – so I got to know a lot of PNB company members. Just talking to them and my friends about pointe work was really helpful and I got a lot of insight on the technique and training that I needed. I studied a lot, working every day, sometimes twice a day, just to make it feel more natural and to catch up to a professional level.

I should add that I trained with women at my old studio, up until I was 16. I had mostly female teachers who really honed in on my basic technique. Everything technical that they taught me balanced my training overall, so the transition to pointework wasn’t so drastic.

Observer: How did you initiate that conversation, to officially join pointe classes at PNB?

Ashton Edwards: Luckily PNB’s Artistic Director, Peter Boal, and PNB School’s Administrative Director, Denise Bolstad, are really accessible to the students. I shot them an email about how I was interested and that I wanted to see what was possible. And from there the conversation started. They started me in a Level 8 class to see how I would do, but now I’m going into a more hybrid schedule where every other day is a PD men’s day and then a PD women’s day. Quote-unquote “women” and “men”.

Observer: You must be totally exhausted, sounds like double the work.

Ashton Edwards: With our schedule, since we’re not performing and rehearsing with the company… well, actually I am so exhausted, ha. We now have three classes a day – normally it’d be two, a technique class and a men’s class or, for women, pointe class or variations. Now we have a third class, so a second technique, variations, choreography, or modern class. It’s the same amount of work, just different every day. So the men have a couple of men’s classes a week and the women have a couple of pointe classes a week. I’m just getting more of both.

Observer: So you started with your friend’s pointe shoes, have you bought your own shoes since then? I’m sure you must be going through a pair a week at least.

Ashton Edwards: Oh yeah. I had my first fitting in August when I started training officially. Since then, I’ve gone through quite a few. I’ve yet to find my perfect pair – I don’t think I will until I join a company and can customize them. I’ve come pretty close though. It’s been interesting, mostly with the width of the shoe. I also have unique feet – they’re really flat when they’re on the ground but when I go on point they shrink an entire size from a 7 to a 6. So it’s been interesting to find a shoe that isn’t too baggy or too tight.

Observer: How are you taking care of your feet these days after your pointe classes?

Ashton Edwards: I ice every day. Then an Epsom salt bath, a hot shower, a heating pad, then I’ll stretch and roll out and do some foot massages. It’s not just the pointe work, it’s also the men’s jumps and pirouettes and everything – I have to try and maintain my body as much as I can.

Observer: Have you felt that your pointe training has affected other areas of your dancing?

Ashton Edwards: I feel a lot stronger in every sense, actually. In general, my fifth position and my turnout feels stronger. I feel a lot more technical and more mindful in my dancing, it’s made me a lot more aware of everything. I would recommend everyone to try pointe and for women to try men’s training. It’s made me a more well-rounded dancer.

Observer: Looking to the future, I know you’re in the midst of that stressful crunch time of company auditions, how do you see pointework incorporating itself into your career?

Ashton Edwards: I hope this will become more of a normal thing. Right now, auditions are the trickiest part, because normally women do the women’s steps and then the guys come onto the floor to do the guys’ steps. It’s a conversation, a dialogue I need to have with each director that comes in to audition us. And as for what I would want my career to look like, I want to do everything – male and female roles. It’s different for everyone, I know some born-male dancers who only want to do female roles. It should be up to everyone what they want to do, but I know that I want to do everything. That’s become a big priority in my career. I would be open to only doing male roles but it’s just not what I really want.

Observer: It sounds like it would be such an asset to a director to have someone who can be thrown into any role, regardless of gender.

Ashton Edwards: I think it also adds to choreography and opportunities for new ballets. I think it could really bring ballet to our time – what people are and what our generation is becoming.

Observer: Do you feel a shift happening in ballet towards more gender-fluid casting?

Ashton Edwards: It’s not happening quickly. Not nearly as fast as I would like or as fast as our world is changing. But I think minds are opening. I’m really proud to be a gay man and I see members of the queer community opening their own companies and making their own opportunities, but in your traditional classical company you still don’t really see it happening. But I’m feeling hopeful for the future.

#article #ballet #ashton edwards

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fundiesimsfamily · 3 years

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A family with 19 childeren (part 3)

Part 3 of the artikel of 'baby sims'. In part 1 we covered the whole family and the parents, in part 2 we covered the first 10 childeren of the family. Now it's time for the remaining 9 childeren. (AN: The ages are from my spreadsheat, not the ones in game. The photo's are the 'in game' ones so they don't match their ages)

11. Florence Rosa Doyle, age 12

Florence is the second one of the second set of twins. Where George is very serious and by himself, Florence is very active and loves to be around people. Especially her twinbrother. Just like her twinbrother, she is very creative. She is the best in playing the violin in the family.

12. Benjamin Robert Doyle, age 10

Benjamin is very smart for his age. He loves to learn everything his older brothers already know. He is always asking questions to them about what they do and what they are learning. Sometimes Benjamin can be a bit sad. But when he has spend some time by himself he does much better.

13. Ann Hope Doyle, age 9

Ann is very self assured. She is leading the younger ones in every activity they do. She loves playing music and is always happy hopping around the house looking for someone to play or chat with.

14. Stephen Frederick Doyle, age 8

Stephen is a normal eight year old. He loves to play outside all day long. On the monkey bars, the pirate ship or in the swimmingpool. And he probably brougth his cousin David along to play together.

15. Clara Alexis Doyle, age 6

Clara is a very sensitive little girl. She loves going to one of her big sisters and play with them or just hang out with them. Especially Aimee is her favourit. But she also loves to be part of Ann's club and follow her on a mission around the neighborhood.

16. Olimpia Fulvia Doyle, age 5

Olimpia is such a cheerful little girl. She loves everything and goes along with every project, idea or activity. As long as she is part of it she will be alright. She had Clara are very close. Olimpia knows one thing for sure, she wants to be a mommy just like her own.

17. Harriet Beecher Doyle, age 3

Harriet is still a toddler. And a very active one. She was very fast with learning how to craw and walk and by now she has mastered climbing on top of everything too. With her beautiful brown eyes she is the sweetheart of the whole family. She gets everything done with just a sweet look.

18. Phillip John Doyle, age 1

Phillip is the youngest son after a string of three girls. His parents where very happy to recieve a 8th son. Phillip is an angel and his parents wouldn't mind having another dozen of little Phillips. That's how easy he is. Phillip loves his blocks and his cars.

19. Lilias Corrie Doyle, age 0

Lilias is just a couple of months old and still mommy's little buddy. The family didn't thought Lilias would join their family since their mother was about to turn 40th years old. They where overjoyed with the pregnancy and arrivel of Lilias. She get's lots of hugs during the day of all her siblings. She sure will be spoiled growing up.

This was part 3. In part 4 you will read some fun facts but also tips on how to handle such a large family your self.

#fundie #sims 4 #doylefamily #eliannacrowley #florencedoyle #benjamindoyle #anndoyle #stephendoyle #claradoyle #olimpiadoyle #harrietdoyle #phillipdoyle #liliasdoyle #gen3 #gen4

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spaceskam · 4 years

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Hello! For Title Tuesday, how about 33 and wangxian, since I recently fell into this ship and am still swooning and desperate for more! Thank you, love everything you do!

thank you! and thank you for waiting a week too! I’ll add the ao3 link whenever I get the chance to post it over there, I hope you like it!

title tuesday instructions

tags: cql canon, post-canon, a bit of sad and lonely WWX

33. an uncomfortable month [ao3]

When Wei Wuxian came back to Cloud Recesses, he’d been excited.

He missed Sizhui and Wen Ning and having a reliable place to sleep and bathe, but mainly he missed Lan Zhan. He’d been so excited to hang on him again, to trick him into staying up past curfew by talking for hours and it was simply rude to fall asleep while someone was talking, to catch those moments when he smiled. He missed them together, whatever that meant and in whatever capacity he was allowed to have it in.

However, he hadn’t expected it to be so… weird. Awkward, maybe, was a better word. Lan Zhan was, for the most part, the same, but he was always so busy and so Wei Wuxian had to entertain himself. To make matters worse, apparently, people thought he was the great Hanguang-Jun’s ward. At first it’d been funny, but now it was simply annoying.

“Lan Zhan,” he whined, pouting and squishing his face against Lan Zhan’s arm. He didn’t slow down his pace or even accommodate Wei Wuxian’s affections, so he took the hint and stood up straight. He rolled his shoulders, shaking away that little bud that was beginning to blossom inside him that did nothing but remind him that he was unwanted. He was hoping to get rid of it before he couldn’t ignore it. “Lan Zhan, what did you tell them? I’ve told three separate people that I’m not your ward and not a single one of them believed me.”

“Mn.”

“Mn,” Wei Wuxian mimicked, rolling his eyes, “What does that mean?”

“I have said nothing to anyone about my relationship to Wei Ying,” he said.

“Yeah, including me,” Wei Wuxian grumbled softly. Lan Wangji tilted his head slightly in his direction as if listening and Wei Wuxian managed a laugh, petting his arm. “I’m teasing, Lan Zhan. So, what, do I just let them think that? What if rumors start about my age, though? Aren’t wards much younger?”

“Let them come to their own conclusion,” Lan Zhan said firmly. Wei Wuxian’s face felt warm at the implication. Though, maybe there were no implications and his mind was just a bit naughty.

His mind had definitely been awfully naughty these days.

“So, you won’t mind what they say when I stay in the Jingshi long past curfew?” Wei Wuxian asked. Lan Zhan didn’t answer which meant he didn’t mind. Wei Wuxian leaned closer. “But what will they say if I don’t leave at all?”

Lan Zhan came to a halt, turning to him. Wei Wuxian’s eyes widened a bit, shocked he was getting that much of a reaction. Lan Zhan hadn’t really given him much of a reaction since he came back. It was all very cordial. Plain. Wei Wuxian never overstayed his welcome at the Jingshi because of it, regardless of how much he wanted to take a nap in his bed again. It was much warmer than the guest rooms.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said, staring at him. His eyes slowly grazed over his face and then further down and Wei Wuxian felt a bit lightheaded. “Are your rooms not satisfactory?”

“No,” he said. Lan Zhan blinked and then nodded before Wei Wuxian’s brain processed anything at all. “No! I mean, yes, I mean, they’re fine. Fine.”

Lan Zhan took a slow, even breath. “Wei Ying.”

“I suppose I was under the impression that I would be staying in the Jingshi,” Wei Wuxian said slowly, stupidly, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t know how long Lan Zhan planned to let him stay here, but it couldn’t be too much longer. “You know, like we did last time.”

“Wei Ying was here under pressing circumstances last time,” Lan Zhan pointed out, his eyebrows pulled together just enough to show his confusion. It was such a small change from his normal expression that Wei Wuxian barely caught it. “Wei Ying deserves a space of his own for however long he will be here.”

And it was so sweet that Wei Wuxian didn’t have the heart to tell him that he didn’t really mind sharing if it meant sharing with Lan Zhan. In fact, he’d much rather that. If they were in the same room, then they would at least see each other every day without Wei Wuxian having to hunt him down.

But Lan Zhan had been very thoughtful and Wei Wuxian smiled.

“Oh. I suppose I misunderstood,” he said. Lan Zhan blinked slowly and he took a step forward.

“Wei Ying can stay as long as he desires. And he can have whatever he desires. If he wishes to stay in the Jingshi, he is welcome,” Lan Zhan said. Wei Wuxian nodded slowly in understanding, but his cheeks just started to grow warm and he found himself laughing for no reason. It wasn’t funny. He did it anyway.

“Silly Lan Zhan, you don’t want to give me your house! I am just a ward, don’t you remember?” Wei Wuxian laughed. Lan Zhan blinked, but then nodded his head once.

Lan Zhan continued to walk and Wei Wuxian followed as they made their way to the open courtyard where young disciples were practicing sword forms. They were all around 13 or 14 and greeted Lan Zhan with a warm ‘Hanguang-Jun’ and then quickly averted their eyes from Wei Wuxian. They hadn’t done that before he left, even when they knew he was the Yiling Laozu. He put a little more space between him and Lan Zhan, just to be safe.

The days continued on like this, Lan disciples averting their eyes and Lan Zhan just being eerily calm. Not to say he wasn’t always calm, but he seemed almost sedated. Wei Wuxian wasn’t sure how to handle that. He would press his luck and stay later in the Jingshi, but he was never told to leave even as Lan Wangji went about his business to prepare for bed. It was like he didn’t care about anything but work. Wei Wuxian felt like he’d missed a step.

“A-Yuan!” Wei Wuxian called, walking a bit faster than was Lan appropriate to catch up with him. He was the only one who’s behavior made sense. Sweet and righteous and adorable.

“Wei-qianbei,” Lan Sizhui said warmly, bowing politely. Then he stood up, paused a moment, and went in for a short hug. That was another thing that made sense. He always gave him hugs when no one else was around. Wei Wuxian gave them freely right back.

“A-Yuan, could I ask you something? Between you and I, of course,” Wei Wuxian said, trying to keep his voice diplomatic as they continued to walk. It made him smile so big his eyes turned into little crescents. Adorable, truly.

“Yes, Wei-qianbei, anything.”

“Did something happen while I was gone? The Lans have never been exactly fond of me, but viewing me as Hanguang-Jun’s ward and being too awkward to even look my way is definitely new. Did a rumor about me spread? I haven’t heard any,” Wei Wuxian said, tapping his nose thoughtfully. He’d tried to come up with reasons and failed each time. “Even your Hanguang-Jun has been weird.”

“Ah,” Lan Sizhui said, giving a tense little smile and looking away quickly as his cheeks began to burn red. Wei Wuxian stopped walking, putting his hand on his arm.

“A-Yuan,” he said, using the same tone of voice he’d used when he would tell him to spit out whatever he’d shoved in his mouth 16 years ago now. It was enough to make him tilt his head back in Wei Wuxian’s direction.

“Hanguang-Jun just… made it very clear that you were not to be disrespected,” he said carefully. Wei Wuxian’s eyebrows furrowed.

“What does that mean?”

Lan Sizhui pushed his hair off his neck and looked around. Wei Wuxian put his hands on his hips and waited for an explanation. Hanguang-Jun had been acting strange as well. What the hell could he have possibly done?

“Have you been to the Jingshi?” Lan Sizhui asked quietly.

“Of course I have.”

“Then have you not… noticed?”

“Noticed what?”

Lan Sizhui’s face flushed again and he shyly looked at Wei Wuxian which only furthered his confusion. He went to the Jingshi nearly every day. Had he missed something that obvious?

“Perhaps you should ask Hanguang-Jun. It doesn’t feel like my place to say,” Sizhui said. Wei Wuxian scrunched up his nose and sighed.

“Everything is so difficult around here,” he said, earning a small smile from Sizhui. Wei Wuxian reached out to smooth his forehead ribbon carefully. “Fine, I suppose I’ll ask.”

“Alright, Wei-qianbei.”

“Once I straighten that, we’ll address this Wei-qianbei nonsense. Am I not worthy enough to be your Xian-gege anymore?” Wei Wuxian asked, enjoying the sound of his laughter. That made sense. If A-Yuan was laughing and smiling with him, then things couldn’t be that bad. He was sure of it.

“Alright, Xian-gege.”

Wei Wuxian spent his day as normal as he could, though he was already prepared to pack up if need be. He would ask Lan Zhan what he’d missed and see what he said, but he didn’t want to be in a place where everyone wouldn’t even look his way anymore. It was too uncomfortable.

He didn’t want to leave Lan Zhan and he wouldn’t if he didn’t have to, but it was beginning to feel like he had to.

As the day began to wind to an end and it was around the time that Lan Wangji would be retiring to the Jingshi, Wei Wuxian made a point to beat him there. He let himself in and took a look around, trying to notice if there was anything amiss. Nothing stood out.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said as he entered in complete silence. Wei Wuxian spun around to face him, smiling as innocent as he could.

Lan Zhan eyed him skeptically, not buying it for a moment and yet not calling him out either. It was little things like that that reminded him that Lan Zhan was a grown man now and not a hot-headed teenager. Not that he’d ever admit he was hot-headed, but still.

“Lan Zhan! I was waiting for you, let’s eat,” Wei Wuxian said, coming close and plucking the tray of food out of Lan Zhan’s hands. He brought it to the table and knelt on one side. Lan Zhan was still watching him closely as he placed Bichen on its stand and came closer.

Lan Zhan knelt at the other side of the table and poured tea for the both of them. Wei Wuxian smiled in his gratitude and downed it. They ate in silence which seemed to be an immediate warning flag for Lan Zhan if the way he was staring said anything. Granted, Wei Wuxian never listened to that particular Lan rule before.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said softly as their meal ended. It was around the time he usually started moving around the room to prepare for bed. And it was the night he usually took a bath, so typically he would go to the other side of the privacy screen and disrobe while Wei Wuxian talked through his body lighting on fire from the inside. “Is there something wrong?”

“Ah, why would something be wrong?” Wei Wuxian laughed. Really, he just wasn’t quite ready to ask what happened after he left to travel last time. What had made all the Lan disciples look away and spread rumors that he was a ward. He still couldn’t get over that. A ward! How could they possibly think he was a ward?

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan repeated.

Wei Wuxian sighed and let his shoulders sink a bit, his eyes going anywhere but in Lan Zhan’s direction as he fiddled with his robes. It shouldn’t be so hard to ask.

“Lan Zhan,” he said, “What changed while I was gone? I asked A-Yuan, but, you know, just like his Hanguang-Jun, he’s all too respectful to tell me what is yours to say. So all I ask is what happened to make everyone avoid me. More than they avoided me when they knew I was just the Yiling Laozu which, honestly, is impressive.”

Lan Zhan stared at him for a long moment and Wei Wuxian would’ve thought he was just annoyed by the question if not for the way his ears were slowly burning brighter and brighter with each breath. Wei Wuxian tilted his head.

“Lan-er-gege, what did you do?” Wei Wuxian asked, a bit of teasing in his voice if only to lighten the tension.

“My sect will be ordered to stop avoiding you. I apologize for their lack of respect,” Lan Zhan said. Wei Wuxian rolled his eyes.

“Aiya, Lan Zhan! You know that isn’t it! Now, tell me,” Wei Wuxian said. Lan Zhan took a deep breath and stared at him. Wei Wuxian pushed himself up on his knees and walked on them over to him. He sat down right beside him, their knees nearly touching. “Is it something bad? Would it be easier for me to leave?”

That got his attention and Lan Zhan looked at him quickly, his eyes sharp and determined. They both knew Lan Zhan wouldn’t keep him here if he didn’t want to, but Wei Wuxian felt a rush of warmth at the idea that Lan Zhan would still give a lot to make him want to be here. To feel welcome in his home. That was nice.

“Alright,” Lan Zhan said, his hands clutching his robes, “I had a larger bed constructed.”

“Ah?” Wei Wuxian breathed, eyebrows coming together in confusion. He looked over his shoulder to the bed and, yes, maybe it was a bit larger than when he slept in it last, but it wasn’t that much larger. Just… big enough for two. “You’re… getting married?” Wei Wuxian asked slowly, dread poking at his gut and against those quiet sounds of ‘you’re not welcome, no one wants you here’ pried into his mind.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan breathed, looking some mix of fond and exasperated. Wei Wuxian could hear his heart in his ears.

“What does a larger bed have to do with me?” he asked. Lan Zhan slowly closed his eyes. Wei Wuxian’s eyes widened when he realized what the Lans were thinking, what they must be assuming he and their brilliant Chief Cultivator were doing in that large bed. “Ah! And they’re calling me a ward? Is that to save their own thoughts? How shameless of them, Lan Zhan.”

“And not shameless of me?” he asked, tilting his head. Wei Wuxian blinked and then nearly melted.

“Oh. Lan Zhan,” he teased, gently pushing his shoulder. Wei Wuxian’s insides were similar to the way he felt when he knew he was naked behind a privacy screen‒entirely on fire to the point he was almost dizzy. “Were your disciples not just assuming, Lan Zhan? Well, that would explain why A-Yuan got so flustered when I asked. Ah! You are shameless. But, don’t worry, shamelessness looks very nice on you.”

Lan Zhan’s smile slowly appeared and that was nice. Similar to A-Yuan’s, if Lan Zhan was smiling then nothing could ever really be wrong.

“Then why would you give me my own quarters? And why would you act so scandalized when I asked why I wasn’t living in the Jingshi? Lan Zhan, you’re terrible at courting!” Wei Wuxian pointed out. However, saying the word courting out loud when he was speaking about the two of them made a little too obvious what was going on and he leaned closer to Lan Zhan to keep his mind busy. “And still your disciples were thinking things that hadn’t even happened yet.”

“Yet?” Lan Zhan asked, ignoring his questions that were honestly rather important. But, well, he could get those answers later he supposed.

“Yet,” Wei Wuxian repeated, eyes scanning his face. He was so handsome. All of those naughty thoughts that Wei Wuxian had shoved away out of respect came back to the surface very quickly. “Lan Zhan.”

When Wei Wuxian found himself sprawled half-naked on the bed within the Jingshi, he didn’t finally notice the size difference.

#wangxian #wangxian fic #wei wuxian #lan wangji #the untamed #my fic #title tuesday #thekissxxx

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operation-619 · 4 years

Text

Satan’s Angel

Johnny Storm x WOC!Reader

Summary: She was hidden from the world at the age of 16 when something within her awoke. Something demonic. But she has her brother to hold onto when things start to get worse, because he’s there for her. Right?

warnings: language, blood, violence, mentions of medical problems. mentions of needles, abuse and torture. 18+

WC: 2.2K

masterlist I Chapter 2

So I wrote this ack in my Quotev days, and I decided to edit it - because it was atrociously written. And I’m now posting it on here so I hope you enjoy my loves

-619x

The world has never been in my favour, I realise that now.

I should’ve realised it years ago.

But standing here looking my estranged brother in the eyes; I finally realise that the world has led me on a path that had to end this way, no matter how hard I tried to swerve and dodge the upcoming circumstance, I would always end up staring at my brothers empty eyes, with my hand deep in his chest.

Killing him. Killing my brother.

She sat there, waiting for the pain to embrace her like a long-lost cousin. She knew it was time; her heart was spasming, she could hardly breathe. Her eyes were watery, tears sliding down her face.

Yet she sat there at the edge of her bed staring out the window that occupied the whole wall opposite her bed. She could see the mountains from her bed so clearly. It was as if she was there.

If she was there.

Her chest moved erratically, her cheeks soaked with tears, yet she sat calmly; pondering, wondering, daydreaming about a life outside these four walls that kept her trapped in her own mind.

A mind that kept her sane and crazy all at the same time. She would dream up stories of a handsome young prince saving her with a fiery kiss. Or most times it was a nightmare, a world made of purple skies and vibrant green grass, set aflame; with bodies lying across the ground as she ran with some man, her hand in his so he wouldn’t lose her, the other hand on her belly housing a precious creature. She never got the end of the nightmare because she would wake up just before a monster jumped on top of her.

She would always jolt up, sweat weighing heavy on her skin, a scream rising up her throat along with bile and the feeling on nostalgia. She hated how she knew the place she was dreaming of yet couldn’t place a finger on it.

Before she could ponder anymore, she felt the first flicker of pain, it started at the bottom of her spine, and oh-so painfully started to spread across the rest of her rigid body. She drew in a ragged breath as the pain wrapped a hand around her heart and squeezed. She clenched her eyes shut tight and tried soothe her breathing, but the hand around her heart squeezed harder. She gasped out in pain and rolled forward; landing on the floor on her knees as her hand started to scrape at her chest, desperately trying to remove the hand off of her heart. It was as if it was laughing at her attempts because next thing she knew, the hand squeezed so hard she fell forward onto her hand and screamed.

She screamed so loudly, black dots clouded her vision and danced around her. Her throat felt sore, but she didn’t stop.

She couldn’t.

Her body shook as sobs replaced the screaming in a matter of seconds. She hated this, for the past eight years it just seems to be getting worse. Ever since she surpassed her sixteenth birthday, all it has ever been was pain, pain and pain. It was tenfold as worse as it used to be. Before her sixteenth birthday it was like a build up to the pain she was feeling now. Minor headaches, to migraines, to temperatures either too hot or too cold. No one knew what was wrong with her. Not even the best doctors’ money could buy. And if it wasn’t for Victor she wouldn’t be here, with round the clock care to make sure she is okay, she knew that he loved her even though he wasn’t around as much as he used to be. She knew.

Of course, he loves you. Your all he’s got, and vice-versa.

The thoughts echoed around her head, bouncing painfully off her head.

The vibrations of the floor let her know that the people were on their way. Moments later she felt her body being lifted from the floor, she felt herself slump against the broad chest of some man, she given up fighting against the pain and just let it take over her system. She couldn’t stop the tears, the echoed the lack of control she had over her own body as the gushed down her paling face.

“Hush now, close your eyes. I’ve got you.” The deep voice vibrated through her body, it felt oddly familiar and through all the pain she managed to look up into the familiar blue eyes of her brother.

“Vic- “her words fell short as she lost the energy to speak, instead she used all her energy to place her hand onto his smooth cheek.

“Hush, it’s okay. I’m here now.” With that statement she let her eyes roll to the back of her head, as the pain drowned her in its last tidal wave.

Victor released a long ‘huff’ as he stopped at another traffic light. He regretted coming back to New-York at 14:00 pm when the streets would be busy with the afternoon rush. He rhythmically tapped his fingers against the arms rest and looked on through the divider, he smirks as he saw his driver’s hand gripping the wheel tightly out of frustration too.

His attention was quickly drawn to his phone when he heard the ringtone brake through the silence in the car; reaching into his jacket he removed his phone from the inside pocket of his black Louis Vuitton suit jacket.

‘Her vitals are erratic again; she’s going to go into Comatose. But I think it’s best if you came over. You can get the samples you need.’

The text message was all he needed for him to clear his throat and say;

“Michael, turn back around to the airport, please. We’re going to visit my sister.” With a nod from Michael, the car was swiftly turned around and quickly driven back to the airport. He sent a text to his pilot, telling him to ready the helicopter that will bring him to the facility he has in the Alps, which is coincidentally where he is keeping his sister.

Victors blue eyes grew stormy as he remembered how much pain his sister has been through in the past few years, the undiagnosed tantrums her body would throw sent his sister into an unbreakable cycle of pain and then unconsciousness. He knew deep down that one day she’ll have an episode that she won’t concur.

He remembers the first time it happened; he was stepping through his front door. He barley even had time to take his jacket off before he heard a scream that made his blood curl, rushing upstairs he was met with a sight that had the breath taken out of him, there hunched on the bed was his sister.

Head clasped between her hands, nails digging into her skin as if she was trying to peel her own skin off, her lower face was covered in blood from her nose, and her eyes were screaming for help, for an escape that she was so desperately seeking.

Victor rushed forward and attempted to prise her hands off her head. But was met with a force that had him crashing into wall next to the door. He looked up and saw his sister looking at him with unnatural black eyes and a hand pointed towards him with her palm open. Her eyelids fluttered before they were back to their normal hue.

“Help me…” her voice came out hoarse and timid before she convulsed onto the ground.

Surging forward Victor managed to catch her head just in time before it hit the corner of the bed frame. His vision was blurry as he looked at his sister, her head cradled in his lap as he tried to steady her from the excessive shaking.

His ears picked up the sirens and then the sound of the door getting thrown open as paramedics came rushing upstairs.

Yet he couldn’t move, his body wasn’t registering what was actually happening.

Their voices all became mumbled as he watched them pry her out of his grip, he tried to speak but his mouth wouldn’t move it just stayed there, hanging open like a fool.

He continued to stare at the group of paramedics struggling to hold his sister still as he felt two pairs of hands under his arms to haul him up.

‘Come on son.’ The voice sounded so distant and foreign to him as he let the two strangers support his weight as it appeared his own legs couldn’t do that. He hazily watched as the world around him moved without some much of a struggle. Next thing he knew he was sat on the curb with a blanket wrapped around him. Apparently for the shock.

Fuck that.

His head snapped to the side as he heard the shouting of the paramedics as the rushed his unconscious sister out of the house; one split off from the group and came over to him.

“Are you the boyfriend?” Victor shook his head, eyes trained on his sisters’ body being hauled into the back of the ambulance.

“Brother,” he managed to rasp out.

“Okay then that’s even better. Can you tell me anything about her?” His eyes stayed trained on his sister as the paramedics sorted her out in the back, the doors were wide open so he could see what they were doing.

“Yeah, yeah.” He numbly nodded. Half listening to what the man was saying.

“Any mental illness, inherited disorders from the family?” Victor continued to shake his head; the man continued asking questions, but they all had the same answer. A shake of the head from Victor Von-Doom.

“Okay can you tell me how old she is?” Victor looked down at his Rolex, his eyebrows furrowed in sadness when he realised what day it was. The watch read back 03:45am.

“October 31st, she turned sixteen forty-five minutes ago.” He finally looked over at the paramedic and noticed how young he really was, said paramedics face contorted into a look of unease. Victor sent him a look of confusion which lead to the boy looking away.

“Sorry sir, it’s just three am is considered the ‘witching hour’ in my religion, and it clashes with it being Halloween today as well- ‘the paramedic turned around and noticed the look on Victors face and cleared his throat- ‘Sorry sir. Happy birthday to her, you can ride with her if you wish.”

And with that the young boy scurried off.

Looking out the window, Victor noticed they were about to touch down on the landing pad. Exhaling unsteadily, he rolled his shoulders back preparing himself what was to come.

If only he knew.

The steady, rhythmic beeping of the EKG machine soothed Victors heart as he stood by the window and looked out onto the scenery that was suspiciously calming. Now he understood why his sister made him replace the tiny window for this huge one. It was once a wall, but with the extra light and the view it made the room less constricting, less likely of a panic attack for her.

“Hey.” The soft voice barley reached his ears, but he heard it and he couldn’t be happier. Spinning around he marched to her side and plonked himself down onto the chair that he’d been sat in for the past fourteen hours.

“Name?”

“(Y/N) Von-Doom. Victor?”

“No, Birthday?” “Monday, October Thirty-first, three am. Victor please.”

“Favourite person in the world?”

“Steve Harvey.”

“Hey, what happened to it being me”

“You wouldn’t shut up. Your making my head hurt Victor.” She raised a hand to rub her temple, only to hiss in pain as her muscles burned. Tears clouded her vison as she remembered what happened.

“Did anyone get hurt?” She was met with a ‘no’ from her brother. She mumbled a response that Victor couldn’t hear. He watched her as she looked out the window; eyes glassed over and distant, like she was somewhere else.

“I can’t do this anymore,” her voice was quiet, lacking emotion. It caused Victors heart to beat faster. He couldn’t let her go. Not now.

“(Y/N)?”

“I mean, here. Here in this room. Because these episodes are getting stronger, I can feel it. I probably won’t survive the next one. Or fuck, the one after that. Who knows Victor. I need to leave, get out of here. I don’t care where, I just need to leave.” Her sobs grew louder as did the EKG machine, he tried to soothe her, but it only grew worse.

Doctors and nurse appeared in a matter of minutes, they checked the vitals and the machine only to see her hysterically crying.

“Ma’am, you need to calm down for me please.” The nurse’s voice was sweet, almost taunting to (Y/N). She sighed when the girls crying grew louder. Nodding towards the older man in a pair of grey scrubs she quickly caught (Y/N)’s attention as the Doctor came forward and injected her with a mild sedative.

With in seconds the room grew quite as they all watched (Y/N)’s eyes close slowly.

Just before she went completely under; Victor cupped her cheek.

“I need you. So, I promise I’ll find out what’s going on. You’ll get out of here soon. I promise.”

He watched her eyes close completely and looked out of the window, leaning back against the chair he spoke one last time before closing his eyes:

“I promise.”

——

Chapter 2

#johnny storm #johnny storm x reader #fantastic four #reed richards #ben grimm #victor von doom #marvel #WOC #POC #Female!reader #angst #satan's angel

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ffftutfff · 3 years

Text

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 87

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 1 :-

𝑬𝒂𝒔𝒚 𝒘𝒊𝒏 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒆

Nobody chooses the life they are born in you do not choose the family you are born in nor the life you end up with, and I believe that …

I did not want to be in a corporation, with a code name, no form of love surrounding me, a father figure that only uses me for his benefits and zero knowledge of what I even am...

I wake up every day to needles being piercing my body and painfully disgusting food to make me “strong” for my boxing tournaments led by the one and only …

“Agent 175!” a man started yelling my fathers name in the microphone

His face then changed from the lovely cheerful manner it was, to a face of disappointment which I knew a little too well.

“And agent 275….” With the hatred in his voice, he could have made me cry right then and there but I had to keep the strong act in front of my father.

I went inside the waiting room alone with nobody in sight

My eyes started feeling heavy, that couch looking less like leather and more like a fluffy black cloud

I feel asleep on it faster than the speed of anyone saying my name …. A Mer code name three simple numb-

I woke up to a scary figure pulling me by my ear “275!! You dumb little girl! You embarrassed me in front of the most important opponent we’ve had, honestly child you disappoint me every day!”

I was an absolute mess I just woke up for heaven’s sake!

I went in the ring drained from all the excitement I have ever had

There was a boy he was 14 or 16 around my age ... “that was who I’m fighting against? why was my dad so angry then? ....” I thought as I scanned the room it was only me, my dad, the boy …and a man in a suit he looked a lot like the boy just …. Scarier... I see why my dad would fear him he had an aura of a demon he would destroy my whole past present and future with a press of a button. He looked me with a weird look of reassurance? while my dad was the same, with his terrifying stare.

I looked at the boy again he was ready for what’s to come -at least I hope so-

This was our usual boxing match.

he punched me first like it was a cat fight, I laughed at him in my head … I didn’t want to hurt him he was too pure, too weak I could tell that this…this kid was new to this type of world.

I was hesitant at first but knew it had to be done.

‘sorry’ apologizing to him in a soft voice was very out of character I looked briefly at my father he was blank faced as always, I looked back at the poor boy who was punching my body and punched him quickly in the gut, making the boy fly away earning me an easy knock-out and evidently, winning the match.

A flying little robot grabbed my right arm, turning me around and swishing my hand to signal me winning. Father had a smirk on his face turning to the other man who was also smiling he looked at the son in a way saying, ‘I told you so sweetheart.’

I was staring at the boy in an ashamed way, I’m truly scared of what I’m capable of.

This…this was normal -as normal as this universe goes- but usually it’s much much worse…

I truly loathed my being, I hated how I was known as a killing machine because of this.

Although my code name is “275” my name is ‘The bad luck’ gifted to me by my -wonderful- father.

After that match the boy (whose code name is “277”) and his father (“177”)

Agreed to have diner with us we opened the guest room which was the only room that didn’t look like an asylum in our apartment.

Our fathers talked about running this association and me and his kid were just listening. And I think they knew since they were trying to kid-prof their words.

After that painfully awkward dinner I went to my room, to my very missed friend the only one that understood me. The glowing woman. A beautiful woman glowing in the colors of deep ocean blues. She was lovely and gentle a voice of a hurt angel. She had a gentle soft deep voice southing but full of pain, misery, regret and hope-loss.

I couldn’t find why that would be…

I enjoyed her company but anytime I wanted to be close to her and ask about her past. She disappeared or flown away from me … and I didn’t want that, so I stop any question that ever past my mind.

She was a great listener. Any problem I have ever had I told her, and she listened or if I was lucky, she would give me some advice. I felt as though my secrets were safe with her, she couldn’t tell who hurt me off nor could she tell on me. I almost used her as a diary, but I knew that she wouldn’t appreciate herself being used, so I just enjoy her company now and if a problem comes my way, she’ll be the first to know

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stranger-who-writes-fiction · 3 years

Text

Okay I was gonna do another SG:WoT post anyway because we’ve got a new King interview but THEN, he released the cover to issue four so you KNOW I gotta geek out about this.

(Sorry that this blog is all SG:WoT, all the time now, but I am just. Insanely excited that Evely is drawing Supergirl. Feel free to block/mute these posts as needed. XD)

Okay, so!

First! The interview!

It’s on (ugh) screenrant so I’m not gonna link, I’m just gonna nab the interesting bits:

On the different direction of the book, and if he wanted to go back to the original Adventure Comics vibes: “So, the idea of this thing was to strip her story down, because Supergirl has a majorly weird history in terms of continuity. At least 13 writers have rewritten her origin over the years. Her dad has 13 origin stories; sometimes he's evil, sometimes he's a robot, sometimes alive, sometimes he's dead. She's changed dramatically in the last 10 years, between coming back to life to the New 52 to Rebirth. She's gone through so much that it's hard to get a hold of her. Not to mention in the '90s, when I was coming up, she was like an ectoplasmic space angel. There's so much there, and I just wanted to take all that stuff off and get to the core of the character; get her out of her normal environments and her normal conflicts. It seems like all our stories are about her dad or her relationship to Superman. Instead, let's see the purity of that character.”

On starting the book the way he did: “...I wanted to start out with a very human moment of a person turning 21 and getting drunk. And a person who is getting drunk because they want to be alone, and they just want to forget about the shit that's happened in their past. That's such a human moment. And the fact that she's Supergirl, so she waits till it's legal - because these super people, they follow the rules. She waited, and now it's legal and she can have this moment. She goes off by herself, with her dog that always follows her, and she has a moment where she can be free. For a lot of people in the US, whether you've been drinking since you were 14 or started that day, your 21st birthday and the day after are days you remember for the rest of your life. It's a day of freedom and consequence, and I wanted to show Supergirl going through that.”

On rising to the challenge of helping Supergirl perform better, sales/popularity-wise: “ When I first got on this book, I called Steve Orlando, who had just written a Supergirl run. And he was the one who opened my eyes to how good the character is. He had such insight into her. He was like, ‘There is a difference between Clark and her, and what she's gone through.’ He just laid it for me.”

On starting the book off with Ruthye’s journey, and gradually building to Kara’s: “ I was like, "Okay, this is going to be from the point of view of someone under Supergirl." And so I switched the point of view to this new brand new character, whose name is Ruthye. And we went from there: we start with Ruthye's story, we see her discover Supergirl, and she's our audience. She's our way in, the way Robin has always been the way into Batman.”

On whether or not other characters will show up, outside of Supergirl and Ruthye: “It's like my Superman: Up in the Sky, where it's a distillation of the character. You'll see other characters, but the focus of every issue will be on Supergirl. And it's something where at the very end, you can be like, "Why is Supergirl great? Why is she important to the DC Universe? What is her future in the DC Universe? Here, read this one trade that can answer all three of those questions at once."So, there will be other characters in the Super universe. But the focus will always be on her; on Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow. It's her finding out about herself and her own strength.”

On Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow vs. his other titles: “Supergirl is my first 2021 book, or my first book of the 20s. That wrapped up my books of the teens, and now we're in a new generation. God willing, from the moment I started this book, I was like, ‘I'm gonna take a risk, and I'm gonna write books that are a little brighter.’ I know that's coming from me, and it's not to say we're going to avoid conflict or we're not going to explore the depths of the human soul. All that stuff will be in there. But these books are made from a place of joy, not from a place of anger; from a place of hope, not from a place of despair. It very much contrasts to those other books, in my mind.”

On how he thinks folks will react to the Krypto cliffhanger: “I mean, they're gonna think it's a good cliffhanger. That's how I think they're going to react. They're going to say, ‘I want the next issue.’ That's literally my job as written in my contract. Something where at the end of an issue, someone says, ‘I want more.’ So, that's how I hope they react.”

As mentioned, this is not the full interview; the whole thing can be found on screenrant, and I think Tom King shared a link on his twitter.

And now, as always, SOME THOUGHTS:

I love that he brings up the fact that so many Supergirl stories focus on Zor-El and Clark, and how he was like, ‘let’s not do that.’

That’s my big gripe with modern Supergirl comics; they are trying so hard to make a statement on why we need both a Supergirl AND a Superman, that they end up spending ALL THEIR TIME talking about Clark, instead of, you know. Telling a fun Supergirl story.

Same thing with Zor-El! I know folks love Rebirth--I like it quite a bit myself--but I think the nostalgia goggles prevent folks from remembering that the whole first arc of that book was re-doing the ‘Cyborg Superman’ garbage from the Nu52.

Speaking of Rebirth, really like that of all the recent SG writers he coulda talked to, he talked to Steve Orlando.

Like, if ya can’t get Gates on the phone, get Orlando.

(I get the sense that Gates doesn’t like this book, actually, based on a vague tweet. But don’t quote me on that.)

Looks like Ruthye is gonna be our POV/audience insert character for the whole run. I’m...mmmm. I don’t love it, but I understand the logic here. Especially since he compared it to Batman and Robin--how you use Robin as your entry point for a bat book.

And you know what? Kara’s supporting cast needs some help, so. Welcome to the Superfam, Ruthye.

I also love the explanation behind the drinking thing, as well as the fact that Kara waited until it was 100% legal for her to drink because OF COURSE SHE WOULD.

I am so worried that Krypto is gonna die b/c of what we saw in Future State. I’m over here with my Pepe Silva board like, ‘Well, what if Kara agrees to help Ruthye because Krem MURDERED HER DOG?!?! WHAT IF THIS IS JOHN WICK IN SPACE?!?!?!’

So I am DISMAYED that King does not reassure us AT ALL.

Thus I am forced to cling to this tidbit here: “ But these books are made from a place of joy, not from a place of anger; from a place of hope, not from a place of despair. It very much contrasts to those other books, in my mind.”

Killing the dog would not be joyful. XD So, like. I’m REALLY HOPIN’ HE’LL BE OKAY.

AND LASTLY, (Except not really)

I have some additional, miscellaneous thoughts unrelated to the interview b/c I’m me and I’m loving having a Supergirl comic back on the shelves, however polarizing it may be.

Something I realized, when details started to come out regarding the book, and that other folks have now noted as well: Kara was 16 when Rebirth launched in 2016; she’s just turned 21 in 2021, making her one of the extremely few comic characters to age in real time.

I don’t think that was planned, but it is cool.

It occurred to me on a re-read that Ruthye never calls Kara Kara in her narration, only Supergirl. And I was a little sad! But then I remembered that Kara wouldn’t necessarily reveal her identity to people she’s helping, she would just be ‘Supergirl’ to them.

I really do love how, so far, there has been NARY A MENTION of Kara angst-ing over being in Clark’s shadow, or being Superman’s cousin.

It appears that her drinking alone on a remote planet is more related to trying to forget her trauma/grief related to Krypton. MAYBE. We don’t know yet.

The Clark thing could still come up. I hope it doesn’t.

(Interesting to note! Kara recently appeared in Action Comics, helping Clark and Jon investigate some Kryptonian refugees; IDK how closely these books will necessarily ‘work together’ in terms of continuity, but! It’s possible that the discovery of those mysterious refugees was triggering, thus sending her on her way to her own solo title.)

(Well. That’s gonna be my headcanon, anyway. XD)

AND LASTLY, (for real this time)

ISSUE FOUR COVER!!!!

Okay, some immediate thoughts:

GOOD LORD IT’S STUNNING.

I loooooove the fire motif, reminds me of a part from the Rebirth run, where Kara met the Super-Man of China, and they visually referenced All-Star Superman, having the Kryptonians kind of...become the sun.

Also STAR CHART?!?! PIRATE MAP!?!?!?!

The VIBES I tell you, the VIIIIIIIBES.

Also I love that it’s just Kara.

Don’t get me wrong! I like Ruthye just fine so far! But yeah, yeah, give me some more solo-Kara focus, even if it’s just in the art.

Just realized that once this thing gets collected as a TBP, we might get some Evely art backmatter. OhHhhHHhhH YESSSS.

Anyways, the long wait for issue 2 begins!

#stranger speaks #long post #supergirl: woman of tomorrow #comic thoughts #comic opinions #interview

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ollieofthebeholder · 4 years

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leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

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Chapter 20: Jon Prime

Jon had been worried, before they had come back in time, about how well he would adjust to being in the past, pre-Apocalypse. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle the lessened level of terror, or the need to eat and sleep completely again, or being, essentially, less than he’d been, or for that matter the urge to storm the Institute and throttle Jonah Magnus in his office. He’d fretted about a lot of things.

As it turned out, none of them were things he needed to fret about.

His body reacclimated to human needs quickly enough, and it actually felt kind of good to feel the rumble of hunger or the drag of exhaustion again. It was definitely good to get back to cooking, which he’d sorely missed doing even if it felt odd to be cooking for more than himself and Martin. Martin had been right about his statement fueling Jon for a while, and his younger counterpart had taken to bringing home any real statements he came across; it was enough. And with Martin there, he didn’t feel less.

As for storming the Institute, that urge had been surprisingly easy to resist. Tim had managed to convince them to stay at his house longer by asking them to keep an eye on Past Martin while he healed. His excuse had been that Jon knew what Past Martin was going through and Martin knew what his past self was like, so they could keep him from doing anything stupid. Jon guessed there was more to it than that, but he didn’t want to pry into anyone’s minds, so he just let it go and agreed. It seemed simpler.

Martin had adapted well, too. Granted, he’d still been human—as far as Jon knew—before they came back, and he’d had two weeks to adjust to being blind before they were reunited, but he’d picked up on the cane Tim bought him fairly quickly. He didn’t seem to need it around the house, though, and when Jon questioned him about that, Martin said that he had a pretty good sense of direction when the world makes sense, Jon. And, honestly, Jon couldn’t argue with that. Tim spent a Sunday afternoon reorganizing his cupboards, then showed Martin where everything was so he could feel more independent in the kitchen while Jon watched from the doorway with a grin.

Past Martin got stronger by the day. At first, he mostly slept, which was fine with Jon, since it meant he could spend time with Martin and not feel guilty. He’d accidentally fallen asleep with his head on Martin’s lap one afternoon and woken to soft laughter, which is how he found out that Past Martin and Past Jon had apparently discussed things and Sasha was the only member of what Tim insisted on referring to as Team Archives who didn’t know they were together. After that, they’d dropped the pretense and just been themselves. It had been a huge relief to Jon. It had also been a relief—and a surprise—that Tim didn’t tease them mercilessly, but when he mentioned that to Martin, Martin just laughed and shook his head.

They’d all fallen into an easy domesticity. It was honestly the most surreal thing Jon had experienced in probably his entire life. Sasha and Past Jon were still staying with Tim—Jon had no idea what argument Tim had used on them, but it seemed to be working—and Jon delighted in watching the three of them, together with Past Martin, draw closer together into a cohesive unit that would be harder for Jonah to manipulate. Often, he would come out of the spare room from recording a statement, tape recorder in hand, to find them sharing stories or playing games and laughing. Some nights he joined in on the games, too, but mostly he just sat back with Martin and watched, grinning.

There were arguments. Of course there were arguments. They were all human beings with their own personalities and quirks. Nothing was going to be perfect harmony. Thankfully, they were usually made up fairly quickly. It felt like home, in a way, something Jon hadn’t experienced in he didn’t know how long. He knew it couldn’t last, but he was determined to enjoy it while he could.

Several weeks passed like that. Jon could see the signs that Past Martin was getting restless and impatient to be back at work—he listened hungrily to the team’s tales of what they’d been up to, ventured tentative suggestions on avenues of research or possible connections they might have missed—but he was, ultimately, a far better patient than Jon had been. Not that that was difficult.

As Past Martin’s recovery progressed, the three of them began taking walks in the afternoon, Jon letting the two Martins go ahead of him and following just behind. Partly it was that there really wasn’t room for them to walk three abreast, but mostly it was him giving them the opportunity to see what they were capable of on their own while he watched their backs, literally. At first they were slow circuits of a single block, and then Past Martin needed to sit down for quite a while, but within a couple of weeks he was walking easily and seemed almost back to normal. The scars healed better than they had for Jon, partly because Martin’s skin was fairer than Jon’s but mostly because Past Martin was better about both following doctor’s orders and not picking at the healing wounds. Tim’s had healed about the same, Jon remembered, a thought which still sent a lance of melancholy through him. And finally, the day came when he returned triumphantly from a check-up with the news that he’d been cleared to return to work that Monday.

“We’ll be glad to have you back,” Past Jon said sincerely, actually smiling in a way Jon couldn’t remember smiling until the too-brief time he and Martin had had in Scotland. “It’s all kind of…I won’t lie, it’s odd to sit around and keep working like nothing has changed. Like we don’t know what’s going on. But we’ve managed. There’s a lot more than can be easily done with three, though.”

“I’ll do whatever you need,” Past Martin promised. “God, it’ll feel good to get back into things.”

“Kind of surprised you didn’t try to get us to let you come back earlier, actually,” Tim teased him. “Don’t think none of us saw you chomping at the bit.”

Past Martin gestured to Jon and Martin. “They wouldn’t let me bring it up.”

“How long did you wait before going back?” Past Jon asked.

Jon grimaced. “A month. I should have stayed out longer, to be honest, and I ended up needing substantial physical therapy. But I was already obsessing over who killed Gertrude Robinson, and I didn’t handle being alone with my thoughts very well. Tim was out longer.”

“How long?” Tim asked curiously.

“Eight weeks, give or take.”

“So we can be away from the Institute? I thought you said…” Tim trailed off.

Jon paused, knife suspended over the cutting board. “I—I never thought of that. God, how did I not think of that? Our Tim seemed fine when he first came back, and he never said anything, but…”

“You can be away from the Institute, just not for good,” Martin said. “When you’re out…convalescing, that’s one thing. Even if you’re on an extended vacation, that should be okay. It’s if you try to leave, if you just up and walk away with the idea that you won’t be back, that you’ll have problems. As long as you really intend to come back at some point, it’s fine.”

Jon turned around and stared at Martin. “How long have you known that?”

“Since Elias told us we were trapped there?”

“My God, that was…” Jon rubbed his temple with his free hand. “Why didn’t you say anything? And please don’t say ‘it never really came up.’”

Martin actually smiled at that. “Honestly, Jon, I assumed you knew. I mean, you were away for ages, and I know Basira kept going off on…excursions. She might not have been gone long, but I just…I thought you’d figured it out. Especially when nothing really happened to us in Scotland.”

Jon hadn’t thought about that, either. But yes, at the time they had meant to go back to the Institute eventually, hadn’t they? Or maybe the Eye had let them go because it knew what Jonah was plotting. Either way, Martin was right, he really ought to have figured that out sooner.

He sighed, turning back to his meal prep. “I can, as we have established, be a bit oblivious at times.”

Sasha gave an overly-dramatic gasp. “You? Never.”

“Oh, shut up,” Past Jon grumbled.

Tim snickered. “Hey, does that mean you two have to come back to the Institute, too?”

“That’s…more complicated.” Jon scraped the contents of the cutting board into the pot. “I’m bound closely enough to the Eye that I’m not…dependent on the Institute, I don’t think? As long as I’m taking statements, feeding the Eye, I’m fine. I believe. And Martin is cut off from the Eye entirely. But it’s a rather moot point, as we intend to move into the tunnels beneath the Institute anyway.”

“You can’t seriously be planning to do that,” Tim protested. “Come on, they can’t be comfortable—”

“They aren’t. But that’s not the point, Tim.” Jon sighed and reached for the spices he’d selected. “We are putting you in very real danger by being here. Besides, we’re not in a position to assist like we would be if we were closer to the Institute. I don’t particularly like them, but it’s the best option for everyone.”

Tim reached past Jon to get plates out of the cupboard, his expression mulish. Jon braced himself for whatever arguments Tim might throw his way and resolutely shut his mind against prying for it, but before he could say anything, Past Martin came up and put a hand on Tim’s shoulder.

“You can’t fix everything, Tim,” he said quietly. “And I know that’s rich, coming from me, but…we have to trust them. It’s not like we won’t ever see them again if they’re not living under your roof.”

Tim’s shoulders slumped. Jon caught his eye and offered him a smile. “It’s certainly no reflection on you, Tim. It’s just…we need to do this. I desperately need you to trust us.”

“I can give you that.” Tim managed a smile in reply, then turned to set the table. “You’re not planning to move in tonight, though, right?”

Jon was about to answer, then froze as a rumble of thunder sounded from outside. It was low and gentle, but the sound sent a shudder of horror running down his spine that he couldn’t explain. He had to stand, perfectly still, until the sound stopped.

“No,” he said as soon as he felt able. “Not tonight.”

He went back to what he was doing, or tried to, but there was obviously a storm building, and the next peal of thunder brought his breath up short. The spoon slipped out of his hand and into the pot.

“Are you okay?” Sasha’s voice seemed to be coming from a long way away.

“Fine,” Jon lied automatically. Really, this was ridiculous. There was no reason for this. Thunderstorms had never bothered him before; why were they suddenly an issue now? He retrieved the spoon and returned to cooking.

The others shifted the discussion to the logistics of smuggling Jon and Martin into the Institute and the tunnels beneath them without being spotted. Since Martin was already explaining about the other entrances, Jon didn’t feel the need to jump in. They would still need to figure out which entrance to use, or find one in the first place, and how to get there surreptitiously, but at least there were options beyond “hope to avoid the cameras mounted around the Institute when sneaking into the Archives and subsequently into the tunnels”. That would be the fastest way to tip Jonah off that something was going on.

Another roll of thunder sounded from almost directly overhead—not a sharp crack, but a long, rumbling bass growl. Jon felt it to his core, and he gasped, leaning over to catch himself against the counter. Suddenly he was in the spare room in the cabin in Scotland, the words being torn from his throat against his will: I…OPEN…THE DOOR!

“Whoa!” someone shouted.

“Shit, that’s—how is he—” someone else stammered.

“Get his hand off the burner!”

“Jon! Jon, it’s okay, I’m here, I’m here.”

Something brushed against him, and he jerked away, but then a hand wrapped around his arm and tugged him away from the counter, and then someone was wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. There was a confused babble of voices around him, but Jon couldn’t focus on it, couldn’t focus on anything but the thunder and the static filling his mind and the fact that for some reason his hand hurt, why did his hand hurt…

“Jon,” the voice said again in his ear, and it was Martin’s voice, he sounded upset, he sounded scared, and Jon couldn’t let him be scared but didn’t know how to fix it, so he looked up desperately and saw Martin’s face close to his. “Come on, let’s go in the other room, it’s okay. Come on, I’ve got you. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Jon couldn’t speak, could barely breathe. He just let Martin lead him out of the room they were in and into another, keeping his eyes fixed on Martin the whole time, and then they were sitting on something and Martin pulled Jon into his arms, onto his lap, and wrapped him up securely. One hand came up to cup the back of his head, the other rubbed his back in slow, soothing circles.

“I’m here, Jon,” Martin murmured, his voice low and gentle despite crackling with emotion. “You’re here. We’re both here and we’re safe. We’re in London. The world isn’t ending, Jon. You didn’t end the world. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

How, the small part of Jon that wasn’t numb with terror thought, did Martin always seem to know the right thing to say? It was a ridiculous thought, of course; Martin didn’t always know the right thing to say, any more than Jon did, and they’d had more than a few arguments over one of them saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. But when it was a situation like this, when Jon panicked or got lost in his own head or was hurting, Martin always seemed to come up with the right words. Jon fisted his hands into Martin’s shirt and buried his face in his chest, focusing on the heartbeat that always soothed him when things got too bad. One of his hands, in a distant way, hurt, but he didn’t let go. He couldn’t.

Of course the world wasn’t ending. It couldn’t be. How could the world end with Martin there? That was just ridiculous. If the world ended, he’d be all alone.

“You’re not alone, Jon,” Martin said, and shit, had he said that out loud? “I’m here. I will always be here. I won’t ever leave you. I promise. I’m here. I’m here.”

“You’re here,” Jon whispered. The words felt raw in his throat, but it felt good to say them. He whispered them again and again, and Martin whispered them back to him. They passed the words back and forth, you’re here, I’m here, you’re here, and slowly, slowly, Jon felt the terror recede.

The storm didn’t lessen. If anything, it got worse, but oddly, that helped, too. The sharper the thunder got, the calmer Jon grew. A mighty thunderclap rattled the windows, and the power went out, making someone yelp from the other room, but Jon was able to take his first full breath. He slowly eased his grip on Martin’s shirt and sagged against him with a heavy sigh.

“Better?” Martin asked, rubbing his back.

“A little.” Jon tilted his head back and rested his chin on Martin’s chest, looking up at him. There was only the barest amount of light in the room, but it was enough to see the outline of his boyfriend’s face by. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Martin pressed a light kiss to Jon’s forehead. “How’s your hand?”

“Hmm?” Jon became aware that his hand still hurt a lot. He eased it away from Martin and stared at it. It was red, almost raw, and he could see a couple of blisters on the palm that had miraculously remained intact, despite the grip he’d had on Martin’s shirt. “Oh. I—did I put it on the stove?”

“Apparently. Let me see.”

Jon managed a smile. He turned his hand over, palm up, and laid it in Martin’s. Martin hovered his thumb just over the top of Jon’s palm. “It’s still warm. Hold on, let me go find out what Tim’s got in that medicine cabinet of his.”

“Plenty,” a voice said from the doorway. Jon started, then relaxed when he realized it was his own voice, and that was still weird to hear. He looked up to see Past Jon coming in, a torch in one hand and a small handful of supplies in the other. “I was going to just leave it on the table for you, but…”

“Thank you,” Jon said sincerely. He didn’t leave the comfort of Martin’s embrace, though. The panic had left him a bit shaky and he wasn’t sure he could really sit up on his own, but more than that, he honestly didn’t give a damn if it made him look weak to lean on Martin. That was part of what love was, right?

Past Jon set the things in his hands on the table, then lined them up. “Cool compress, lotion, gauze, bandages. Paracetamol on the end if you need it for the pain. I—do you need a spare hand?”

“We’ve got it, but thank you,” Martin said. He picked up the compress, then pressed it gently to Jon’s hand. It was obvious he’d done this before, in some capacity.

Past Jon nodded and straightened, then hesitated before leaving the room. Awkwardly, he asked, “Can I…are you sure you’re okay? That looked a lot like, well, a panic attack.”

“It was,” Jon said softly. He hesitated, looking up into Martin’s eyes. Even though he knew Martin wasn’t really looking back at him per se, that he couldn’t actually see him, he could feel his attention, and they’d learned in the last few weeks that they knew each other well enough that they could still communicate wordlessly, to an extent. Turning back to his past self, he explained, “It was—the last thunderstorm I remember came up while I was reading…Jonah’s monologue.”

Past Jon flinched. “Ah. Well, I’ll, erm…I’ll leave you to that, then.” He gestured at the supplies and retreated back to the kitchen.

Jon and Martin sat in silence for a long moment. Martin kept applying pressure to the compress on Jon’s hand, his other hand securely supporting it, keeping it elevated. At last, Jon said, “I—I never asked if it was actually storming. That day. If it was…real thunder I heard or if it was just…the impending end of the world.”

“It was. I was on my way back. At first I thought I’d grab an umbrella, but then I thought…I thought I’d just stay downstairs until you finished your statement, then bring you a cup of tea or something. And then…” Martin trailed off and shook his head.

Jon bit his lip. “At least you made it back before…the Door Opened.”

“No, Jon,” Martin said softly. “I didn’t. I was still a good five minutes’ walk from the safe house when it happened.” He tried to laugh. “Ordinarily, anyway. I ran, as soon as I realized…I don’t know that I realized what exactly was going on, but I knew it was bad, and I knew that it was probably coming after you.”

“My God, Martin.” Horror ran through Jon’s body, and he reached out with his free hand to grip Martin’s shirt again.

“Hey, careful, I need room to work.”

“You were outside when—you c-could have been killed. God, I could have lost you and—”

“But you didn’t,” Martin reminded him. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against Jon’s for a moment. “I’m here, Jon. You’re here. We’re both here. We survived the end of the world. We made it. Together.”

Jon took a deep, steadying breath. “Maybe one day it won’t be so hard to remember that.”

“Well, I’ll always be here to remind you.” Martin straightened up and lifted the compress, then checked the heat of his palm and set the compress aside.

Jon glanced at the next item on the table and grimaced. “Of course the next step is lotion.”

“Do you want to do it yourself?” Martin asked. “You’ve got to keep things from drying out, but…I understand if someone else rubbing it in might be a bit much.”

At least that was something Jon had known he had an issue with before. Just not something he’d thought he would ever have to think about. He started to say yes, then shook his head, despite knowing Martin couldn’t see him. “No. No, will—will you do it? Please? I trust you.”

Martin’s face softened. They both knew what Jon was asking for. “Of course, Jon.”

He poured a little bit of the lotion into Jon’s hand. Jon tried hard not to flinch at the feel of it pooling into his cupped palm. Martin replaced the cap and set the bottle back on the table, nearly missing it, then took Jon’s hand and began gently massaging the lotion into it. Jon focused on Martin’s face and tried to regulate his breathing.

“Tell me something,” Martin requested abruptly.

Jon cocked his head, slightly off-balance. “What?”

“Anything. Your favorite play, your earliest childhood memory, your most embarrassing uni story. Anything.”

“O-oh, okay,” Jon said, surprised. He tried to think for a moment. “Ah—I’ve always been fond of The Duchess of Padua.”

Martin smiled encouragingly. “Yeah? I don’t know that one. Tell me about it.”

Jon launched into an explanation of the plot. The more into it he got, the more wildly he gesticulated with the hand Martin wasn’t attending to. Martin listened to Jon ramble the way he always did, with a smile and a look of genuine interest as Jon went on about a topic he knew nothing about and honestly didn’t care all that much about. He’d even told Jon, simultaneously not long ago and an eternity ago, that he’d always hated the theater, yet here he was letting Jon describe in technical detail the plot of a play he’d had no good reason to fall in love with.

“—staged very often, or studied for that matter, but I always thought it was fascinating,” he concluded with a sigh. “I actually rose a bit in a professor’s esteem because I used that one as the basis for our term paper on one of Wilde’s works rather than The Importance of Being Ernest or The Picture of Dorian Gray.”

“Yeah, I know how that goes. Best grade I ever got in school was on a paper I wrote on The Ballad of Reading Gaol.” Martin set something on the coffee table. “How’s that?”

“I—” Jon looked down at his hand. The lights were still out, but his eyes had adjusted, and he could see the stark white bandage looped neatly around his hand, securing the gauze without being too tight. “Oh. You’re done.” He gave his boyfriend a slightly accusing look. “You were distracting me.”

“You were panicking,” Martin told him. He wrapped both arms around Jon again. “I really was listening, though. I love listening to you talk about something you know a lot about. Or even something you’re just pretending you know a lot about.”

“Hey,” Jon protested, but without any real heat. He tucked his head into the crook of Martin’s neck and sighed, curling into him. “Thank you. For taking care of me. For knowing me so well. For being here.”

“Where else would I be?” Martin kissed the crown of his head. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

How many times had they passed those words back and forth, Jon wondered? He could probably Know the exact number, with a little effort, but it didn’t matter, because it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. They could say it with every breath they had left from now until the end of time, and it still wouldn’t be enough. Jon had made a vow, kneeling in the remains of what had once been his boss’s office and pressing futilely against the gaping wounds in Martin’s chest, that he would never leave an opportunity to say them unsaid. They didn’t need to say it for each other to know, but it was important to Jon that they did. And while Martin never said as much, Jon knew it reassured him to hear confirmation every once in a while.

They sat in silence for a while, Jon letting Martin’s presence and the secure feel of his embrace soothe away the last of his lingering terror, or at least his lingering immediate terror. The fear would never go away completely. He’d grown to accept that. But at least now it was just the usual hum of background terror that was his everyday life, rather than the sharp, immediate panic of a flashback. Here with Martin, he was as safe as he ever could be.

At last, he sighed. “We should probably go back into the other room before the others eat everything.”

“I’m sure they saved us some,” Martin said. “But sure. You’ll have to get up first.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re sitting on my lap, Jon.”

“Oh. Right. I knew that.” Jon managed to get to his feet. Martin chuckled as he stood, too.

Tim had lit several candles and was apparently mid-debate with Sasha over whether or not he should add another one to the mix. Past Jon rolled his eyes in Jon and Martin’s direction when they came in. “Please make them shut up.”

“Impossible, I’m afraid. They’re both breathing,” Jon said dryly. Tim snorted and Sasha stuck her tongue out at him. “It smells good in here. Have you been baking?”

“Electric oven. Jon barely finished cooking dinner before the power went out. It’s the candles,” Tim admitted. “One of the kids in the neighborhood keeps selling them to raise money for school trips and the like, and I’m apparently one of his best customers.”

“Well, if you add any more, the smell might be overpowering. Or you might set off your smoke detector.”

“Point. Okay, then, sit down and eat. We saved you a couple plates.”

Jon didn’t have to look at Martin to see the I-told-you-so look on his face.

As they ate, Sasha slid a piece of paper towards him, covered in neat, still-unfamiliar handwriting that Jon presumed to be hers. “Can you think of anything on here we missed?”

The lighting wasn’t really adequate to read the paper clearly, and Jon was tired, despite Martin’s presence and support; the panic attack had drained him a bit more than he’d expected. He was going to need something stronger than a couple of old statements to recover, but he had no idea how to go out and get it. It all combined to make him forget himself a little. He reached out with the Eye rather than his own eyes to skim the paper. Sleeping mats, camp stoved, tinned food (ANYTHING but peaches)…

“What’s all this?” he asked, picking it up to see a bit better.

“Supplies,” Past Jon said brusquely. “You didn’t think we’d make you stay in those tunnels without some way of being comfortable, did you?”

Actually, Jon hadn’t thought about it. He picked up the list and studied it more closely, with his actual vision this time. It seemed like a fairly comprehensive list. There were a few things on it that he recognized as bearing his boyfriend’s hallmark, unexpected items that nevertheless might, in certain circumstances, make a huge difference. He angled the paper towards Martin. “Anything you have to add?”

Martin raised an eyebrow. “Unless that’s written in Braille, I don’t think I’m going to be of much use there.”

“Oh. Right.” Jon was thankful that the combination of his complexion and the low light in the room would probably hide his blush from anyone whose eyes still functioned.

Tim looked back and forth between the two Martins. “Wait, you know Braille?”

Past Martin ducked his head, looking mortified. Martin, however, simply nodded slowly. “Mum had one of those pill keepers, you know the ones. I taught myself Braille so I could know which pills to get ready for her without turning on the light before she was ready to be awake.”

The look on both Tim and Past Jon’s faces made Jon slightly glad, and also slightly disappointed, that Martin’s mother was dead. Then he remembered that she’d died while he was in his coma, so she was currently still alive in a nursing home in Devon refusing her son’s visits but accepting, even demanding, his money, and it was very difficult for him to swallow his own anger and uncharitable thoughts. He wasn’t a monster and couldn’t act like one, no matter how good his motives seemed.

Instead, he covered the moment by reading the list aloud to Martin. Martin listened and nodded and smiled when Jon hit the last item on the list. “I don’t think you need to worry about a tape recorder, honestly. They turn up on their own.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Tim said dryly. “But you said the tunnels blocked stuff at times. I figured, just in case…”

“Might be a comfort,” Past Martin suggested softly. It was the first thing he’d said since Jon and Martin had come into the kitchen.

“The tunnels don’t stop the recorders,” Jon said. “But…thank you. It’s thoughtful of you.”

Sasha nodded and took the list. “We’ll get everything together tomorrow, then, and you can find another entrance to the tunnels.”

“Will you be able to find the Archives?” Tim asked. “Through those tunnels, I mean? They’re a mess, honestly.”

“We’ll manage.” Jon actually wasn’t a hundred percent sure how easy it would be. He’d had a map made at one point, but that was after Leitner had manipulated things for him, and the tunnels were shielded from the Eye, somehow. He’d be lucky not to have to live with the ever-present…fuzziness he’d dealt with when they’d been staying with Georgie and Melanie and their inadvertent cult. But they really and truly didn’t have a choice.

“I suppose if we have to, we could put a—a beacon or something at the foot of the stairs under the trapdoor,” Past Jon said uncertainly.

Tim grinned. It looked slightly diabolical in the flickering candlelight. “Ooh, or one of those electronic gizmos they use in hunting to attract prey.”

“I’m very sure random deer calls would have the opposite effect than luring us to where you want us to go,” Martin said with a smirk. “Have you ever heard those things? They’re terrifying.”

The conversation devolved into a slightly silly discussion of the weirdest animal cries they’d ever heard, and Jon was able to breathe and eat his dinner without too much trouble.

That night, though, curled into bed with Martin, he said quietly, “What if it’s a bad idea? What if being down there…what if I fall apart again? What if it’s like at Salesa’s, but worse?”

“It won’t be,” Martin said. The confidence and assurance in his voice was almost a physical force.

“How can you know that, though?”

Martin ran a hand through Jon’s hair, gently untangling a knot that had probably got there during his panic attack in the living room. “Did you know that if you lose sight in one eye, you only lose something like twenty percent of your overall vision but all of your depth perception?”

“No?” Jon could have known that, if he’d wanted to, obviously, but it wasn’t something he’d ever consciously set out to learn. He also didn’t see how it was relevant.

“I mean, you can sort of train yourself to compensate for the depth perception, but yeah, twenty percent of your vision. Mostly peripheral. It makes it harder to see people coming from that side of things.” Martin’s fingers caught in another knot. “The Beholder really had two eyes overlooking the Apocalypse, Jon. Jonah and you. He saw from the heights and you saw from ground level. He oversaw, and you…experienced. I’d even go so far as to say you were the dominant eye, so to speak. Of course you were weak when you were cut off from it. It’s like a phantom pain. That won’t be an issue now. The Eye isn’t as…strong. You said yourself, you’re still…you, just not quite as…all-powerful?”

“Hopefully I’ve still got enough power to do what needs to be done,” Jon sighed, but Martin’s words were a comfort.

After a pause, Martin added, “And you have me.”

“And I have you,” Jon agreed. “And we can probably get fairly close to the Archives. All right, I know I’m probably worrying unnecessarily. It’s just…” He trailed off, tracing his fingers over the three puckered holes clustered just above Martin’s heart. Jonah had known what he was doing, far too well. “I can’t lose you again, Martin. I can’t. And I’ll never forgive myself if it happens because I wasn’t strong enough.”

Martin covered Jon’s hand with his own. “It won’t. You’re strong enough, Jon. I trust you. And you know I’ll be right there with you the whole time.”

“I know.” Jon snuggled into Martin’s chest, then leaned up to kiss him. “You know I can’t do this without you.”

“I wouldn’t want to see you try.”

Jon yawned and adjusted the covers over the both of them. Martin rolled onto his side and buried his face in Jon’s hair, and Jon sighed with almost-forgotten contentment as he drifted off to sleep, Martin’s heartbeat thudding steadily in his ear.

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #ptsd cw #panic attacks #I think we all agree that Jon has issues with lotion #but it occurs to me he probably has thunderstorm issues too

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morphituu · 4 years

Text

Milagro

Chapter 22: Rehearsals

Ch: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21

“Maaaama, mi amore- say mama,” Callie encouraged, her shirt clasped in Leo’s hold and a wide smile clamped around a melting teething chewy. The round, golden eyes locked on Callie still glimmered with unshed tears after waking from a nap following a sharp tooth breaking through his gums, but now his short legs kicked excitedly when she squealed like he after some numbing gel was lathered across his swollen pads.

“Oh my osito,” she sang, giggling when his staticky voice spiked into an excited shriek after she laid him across her chest. With any luck he'd catch the last of his afternoon nap and not completely derail his schedule the night before they left him. With one hand rhythmically patting his bottom in tune with a gentle song she hummed, the nails of her other dragged down his thick stripe of sandy colored locks, thick and tangled as hers always was.

Leo’s sleepy growls wound down to soft grunts, his little mouth pursing when he sucked on his tongue.

Her bottom lip quivered. To think she'd go four days without kissing this face or hearing his voice almost made her call off their already brief honeymoon despite desperately needing the break, not to mention the alone time she so craved from her husband to be. Quickies were fun in the moment, but when she'd have to walk right back out and balance Leo on her hip and a stack of laundry and dishes in the other arm, the yearn for a quiet, post-sex cuddle session resounded loudly in her bones.

“You know we’ll be back, right Leonardo? You won't even notice us you'll have so much fun with abuela y abuelo,” she smiled, recalling all of the toys Oleg had gone out to purchase in preparation for his grandson's extended visit, excitedly sending pictures to Nick every time he found something new.

Callie giggled, her eyes drifting up. She gasped softly, looking down at Leo. “Guess who's back?”

Her door swung open and Leo’s head craned back to find Nick placing their contribution to the dinner at her feet, a smile spreading across his gummy face immediately.

“What's with those sad eyes?” Nick pouted, reaching for Leo.

“His tooth broke through,” she handed him over, their son rubbing his tired eyes against Nick’s chest after being leaned into the crook of his beefy arm. Nick groaned, rubbing Leo’s back.

“I feel bad we're taking off right when this starts,”

“Me too,” Callie sighed, pushing her messy hair back from her face. “I keep rethinking it,”

Nick’s head lifted with a pout. “You don't wanna go anymore then?”

She exhaled loudly, shaking her head. “I really wanna go but I don't think the guilt will go away so I just gotta suck it up and deal with it,”

“We’ll only be a few hours away,” he reassured, a comforting squeeze left on her knee before he carried Leo to the backseat. Nick wiggled his face between Leo’s round cheek and shoulder to elicit bubbly giggles, his affections unyielding even after his son was safely strapped in his seat again, not until Callie reminded him that they were needed elsewhere.

A final squish of his cheeks, and Nick was off to the drivers seat again.

“Let’s do this,” he chimed, the dark clubmasters hiding the excited glint in his yellow eyes.

The weather was ideal for the windows to stay down, a soft breeze drifting through the cab that neither worried about overwhelming Leo as long as the traffic stayed this slow, but neither minded that, either. Nothing- not even that Callie’s dress had been delivered with a rip in the seam, could dampen their moods that day.

For weeks, more notably the sleepless nights they'd planned this and endless trial and error from music to food to seating, keeping enough excitement alive until their day came, and through rejections from churches that deemed their union unholy to now having a backyard wedding at his parents that a shocking number of family wasn't arriving to, they were here, the day before their wedding, and Callie couldn't shake the warmth that had held in her cheeks all day.

The butterflies fluttered about her stomach, bubbling in her throat when she tried to speak. As usual he held her hand while they drove, but now more than ever he toyed with her singular ring that would soon have it’s pair. When they stood in line to pick up Leo’s fitted outfit, he brought her decorated hand up to his lips to kiss shamelessly before the humans that rolled their eyes in disgust, further stirring the churning excitement before she leaned into his side to hide her blush.

Callie’s head landed against his arm rested over the center console, his big hand landing on her leg. Nick kissed her head while he drove, his thumb tracing the supple skin of her freckled thigh.

Callie grinned then. “I hope this song plays tomorrow,” she noted the raunchy beat bumping softly through the speakers.

Nick snorted. “Someone's uncle is gonna grind on someone's aunt,”

She giggled harmoniously, her face rotating in to hide against his bicep. Nick egged her on, the dirty comments flushing her cheeks and leaving her breathless as they drove leisurely along the backroads. At red lights he made it a point to steal kisses, his hand leaving the steering wheel to hold her jaw when a taste of her tongue became too tempting to refuse. They were honked at a few times, but Nick blew them off, telling his pretty fiancée “this is why we should've put the cans on the truck today”.

Their bantering settled enough to let silence pass between them, listening to Leo babble against his crinkly blanket or exclaim when he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

“Did Ward tell you what you guys are doing tonight?” she asked, pulling her hair over her shoulder when it whipped before her face.

“He won’t even give me a hint,” Nick huffed, endlessly worried they’d end up at a strip bar. “What about Rosie?”

“Just a girls night at her house,” she shrugged, hiding her excitement. A night to kick back with her feet up and gossip? With unproblematic people? It’s fucking paradise, she’d clarified to Nick when he was confused as to why bachelorette parties weren’t rambunctious like the mens. “I’m not drinking until the reception though,”

“Is it the Orkish champagne?”

She moaned, her eyes closing as saliva pooled in her mouth. “Forget the food, just hand me another glass of it when mine is empty,”

“One glass will have you on your ass, mama,” he reminded, peeking at her from over his clubmasters.

“Good thing my husband will be there to carry me away from the judging eyes of the public,” she said, her chin balancing on his shoulder as he pulled into his parents' driveway. The street was lined with their guests, the chatter from the backyard heard over their engine.

“Only because my wife is the fairest in all of LA,”

She pouted. “Just LA?”

“Who even matters outside of LA?” he asked.

“You’re right.” She leaned in for a quick kiss.

The pair went about gathering Leo from his seat and his numerous bags they’d store tonight in preparation for the following day, including a bouncer and swing. He was excited as ever when Callie lifted him from behind the buckles, the teething toy in his grasp. It took only three months for Leo to reach a girth that Callie could carry on her hip like a six month old, his head unwaveringly steady and held upright as he learned the world around him. Their pediatrician warned he’d fly through milestones faster than they could record, so when Leo started angrily gnawing on their hands and crying through the night, it took them some time to figure out he was simply teething when they’d normally not expect it until later. Moments were cherished with greater excitement after they realized how quickly Leo was growing, and how brief this baby stage would be.

It wasn’t until they’d at last received the results of his genetics test were they able to find some peace of mind knowing when he’d hit a year, this rapid aging would slow drastically.

Being seventy-six percent Orc meant doctors felt confident leaning towards the likelihood that Leo’s growth would match that of a full-blooded one, but the moments remained bittersweet for the parents. In the blink of an eye Leo went from being a wiggling newborn to a hefty calf able to sit up on his own and mimic their mouths when they spoke to him.

His yellow eyes tracked and narrow in on objects he wanted, his colored hands able to pick items, and Nick’s ear was always on the menu of items he loved to gnaw on.

At the call of his name he’d turn his head, and a smile would grace his lips when it was either of his parents. Callie would walk from corner to corner with him between her feet, his grasp tight around her fingers and his feet dragging less everyday he built up the muscles of his strong legs. When he’d be done from such an exerting exercise, a frown up at Callie would signal his reluctance to waddle any farther.

The pouts and angry chuffs were Nick’s favorite. He’d gnaw Leo’s thighs and roll him side to side just to see his little face snarl, a sharp cry rattling in his throat before he’d clamp onto Nick’s arm. Now that the sharp fangs were coming in, he found instigating a fight with his vicious little boy wasn’t in his best interest. It had only taken a few times for Leo to learn if he laid over his dad’s head, he was further defenseless, including those ears.

“Ah!” Leo exclaimed, reaching over Callie’s shoulder towards Nick. “Ahh!” he cracked again, looking at Callie.

“He’s comin’, don’t worry,” she assured, his chuff tickling her ear.

The door was cracked open upon walking up to it, and inside the furniture was already being moved around to create more space to linger around in.

“Late to her own rehearsal!” came Oleg’s booming voice, strutting in false intimidation from the hallway, but his angry scowl melted into a wide smile once Leo recognized him and reached.

“Is everyone here?”

“The booze went quickly,” he teased, walking toward the back of the house with Leo excitedly squealing in his grandpa’s arms.

“That’s what happens when you get Orcs and Mexicans together,” Nick commented, grunting his way in with all the bags slung across his arms and shoulders.

“They didn’t drink the champagne, did they?” Callie frantically asked, following Oleg and leaving Nick to topple over with Leo’s luggage.

Nick and Ward both sipped their beers alongside Matuk and Sergey, the summer sun having been unbearable until Dinara silenced the mens whining and dished out the cold drinks. But the sun still kept glaring down at them even as it drew near sunset, their shirts sticking to their skin and hunger growing. Dura had been the only one to be blessed with a chair at the front, her belly near bursting as her due date approached.

“Pay attention,” Dura hissed at Sergey, fanning her face with her sun hat.

“All I do is stand here-” he hissed back, silencing when Ward elbowed him.

“Can you shut the fuck up she’s about to come down,” Ward growled, jabbing his hand in the direction of the house.

“We’ve done this eight times, why do we need to be quiet?”

“He’s right, there’s no point,” Nick answered loudly, sipping his beer.

Ward glared at him in disbelief. “At your own rehearsal?”

“Look, they’re talking,” he pointed to Callie’s mom who sat beside Dyani and Joaquin, Leo and his mother coming to join them once she’d finished walking down the mock isle.

“Okay music, yada yada everyone stands, then Callie,” Dinara called, tip-toeing around the line of bridesmaids to stand beside Nick at the front.

It was just the rehearsal, and there was nothing to match how spectacular and dreamy it would be the following day, but Nick still smiled watching her walk down like that, a glowing smile on her face and hanging onto her father's arm. Nick tossed a kiss to her before she was even there, tipping his bottle back over his lips to hide a nervous smile when she winked at him.

For the eighth time, Nick shook Diego’s hand and accompanied Callie back to their spot at the front, his actions growing clumsier with every round.

“Pre-gaming?” she asked, smiling at Nick’s loose nod. She was sure his eyes were half-lidded behind his sunglasses.

“Okay dearly beloved and all that, they exchange vows, beads, rings and kiss,” Dinara recited from the front with Leo still in her arms, wiggling towards Nick when he made faces at him. He stopped only to peck Callie sweetly, snatching his son from his mother's arms. “And we’re done,”

There was a collective sigh of approval from everyone placed about in the wide yard, all of which were starved for the cool drinks and savory dinner laid out under the shade of the patio.

Sergey stumbled to Dura’s side and only laughed when she scolded him for already drinking himself into a cloud, but Callie was there to loop her arm around the expectant mother’s and assist in her waddle across the yard. Nick and Ward picked Sergey back up, leaving hard slaps on his back while they teased him over being a lightweight.

“I hope Morn feels better by tomorrow,” Callie pouted, feeling her friend's absence.

“She kicks shit fast, she’ll be good,” Ward answered. It was useless denying they’d become quite cozy with one another, especially when Nick had stopped by unexpectedly to find her wandering around Daryl’s house in his shirt. It was a sensitive topic, but Callie thought it sweet how lovingly he spoke of Morn when she wasn’t around. There was always the hint of a longing sigh somewhere in his words, a hardened pout pushing his mustache up.

“Was it a stomach bug? Daryl wasn’t feeling too good either,” Rosie noted, following her ear into their conversation.

“Was Dejza sick too?”

“Yeah I think that’s where she got the bug from. Grandparents wanted to see her,” Ward explained, finding a spot beside Nick once they all came up to the table. Leo perched on Nick’s thigh, reaching over to tap Callie’s arm so she’d talk to him as the others found their seats. The chatter of Callie and Nick’s chosen family was lively among their friends, the last minute preparations or concerns rising into question and then settling quickly. Food was passed through mouths as fast as the words, the plates filling just to empty minutes later for seconds and thirds. The men of Nick’s bachelor party were ordered to lay off the beer and instead fill up on food before their night of celebration and farewell, waving off their disapproving groans and wails.

By the time they were all dug into their meals, Leo was drifting in Nick’s arms with a bottle balanced on his chest, at last catching a nap to soothe away the throbbing in his gums they’d managed to mostly keep at bay all day with the chaos swarming around them.

When Leo spat out the bottle and rubbed his face, Nick took a final bite of the crispy pork ribs to lean back in his chair and cradle his son closer to his chest, a wide palm patting his bottom. Soft chuffs were the last of Leo’s attempts at consciousness before Nick’s purring did him in, his big eyes finally sliding shut.

Nick was lost staring at his son when Ward suddenly came into view, his ear almost close enough to press against his shoulder.

Ward snapped up, mild disbelief coloring his expressions. “Are you… vibrating?”

Callie laughed out loud, covering her mouth filled with food.

“Does Morn not purr?” Nick asked, Ward leaning away from him.

“P-purring? Y’all… purr?” he looked up hesitantly at the other Orcs around him who were unphased by his discovery.

“Does Morn really not?”

“No! I think I’d know if I heard somethin’ like that!” Ward exclaimed, returning to his meal with a shudder.

“I bet she does n’ it just puts you to sleep,” Sergey added, talking around a corn on the cob.

Daryl looked back to Nick. “Sophia always told me she reminded her of a cat and I thought it was cuz of the ears n’ shit,”

The table chuckled at that, their laughter heightening when Daryl again leaned into Nick’s chest to listen to the rumbles, even placing a hand flat on him to make sure it wasn’t some elaborate prank. The fervent manner in which everyone devoured the food calmed into small pickings here and there and the low rumble of chatter filling the backyard, everyone in their separate conversations or stories until Dinara pulled Nick's attention away from Callie and Rosie who spoke so fast, it only sounded like clicking.

“Ukmall, you’ll need to be here before eight to get Leo,” she informed, and his brows furrowed.

“So early?” he groaned, having fully expected a few hours to sleep off a hangover.

“Callie needs to get her hair done. The fumes are bad for him,” she scolded, and he looked back to his bride.

“You’re changing your hair?” he questioned with big eyes.

“Just a little bit,” she smiled, internally screaming. She’d come to this decision to alter her hair after talking herself out of going entirely blonde despite her curiosity for years pulling her the other direction, but now she wondered if he’d even notice.

“I guess I can get him,” he griped, leaning down to kiss Leo when Callie and his mother sucked their teeth in discontent.

“What time are people arriving?” Callie asked around Nick.

“Three, so we have a lot to do and a lot of cooking before people start showing up. That being said,” she grunted, standing at the head of the table with her glass of sweet tea raised. “I’d like to propose a toast and a thanks,”

Everyone hushed, reaching for their variety of drinks to hold up.

“We want to extend our thanks to Callie’s family who have graciously accepted us in, not to mention our son who came with a reputation,” she gestured at Nick, the table chuckling. “To everyone who’s helped and put up with my screaming,” she admitted to bashfully. “To my son, who I knew would be the father his own raised him to be, and now the husband I always knew he could be,” she smiled lovingly at Nick, his own grin goofy and adoring. Callie rubbed his arm, squeezing his wrist affectionately.

“And to Callie,” she cleared her throat, raising her glass. Callie’s smile dropped when she looked up, her anxiousness kicking into high gear. “It’s because of you my son smiled again, and it’s with your help he’s shown that beautiful baby in his arms such love. You weren’t only a gift in his life, but ours too, and no matter the paths you both might take from here on out, you’ll always have a place in our family. Cheeruk, mausan daughavas. Lat've bleukukun avhiuk famipak.” She finalized, her glass raised and Oleg following suit.

“I’d like to also say something,” Diego stood creakily, his age at last catching up to him after decades of back breaking work. He smoothed his hand down his church shirt, lifting his glass. “Mija, you haven’t always had the best of luck when it came to men, and to be honest I would’ve pulled my hair out if you had brought home another white boy,” he chuckled, the table following suit as Callie hid her face in despair. “But now I can rest easier at night knowing you have a man I would’ve hand-picked for you specially,” he tipped his head at Nick, the orc nodding once in return even though he was inwardly elated.

“I’m sorry the ones you were told growing up were your family didn’t make it here, but it’s their loss, cariña. If they can’t grow as much as you, let them leave. You’ve always been better than them. Nick,” he turned, startling his daughter’s groom.

“Thank you. You’re the standard I raised my daughters to expect, so thank you for taking care of her and Leonardo. I only want forever for you two.” He finished, his free hand resting on Luciana’s shoulder as she looked on at her daughter with watery eyes.

“I second that!” Rosie declared, Santi’s glass following his sister only to spill across the table's surface and onto her plate.

Her cheeks were hidden in her palms when they toasted, Dinara’s words whispered in translation into her ear by Nick after drinking to their parents speeches. He kissed her flushed cheek, promising the sincerity of her words. Her eyes wandered while Nick adored her secretly, watching their parents take turns hugging and speaking with smiles plastered across their faces. It helped ease some of the burns she’d been dealt when her family started RSVPing just to say they wouldn’t attend, and she wondered how much of it was because of Leo and how much was because of their choice to marry. Either way, she knew now who to keep up with.

The couple was dragged from their steamy bubble of secret kisses and whispers when Ward elbowed Nick insistently until he turned, motioning his head toward the door, but his hairless brows drew together.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, noting Ward’s lighter complexion.

He shook his head, waving his hand. “Drank too much,”

“They took our drinks-”

“Man let’s go!”

Nick turned back to Callie, a loose smile curling her lips.

“Is it time?” she asked, and he nodded, leaning in for another lengthy kiss. “If I get a call from Jake that one of his girls is shaking their asses in your face I’m gonna make sure you can’t make anymore babies,” she warned quietly, trying not to laugh when he gagged.

“I hid a nanny cam in the house so if I see a male stripper shoving his junk in your face I’m gonna throw you in the ocean,” Nick cracked back.

“I can’t swim!” she giggled, trying to frown.

“Yeah, you’ve been warned,” he kissed her before she could respond. “I love you, have a good night and be safe,”

“You be good,” she reminded, pursing her lips for another kiss before he lowered Leo into her arms and smooched him goodbye. “No tequila,”

He sucked air through his teeth, pointing at her. “I can’t promise that,” and he was off, following the others into the house after kissing his mom on the head. They grew rowdy once separated from their lovers except Matuk who was as stoic as ever, and they could be heard causing a commotion all the way to the cars until they were off.

“Ten bucks says they don’t make it past midnight,” Rosie announced.

“Make it twenty,” Oleg raised his beer, his bright smile tightening when Dinara elbowed him in the side before making her way over to Callie as the rest of their guests found separate conversations to delve into.

“Callie, I’d like to show you something we picked up today,” she said under her breath, tugging on her elbow.

“Oh?” she piped, tapping Rosie’s shoulder so she could deposit her hefty son into her arms. Rosie doted over him lovingly, endless kisses pressed into his cheeks as he was roused from his nap, but that would be her problem, now. By the time Leo was awake and gnawing angrily into his tia’s cheeks in retaliation, Dinara had led Callie into her room where the bed was lined with pressed and covered clothing, some decorations and linens hung over the small bench at the end. Callie wandered, her hands gravitating towards the colorful flowers protected in plastic boxes.

“Here, look,” Dinara called from the desk at the corner of the room.

The small lamp was flipped on when Callie was at her side, watching as she lifted the lid from a silver box carefully, but upon removing the satin material protecting whatever was underneath, her hands moved even more gingerly than before until a shining, silver plate looked up at them. Orkish letters were carved deep into its face, but the polished grooves were clean, elegant.

“Marriage Armor, it’s called. The bride wears the plate with her new name upon her back and the groom wears the bride's zodiac on his shoulders and chest,” she explained, a smaller pouch that she had in the top drawer of the desk emptying into Callie’s palm. The charms were attached to thin, dainty chains, and carved from a deep, grey metal shaped into bull heads.

Callie smiled, studying their details. “Nick will wear these?”

“Mhm. You’ll both wear the bracelets that are exchanged, but those are kept for the day of. Right now we need to get this on you to make sure it fits,” she explained, opening the pouch so Callie could deposit the charms back inside.

The ‘armor’ had length to it she at first couldn’t see between the satin covers. Her own sparkling chains braided across the shoulders as one long, jeweled piece ran the length of her back, stretching from the plate that spelled Jakoby. When Dinara had it balanced on her shoulders so she could clasp it at her front, she saw where the chains came together into the shape of the Taurus symbol. With delicacy she touched the pieces on her shoulders and at the center of her chest while it was adjusted at her back, her smile beaming. It was heavy- this was definitely some special mineral, for she’d never seen one of such weight be polished finely enough to catch even the smallest glimmer of these dim lights.

“Tomorrow you’ll glow during that sunset,” Dinara smiled, tugging the chains at either side of her shoulders. “Poor Nick will be so blindsided we might have to give his men a heads up,”

They giggled, Callie’s smile wavering when Dinara held her hands tightly, staring at her with glossy eyes. “These plates are traditional. A male’s mother hands them down to his bride if she approves, so these should have come from my own mother in law, but they didn’t,”

Callie’s smile fell. “What?”

“Oleg’s mother hates me. She wanted her boy to have the smiling, waxy wife who pops babies out like rats. So I had these made the day before we were married, and I wore them in front of her,” she grinned.

“Reclaimed the name?” Callie smirked.

Dinara nodded. “It’s a good name despite the reputation that came with it when you met my son,”

Callie only hugged her, their arms tightly wound one another in that moment. “Thank you,” she said, giving her a last squeeze before they both wiped their cheeks of any stray tears.

“Well it fits,” she giggled before the two got her out of the intricate chains and back into the sleek box.

“Come on then,” the orc sniffled, turning the light off. “Let’s finish the night.”

↠

Nick’s hand still hadn’t come down from shielding his eyes, but as long as Ward was emptying his dinner and three beers onto Sergey’s lawn, he wasn’t going to even bother glancing at him. His excitement had drained the entire two hours it took to get here, it’s gradual drip starting as soon as they’d left his parents.

“I’m fine, I just drank too fast,” were the kind of things Ward kept saying to excuse his deteriorating, sweating form, but Nick knew he’d heard him heaving into the toilet after calling Morn to ask exactly what she’d come down with. Still, he insisted he was fine the entire duration it took him to shower and change before they headed to Sergey’s next, but by the time they’d gotten in the car, Sergey was starting to look worse for wear, too.

As soon as the car had come to a stop, both of them were falling out, one running into the house and the other making it to the lawn before he lost his composure. Now, Nick was alone in this filthy mess after Matuk had ditched them, but Nick hadn’t expected him to go, really. Bachelor parties didn’t seem like his thing even though there was nothing to celebrate anymore.

“Juh- just gimme a min-” Ward choked, retching loudly.

“For three months I’ve dealt with puke almost daily,” Nick explained calmly, his eyes still hidden.

Daryl coughed.

“You’ve been hyping me up for this for weeks,”

Ward nodded, spit hanging off his bottom lip. “I’no,”

Nick dropped his hand and sighed when thirty seconds had passed- the longest yet- without him heaving, and he couldn't help laugh a little. Ward wasn’t the kind of person to ever show vulnerability even when he was hurt, so seeing him hunched over and whimpering meant taking a few photos should’ve been his top priority, but Nick showed mercy on his friend while the other was lost somewhere in his house likely calling Dura to cry.

“C’mon,” Nick groaned, lifting Ward’s limp body off the ground.

“I need t’go to Morn's,” he grunted, walking unsteadily beside him.

“She can come get you after I drop you off,” Nick used his lighter voice, clearing his throat when he realized what he was doing. “Sit down,”

Ward instead flopped into the backseat, exclaiming when his head smacked the door panel. He continued to wail when Nick used his foot to push his feet in, flinching at how loudly he protested.

“Jesus now I know why Sherri was such a bitch,” Nick mumbled, closing the door before Ward could scream at him. “Stay there,” he knocked against the window, turning towards the house. “Let me go check the other child…”

What started as Nick’s bachelor party he had looked forward to for weeks, had turned into a mini-pandemic between the parties involved- thank god they left his parents house when they did- and had resulted in Nick getting one giant man baby into bed with clean clothes after he was found on his bathroom floor, and cleaning the puke out of Ward’s car when he voided even more of himself while waiting. It hadn’t come without a cold scolding from Nick, demanding to know why he couldn’t have opened the door beside his head if he had enough power to sit up and spray everywhere, but Ward stopped listening when the words became languages he didn’t know.

He hollered and gagged the entire way back to driving Daryl home, bursting from the car as soon as he was parked, but that only meant helping clean this one up too.

After nearly three hours of scrubbing, and gagging, and screaming, Nick sat on Ward’s porch waiting for his Uber, a cold beer in hand. No amount of air freshener or borrowed cologne would mask the raw stench of vomit under his nails and on his clothes. He’d likely throw these away- his nose was too keen to allow back into his closet. Too bad; he really liked this shirt.

Night had at last crept over LA, leaving only a soft orange glow where the sun had slipped from. The night was humid, but cool, and the woven chair he sat in wasn’t half bad.

He looked at his phone, tracking the driver who was coming down the street.

He’d made the move multiple times to message Callie, but he couldn’t bring himself to halt her night, either. If she hadn’t messaged him about anything, that meant no sickness had befallen them either, right? Maybe they’d been lucky to avoid catching it from Daryl. He texted his mom at least, warning of a stomach bug floating around and to keep a closer eye on Leo.

A compact little sedan rolled up, and Nick groaned. Now he had to squeeze into that.

What am I even gonna do all night… he pondered, walking towards the car. He chuckled. Sleep.

Nick slipped in the open door, closing it noisily behind himself before spinning the bolt shut. His palm popped up just as he smacked his inner arm, his keys flying onto the counter and sliding noisily across its surface.

Never, not even after his most grueling days at the academy or after an even more grueling workout did he ever desire a shower and sleep like this moment, kicking his shoes off excitedly.

“Nick?”

He froze, his head half in the cabinets looking for something to take with him. Nick leaned out of the kitchen entry, his ears twitching. Was that…?

“Cal?” he called back warily.

“Maybe,” she called back, and he was off towards the bedroom he hadn’t even noticed had been shut.

The TV was mumbling lowly with her favorite show, but she wasn’t on the bed like he expected. Instead, sitting on the carpet on a folded blanket surrounded by her phone and wires that made up her headphones and charger with a pre-roll between her fingers, he found her sitting beside the cracked sliding glass door so the smoke could wisp out into the night.

Her eyes were just as wide as his, the pair speechless.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, almost afraid to move. Where’s Leo?

“What are you doing here?” she returned, knowing he’d seen the joint in her hold.

“Ward and Sergey-”

“Got sick?” she interrupted, her mouth tightening. He nodded, snorting.

“The girls too?”

She nodded, relaxing a little bit. “I thought you were off already doing the bachelor party thing so I just came home… and left Leo with your parents,”

“Yeah I didn’t call them either,” he confided softly, licking his bottom lip.

“So…” she looked around. Why was this so awkward!?

Nick watched her, leaned back on his hands after pulling a fresh shirt over his scrubbed skin. His head lolled to the side, watching her at last let out the insane breath she’d pulled in. The smoke from this one smelled foul compared to the scented trails from a cartridge, but he wouldn’t speak out against it.

By the time he’d come out of the shower, she had gone through half its length and her eyes were already falling shut. Eight months of sobriety brought her tolerances way down, but this was also the first time in months he hadn’t seen her chewing her inner lips or bouncing her knee. What a wonderful remedy this was, but the stigma attached to it would always leave Nick hesitant.

“That wine is gonna knock you out tomorrow,” he mumbled, grinning when she swatted sleepily at his foot.

“I thought we already agreed you’d catch me,” she reminded, twisting the butt in the ashtray before looking at him.

“Only if I can get really shit faced in San Diego,” he whined, and she laughed.

“Duh, me too,”

He smiled, watching her fidget around on the blanket and fix her hair hanging around her shoulders. She looked down at the ring on her hand, smiling adoringly at its face then clutching her palm to her chest. Soft humming came from her, a soft sway back and forth starting.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, knowing she’d fallen into her dreamy haze.

Callie shrugged, looking up at him. Those balmy eyes were glowing, her cheeks flushing. “I can’t believe we’re getting married tomorrow. It feels like it’s taken decades to get here but it’s only been… pfft three years? And now we have our baby?” she pouted, holding her own face.

“Wow,” Nick mumbled, smiling at her in amusement.

“I shouldn’t have left him there, I need to call your parents-”

“Cal,” he called, catching her frantic eyes. “He’s fine. Take a breath,”

She paused before nodding, sighing instead of taking an appropriate breath.

“I wanna be on whatever planet you’re on,” his words nudged her away from that guilt, a little smile lifting his spirits when he worried about her mental state. Sometimes the break-through anxiety was sneaky.

Her brow perked up, her smile growing devious.

“I can’t,” he reiterated.

“You can,”

“I can’t,”

“It would be out of your system in two days. We’ll be back way after that,” she too reminded him of the miraculous gift that was an Orcs metabolism, but Nick was a faithful worker and had his own, brittling views on the earth-made herb she relied on. “You didn’t get enough that first time,”

“It tastes like ass,” he defended, growing weary when Callie sashayed towards him with the ashtray and lighter pinned under her palm. “It makes my lips dry,”

“I’m not stopping until I hear ‘no’,” she clarified, sitting between his spread legs stretched across the floor and lighting the end of the blunt.

Still, Nick remained silent, watching her suck in her own small hit until the embers were crackling at the end. “I won’t make you do it if you don’t want to,” she told him, sensing his hesitation. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. If he liked the buzz from drinking, he was sure he’d like the buzz from smoking, but his encounters in the past not to mention the particular one that had left him in a room full of laughing people during a bad trip left bitter emotions.

But he trusted Callie when reminding him she’d never do such a thing, and she trusted her when she said, “You’ll like it,”

“And I’ve seen how jittery you’ve been,” she noted, patting the hand that had moved to rest on her thigh when he sat forward.

“Who wouldn’t be?” he asked, pinching the shrinking joint between his fingers when she passed it. Then she sat back on her bottom, crossing her legs.

“It’s your decision, baby. I want you to have a good time but not if you’re uncomfortable,” she told him, knowing even in her bombed state that despite Nick accepting this more over the years and his own curiosity growing, pressuring someone wasn’t how you did it.

He rolled it a little bit between his fingers, glancing at her with his critical, yellow eyes.

Ugh, he’s so yummy-

“How long do I hold my breath?” his voice disrupted her thoughts.

“As long as you can,”

Nick sighed, looking at it one last time. “Fuck it, why not,”

Callie’s eyes widened every second he kept inhaling, caught between warning him and possibly making him panic or letting him get one huge drag in instead of coughing through a bunch of little ones, but by the time she decided, he was done. Silent, holding his breath, his eyes already watering when he handed it back.

Without looking she snuffed it out, waiting. “Nick?”

He exhaled loudly, a cloud of smoke blowing around her that she swatted towards the cracked door. The coughing started before he even finished his breath, the next one bubbling up his throat before the previous one finished. His throat and nose burned, and he could’ve sworn he felt his trachea vibrating with every ragged cough.

“Cough as hard as you can, it helps,” she coached, rubbing his back when he rolled onto his stomach to smother his teary eyed face in the carpet.

The ferocity of the coughing rang down his arms, his head throbbing when he managed to sit back up, but with the calming of his body came… warmth.

Nick cleared his throat over and over, wiping the back of his hands across his eyes, but the warmth surrounding his head was making it hard to keep his eyes open. They felt like they could fall into a slumber at any moment, but his mind was as wakeful as ever. He glanced down at his body; why did he feel so… floaty? He cleared his throat again of its scratch while rocking side to side, tensing his arms. Upon lifting his hand, he found he still had full coordination.

He snorted, coughing a little.

“Are you okay?” His head snapped around, finding Callie staring at him in suspense. “How do you feel?”

He inhaled. “I feel like there’s cotton in m’head,” he mumbled, an eye closing. “Like fuzzy cotton,”

She repressed giggles. “But are you okay?”

He nodded loosely, looking around their cluttered room. “It’s like being drunk but sober,”

“I’ve never been able to explain it that well,” Callie grieved, her arms throwing up into the air. “Are you gonna be one of those insightful people when you’re stoned?”

Nick blinked, his eyes reflecting when Callie snapped a photo of him. “Who?” he asked.

“Oh my god.” Callie mumbled.

“Damn,” Nick exclaimed under his breath, his face twisted in horror.

“I know,” Callie nodded, her knee draped over his thigh.

“Could you imagine…?

“No. It’s bad enough we have dragons,” she said against his chest. Every blink felt like eternity.

“Imagine if they did that,” Nick pictured, his body shuddering under hers. “What’s this movie called?”

“Princess Mononoke,”

He scoffed; no way he was remembering that. Nick took a final bite of their ordered dinner, chewing slowly as he stretched to rest the bowl on his nightstand. Maybe this would finally calm his voracious appetite, but as long as Callie kept opening that bag of Doritos, he was hopeless.

“I’m gonna gain thirty pounds by tomorrow,” he mumbled into her hair, the both of them chuckling.

“I never lost my thirty,” she pouted comically, stuffing another chip into her mouth.

“Damn, what that mouth do?” he teased around a yawn.

“Yo mama,” she mumbled, giggling when he snorted.

Silence lulled between the two snuggled and surrounded by snacks in the bed, both of their minds lost somewhere in the clouds as they re-watched various Netflix series.

He thought he’d heard her slip in and out of sleep earlier, but truth be told, he could’ve been listening to himself breathe. There had been a few times his reddened eyes snapped open to be in the middle of a completely different episode, but mentioning it would be admitting he was falling asleep which he continued to adamantly deny. With a blind reach, he retrieved his phone from the nightstand.

Just a little past midnight, but way too late. He was enjoying this too much, though. Nick was only selfish in the sense that sometimes he just wanted to snuggle right up to Callie and feel her body against his. The last time they’d had a moment like this without Leo in the way was at the beginning of her pregnancy, and laying like this only made him realize how long ago that was.

“We should be in bed,” Nick mumbled, rubbing his eye.

“We are in bed,” she laughed, sliding her cheek up to look at him.

“You know what I mean. Big day tomorrow,” he looked down at her, reaching to move some of her hair from her cheek so he could better see those big eyes that always sparkled.

“Everytime I think about it I get so nervous,” she whispered.

“Why?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. It feels like that first time I met you at Santa Monica. I stress ate like seven funnel cakes. I was so anxious,” she admitted shyly.

“I changed a bunch of times. Couldn’t decide on anything,”

“Oh you did good, sir,” she winced, biting her bottom lip. “You could’ve drowned in my panties,”

“I would’ve if your sister hadn’t’ve interrupted,” he grumbled, forever bitter.

“Oh hush, it was a sign we would be together forever,”

“How so?” he questioned, twisting in her direction a little.

“I would’ve never called a guy back if that happened with anyone else, but you were so perfect that I swallowed the embarrassment and saved my horniness for another day,”

Nick smiled, a big goofy one. “Shut up,”

“Shut me up then,” she came back with, fast as a whip.

His eyes dropped to her lips, lingering before coming back to her eyes. “Isn’t that bad luck?”

“It was bad luck when we both ended up home,” she whispered, the weight of her hand once on his chest now coming to stretch across his meat.

That was enough convincing for Nick.

Callie was a little slower getting over him, but her heated kisses kept him concentrated on what they both wanted. When she was in her spot sitting in his lap, he could better taste her tongue after pulling her chest flush against his, his strong hands quickly continuing to her round ass he pulled back and forth over his growing dick. A steadying hand against his chest meant he could leave her skin that was marked red where he grabbed, her hips resuming the motions.

With his bottom lip pinched between his teeth, he easily pulled her loose sleeping shorts aside, revealing her plump pussy lips.

He could already feel how warm she was through his sweats, shortening his breaths in anticipation.

“You’re so hot,” he admired, looking up in time for her hair to fan around them when leaning down to kiss him. Strong, sinewy arms wrapped tightly around her waist, grounding himself to the angel that squirmed in his hold deliciously. Silently, inwardly, he thanked those who had blessed him with such a girl, promising to worship more as soon as he was done with this.

A firm tug on the ends of her shirt had it flying past her fingertips, thrown to the floor.

Callie gripped the railing to the headboard when he pulled her chest into his open mouth, a long lick gliding over a hardened nipple that had goosebumps fire up her arms. She snickered when he smacked his lips a few times, moving onto the other side. An old technique had her limp in his hold, her thighs tightening at his sides. He encouraged her hips to keep moving, his cock desperate for attention, but her mind was only a pool of melted pleasure at that point.

A hard gasp fell from her wet lips when he graced her clit with tight circles, hanging off of his neck to look down at his hand flat against her lower stomach as his thumb massaged her into a trance. Gradually her eyes fell shut, hair sticking to her cheeks while she panted softly.

His loose smile made her rock into his touch. “You want it already, don’t you?” he asked quietly, his voice vibrating with growls; Callie could only nod. He pecked her sloppily. “Get naked,”

Callie stumbled off into the center of the bed to kick off her shorts and socks, moving onto the food and remotes and phones that were now being swept onto the floor without a care.

Nick’s shirt and sweats had already been tossed off, but now as he rummaged through the drawer of his bedside table, his excitement was plummeting. Here was the box, but…

“We’re out of condoms,” he announced, looking back at her sat naked at the center of the bed on her knees with her dishevelled hair a mess around her shoulders. It only added to the tragedy of the situation.

“So?” she asked, her fingers drumming against her thighs.

Nick stood straight, his head cocking.

Since she’d been cleared for sex there hadn’t been a session they forgot to use protection, no matter how it dampened the sensation. He’d done it for her, for he wasn’t the one who’d be carrying anymore surprise babies, although it was the memory of her sweet, bare pussy around his unsheathed cock that helped bring him to an end, now. He’d wanted to ask her, even just for one quick slide in, but Nick had always assumed this was the new norm until either of them were snipped.

“Are you- really?” he asked.

“I hate them, Nick. I’m so over using them,” she exhaled, her shoulders drooping. “I’ve been trying to be good but if I have to ride your dick one more time with a balloon over it-”

She yelped, her legs pulled from under her ass and Nick finding his spot between her flailed knees when she realized what happened.

The mood shifted again, and suddenly they were in perfect sync.

Her knees drew upwards when the top of his thighs pressed under her bottom, his hand finding its place at the bend of her leg that was closest to her chest.

She made it up onto an elbow when he spit at his tip pressed against her entrance, her hand hovering against his belly.

“I’ll go slow,” he soothed, meeting her eyes. The first time they’d reunited in bed, his excitement resulted in hurting her, and from that came the need to remind him to be gentle, even this far down the road. A guilt he’d always carry, but he’d work on fixing it.

It didn’t burn this time his head popped in, his thick shaft following until she was filled to his base. Her shoulders fell back with a loud sigh while his eyes slammed shut, pressing to her as tightly as he could. He’d dived into a pool of ecstasy, sending strong shivers up and down his spine as he basked in her heat.

The stinging tug of a condom was at last absent, and there was only Nick’s velvet skin gliding against hers, creating the friction she so wildly desired.

“Baby,” she called, holding the hand at her leg when he stared down at where they were joined. His dilated eyes landed on hers, a low snarl curling his lips when he withdrew only to slip back in.

Her head rolled back in time with her eyes, a loud moan rumbling under the hand that slid up his chest when he rested forward on his hands, her knee hooked around his chiseled arm. He’d draw out until her heat was kissing his head, just so he could feel that delicious pressure before pushing back in. Nick leaned into one hand so he could touch her, dragging his rough hands up and down her body that gravitated towards his caresses. When her pussy bucked into his thrust, a surprised moan came from him, an eager thrust bouncing her.

A low, rumbling growl moved into her when he yanked her hips up in line with his, his nostrils flaring as he scented them together like this.

“Do it,” she smiled, her feet planted into the sheets behind him.

Their eyes locked during the time he adjusted his feet beneath himself, his breaths deep and loud. A few leisure bucks were her warmup, and then came that smirk. She bowed until she balanced on her shoulder blades, his grunts and chuffs nothing compared to the singing made in his name during his fucking. He was a force driven purely by instinct; the need to fill his girl again, to lay claim to what would officially be his that day.

The slapping of their bodies coming together drowned out the TV beside them, Callie’s resounding cries piled atop his raucous moans as he shoved his way into her body again and again, her juices covering them as he pounded that spot hidden deep between her tightening walls.

Her ass was dropped from his hold so he could lean forward for a kiss, her mind spinning when he rolled her on top of him.

With a flip of her head to move her hair off her sticky back, Callie sat straight, her fingertips guiding him back in as her knees slid out until she was sitting flat on him, flinching when his tip found the back of her pussy.

God, she was so small in his hands when he held her cinched waist; if he stuck his thumbs out, they could touch.

A deep moan rang in his chest when she snapped her hips back and forth, her sweet cunt massaging his entire length. When a dip of her center was particularly low, she’d gasp, holding her stomach where it felt he was poking, but a wide smile always followed those overpowering shocks of spine curling bliss.

Nick held steadfast to her hips, guilty in keeping her flat against himself so there was the added friction on his head.

“Oh fuck,” he drawled, his hand landing back into the sheets.

“Nick-” she gasped, her hand flying to his chest. “I’m-”

His last burst of energy was used flipping them again so she was spread below him, his hands hooking under her knees to push back into the bedding beside her ribs.

There was no more words as he poked his way back in, pistoning into her with such power her toes curled, her arms falling limp above her head when her climax came crashing around her. In an instant, she was stiff as a board, her legs strong enough to fight past his hold and stretch straight in tight trembles at his sides as he continued. When she could catch her breath, she shouted, a deep flush blooming across her cheeks and chest. Nick watched with a proud smile as she convulsed under him, her silent mumbles barely words as she came down from her high.

Her limp thighs shook mightily in his hold when he pushed them apart, their bodies touching in a paused moment so he could adore her with soft kisses.

She was still breathless as he brushed his lips across her jaw, her soft throat pulsing with the blood racing through her. Her pussy throbbed dully around him compared to the fist like hold he barely made it through moments ago.

A soft whisper in his ear brought the tempo back up, but Nick wanted to stay like this.

A beauty such as her was only admired best this close, and even though she’d found her climax, she whimpered below him, holding his face as he fucked her sweetly. Her ankles locked behind him, a heady groan to follow before he dropped his face beside hers.

“Should I cum on your stomach?” he panted, his thrusts weakening as the pleasure peaked.

“Inside me,” she kissed into his cheek, tightening the hold with her legs. “Cum inside me baby,”

The hand lost in her hair gripped her roots, a loud hiss coming from between her teeth when his entire body tightened and jerked against her flushed cunt. The screaming engine of Nick’s orgasm overtook him like a wave would at the beach, ringing from every end of his body and back to his center that spilled into his ecstatically beautiful bride to be. He grunted with every thick stream of semen forced into the space they both snuggly occupied, slowly stilling until they were both a heaving pile of sweaty parts and cloudy minds.

He worried he’d crush her the longer he laid over her, but the soft gliding of her hands up and down his back were too good to pass up. He exhaled, his face buried between the mattress and her head. “Fuck,”

Callie giggled, her cheek leaning into his so he’d force himself up to look at her. The urgency was gone in their kisses, but now he could feel how sleepy she was.

“Ready?” he asked against her mouth, only moving when she nodded. Her thighs trembled when he dragged out of her, bringing a thick stream of the nectar he’d left behind.

“Oh I can feel that,” she grimaced, sitting up on her elbows warily. It wasn’t clear at that point if it was the weed or sex that had left her feeling like her head was vacant.

“You should see it,” he smirked, his cocky pride coming through. “How many siblings did you want Leo to have?”

“Ha,” she shouted. “Good luck getting me pregnant ever again. My body said one and done,” she grunted sitting up, scurrying off to the bathroom after Nick had hoisted her up. He didn’t answer, and wouldn’t. Callie adored the idea of having a big family, but the night the topic came up when Leo was two months old, it only ended in her confiding in Nick that she felt she’d never be so lucky again. She wasn’t wrong in saying her body would likely fight off pregnancy for years, maybe endlessly if they ever tried again. Where it once happened so effortlessly, the time following to get where they were now had left them both a little… doubtful.

Nick yanked the blanket off their bed, tossing it beside the door so he could flop into the cool sheets of the mattress after turning off the lights and TV. His arms were already open when she came wobbling back in, her naked body collapsing into his. They rolled and wiggled until they found their spots, her head tucked under his chin and their legs tangled.

“We broke like four traditions,” she mumbled through a closed jaw.

“Thinking about it, I don’t think it applies to us,” he yawned; the sleepiness was at last getting to him. She looked up at him curiously.

“Our whole relationship is taboo. Curses don’t apply to morally incorrect choices,” he explained, laughing when she did.

“Yeah I guess you’re right,” she settled, her soft smile lingering when he rubbed her arm. The soft breeze from their ceiling fan moved her loose hair around his arm, tickling his skin, but the gentle strokes across his chest from her was lulling him into sleep.

“You’re not gonna bail on me tomorrow, right?” she asked suddenly, and his eyes opened.

He leaned away from her so he could better see her face when she looked up. “Why would you ask that?”

“I had to ask, my mind wouldn’t let me put it to rest,” she sighed. “I’m sorry,”

“Hey,” he pulled her chin up, holding her face. “I’ve been trying to get you to marry me for years, remember?”

She giggled, nodding. “What if right when I said yes you were like ‘fuck, she said yes, what do I do now?’”

“Oh my god that brain of yours,” he sighed, laying back down to pull her tight against his chest. “I’ll prove it to you when I’m waiting at the altar,”

“Promise?” she asked, her big eyes already closed. He pushed some hair aside, her lids fluttering a moment.

“Always.”

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did i plant a seed in this chapter? are those church bells in the distance? honeymoon in san diego where they have the best tacos HWHAT?

only 3 chapters left! ;_; thanks for reading, my loves! ❤

129 notes · View notes

magical-grrrl-mavis · 4 years

Text

Sibling AU

because apparently this is a thing I've got on my mind now. (Probs won't be writing it any time soon but I have a primal need to info dump, and maybe I'll inspire someone else.)

Characters

Eda Clawthorn - Canon Eda: She's Eda. She loves all 3 Noceda girls but is closest to Luz

King - Canon King: He's King.

Lucia Noceda - Beta Luz: Her weirdness is sorta toned down compared to Canon Luz. She's a bit more angsty. Reeeaaaally needs to smile more. Absolute D E L I N Q U E N T. Get’s into trouble on purpose, be gay do C R I M E. Feral. Totally down to help with Eda’s less honorable schemes. Tries to seem more “over it” and grown up but is secretly just as enthusiastic as Luz. She's more closed off, her life’s been a bit harder. Very protective of Luz and Laia, DO NOT fuck with them in front of her. Ready and willing to throw down. Deeeeeefinitely not hopelessly in love with Amelia. Age 17

Luz Noceda - Canon Luz. You know her, you love her. Age 14

Laia Noceda - Pilot Luz: Just as weird as Luz but a bit more laid back and shy. Doesn’t like putting herself out there quite as much as Luz, but gets dragged into her schemes a lot. Huge nerdy bookworm but perfectly capable of being flirty. Actually pretty confident with Anna. Too precious for this world. Is babey. Sits back and observes her sisters antics bc she's actually got a little sense. Age 13

Amelia Blight - Beta Amity: Cold but F E R A L. Doesn't even try to be the little miss perfect anymore but will pretend in front of parents. C H A R I S M A. Will fuck you up. Sorta pyromaniac but not like crazy, just good w/ fire magic and feels calm when she watches flames. Will burn you to ash if you hurt Amity or Anna. Rolls eyes at the twins antics. “You were going to do WHAT with Amity’s diary!?” Lotta internalized shit from her treatment by her parents. THIS CLOSE to burning down Blight manor. “If I have zero friends nobody can hurt me”. Lucia really throws a wrench in that plan. Toooootally not madly in love with Lucia. Natural greenhead but constantly dyes her roots brown as a form of small rebellion and solidarity with Amity and Anna. Age 17

Edric Blight - Canon Edric: You know him. Age 16

Emira Blight - Canon Emira: You know her. Age 16

Amity Blight - Canon Amity: Our girl! Age 14

Anna Blight - pilot Amity: Is babey. Loves books. Shy and tries to stick silently to the background. Just so sweet and precious. PROTECC HER. Tries to do the right thing. Like, ALL her siblings do their best to protect her from her parents. Not good with people at all. Age 13.

Winona Park - Beta Willow: You've seen Dana’s drawing of her. This shady bitch. She knows all your secrets. She will use them against you. Likes a little trouble but doesn't get caught. Ever. By the time you figure out what rule she broke she's already won the game. Don't. Touch. Willow. T R O U B L E. Loner until Lucia came along. Just does not care about anything. Doesn't even try in school but is still almost as good as Amelia. Not quite as powerful as Willow but still powerful. “What happens if I press this button.” Age 17

Willow Park - Canon Willow: You know her, stronk cinnamon roll. Age 14

Gus Porter - Canon Gus: Boy needs more character development. Age 12

(Story might not go quite like I'm describing it here but it's pretty close.)

Eda was going to eat King when they first met, they tell it like it's just some cute story.

Camilia was going to send both Luz and Laia to normal-person-camp but didn’t even try with Lucia bc she's clearly a lost cause. Lucia waited for the bus with them though, and she and Laia both followed Luz through the portal. Luz was the one who decided to stay on the isles, Laia just agreed bc she also hated the idea of camp, and being a witch sounded fun. Lucia agreed bc “well I'm not leaving my fucking siblings in another dimension on their own” but also was jumping up and down inside at the idea of being a witch.

Lucia and Laia were just vibing at the owl house during Witches Before Wizards because nobody told them shit.

Luz and Laia both went to the school in I Was a Teenage Abomination, Lucia didn’t bc “school? Why would I willingly go to school?” so she wandered off to town to do GOD knows what. Laia just hid in the bottom of the pot, but wandered off, Anna helped save her and get her out in the end. Later, at the covention, Laia gave Anna the “thanks pal” drawing.

Luz and Laia were both captivated by Eda’s magic lesson in Intrudor, Lucia was just hanging back with her arms crossed like she didn't care but inside she was going “I'm gonna be a witch! I'm gonna be a witch!”. Luz discovered the light glyph but Lucia came up with the idea of sticking it on the wall.

At the covention, Lucia saw Amelia and was actually gonna go over and be flirty bc Hot Witch Girl, but then she overheard her talking to Amity about her fighting Luz and instantly big sister mode. They got into a fist fight out back over “my sister’s better than yours.” their relationship after that is just Lucia constantly antagonizing Amelia and almost getting burned. Anna just stayed by the sidelines at the covention and Laia didn't see her until the very end, talked a bit and gave her the drawing b4 being dragged out by Eda.

Laia helped w/ the moonlight conjuring, but Lucia heard "night market" and sneaked off there. She didn't see Eda'z predicament but did run into Winona, who was making trouble and just being generally shady. Lucia helped her out with the shady business because why not and they were instantly friends, their friendship has a lot of Lucia going “you scare me sometimes.”

Laia went to the Library with Luz, she saw Anna just hanging out reading in the corner and immediately went over and sat by her. They were in Amity’s hideout sitting real close reading when Luz and the twins walked in, they left immediately, Anna red as a tomato.

The second Eda said body swap Lucia scooped Laia up and noped on out. It sounded fun to Lucia but for some reason she didn't feel comfortable subjecting Laia to that.

Laia and Lucia went with Eda when she talked to Bump abt enrolling them and just sat back and watched Eda clean up all her messes. Lucia was impressed.

Laia was just as excited to go to Hexside as Luz. But Lucia hated school, even magic school. She only decided to go to keep an eye on her sisters and fuck with Amelia.

Neither Laia note Lucia were interested in going to the Grudgby match. Laia stayed home and read (on the couch. She was so engrossed in her book she missed king walking out with half-transformed Eda) and Lucia went to hang out with Winona.

Laia and Anna worked together on a book for the writing contest. It won. Lucia wrote one too but it git rejected for being too graphic. It made one of the judges who read it start seeing a therapist.

All three went to the knee. Lucia went along with Eda'z crazy teaching because it seemed hysterical to her crackheaded mind, she missed the whole Slitherbeast thing bc she was off with moss in her ears, dirt over her eyes and pine needle mulch in her nose. Laia was incredibly disappointed that Anna wasn't there with the other blights. She didn't even try to stop Luz from stealing the wand bc she knew she wouldn't listen. She was just as impatient as Luz, just not rash. They figured out the ice glyph together.

Lucia chose the bard track in First Day bc she wants to be in a band. Laia couldn't choose just like Luz and got stuck in the Oracle Coven. Lucia got caught just like Luz and ended up in the detention track, Barkus was a bit more wary about her. She helped fight the basalisk I guess. Laia just stayed in class. Both Luz and Laia got to be in every track, Lucia chose only Bard, Beast Keeping and Illusion.

When Luz and co were shrunk at the carnival, Laia was off hanging out with Anna, and Lucia was doing something crackheaded with Winona. (Seriously, you could write such good fluff fics about Anna and Laia, and insane crack fics about Lucia and Winona.)

Idfk what Laia and Lucia were up top in Understanding Willow

Anna and Laia went to Grom together. They're such unassuming people that the only people who noticed were Eda and King bc they helped Laia get ready, and Amelia. Who had very mixed feelings bc 1- that's Lucia's sister, but 2- she actually kinda likes Laia and Luz.

Lucia begged Luz to let her take over as Grom queen but no dice. She ran to help too when Luz ran off but was too slow, she didn't get there until the very end of the dance.

Look, Laia is too much of a bookworm to care about sports and Lucia just thinks their stupid, so neither of them watched Luz play in Wing it like Witches.

Eda made cloaks for all 3 girls. Lucia and Laia were in the wrong year to go on the field trip to the emperor's palace. After school Laia went to the library with Anna and Lucia went to hang out with Winona. Laia and Anna fell asleep reading in Amity's secret room and Lucia and Winona lost track of time hanging out, neither got home until the next morning, and they found Luz crying on the floor.

Imagine with me, all 3 noceda girls breaking into the conformatorium to save Eda. All three wailing on Belos, Laia with a fuck ton of glyph papers, Luz with Eda's staff and some glyphs, and Lucia with a red aluminum bat covered in glyphs. They don't beat him but they do a lot more damage than just chiping his mask.

Imagine all 3 sisters agreeing silently to destroy the portal. For Eda.

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prentiss-writes · 4 years

Text

Until We Meet Again

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Summary: Spencer Reid had been attending CalTech for two years. He had people that were nice to him simply because they needed help on their course work, but Spencer had yet to make a single friend, until he met Y/N. They became fast friends that was until the Reader, without warning, was gone from his life. Now 14 years later a case brings him back to Pasadena, and back to the ghosts of his youth.

A/N: This is the first fic I’ve worked on in a really long time. Let me know what you guys think. Hope your enjoy!

Words: 3.4k

Chapter 1

Pasadena, California.

1995

Friendship was never something Spencer Reid was ever good at. Being a senior in high school at the age of 12 didn’t lead to a thriving social life. While most of the students seemed to love making his life miserable, not all of his peers were monsters. He had some people that were kind to him, but they were only nice when they needed help in class or when he helped the basketball team win.

That’s why he was excited to start school at CalTech. This was his chance to finally thrive in school. College was a place where people wanted to learn. He would be with people just like him, sure he would be the only person under 16 but at least he shared a common interest with his classmates.

A thirst for knowledge.

Spencer didn’t need friends at CalTech.

Right?

He could be by himself. In a new state. At a new school. On his own. All alone.

His mom stayed in Las Vegas because she wasn’t well enough to move with him to California. He had been at Cal Tech for two years and would only go home to see his mom on extended breaks.

All by himself. Life was better that way. No one to hurt him. If he was by himself no one could hurt him again. If no one is close to you, no one can truly hurt you.

But why did the loneliness make his heat ache?

There was a park not too far from campus that reminded him of home. It was just like one that he would go to with his mom when she would have one of her good days. They would walk to the park and he would lay his head on her lap as she read to him. Her fingers would card through his hair as she read the texts from her days as a professor. While moments like that were rare as his mother’s condition worsened, those were some of his best memories. Coming to this park reminded him of the good moments, and as the ache of loneliness tore as his heart he needed to be reminded of the good moments in life.

It was comforting.

Spencer had been coming to this park for the last couple of weeks. He would make an entire afternoon of his outing. He would pack himself enough books to last at least three hours and some snacks. There was a tree that he would always sit under, a mulberry tree. It provided just enough shade when the California sun would be too much. The park was usually pretty empty this time of day. His tree wasn’t super close to the actual play structure meant for the kids so he only saw a couple of joggers and the stray couple here and there. It was nice, the campus was always so crowded it only amplified how lonely he felt there. His tree was a place where he could relax and---

“Excuse me?”

Spencer was brought out of his thoughts by someone standing above him. The sun was right behind her, it cast a glowing light around the figure. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to looking into the light.

“Hi! Sorry--umm my ball?” It was a girl. She looked about Spencer’s age. She was pretty and she seemed nice. She was smiling at him and--

“Hello? Do you mind?” She was pointing at him. No, she was pointing next to him. A soccer ball. There was a soccer ball between Spencer and his backpack. He grabbed the ball and tossed it back to her. He had been so engrossed in his book he hadn’t noticed the ball roll up to him.

“Thanks. Sorry about interrupting you. I’m Y/N by the way. You go to Rose City, right? Cause I’ve never seen you at Blair.” She looked so nice. People never looked at him that way, like he was normal.

Spencer chastised himself once he realized it was only because she thought he was normal if she knew that he didn’t go to the local high school but CalTech instead he doubted she would continue to look at him like that. No one ever looked at him like that. Once she knew who he truly was she would be just like all the others before her.

“It’s okay.” Spencer didn’t want to give her answers about his schooling because he wasn’t the best liar. Most people could see right through him and if he could let her continue to think he was normal she would keep looking at him with that smile. That smile made his heartache just a little less and he would hold onto that feeling as long as he could. Y/N seemed to take the hint about Spencer not wanting to talk about school so she decided to just brush past it.

“So I’m giving my little brother some pointers before he starts soccer next week. Do you want to play with us?” She pointed back at a young boy probably around 7 or 8.

“I’m okay. I just want to get back to my books.” Spencer re-opened his book and continued to read. Y/N’s smile faltered but she decided to move past the rejection.

“Okay, well if you change your mind, we’ll be over there.” She started to walk back to the little boy. She stopped about half-way between Spencer and her brother. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime?” She then smiled at Spencer as she turned back to face her brother and kicked the ball to him.

Spencer looked up as soon as her back was to him.

He wanted nothing more than to see her again, but at the same time, he knew that if he saw her again she would figure out he wasn’t like her. If she ever found out that smile that calmed him would no longer be directed at him. ~~~ A Week Later

Spencer had packed his bag and rode his bike back to his Mulberry tree. The ride there was often one of the best parts of his week. The fresh air was welcome after being in a crowded lecture hall or his stuffy dorm for most of the week. After finally reaching the park he started walking his bike to his spot and he was actually excited to have some time---

There was someone sitting under his tree.

The girl from the other day was sitting under his tree.

He approached her, he was unsure of why. He should have just gotten back on his bike and went back to his dorm but by some unknown force, he walked up to her. She didn’t notice him until he was right before her. He stood in front of her blocking the sun and casting a shadow on her, similarly as she had done to him the week prior.

“Hey! It’s the book guy!” She looked up at Spencer and her face lit up. A large smile spread across her face. The same kind smile from before.

How could she do that?

How could she calm him with such a simple gesture as tensing some muscles in her face?

Did she do that to every stranger she met? Or did she see something in him no one had before?

He noticed the change in her clothing. Gone was the athletic wear from their first encounter. She was dressed casually, overalls, and a t-shirt underneath. Spencer noticed a sketchbook in her lap, it looked as if she was drawing the people in the park. She picked a good spot for her people watching. His tree was just removed enough that people wouldn’t notice her looking at them for extended periods of time. He stood above her unsure of how to talk to start a conversation. He shuffled his red converse in the grass, trying to find the right words to say. He wasn’t good at talking to new people, or people in general.

He settled for a simple. “Hello again.” Her brow furrowed at his response. She leaned to the side trying to look at something that was just past Spencer. She gave up trying for a moment to look back up at him.

“Can I help you? Or are you going to keep standing in front of me blocking the view of the ducklings I was drawing?” Spencer turned to look behind him, there he noticed a duck leading her ducklings through the park in a line. He quickly moved out of Y/N’s line of sight.

“Sorry” Spencer, disappointed that the one place in this whole city that brought him genuine happiness was being taken, grabbed his bike, and started his walk back out of the park so he could go back to his dorm.

“Wait!” She called after the mysterious book boy. He turned back to see her now standing. “This is your spot, isn’t it? You were here when I came here last week and now you’ve come to this exact tree again.” She gave him a small smile now understanding why he looked so sad as he left.

“Yeah, I like the shade that this tree has. It’s also far enough away from most of the people here.” Spencer answered not wanting to meet her eyes. He looked at anything but her, the tree, the couple just down the hill, even the ducklings that had made it a good amount of distance since he had last looked at them. She watched him look at the ducklings. She could tell that he really wanted to use this spot, it was just another tree in the park to her, it seemed special to him. She really didn’t have the heart to keep him from something that made him so happy, Y/N could tell that he didn’t have a lot of things in his life that made him this happy.

“Well, this is the perfect spot for people watching but, I’ll let you have it since you really like it.” She started packing up her things to let him have the spot.

“No, it's okay. You were here first and I can’t really claim a tree” He quickly crouched down to her level to stop her from leaving. She really seemed to be enjoying this spot. He knew how relaxing sitting in the shade of this mulberry tree was. He didn’t want her to give it up just for him.

“No no, I insist. I really don’t mind. I should probably get headed home anyway.” She placed her hand on his with a large smile spreading across her face. This is the closest he had been to her. She had such kind eyes, it was as if there was nothing that could dampen a smile like that. Spencer glanced down at her hand atop his. A smile was now present on his face.

“Thank you Y/N” He looked back up to her face hoping she could see how much this small gesture meant to him. Now it was her turn to look away, she took her hand off of his turning to grab her backpack. Spencer watched her hesitate before she turned back to him.

“Unless… You didn’t mind sharing. I’d like to stay.” Her bright beaming smile was now replaced with a shy one instead.

“Sure. I’d like that too,” Spencer took a seat next to Y/N. They settled in comfortable silence. She continued her drawings from earlier and he pulled out one of his books for the afternoon. Spencer placed his book on his lap and looked at the girl next to him. “I’m Spencer by the way.”

“Hi, Spencer.” Y/N looked up from her sketchbook to smile at Spencer. The two both went back to their respective activities, neither speaking. They simply enjoyed this rare moment of pure peace. The only sounds that were made, by either of the two, were the sounds of Y/N’s pencil on paper and the turning of pages in Spencer’s book. Neither knew exactly how much time had passed before Y/N noticed the sunset.

“Oh no” Y/N started to frantically pack all of her stuff back into her backpack. Spencer looked up from his book, confused. He wasn’t sure what could have brought on her sudden need to leave the park. She looked as if she didn’t get out of the park in the next five minutes she might spontaneously combust.

“What is it?” Y/N stopped her frantic packing to look back at Spencer. She could see how she had started him and instantly felt bad.

“I didn’t realize how late it was, my mom’s going to kill me” She gave him a sad smile. She really didn’t want to leave but she knew how much trouble she would be in if she wasn’t home before it was completely dark outside. Her parents gave her a lot of freedom but if she didn’t follow their important rules, like be home on time for dinner, she wouldn’t have the privilege of basically doing whatever she wanted. That was a privilege she didn’t want to lose.

“Oh” Spencer sometimes forgot that other people had parents that had expectations of them. It had been so long since someone had wanted him home by a certain time. In Vegas, his mom would rarely notice if he was home or not. Some days when he would walk home from school he would have to take the long way home to avoid the other upperclassmen that would throw eggs at him as he walked home. This would mean that sometimes he wouldn’t get home well past dark, his mom never noticed. He loved his mom with all his heart, but sometimes he wishes he had a mom like Y/N, someone who cared where he was.

Someone who was able to care about him in a way no one had before.

“I gotta get home for dinner or my mom will murder me” She was now standing with her backpack on her shoulders. Spencer retreated back into his book, not wanting Y/N to notice his change in mood.

“Okay” As much as he tried to hide it Y/N noticed how sad he had just become. Even though she barely knew him she didn’t want him to ever look like that again

“Do you want to come over? My mom’s making meatloaf, unfortunately, but we can have ice cream for dessert if you want” She really hoped that he would say yes. She saw that he had packed enough food for dinner and the thought of him eating dinner alone in a dark park broke her heart.

“Oh, I don’t know” She knelt down in front of him taking the book out of his hands.

“Oh come on Spencer, you can use my house phone to call your parents and let them know you’re heading over to a friend’s. Unless yours are strict? Oh, that’s a real bummer if they’re strict. Mine practically let me do whatever” She knew that his parents couldn’t be strict if they were okay with him eating his dinner in this park, but she didn’t want him to know that she knew his parents weren’t very present.

“No! They’re not strict. I’ll come over! Ice cream sounds really great actually.” Spencer only agreed to get her to stop talking about his family. He really didn’t want her finding out that his only family was in Vegas and he was all alone here. And the thought of having a home-cooked meal sounded exceptional.

“Perfect. Come on we can’t be late” She started helping him pack up his belongings. Spencer started to doubt his decision to join Y/N’s family for dinner. Would they really be okay with a complete stranger joining them for dinner? His father before he left drilled into him that he needed to respect his elders and showing up to someone else’s home announced didn’t sound like respect.

“Are you sure your parents won’t mind me coming over unannounced?” All of his things were now packed back into his backpack. He started to shuffle his shoes into the grass.

“No! My mom is used to it. I’m not the best at asking before I bring my friends over. Besides, she’ll love you. She’ll think you’re a good influence on me. You look like someone who doesn’t get into a lot of trouble.” That smile was now back, she could get him to do almost anything with that smile. There was something about this girl that made him think that he would follow her anywhere.

And that really terrified him, but he was too excited to care.

“Okay.” She grabbed his bike from the grass and pushed it towards him so he could start walking his back to her house.

“She will be mad if we’re late though. We’ve gotta go now. Come on!” She grabbed one of his hands and started to lead him out of the park. Spencer was now freaking out. He really wanted Y/N to be his friend, she was so kind to him but she really had no idea who he was and he couldn’t keep lying to her. He knew this could make her hate him but continuing to lie would only ruin things later. Having her hate him now for being a freak was easier than having her hate him later once she knew he was a liar.

“Wait!” He stopped dead in his tracks. He couldn’t continue on with her thinking he was just a normal kid from the local high school. If he was really going to have a chance at her being his friend he had to be honest with her.

“Jesus Christ Spencer! What is it? I really don’t feel like getting in trouble today.” She turned around to face him, a very annoyed expression on her face.

“I lied” her brow furrowed and her head tilted to the side at his admission.

“About?” She still hadn’t let go of his hand. Wow her hand was warm and really soft, he didn’t want to let go. He was now staring at their joined hands, it was something so simple holding hands but it was so foreign to him. He wasn’t sure of the last time he had this amount of physical contact with someone, he didn’t realize until now how much he needed it.

“I don’t go to Rose City” He didn’t meet her eyes, his eyes didn’t stray from their joined hands.

“Where do you go then?” Her voice was soft, she talked to him as if he was a hurt animal. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze trying to coax an answer out of him.

“CalTech” Her hand quickly pulled away as if she had been burned by his touch.

“Wait how old are you?” She was now looking at him like he had just killed her dog and spit in her face. Oh no! Spencer realized he must think he was much older since he is in college. He couldn’t let her think that he wasn’t some perv adult trying to hang out with a young girl. They are probably just around the same age.

“14, I skipped several grades,” he said quickly wanting her not to be disgusted by him.

“Shit, you scared me. I thought you were actually super old or something and you just looked my age.” She punched him in the shoulder with a laugh and that beaming smile. She grabbed ahold of his hand again. “You’re weird Spencer. I like it. Now come on I really don’t want my mom to get mad at me” She started to walk forward again, but Spencer didn’t follow

“Wait!” She didn’t understand the extent to which they were different, she would never want to be his friend if she knew how different they were.

“Holy shit Spencer. I really don’t care that you are some kind of super-genius, now come on.” She started to pull him along with her. He didn’t start walking until she turned back at him with that smile. He wasn’t able to say no to it. He knew that he would follow her anywhere.

She could possibly be the person that would be his first real friend.

He was scared but this was also the happiest he had been since he arrived in California.

Maybe he won’t have to be so lonely anymore.

Taglist:

@clockedstar @pumpkin-goob @emilyprentissisababe

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer x y/n #spencer x reader

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