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lycanthrop-ee · 4 years

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Ghosting - Empty House

A/N: !!!!! It’s here! I’m so, so pumped for this- welcome to the Empty House AU! This is the first piece of content I’m publishing and it’s a one-shot from a bigger universe, but it’s also absolutely a stand-alone fic. It’s a self-indulgent, analogical-centric human AU that’s has been floating around my hollow skull for months now, so there’s a lot of doodles backed up if any of yall would like to see that ;) There will be an AU taglist, but I also have an individual writing taglist!

Synopsis: Logan has finally moved out of his childhood home into a family-sized house where he plans to finish college online. His simple plans are complicated when a strange, sad-looking boy starts showing up outside...

Word count: 4,306

Ships: Endgame romantic Analogical

CW: (spoilers) Pre-plot major character death, swearing, anxiety attack, very mildly implied previous parental abuse, be safe kiddos and ask to tag!

The first time Logan saw the boy was the day he moved in.

The empty house had stood hollowly beside its driveway, Logan feeling small without his siblings or parents or any of his rarely acquired friends by his side. He wasn’t a sociable person, but he��d always been surrounded by noise at home, and lots of it… he’d never been in a house as still as the one he stepped into that day. The dark wooden floors were cleanly swept, except for the corners and trimmings which had little fields of grey dust dotting the deep brown. The refrigerator made a hungry humming noise, protesting its suddenly empty shelves- Logan knew a family of four had lived there before, and that they’d given him a pretty hefty discount on the house. That’s all he knew.

The floor in the entrance hall creaked underfoot, and the walls seemed to turn away as they saw him- not who they’d been expecting, not worth their attention. That was fair.

The house had three bedrooms and two floors- altogether a strange layout. Two of the bedrooms were downstairs, situated in a small hallway off the kitchen, and one was tucked into a little corner upstairs, where the only other rooms consisted of a bathroom and a large, carpeted playroom that was mostly empty now. Logan figured it would have been a favorite of the kids when they were smaller, but now the only furniture was a faux leather couch and a television, as well as a couple of out-of-place armchairs that had never gotten much human use from the look of their fur-covered seats.

With just him taking up the whole house, he hardly saw the point in using the upstairs bedroom. The house felt big already- rationally, it would be better to localize downstairs. All he really needed was his room, the kitchen, and the little living room next to the entrance. That was enough for him- in fact, even that was too silent. He missed the screams of his brothers as affectionately as anyone could- which honestly varied day to day.

Today, he was disproportionately affectionate.

It paired well with the fear.

Logan was just about ready to start tearing himself apart over the family members he’d left behind- the only ones that mattered- when the boy caught his eye.

The day had been gray and dreary, the trees heavy with the prospect of rain and the air cool enough to promise it, but it had only started drizzling in the few minutes since Logan had been inside. The sky had seemed to darken remarkably quickly, especially strange without the presence of thunder or even heavy rain, and in the middle of it all was a lanky figure who looked for all the world like a member of the fae.

He stood at the side of the road, looking in the house’s general direction- in Logan’s general direction, although he was sure the other wouldn’t be able to see through his windows. His face would’ve been hidden by the dark hair poking out from under his hood were he not so painfully pale, and his brown irises were visible to Logan only because of the piercing contrast of his skin.

His jacket was oversized, but his beanpole frame managed to show through regardless. The rainwater gradually weighed it down until the boy looked almost a skeleton, Logan frozen watching him for what could have been minutes- and then the frame heaved in a breath and ambled stiffly away.

Obviously Logan’s first worries had to do with an unhinged white male teenager breaking into his new house- the one he had full responsibility for and few precious savings to repair. It was irrational, he knew, but his second thought was that the boy hadn’t looked capable of any harm- or really of much at all. He looked weighed down, depressed, and Logan was sure that it wasn’t just the water soaking his sweatshirt. The boy had looked sad.

And he continued to. Frighteningly often, the teenager appeared outside Logan’s house. Each time he looked quite the same: above average height but considerably shorter than Logan himself, skinny, and almost other-worldly in his strange mish-mash of dark eyes and pearly flesh. While Logan knew that his first sight of the boy had been strange in the sudden change of weather, he could- and completely intended to- count it as a coincidence of Florida’s strange climate.

He settled into a sort of pattern, although the boy didn’t seem to follow one. Each time he saw the figure outside his house, he would take a break from his endless work. He’d make himself some tea, sit in the window, and wait for the boy to leave. This way, he told himself, if he tried anything, Logan would be there to intercept him. He chose not to think about the possibility of it happening at night or while he was away, and he kept far away from the crime shows he’d occasionally enjoyed in the past. This way, too, he could get a good look at his visitor each time. It was almost as though he was keeping tabs on him, and at the tail end of his fear came a strange protectiveness.

It was after about a month of this- Logan looking for job applications and living off of his savings, edgewise- that Logan pulled into his driveway at one of the key moments of his life. The boy stood unsteadily at the side of the road, sweatshirt ever-present even in the heat. Logan got out of his car carefully, his heart in his throat- though, really, did any part of him think the boy capable of much at this point?

He’d have expected the kid to run as soon as he’d pulled in, but when Logan looked him over he saw the boy studying him, bouncing on the balls of his feet. It struck Logan anew in their close proximity how thin he was.

Almost thoughtlessly, he started across the lawn towards the boy. He had to remind himself to uphold formalities- no matter how many times they’d stared at each other across the way, they’d never once spoken. He didn’t know this kid, not really- and now it occurred to him that the boy was more than a kid. He couldn’t be much younger than himself. Logan halted a few respectful steps from the boy, who eyed him strangely.

Close up… he looked, somehow, the same as he did from across the lawn. His features were simple, small mouth and nose easy to overlook for his huge, shadowed eyes. He really did remind one of a fairytale, or even- perhaps more accurately- a Tim Burton.

Logan opened his mouth to speak, but paused for a moment. They watched each other.

“Would you like to come in for tea?” He finally inquired, the words escaping him overly familiar. The boy raised his eyebrows almost undetectably, seeming confused, and Logan caught himself almost leaning forward in anticipation of the other’s first words to him.

“You’re not Patton,” the boy said, voice just above a murmur and hoarse. Logan hesitated, confused, and studied the expression that would’ve been bored were it not for the slight tremble in his lips and a hint of surprise- Logan supposed neither of them had planned what had escaped their mouths. He reached up with a thin arm and brushed the back of his hand gently across his eyes. A spark of something strange flickered in Logan’s chest- this man was possibly not all there. He wracked his brain for labels- depression? Mild psychosis? Dissociation?

Either way, this was not someone he should invite into his house without more information- but as that regretfully occurred to him, the first drops of afternoon rain hit the tip of his noise. He wondered if the boy would stand out here after Logan went outside, and if so, for how long.

“No, I’m not,” he found himself saying. “My name is Logan. It is raining- would you like to come in?”

He was exceedingly aware of the boy’s breathing as they stepped out of the rain, something that would normally drive him insane- somehow he didn’t mind this time. His presence was almost calming after weeks of bringing a break from Logan’s ceaseless work. It assured him that the ghostly pale man was real, which was never a problem he thought he’d be debating... but here was this skeleton-thin, strange-mannered man entering his house as though he’d been there a million times before.

He carefully slid his shoes off, paying close attention to the floor- and no attention to Logan.

“I’ll make tea,” the latter found himself mumbling. “Do you want to come into the kitchen?”

“I’m gonna go upstairs,” the boy said. Logan blinked.

“I- you… this is my house?” He stuttered, trying to be assertive- surely that crossed a line? He’d never seen this kid before a month ago- but there he went, lugging himself up the stairs like he belonged there. O-kay.

Logan backed into the drafty kitchen to put the kettle on.

Time to listen to his voice of reason, he decided. Clearly this boy had been in the house before- hopefully before Logan had moved in- and knew his way around. And clearly his mental state had some connection to the house- whether positive or negative, Logan couldn’t yet tell. So, he concluded, it’s possible that he had lived here before. The married couple that had sold him the house had mentioned a son, but they’d been moving out of town- how would the boy have made his way back almost daily? There was a bus line in the area... but who was Patton, and why had his absence been unexpected?

There was clearly missing information here, and thus the situation was theoretically dangerous. The logical thing to do would be to contact the authorities for more information- maybe the boy was a local that they were familiar with. If that were the case, they would know how to handle him.

On the other hand… it was, put simply, a puzzle. Wasn’t it? Logan was smart; he was in online college and he was passing quite well. He had an A in psych so far. He just needed a few more minutes with the boy and he’d figure it out. He could help him... why else would he show up outside his house?

He needed Logan.

There goes rational thought, Logan sighed as the kettle started to whistle, turning off the stovetop and moving the pot to the side. Something made him turn around- the boy was watching him from the doorway, looking almost more upset than usual. His wide eyes were watery, and as Logan hesitated he wiped an arm across his face again, expression turning to frustration. He avoided Logan’s gaze. “You said you were making tea?” He said, carefully controlled voice just above a whisper. Logan was startled out of his stupor by the boy’s coherence.

“I, um- yes! Yes, would you- what kind?”

“Earl grey? No sugar, just a bit of milk...” he carefully pulled a chair from the small table, slumping into it and reaching to fidget with the salt shaker. “Please.”

The boy’s words stirred Logan into movement and he grabbed two mugs out of the mostly barren cabinet before pulling a pre-packaged tea bag from the tea box on the counter. He unwrapped the tea and dropped one bag in each mug, pouring steaming water from the kettle into them with a satisfying noise. The warm humidity and pleasant smell caressed Logan’s face, and he took a moment to bask in it before returning to the present moment- if begrudgingly. As he set the empty kettle aside, the room quieted, the only sound the rain drizzling over the side of the roof. Logan crossed the space self-consciously to close the window. The boy’s eyes were pointedly focused on the table in front of him- Logan thought he felt more awkward this way than if the boy had been staring at him flat-out. Either way, he could feel his awareness of Logan like a thick fog. He snuck another look at the boy as he hovered beside a chair, unsure whether to sit opposite him.

“My name is Logan,” he prompted, thoughts stumbling over each other to curse him for the repetition.

“Thank you for the tea, Logan.”

...Well, at least that was something. His name sounded strange in the other boy’s hoarse, delicate voice- less mundane, somehow. He stood at the head of a table for one more moment that seemed to stretch out an eternity- the boy carefully spun the salt shaker around in his nimble fingers, swearing softly as some of the seasoning fell onto the table. Logan’s startled eyes studied the other’s flushed face.

And then his head caught up to him, and he shuttered into motion, rushing to the mostly empty fridge for milk and fetching the small bag of sugar he’d mercifully bought a few days before.

“I... I’ve seen you around,” Logan’s mouth betrayed him again. That was creepy- although, looking at it objectively, it was much less creepy than being ‘around’ the way the boy had. The table behind was quiet for too long as he poured the milk.

“...When’d you move in?” The voice was quiet and held a fragility that Logan hadn’t yet heard from the other. He was relieved to finally have an easy answer to one of the many questions he faced. And, indeed, his mouth finally obeyed him, even and direct.

“About a month ago.” He turned to face the table, the boy’s tea held stiffly between his hands.

“Sorry,” he whispered as Logan set down the tea. “I knew someone’d moved in, but I guess… it was you.” The boy let out a hollow laugh, and Logan was swept with protectiveness once more.

“Don’t worry, I won’t alert the authorities.” Because that was the most comforting thing he could think of- he’d never been very tactful with delicate emotional situations. Predictably, the boy tensed. Logan decided it’d be advisable for him to move on. “What is your name, pray tell?”

Pray tell. Pray fucking tell? What was wrong with him? The boy cut him off before he could overthink the foot he’d just shoved in his mouth with the eloquence of an 1800s era schoolboy.

“Patton.” A moment passed before a look of horror came over his face. “Or- no, I- it’s- Virgil! Virgil.”

Now- once again, logically- forgetting one's name was not a good sign. Of general coherence nor moral innocence. Logan knew this.

Still, the boy looked uniquely upset by the mistake.

Logan fetched his tea and sat down opposite him.

The other boy fidgeted incessantly, and Logan felt it fell on him to make Virgil more comfortable. He threw tact to the wind- it was tiresome anyway- in favor of distracting the other and himself from the strange fumble.

“Are you a local?”

He got a nod in response, Virgil holding the tea tightly between his hands. Logan couldn’t help but feel he’d made yet another mistake- obviously the boy wasn’t comfortable talking about himself, but was it worth Logan filling the silence with unprompted facts about himself? Would that bore Virgil? Was that rude? He let the gap in conversation rest for a moment before deciding he didn’t much care what was rude.

“This is my second year enrolled in online college- I skipped my senior year.”

The stupid non-sequitor sat in the middle of the table, sinking like a rock. Virgil managed to give him an incredulous look, even in the depths of... whatever it was that was affecting him. Logan panicked.

Here are a few things about Logan Croft that were usually a given:

1. He often said things without regard to the effect they would have on others.

2. He did not say things he didn’t believe to be true.

3. He did not readily employ personal information.

All of these rules had apparently been thrown out the window the second Virgil walked in his door. As soon as he realized this, he worked to reclaim them. “Virgil.”

The wind immediately blew out of his sails, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Speaking abrasively had never been difficult for him, and this was not the time to adopt a new weakness. “I need to know who you are. You have shown up outside of my house for the past month, and while the reasoning behind this is presumably personal and not necessarily critical for me to know, I will at least need you to tell me your full name. Against my better judgement, I will not contact the authorities about your incessant invasion of my privacy, because I don’t altogether mind it- but if you are to have regular access to my house, we can’t continue this one-sided conversation.” Regular access to his house? When had Logan considered that option? As soon as he asked himself the question, he knew the answer- the feeling of someone appearing in the doorway, seeking Logan’s company… it was something that he’d missed sorely. It was something he needed.

The boy looked startled and altogether terrified by the long stream of words. Logan, still working hard to recover his sense and new to the inclination of softening his words on the behalf of strangers, disregarded this as best he could as he waited for an answer.

It didn’t look like he was going to get one.

Virgil opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, putting the salt shaker down on it’s side like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. Logan felt a tug in his stomach to right it, afraid he’d get more salt on his table, but now didn’t seem like the time.

As the moment stretched forward, his attention was grabbed away anyways, trying to decipher Virgil’s expression. It didn’t look good.

In fact, it made his heart drop.

The boy looked withdrawn, fearful- like a bird with an injured wing or a snared fox. Damn it, damn it, damn it- Logan’s split-second adopted mantra was less than helpful, but it showed no signs of tapering off to make room for useful thoughts. Virgil’s eyes squeezed shut, and the instincts left over from Logan’s career as an older brother took over.

He rushed to Virgil’s side on blind autopilot, laying a warm hand over his bony back. The boy jumped at the unexpected touch- and then leaned into it, a choked sob tearing itself from his throat. Oh no. Oh god. Damn it.

Logan didn’t consider himself good with emotions. He did his best to comfort his younger brothers- god knows they needed it- but strangers were a whole new situation and honestly he didn’t feel much better about this than he expected the boy did.

Nevertheless.

“Hey, I-” he took a knee to lower himself to Virgil’s level, steadying himself against the table awkwardly. “Um-”

He choked on what to say, but his mind latched to the one thing he knew. Virgil had responded positively to touch- and with little further thought, Logan bundled the shivering boy into his arms.

Logan would’ve immediately taken back the show of affection by any means necessary if Virgil hadn’t melted into the touch so readily- Logan was reminded of an oversized cat.

That being said, Logan was holding a sobbing stranger in his arms in his new house, alone. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

Logan had always been the kid at family gatherings who did everything in his power to ward off physical contact from his overbearing relatives. Although this situation was completely different and altogether impossible to plan for and avoid, he found himself reacting in somewhat of the same way- each place that Virgil’s thin, trembling body touched his screamed at him to recoil.

He did not.

He brought to mind his brothers- not that they’d ever been particularly physically affectionate with him. They’d always turned to each other, and he’d been left to himself. Understandably. But he imagined if they had seeked his reassurance, if they’d ever been as upset as this stranger was now. If they’d let him in.

But now someone was leaning on him for comfort, and he was determined to provide for them. Imagine if Remus had come to him for help, he kept thinking. Imagine if it were Roman.

And all of a sudden he had to hold back tears himself. He tensed, carefully leaning Virgill back onto his chair- Logan’s chair. Sensing the other’s discomfort, the boy came back to himself like a fire blazing across dry wood.

“Fuck- fuck, I-I’m-” the boy was off at a rushed stutter, scrambling to right himself and wiping his eyes angrily. Logan shook his head, patting Virgil’s shoulder awkwardly.

“Drink your tea,” Logan said stiffly. “It’s okay. I don’t- do you need something?” Good job, he thought sarcastically. Just pretend it never happened. Show him that, apologies, you seem to have made him think you’re an emotional resource. He was wrong, you’re actually a sociopath. Once again, sorry for any inconvenience.

Logan’s thoughts stuttered and shouted as he tried to fix whatever he’d done. Virgil was quite obviously shaking, almost unable to hold his tea to his lips although he did make an effort, and Logan resorted back to psych class- maybe not a panic attack, but certainly an emotional breakdown and possibly an anxiety attack. “Do you have a history of generalized anxiety disorder?” Logan asked automatically, the place where he should have held a capacity for compassion currently void for whatever stupid reason. “Or even a suspected case?” The thunderstorm in his mind froze entirely as Virgil’s watery brown eyes focused on him.

“...I guess,” he rasped quietly, eyes flickering back to his hands as they picked at each other violently. “I dunno.”

Logan let out a long breath, sliding furtively into the chair opposite Virgil.

“If you’re having an anxiety attack, it could be caused by a persistent disorder or a recent traumatic event- although recent is a problematically inspecific measurement-”

“Uh, then I- I dunno. Still. I guess…” He shrugged, looking away. “How recent is recently?”

Logan tried to hold back a sigh of relief at the comparatively simple question.

“Generally, anxiety attacks are caused by a buildup of unfinished tasks or other irritants, although there’s often an overarching problem or incident. A traumatic event can cause emotional turmoil for years after it occurs- or for the remainder of one’s life, depending on it’s nature- but in most to all cases, the effects lessen as time goes on.” Virgil nodded slowly.

“And- and what are the symptoms? Of an anxiety attack?” He pulled his legs up to his chest, presumably placating the urge to make himself smaller. Logan rattled off the characteristics quickly.

“Shaking, a feeling of unease, impulsive thoughts, nausea, panic, the sensation of being trapped or cornered, restlessness, hyperventilation, trouble concentrating, dyspnea- shortness of breath, that is- am I making sense?” He wrapped his hands around the cooling cup of tea in front of him, feeling the need to steady himself. Virgil nodded again- it was apparent he was a man of few words. That worked out wonderfully, Logan thought, as he himself seemed so bent on talking as much as humanly possible.

“Yeah,” Virgil muttered- then stood up abruptly. “Um- I should probably go. Sorry for… yeah.” Logan, decidedly more alarmed at the idea than he should’ve been, got to his feet as well.

“No- I mean, you don’t… have to. If you’d rather- but if you feel the need to go- I mean, I don’t want you to…” Logan paused, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to get his damn mouth under the control of his brain. Had he said something wrong? Well, obviously he’d said many things wrong in the past minutes, but… he thought over the conversation. He’d only been saying the facts- just what he knew. Was there something he should have kept to himself? Was any of it too personal? It was just facts, statistics, symptoms- he cursed himself mentally, although he couldn’t tell precisely what for.

While he’d been deliberating- not panicking, never panicking- Virgil had frozen in place. Right. The whole blazing trainwreck of words he’d let out for no apparent reason. Where the hell had that even come from? He’d known this kid for a month- five minutes face-to-face- and he was already being weird and nonsensical. It took considerable effort to bring the circumstances of their meeting to mind and even the playing field in his subconscious. If they were both creepy, did it even out? “I-I meant... you’re welcome here.”

Logan could see the gears turning in Virgil’s head as he fell back into his chair. A weight slid off of his shoulders as the air between them settled- they were even. Or something.

As much as he expected to regret his words, he was surprised at the lack of protest from his thoughts. It was, for once, blessedly quiet both inside his head and out. Logan sat back down warily. “You obviously have some- some connection to this house.” Like some sort of undead apparition, he thought- but he had the sense to keep that, at least, inside. “I can’t tell if it has a positive or negative effect on your mental state as I seem to be an uncalled for variable in your visit. I’m no psychological authority... I know you’ll come back either way, and I don’t like imagining you back out in the rain.” A shiver went through the boy like a roll of thunder, and he nodded.

“When can I come here again?”

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #empty house au #ehau #analogical #romantic analogical #analogical oneshot #logan sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #sanders sides human au #sanders sides human!au #human!au #college!au #kinda

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thinkingisadangerouspastime · 4 years

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What your opinion on the Agni Kai was better then aang’s fight with ozai

I want to first say that “better” is a completely subjective statement. Both the final Agni Kai and Aang’s battle with Ozai have huge importance thematically, but are also demonstrative of different aspects of A:tLA, so comparing them in an attempt to determine the “better” battle is really an injustice to the show imo. That said, the final Agni Kai is certainly the more popular of the two big battles, and honestly I can break down its popularity into three main points. People tend to favor the final Agni Kai because:

They see the final Agni Kai as the reason Z.utara should have been canon (no, this is not the same as seeing the battle as crucial to Z.utara’s development; I mean they full-on think that the final Agni Kai matters largely if not entirely because of the brief ‘Z.utara’ moment.)

They recognize the significance of the Agni Kai being framed as a tragedy (specifically regarding Azula).

Their lack of understanding regarding Aang’s arc (or, to be kinder, their personal disinterest in Aang) prevents them from fully appreciating his battle with Ozai.

There are a few other reasons the final Agni Kai tends to be favored (e.g. it’s a much faster-paced battle action-wise; Aang’s battle with Ozai is over twice as long and because of how the show was structured is broken up into several sections and thus feels even longer), but I think those are the main three. So let’s take them one at a time!

First, I have to start with the obvious:

People favor the final Agni Kai because they interpret it as their holy grail of why Z.utara should have been canon.

Firstly, I am not getting into the K@taang vs Z.utara ship wars. I don’t have the time or the energy lmao. But there is a huge difference between shipping Z.utara based on the content provided in the show (because y’all know I love me some Zut@raang) compared to somehow thinking that Zuko and Katara were both ready to be and should have gotten together at the end of the series. In short, Z.utara would not have worked in canon based on where the series stood by the finale, and that’s okay! That fact does not negate the appeal of Z.utara nor does it mean Z.utara shippers should not be allowed to interpret the final Agni Kai as involving Z.utara content (they absolutely can and should! we love to see that!). But the final Agni Kai was not some secret sign that Z.utara was meant to be canon, and people who interpret it as such are sorely missing the point of the battle.

Here are a few metas discussing the final Agni Kai in regards to Z.utara’s importance within canon A:tLA, if you’d like to read some analysis going more in-depth than I intend to. My thoughts regarding Z.utara and the final Agni Kai are pretty simple:

Zuko catching/attempting to redirect the lightning aimed at Katara was not because he was in love with her. For him to sacrifice himself because he was “in love with her” would entirely undermine his redemption arc, which is learning to earn forgiveness and accept unconditional love from his family (both Iroh and the Gaang), not because of romantic interest. (Again, this does not mean someone shouldn’t ship Z.utara; if that’s what you’re taking away from this post, then you might as well stop reading, because I assure you that’s not even close to the point here.)

Katara is set up as Azula’s primary foil (e.g. by and large her relationship in canon with Zuko is aimed as a surrogate sibling); her saving Zuko parallels Azula’s attempts on his life (though her most important moment as Azula’s foil is arguably bringing Aang back to life after Azula kills him, but that’s a subject for another time lol), and Zuko catching the lightning for Katara demonstrates him saving the sister he can save versus Azula, the sister he cannot save (hence her breakdown at the end of the battle while Katara walks away largely unharmed; Zuko’s decision is also a direct parallel to him siding with Azula in “Crossroads of Destiny”, having first chosen the sister who harms him over Katara, the sister who ultimately heals him).

The significance of Zuko catching/attempting to redirect the lightning aimed at Katara is not because it was Katara he was saving; the viewer sees Zuko’s decision and recognizes that he would have done so for anyone. Anyone in the Gaang, plus Mai and Iroh, and possibly even Ty Lee (hell, he’d probably have taken the bolt for Appa and Momo). Zuko’s redemption arc is sealed by his selflessness, his willingness to sacrifice himself for the sake of someone else. While the moment is especially powerful because of Katara’s position as a foil to Azula, it is not the Z.utara holy grail I’ve seen it portrayed to be.

To be honest, the interpretation of the Agni Kai as some big Z.utara moment is both superficial and a massive disservice to Azula and the completion of her arc, which is the focal point of most if not all of the battle, and also entirely undermines the power of Zuko’s redemption (as I discussed). So moving on to the next point!

People favor the final Agni Kai because they recognize its importance to Azula and how the key element of the battle’s emotional weight is its framing as a tragic, heartbreaking moment.

I rewatched both the final Agni Kai and Aang’s battle with Ozai before I wrote this, and I had to try so hard to not cry at the end when Azula breaks down, sobbing openly for the first time in the entire series. It is a powerful, devastating moment, and it is so heartbreaking because of how fitting it is for her. Does she deserve redemption? Absolutely. But in the context of the series and how A:tLA played out, rock bottom is where Azula needs to be, and the audience recognizing that fact is what makes the scene so painful to watch (and also why you can’t take your eyes off the screen). For me, the power of the Agni Kai never came from Zuko’s sacrifice (although I understand why that part resonates with some people more); instead, it was always about Azula’s downfall, her descent, the straw the broke the camel’s back - whatever you want to call it. I’ll try to keep the essence of my feelings towards Azula and the Agni Kai and why this battle is preferred short:

Azula is a much more established antagonist than Ozai. We know from the beginning the Fire Lord is the big bad, but his presence in the show is relegated largely to flashbacks and to the second half of the final season. Azula is introduced in Book Two (technically she appears twice, I believe, in Book One, but she has no lines so I’m not counting those moments lol) and becomes the key antagonist throughout the final two books. The viewers admire her intelligence and strategic capabilities, appreciate her wit and ability to turn a person’s words around on them, and even feel sympathy and pity for her when her difficult relationship with her mother is revealed (in “The Beach”) and when Ozai’s conditional love is demonstrated to apply to her, too (“Sozin’s Comet Part 1: The Phoenix King”). Thus, the final Agni Kai has multitudes more emotional potency in terms of the antagonist, as Azula is more pitiable and developed than Ozai, so it’s understandable that feeling a greater connection to Azula might result in someone preferring the final Agni Kai over Aang’s battle with Ozai. (That said, I will be discussing more about the significance of Ozai as a character later.)

The tone of the Agni Kai is that of tragedy (verus the more action/intense battle of Aang vs Ozai). While the debate of drama vs action is largely related to personal preference, I think it’s worth noting that no other battle in A:tLA (that I can think of) has the slow, drawn-out, orchestral music that is present in the final Agni Kai. The viewers realize this battle may be about power on the surface, but in reality it is a painful, devastating moment about a family irreparably torn apart (at least in terms of the series run). For me, that has always been the captivating factor of the Agni Kai. The viewers mourn for Azula, who has lost herself. Yes, she did so partially in her quest for power, but more importantly in her search for love, as she did not have a support system in her life like her brother (Zuko always had Iroh), and the audience grieves for her. Her mother both feared her and was disgusted by her; her father loved no one (including her) and only valued her for what she could provide to him; she hurt her brother and her best friends to the point where they were forced to turn away from her; and her uncle, as far as what is shown, never extended a hand to her. Azula is a victim of abuse (though this does not excuse any of her actions; in fact, her role in A:tLA as a victim who was abandoned and lashes out before breaking down on the inside is just as important as Zuko’s role as a victim who was given support and was able to heal). Thus, to me, the power of the final Agni Kai is all from the tragic tone (hence why Azula’s heartbreaking end brings me close to tears every time).

Bonus: The way Katara takes out Azula is incredibly clever and badass. (I don’t think I need to expand this one. We all love narrative foils!)

For some people, they prefer the final Agni Kai because of the emotional weight of the conclusion of Azula’s arc; that weight combined with the conclusion of Zuko’s redemption, in my opinion, are pretty valid reasons to deem the final Agni Kai their favorite battle of the series. That said, there is one other important factor to consider in the question of the final Agni Kai vs Aang’s battle with Ozai:

People prefer the final Agni Kai because they blatantly misunderstand and/or misinterpret Aang’s arc of reconciling his being both the Avatar and the last airbender, thus preventing them from fully understanding and appreciating the weight of his battle with Ozai.

This point is more complex than the two I discussed previously, so I’m going to break this one down further to help simplify it. Let’s start with the most obvious thing:

“The lion turtle and energybending were cop-outs!”

I cringe whenever I see this; imagine admitting to the entire fandom how blind you were to the extensive foreshadowing about the lion turtle and energybending. Downright embarrassing. There are so many metas out there explaining how the lion turtle and energybending were not cop-outs and how A:tLA did foreshadow their influence (some people need to admit they just didn’t watch the show tbh). I’ll try to provide a quick summary:

Chiblocking demonstrated how chi/energy and bending were intrinsically linked from Day. One. Moreover, it did so numerous times; trying to claim that blatant foreshadowing is not there is… well, kind of embarrassing.

The lion turtle was foreshadowed in “The Library” (and moreover the lion turtle only appeared after Aang called out to the Spirit World; his meditation was an appropriate attempt to seek help from those wiser than him to resolve his dilemma, and thus his plea was answered).

If you’re gonna argue the lion turtle/energybending were convenient cop-outs, you better also critique how Suki conveniently was at the Boiling Rock/the ferry, Pakku conveniently had been arranged to marry Katara’s grandmother, Toph conveniently inventing metalbending, every other time a spirit showed up conveniently, etc. etc. etc. Don’t cherry-pick, hypocrites.

The lion turtle/energybending were not necessarily predictable, no, but they also were not meant to be. You’re not supposed to guess every detail of every finale of every show. So yes, the lion turtle/energybending were foreshadowed, and this foreshadowing done so in a way where after they were revealed it was intended to be an “oh my god, how did I not see that connection before?!” moment. (At least, so it was for me.)

Dismissing the lion turtle and energybending as a cop-out is an age-old, boring misinterpretation of Aang’s battle with Ozai, and by and large I think most of the fandom is tired of hearing it. Thus, if people don’t understand the lion turtle/energybending and their roles in the A:tLA finale, then they’re less likely to appreciate Aang’s battle with Ozai and therefore would prefer the final Agni Kai. Next common argument:

“Aang was able to re-enter the Avatar state because of a rock? Really? Another cop-out!”

Again, if you’re gonna criticize the rock, at least criticize every other plot device used in A:tLA. I mean come on. Some people will really just cherry-pick instances solely with Aang. How very convenient for them, huh?

But the fact of the matter is that the pointy rock is actually pretty important! No, it didn’t necessarily have to be a rock that allowed Aang to enter the Avatar state again, but it was necessary that the Avatar state was unblocked for him by a physical trigger. The Avatar state was removed from Aang by Azula’s lightning striking him (after he’d done the spiritual work to control it, too!), which is a physical block, thus requiring something to physically unblock it. By the end of Book Two, Aang is able to enter the Avatar state of his own accord (he successfully unlocked his chakras, after all) and had Azula not struck him in the back and killed him, he presumably would have been able to do so throughout Book Three. Did that physical item have to be a rock? Again, not necessarily, lmao, but where he and Ozai were fighting, well, there certainly were a lot of rocks, so it’s not like it didn’t make sense. (There’s a meta here that touches a bit on the necessity of the Aang needing the Avatar state physically unblocked, too.)

“Ozai was a stereotypical, boring villain! He was barely given any screen time!”

This isn’t entirely untrue. Everything viewers are told about Ozai is from other characters in the narrative; mostly Zuko, but also Azula and I’d argue Iroh, too. Ozai certainly was the big bad of the series, and little is provided regarding his personality beyond being power-hungry, racist, xenophobic, and abusive. But… that’s kind of the point. Ozai is written to have zero redeemable qualities. There is supposed to be zero sympathy for him. Hell, there’s arguably even zero reason for him to live on (which actually makes Aang’s decision to spare his life all the more powerful, but that’s for later). There’s one line in particular that really defines Ozai’s character to me:

“You’re [Aang is] weak, just like the rest of your people [the Air Nomads]! They did not deserve to exist in this world… in my [Ozai’s] world!”

Ozai is the epitome of fascism, imperialism, and a superiority complex if there ever was one in a cartoon. His words remind the audience that maybe he didn’t initiate the Air Nomad Genocide, but he continues to seek the same goal - obliteration of anyone he deems inferior (which is, well, every nation except his own). Aang’s battle with Ozai is literally a fight against fascism, and that’s a hell of a powerful metaphor. So while I understand leaning towards the Agni Kai in terms of familiarity with the antagonist (aka Azula), I do think some people gloss over Ozai too quickly. Yes, everyone knows that Ozai is a genocidal dictator, but I don’t think the implication of that position - especially what it means to Aang - really sinks in for everyone.

And now for the big one:

“Aang should have killed Ozai!”

If you are reading this and for some godforsaken reason think Aang should have killed Ozai, I beg of you: read these metas and analyses about Aang and his arc explaining exactly why that’s the wrong take. This point has been argued a million times over and the fact of the matter is that Aang choosing to spare Ozai’s life and thus uphold his beliefs as an Air Nomad is the ultimate triumph (a direct parallel to the Air Nomads being forced to fight back against the firebenders during Sozin’s attack and were thus not able to uphold their beliefs - the ultimate sacrifice). Furthermore, Aang choosing to spare Ozai’s life but take his bending is arguably a fate worse than death for Ozai. Ozai now lacks all of his power/prestige, will be forced to watch the son he despises rebuild his country, and any lingering supporters he may have can’t argue “oh well the Avatar had no reason to kill him!” because Aang didn’t kill him. He chose mercy. He proved himself better and stronger than Ozai could ever hope to be.

Furthermore, Aang staying true to his beliefs as an airbender is central to his character. The core belief of the Air Nomads was that all life was sacred (such was why they were all vegetarians). If he had killed Ozai, if he had been forced to betray his spiritual beliefs, then he would have completed the genocide of the Air Nomads that Sozin started a hundred years ago. Ozai’s death at Aang’s hands = the death of the airbenders’ culture. Full stop. How could he be expected to bring balance to the four nations if only three remained? Maybe this is just me, but the message of Aang being an airbender (the last airbender) and finding another way (e.g. energybending) to defeat Ozai in order to uphold the beliefs of his people is a much more powerful message than him having to kill Ozai (especially because no one else understood how important Aang’s spirituality was to him [not even the Gaang!]; Aang did what was right, even when the world insisted he was wrong).

(Sidenote: The previous Avatars did not tell Aang to kill Ozai. That’s right - not even Kyoshi. I believe she gave him this advice: “Only justice will bring peace.” Great news! Aang did exactly that. Why are some people still so pressed about it??)

Furthermore, if someone calls Aang’s beliefs and his decision not to kill Ozai childish (we’ve all seen those posts), I’m giving you permission to deck them, because so much of the roots of the Air Nomads’ spirituality is rooted in Buddhism, and like,, we know westerners struggle to comprehend any narrative that isn’t our own, but the dismissal of Aang’s beliefs without making the connection that they’re also dismissing the beliefs of many, many real people? Yeah, please sock those assholes in the jaw. Give them the finger. Glare at them. Whatever works for you. Those are the people with the most superficial opinions on A:tLA, and to be honest, it really shows. Please: make an effort to understand the eastern narratives at work within A:tLA. If you don’t, there are so many things you will miss out on, and you’ll also just look like a prick.

For me, Aang’s battle with Ozai is so powerful (and my favorite) because of the ending and its importance to Aang:

“I’m not gonna end it like this.”

Aang chooses mercy by taking Ozai’s bending instead of killing him.

Aang chooses to uphold the beliefs of his people and guarantee the Air Nomads live on in him.

Aang proves his soul is unbendable.

Aang enters and controls the Avatar of his own accord (not induced by trauma or a spirit).

Aang reconciles his being the Avatar with being the last airbender.

Aang is finally at peace with himself and the world around him.

In short, if a person doesn’t understand Aang and his character, then the significance of his final battle with Ozai will largely be lost, and thus it makes sense that they would gravitate more to the Agni Kai (which is arguably a less nuanced battle, as Azula’s position as a victim of abuse and Zuko’s tale of redemption are not exclusive to either western or eastern narratives, while Aang’s arc is largely more eastern in nature and thus something less familiar to western audiences).

I have no doubt that my personal bias influences my admiration of the final battle with Ozai, as Aang is my favorite character and his narrative is easily the most powerful to me (he is the sole survivor of genocide who still chooses to seek kindness in life instead of revenge), but regardless I’d argue the sheer thematic weight of Aang’s battle with Ozai outweighs that of the Agni Kai any day (although, to be fair, they are presenting different subjects, so take my feelings there with a grain of salt).

The Agni Kai is a tragedy. It is devastating. It makes you cry. Aang’s battle with Ozai is a triumph. It is hope. It makes you take a deep breath and look to tomorrow with a brave smile. And that is why it is the battle that concludes the series.

TL;DR - Both are fantastic battles in their own merit, but Aang’s battle with Ozai is underappreciated because of the fandom’s incomplete grasp on Aang’s arc and character while the final Agni Kai is often appreciated/hyped up for the wrong (*cough* shipping *cough*) reasons.

#IM GONNA ADD A LINE BREAK IN A HOT MINUTE IM ON MOBILE #amy answers #aang #atla #avatar the last airbender #azula #zuko #katara #ozai #final agni kai #atla meta #aang vs ozai #energybending #lion turtle #anon #air nomad genocide #air nomads #avatar the legend of aang #amy analyzes

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ofstoriesandstardust · 4 years

Text

The 5 Times Luther Thinks He’s in Love With You (and the one time he actually does something about it)

A/N: I’ve never written for Luther before but I am full on simping for this man. I know he’s kinda hated in the fandom so we’ll see if this fares better then my Diego piece. No, I still haven’t finished season 2 yet. If I were to spend as much time watching TUA as I did reading and writing fan fiction about it, I would’ve finished weeks ago. This might be super out of character for Luther so hopefully this doesn’t suck. It also ended up being way longer then I had intended and is officially the longest thing I’ve ever written. I think it starts out mediocre and ends strong so there’s that.

masterlist | prompt list

warnings: takes place post-season 2 but my own version again, Ben came back to life again because I said so, my trauma, canon childhood abuse, trauma, and reference to drugs, swearing,

word count: 6,438

i. the time you treat his siblings like your own

The first time Luther thinks he might be in love with you is the day Klaus gets out of rehab...again. Over the last year, the Hargreeves clan has worked hard to get Klaus clean and sober, and Ben coming back to life was a big push for Klaus to get help. Unfortunately, it’s been more downs than it had been ups. As a survivor of childhood abuse yourself, you had told Luther it would take time for the mental scars their father left behind to heal and Klaus was no exception. Still, Luther had thought the process would go a little bit smoother than it had, and it killed him to watch his brother relapse again and again, and the toll it took on Diego and Ben every time he did. However, they thought this time might be different. Klaus had made a lot of progress during this last stint in rehab, progress he hadn’t made before. You coming into the Hargreeves family and becoming a rock to the siblings had brought a lot unexpected comfort to Klaus, that someone outside the family cared for him and his well-being. It had been a push he needed, and you really believed he’d stay clean this time.

Diego and Ben had volunteered to pick the seance up from rehab, with the other siblings arriving at your apartment to create some sort of semblance of a ‘welcome home’ party. You had volunteered to watch Klaus the next few weeks, knowing the Academy was no place for him to be. How could he stay sober living on the streets or at the home of all his abuse? And seeing as you didn’t drink, there was no alcohol for Klaus to even access if he wanted to. Luther had been adamant you didn’t need to go out of your way to make a space for Klaus but you had over ruled him with the support of Ben and Diego and the decision was made whether Luther liked it or not.

Over the course of the last year or so, you had sort of tumbled into his life, crashing straight into Luther one morning as he was leaving Griddy’s. It had snowed the night before, and the street was icy, and the next thing he knew, someone had walked straight into his large frame and was tumbling towards the ground. Luther reached out, large hands wrapping around your much smaller frame, and hoisting you back up before you could hit the ground. He awkwardly cleared his throat and put you back down on the ground. “Sorry about that.” He mumbled, overwhelmed by the fact that he had stupidly almost sent the pretty girl crash-landing to the ground.

“It was my fault, really. Shoulda been looking were I was going.” You said. Fate, however had other plans, when Ben came along the road. You turned to greet him, and his eyes drifted from you to Luther. He stopped next to you and a shit-eating smirk grew on his face. “Well, (Y/N), it looks like you’ve met my brother Luther. Luther, this is my co-worker (Y/N).” Luther had a moment of realization, understanding he had knocked into Ben’s favorite co-worker at the bookstore/cafe he talked so much about. Ben invited Luther back inside to Griddy’s as the two of you got breakfast before your shift and Luther agreed, not having a much better plan. Allison was in Manhattan with Vanya, Klaus was doing a stint in rehab, Diego was working at the gym, and Five was off god-knows-where doing god-knows-what. The breakfast was quite enjoyable, Luther observing your comfortable energy and your kind nature. You had offered your number to Luther before parting with Ben, in case “he ever needed a friend”. It wasn’t long after that, that the family had had a tumble towards rock-bottom as Klaus got out of rehab, immediately seeking the nearest drug he could get his hands on. Ben had asked you to come over and the support you offered the family through your experiences with an alcoholic mother and comfort had irrevocably changed your position and meaning to the family and to Luther. While Luther had always felt you were closest to him, the closest thing he had to a best friend, he couldn’t unsee the way you joked with Klaus, the support you offered Diego, the witty banter you’d exchange with Five, the conversations you’d have with Allison, the encouragement you offered Vanya, and the normalcy you brought Ben. He always thought that you liked them a little bit better, but every time, you were able to read that he was too far into his self-doubt, and assured him that he was and would always be your best friend.

This time was no different. As Klaus returned to the apartment and was practically glued to your side, he felt that small piece of him rile up again, making him want to shrink to the background. As the night wore on, he felt himself retreat further and further behind the walls in which he had put up. He had hoped to get a moment alone with you, which didn’t seem promising. But luck was on his side, and an opportunity arose, which came in the form of a Mario-Kart tournament. You excused yourself and Luther from the first few rounds, asking for his help with the dishes. He felt confused, as you always stated doing the dishes helped you focus and relax. You turned the water on, beginning to wash dishes and handing them to him to dry. He did so, in silence for a few minutes, but not a bad one. “You know that Klaus staying doesn’t change how I feel about you, right?” you said quietly, as to not let the Hargreeves overhear your discussion of one of his biggest insecurities. He nodded.

“Yeah, I know.” he said in a gruff voice, looking out over the city from your window, avoiding looking at you.

“Luther.” You said sternly and he chanced a glance at you. “You know I love your family like my own siblings and you know I would do anything for them.” He felt his stomach beginning to sink as he waited for the other shoe to drop that would never come. “But, you, you’re my best friend in the entire world. Nobody’ll ever come close.” You said, nudging his shoulder and turning back to the dishes. He looked down at you, and looked at the way your face was lit up by the light of the moon, and he looked back up the moon to where he spent so many years in isolation, hoping one day he’d get to meet someone like you. He was starting to think that he didn’t want to be just best friends anymore... and that thought scared him almost more than anything.

ii. the time he can’t imagine his life without you

The thought that does scare him more than anything is the thought of losing you. It’s never been a thought he’s allowed to stay in his mind long; shuddering away from the thought of losing you to the cold clutches of death, the way he lost Ben, the way he had thought he lost Five. Unfortunately, he is forced to confront the thought one night. Diego shows up the Academy, clutching you in his arms, cuts and bruises littering your frame. Luther is the only home at the time, everyone else either gone, living their lives or in the case of Five, at Griddy’s. Diego sets you down in a chair and with the exception of the minor physical harm and the fact that you can’t seem to stop shaking, you seem to be alright. “I’ll explain in a minute. Where’s Mom?” Diego asks quietly. This seems to snap Luther out of his state of shock, that if Diego thought your injuries might be bad enough to have Mom look over them, he needs to present and here.

“Diego, I told you-” you winced, a movement neither Hargreeves boy missed, “I’m fine.”

“Even still, Mom should check you out anyways. I think she’s upstairs. Do you want me to go get her?” Luther said softly. Diego shook his head.

“Nah, I’ll go grab her. You stay with (Y/N).” Luther nodded and took a tentative seat next to you, wanting nothing more than to reach out and pull you into his arms and quell all your fear and make you forget all this pain and-

“Oh, (Y/N), darling.” Mom’s soft voice reaches his ears. She checked you over, determining that all the injuries you sustained were minor and would heal within the next few days.

“See, Diego. I told you I was fine.” You snapped, as Mom put a kettle on the stove to make tea for the three of you.

“What even happened, (Y/N/N)?” Luther asked softly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, almost missing the way you leaned into his touch. Diego sighed and pinched the bridge of his noise.

“I was wondering the same thing myself.” He grumbled.

“It was just some creepy guy. I was fine.” The tension in the room is so thick one Diego’s knives could cut through it as the implications of what your sentence meant settled. A endless train of possibilities of what ifs fly through Luther’s brain that he almost misses what happens next.

“Fine?!” Diego asks incredulous. “Fine?! (Y/N), he had a knife-”

“I had it handled!” You said indignantly.

“You could have been killed!” Diego shouts, and the silence that follows is undeniably terrifying for all three of you. You looked to Luther, who must’ve looked like a fish out of water, gaping at you, struggling to come to terms with what Diego had just said.

“I might not be a superhero, but I can take care of myself.” You said, voice soft now, not making eye contact with either boy. Luther looks at Diego, who is clearly ready to make another argument and Luther finds the fear growing inside of him at an alarming rate. Luther stands up abruptly, his chair toppling over behind him.

“(Y/N), you could have died.” Luther says, now growing concerned regarding your apparent lack of concern for your well-being. The fear and panic spreading through his body seems ice-cold and the thought that Diego could have brought your lifeless corpse back to the Academy instead is rooting him to his now standing position. You look up at him.

“Okay, well I didn’t. I’m fine and here to live another day. Nothing worse then any thing you guys have done, and besides-”

“(Y/N), I could have lost you!” Luther yells, surprising all three of you. You look up at him. “After losing Ben, after losing Five, after everything that’s happened-” Luther goes quiet, choking on words he isn’t sure he means. I’m in love with you. I can’t do this without you. “I can’t lose you too.” His voice is soft and you look away from him, biting your lip.

“I’m sorry, okay? My co-worker called out, I didn’t think anything would happen. I've walked home a million times after closing, it’s never been an issue. I thought I had the situation under control.” You refuse to make eye contact with either boy, glaring a hole into the table. The silence remains for a while longer and Diego eventually excuses himself, saying you’ll finish the discussion in the morning. Mom put your tea down on the table, and you startle, seemingly forgetting the AI was still there. She leaves you and Luther alone in the kitchen with a gentle smile. Your hands are still trembling as your hands wrap around the cup, and Luther almost takes one of them in his own, but decides against it.

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” He says, softly. You look over at him, if for only a moment. He needs to start sorting of these thoughts of love he has towards you, but for right now, he’s just glad you’re still with him.

iii. the time Diego teases him

A month or so passes between that night and the next time Luther is forced to confront his foreign feelings for you. It’s early one morning and the eldest Hargreeves boys are sitting in a comfortable silence as Grace walks around the kitchen making breakfast. Diego is the first to break the silence. “So, Luther,” he begins, a shit-eating smirk upon his face, not unlike the one Ben wore the day you and Luther met. Luther stiffens, concerned about whatever is about to come out of his brother’s mouth. As good as their relationship has been since Texas, Luther can’t help but feel like there will always be a sort of unspoken tension between the two of them that will never truly go away, residual feelings of competition leftover from their childhood. “When are you going to tell her?” Luther stares at Diego, utterly confused about what the boy might be asking.

“Tell who what?” Luther asks, which in response, prompts Diego to roll his eyes.

“Don’t play dumb. I see how you look at her. When are you going to tell her?” Diego says, smirking. “C’mon, you can tell me. This is a safe space.”

“Tell who- Allison?” Luther blurts the name out, the only girl he can think of that Diego might be referring too. Diego startles at the name-drop of their sister.

“What- no, not Allison!” Diego splutters. “Jeez, you really have no idea who I’m talking about, do you?” Luther shakes his head. “I’m talking about (Y/N).” Luther relaxes at the sound of your name and sinks back into his chair, but he’s still concerned about what Diego thinks he needs to tell you.

“What am I supposed to be telling her?” Luther asks to which Diego shoots him a look. Luther finally understands, at least, he thinks he does. “I’m not telling her about my... condition.” Luther says, the word feeling weird on his tongue. It’s an open secret the family never speaks about, sensing Luther’s insecurities.

“That’s not- she doesn’t know?!” Diego asks, incredulously.

“Not unless one of you told her.” Luther says, anger growing in him at the thought of one of his siblings going behind his back and telling you, his closest friend, his deepest secret and biggest insecurity. He doesn’t need you to look at him the way his siblings do, with pity.

“Luther- Luther you have to tell her.” Diego says, his voice firm. “She has a right to know.” Luther casts a dark look at his younger brother.

“Right to know what? Right to know how Dad mutilated my body?! Right to know that no one will ever love me because of it?!” Luther asks, the anger (and fear) seeping into his tone. Diego sits back in his chair, not breaking eye contact with the blond boy. The quiet in the kitchen settles as Grace put the plates down in front of them but unlike before, this one isn’t comfortable. It’s awkward and there’s strong emotion radiating off of the two boys.

“Thanks, Mom.” Diego says quietly, but Luther doesn’t say anything, not trusting his voice. “I was actually going to ask when you were going to tell the poor girl you’re in love with her.” Diego says, beginning to cut up the pancake on his plate. Luther startles and his eyes widen, looking back up from his food to face Diego.

“I don’t-” Now it’s Luthers turn to splutter through his words, struggling to form a cohesive sentence.

“You do, Luther, you sooo do.” Diego responds, the shit-eating grin returning to his face. Luther just stares at Diego. “I see the way you look at her. The way you drop everything to be near her, the stupid little smile you get whenever someone talks about her or she comes over, I see it.” Luther shrugs, feeling like he’s wading through concrete, trying to form a sentence in response to Diego’s too accurate statement.

“She’s our best friend.” Luther says, shrugging with a fake nonchalant attitude. The word friend feels foreign ion his tongue and wishes he could use something else that would more accurately describe his feelings for you.

“Sure, but I’d be concerned if Ben started looking at her the way you do.” Luther stares at Diego, the confusion returning. “Your face lights up whenever you see her.” Luther remains dumbfounded and quiet, sensing Diego had a point he wanted to get to. “I’m not the only one who thinks it either. We all see it. Sure, she’s our best friend and like a sister to us, but you, you’re in love with the girl.” Diego must take Luther’s silence as a reason to continue, because Diego puts his fork down and looks at Luther seriously. “I only bring all of this up because- well, if you don’t tell her soon, she won’t- won't stick around forever.”

At Diego’s words, it feels as if someone has dropped a rock in Luther’s stomach and he thinks he might be sick. The thought of you leaving- “She’s a patient person, but she’s not going to wait forever for you to figure out your feelings. So if you are in love with her, and I know that you are, you need to tell her- tell her everything.” Diego stresses the last word and Luther gathers that he means his condition as well. Luther wants to shove his plate away, walk away from Diego, and lay in his bed for the rest of the day, pretending that he hadn’t been forced to confront these feelings he isn’t ready to have for you.

Instead he mumbles out a “She’ll hate me.” Diego sighs.

“She won't hate you. I’m pretty sure she feels the same way but you’d have to ask Vanya or Ben for that answer, Lord knows she confides in them more than me.” Luther looks back up at Diego. “Besides, even if she doesn’t feel the same way, she won’t hate you.”

“But it will change things.”

“Sometimes change can be a good thing.”

“Not in this family.” Luther mutters as Five makes an appearance, the blue light startling Diego. The conversation gets left there but Luther can’t help but mull over Diego’s words, wondering if he’s right.

iiii. the time you have a fight

You and Luther’s friendship has been struggling, he knows it just as well as you do. Ever since his conversation with Diego, Luther has been pulling into himself, retreating further and further away from you. He’s not being a good friend, he knows that, and you deserve better, and he knows that too. Still, he can’t help but feel like the only way he’ll get over his feelings is by not being around, positive he won’t ever tell you that he thinks he might be in love with you. He knows there’s no way you're in love with him too. He’s ended up at your apartment tonight, returning a book Five had borrowed. Why he couldn’t return it himself, he wasn’t sure but Five had told he owed him one after “saving his sorry ass through two apocalypses”. Now that he was here though, he thinks it was just a ploy to get him here. Even still, when you invite him in, he can’t bring himself to say no to you. The pair of you stand in the kitchen in total quiet, the distance between the too of you feeling much more like a gaping chasm than the four feet. “What did I do?” You ask, arms folded across your chest, almost like your protecting yourself from him. Luther looks up at you. “Did I do something wrong?” A pause. “Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you.” He says quickly, clearly too fast for your liking. You sigh and let your arms drop, turning away from him to put the hot water from the kettle into the two mugs in front of you.

“You do Luther. I can see it. You don’t come over anymore, you hardly speak to me when I’m around, I did something and now you’re mad at me.” Luther remains silent, something that seems to be occurring more and more lately. “If you hate me, if you want to end our friendship, that’s fine. I’ll let you go, but at least have the decency to tell me why.” Your voice trembles on the last word and Luther is kicking himself as he struggled to find words to assure that it’s not you, it’s him. However, his tongue feels heavy and his mouth feels like it’s full of cotton and his mind is blank. He couldn’t very well tell you the truth, he’d lose you for sure, but it looks like he’s losing you anyway. You must take his silence as reason to keep pushing. “If this is about- your condition-” your voice drops on those two words and Luther stands up abruptly.

“How do you know about that?!” He seethes. You glance up at him from where you’re staring intently at the tea steeping below you on the counter, but only briefly.

“Allison told me. Months ago.” You responded, voice quiet. He’s in the process of figuring out all the different colorful things he’s going to say to Allison upon his return at the Academy, when you speak again. “Why didn’t you tell me Luther? I’m your best friend.” There’s that word again. Friend. The word has caused so much stress, frustration, and confusion in his life and now he’s going to lose you over it too.

“You’d hate me.” You look up at him.

“I could never ha-” He interrupts you, the panic and fear and anger sliding down his spine.

“Or worse, you’d look at me like everybody else does, with pity in their eyes.” He spits the words out with so much venom, he surprises himself. It clearly surprises you as well.

“Is that what you really think?” You finally dare to make eye contact with him for the first time the whole night and your voice is cold. He shrugs, not knowing what to say. “After all this time, after everything, that’s all you think of me?” Luther is, once again, at a loss of words and he feels the panic crawling up his throat that if he doesn’t say something soon, it’s not going to be pretty. You take his silence as apparent confirmation because the words you utter next is ones he never wanted to hear.

“Get out.”

He throws the front door of the Academy open and spots Vanya coming down the stairs. They make eye contact and she shrinks back, feeling the anger radiating off of him. A pang goes through his chest, remembering the last time he felt this angry. “Where’s Allison?” He asks and Vanya nods her head towards the kitchen. He heads there and he can feel Vanya following behind him. His siblings are sitting around, clearly laughing at some sort joke Klaus has just finished telling. The room falls silent as they look over to a glowering Luther and Vanya who is shrinking behind him in the doorway. Luther’s eyes settle on Allison, who is conveniently, the furthest away from him. “What gives you the right to tell her about what Dad did?” His voice is low and and it’s Diego who understands first.

“Oh, shit.” Diego mutters. He glances over at Ben, who looks at Klaus, who looks to Vanya.

“Maybe we should...” Klaus says, as Diego and Ben move to stand up.

“Sit down.” Luther says, and the three resume their position as Vanya moves behind them. Allison is looking at the table, avoiding looking at him. Five’s head swings between Luther and the rest of the siblings.

“Did I miss something?” He asks, finally settling on Vanya and Diego. Diego shrugs.

“Unless, you’ve been missing the heart eyes Luther makes every time (Y/N) comes around, you’re as up to speed as the rest of us.” Five snorts. Luther lets Diego’s comment slide because the only thing he can feel is the sheer betrayal he feels at Allison’s actions. Before Five can formulate a response, Luther finds himself talking.

“What the hell, Allison!?” The girl finally makes eye contact with him. “After everything you and I have been through, what gives you the right to tell her that?! You knew, better than anyone, how I felt about that.” Allison sighs and looks away from him.

“I’m sorry, okay? I thought she already knew, I promise. I wouldn’t intentionally tell her that if I hadn’t thought she already knew.” Luther softens, but only a little.

“So I didn’t get a choice in the matter?! To tell the girl that I love-” His voice stops on the word, realizing what he’s just said out loud. Five’s eyes narrow and Klaus raises his eyebrows. No one else seems to be phased though, leading him to believe there’s been one too many conversations about him behind his back. Figures they’d leave Klaus and his big mouth and Five’s smart mouth out of it.

“Like I said, I thought she knew. Why didn’t you tell her?”

“I didn’t get a chance! You got to her months before I could!” Luther exclaims, getting defensive once again. He’d rather not think about the consequences of his words just yet.

“Wait, hold on. She’s known this for months?” Ben intervenes. Allison nods.

“Four.” She confirmed.

“Four months and she didn’t say anything?” Ben asks, chuckling to himself a little bit.

“This isn’t funny.” Luther deadpans, now staring down Ben.

“It is, just a little.” Ben said, his laughter growing. It seems to click for Vanya, who joins in on Ben’s laughter. “Why’d you never tell her Luther?” He asks, still struggling to hold in his chuckles.

“I- I didn't want her to hate me, or- or think of me differently.” Luther said quietly.

“Well that answers that then.” Vanya says. The siblings all look over to her and she shrinks back from the sudden attention. “Well, I’m just saying, if she’s known for four months, and she hasn’t said anything, and nothing’s changed, I’d say the answer’s pretty obvious.” It’s Klaus who understands next and his smirk grows.

“In fact, one might say, to know for four months and to not say anything means there’s something more.” He says, using the voice he must’ve used when he was preaching or whatever the hell he did with his cult in the 60′s.

“Where you going with this Klaus?” Diego asks. Its Allison who joins in next, a grin growing on her face.

“Well aside from our brother’s new confession of undying love for the poor girl, she must feel the same to know for four months and never say anything.”

“To let nothing change in hopes that one day you’d feel the same way for her.” Five finishes, realization dawning on his face.

“Well, it doesn’t matter because she’s never gonna speak to me again.” Luther says, and turns from his siblings, heading back up to his room. So, he’s pretty sure he’s in love with you. So what, if it just means losing you? He’d go through a million apocalypses, swallow his feelings for you a hundred times, if it meant you’d still be in his life.

v. the time you drop everything to be there for him

It’s been a week since you’ve spoken to Luther. Klaus and Ben keep telling him he should talk to you, to fix things, but if you can go this long without talking to him, he knows that you’re better off. You don’t need him in your life messing things up and making it harder for you. Unfortunately, late one night, fate makes the decision for him. It’s storming out and Luther hates the sounds of thunder. His heart is racing as he lays in his too small bed, arms clutching his comforter. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to drown out the images in his brain as he searches for sleep again. His nightmare keeps replaying over in his mind, the image of you and his siblings lifeless on the ground. There was so much blood. He knows it’s just a nightmare, it has to be, but fear is crawling up his throat and he thinks he might be sick. What if that was real? What if it was some suppressed memory, and everyone he’s ever cared about is just- gone? His eyes fly open as he fumbles for his phone. He still isn't really sure how to use it but he knows well enough to call you. Pleasepickuppleasepickuppleasepicku-

“H-hello?” The voice on the other line sounds groggy and somehow through his sheer panic, he feels a pang of guilt for waking you up. His mind is racing and he still can't breathe but he can't deny the relief he feels hearing your sleepy voice. “Luther? You there?”

“Y-yeah, I’m here.” He stutters.

“Is everything okay? It’s 3 in the morning.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He can’t help the way his voice shakes, clearly giving away the reality. “I just... just needed to hear your voice, s’all.” His heart is slowing down the longer you’re on the phone with him.

“Do you want me to come over?” As much as he wants to say yes, he shakes his head, forgetting you can’t see him. He clears his throat.

“No- no, I’ll be okay. Just a nightmare.”

“I’m coming over. Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?” He can hear rustling in the background, visualizing you pulling your shoes on and grabbing your keys.

“You- you don’t have to do that.” He says, even though he wants nothing more than to pull you close to him and maybe fall asleep with you in his arms.

“Just stay on the phone with me okay Luther? I’ll be there in ten.”

It’s actually 7 minutes before you’re opening the door to the Academy and rushing in. Luther’s sitting on the stairs waiting for you. He had to get out of his room but he didn’t want to go too far, not wanting to miss your arrival. The light in the foyer is on and you slowly walk towards where he’s seated. You crouch down, so that you can make eye contact with the man. He looks up at you and he realizes how much he misses you, how much he yearns to be around you. “You okay?” You ask softly. He shakes his head, finally allowing himself to be vulnerable with you. “What can I do for you?” He shrugs, still not wanting to voice how much he just wants to hold you in his arms. “C’mon, let’s go to the kitchen. I’ll make tea.” He follows you wordlessly. He sits in silence as he watches you fill the kettle and put it on the burner. You come around behind him and reach down, sliding your arms around his neck. It takes him a minute to realize you’re hugging him around his larger frame. He takes your hand and squeezes it. All too soon, the kettle starts whistling and he reluctantly lets you go. You put the hot water into two mugs and put the teabags in, letting it steep as you set the mugs down in front of the two of you.

“Thank you.” He says, quietly. You nod.

“Of course.” You say as you take the seat next to him. “I’m always gonna be here for you, even when I’m mad at you.” He looks over at you, thoughts being brought back to your fight, if you could even call it that. “I’m not mad at you, by the way. I was upset that you felt like you couldn’t trust me, but I know that’s something that-” You draw in a breath. “Something that takes a while to build.”

“I do. I do trust you.” He says firmly. “I trust you more than I trust anyone else.” He says honestly. “I was just- just scared.” You scoot your chair closer to his until your knees are touching and you can lean your head on his shoulder.

“I’m not going anywhere, Luther. I promise.” He looks down at you as the truth finally settles comfortably in his heart for the first time. He’s in love with his best friend and he’s okay with it. He thinks that just maybe- you feel the same way.

+ the one time he actually does something about it.

Luther wakes up alone the next morning. Disappointment settles in his chest, hoping you’d still be there. He gets up however, and goes about his day. He starts to worry though, as the day goes by, and he still hasn’t heard a word from you. He thinks that maybe last night had been out of pity, or some sort of obligation to his siblings. After dinner though, he gets a text from you, asking if he wants to come over. It doesn’t say what or why, but he misses you and he thinks he’s finally ready to tell you the truth, no matter what you might say in return. In fact, for the first time in a while, he’s starting to let himself hope, a feeling that’s a bit too foreign to him. He hopes you feel the same way about him. That you’re in love with him too. He agrees, texting you that he’d be over soon. He clear his throat, standing up from the table, and put his plate in the sink, ignoring the questioning look Five shoots him. He walks to your apartment, a dopey smile on his face. He makes it to your building and he lets himself in, watching how you turn to face him from the hallway. You give him a soft smile.

“Sorry about leaving this morning without saying anything. My co-worker called out so I had to cover their opening shift and I didn’t want to wake you because you looked really peaceful so...” You trail off, a light blush forming on your cheeks. He shook his head.

“It’s okay.” He says. The two of you stand there, just looking at each other. You startle finally.

“OH! I was wondering if you wanted to make these cookies with me? My Dad was finally able to get his hands on some of my Grandma’s recipes and I wanted to try one out?” He nods, smiling at the excitement lighting up your face. Your grandma had passed when you were little and it had been a struggle to get the family recipes, your family getting left out of a lot of the division of property. You had once told him that you were really only connected with her through baking. He always told you she’d be proud of you and your baking. You’d always blush and look away. He nodded, remembering he was going to need to use his words if he was going to hope to have the nerves to tell you that he was in love with you.

“Sure.” He says, moving to your kitchen. You follow him and pull the recipe up on your container as you both pull the ingredients out of their designated areas. The two of you spend so much time together that he knows his way around the kitchen like it’s the one at the Academy and the two of have baking together down to a science. You turn to music on, having made a playlist specifically for the dance parties that would happen while you’d wait for your pastry or dessert to cook. As the cookies bake in the oven, he watches with a smile as you dance around the kitchen, using the wooden spoon as a microphone. He isn’t planning it but-

“I’m in love with you.” Your eyes widen as you slowly come to a stop. The music still playing in the background feels unnatural given what was just said and you must agree because you slowly reach over to the computer, pausing it. You reach back and look at him, eyes still wide in what he thinks is shock. He’s starting to panic now, as you just stand there, mouth open. “It- it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way.” God dammit, this is why he didn’t hope for things anymore. Damn his siblings for letting him think you might feel the same way. “It doesn’t have to change anything. I understand. I just wanted you to know.” He says, quietly. “I’m sorry, I’ll go.” He turns to leave, feeling defeated. Fate is a cruel temptress, he’s officially decided.

“Luther- Luther wait.” You say, arm shooting out to grab his. You pull him back around to face you and he turns to see you unusually close to him. “Sorry, sorry, I panicked and froze.” You’re tumbling through your words, trying to spit them out, hardly breathing between them. He grows concerned at your state and he thinks you’re still worried about him feeling bad.

“Seriously, (Y/N), it’s fine-” You cut him off.

“No, no it’s not.” His heart sinks, but only for a minute because suddenly you’re talking again. “I’m in love with you too Luther. I have been for a while. I just never thought you’d feel the same way and I-” Your words stop as you look up to see you two are quite close together and all he wants to do is lean down and-

“Can I kiss you?” The words slip out before he can stop them but he’s not going to take them back. Not this time. You nod, and close the gap between the two of you. It’s short and sweet, just like you. The oven beeps, unfortunately, interrupting the moment.

“Oh, shit.” You mumble. “I love you Luther, but if I burn these cookies, I’m gonna be pissed.” He chuckles, loving how casually that word slips out of your mouth. He lets go of your waist, where his hands had been resting. You pull the cookies out of the oven and standing back from them, looking down at them proudly. He walks over to you and pulls you close to his chest and you sigh contentedly. “I could hold you like this forever.” He says, fingers running through your hair. You hum, wrapping your arms around him under his coat.

“I wouldn't mind it if you did.” You respond softly. Luther looks down at you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He finally got the girl.

#luther hargreeves #luther hargreeeves imagines #luther hargreeves imagine #luther hargreeves fic

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rohad93 · 4 years

Text

Moonlit Masquerade: Ch 11

Amity allows herself to be led out onto the dance floor and takes hold of one of her date’s hands, the other on her shoulder while their other arms rests on her hip.

If she’s honest, Amity doesn’t expect much. She’s been forced to dance with the children of other wealthy families at these kinds of things before, and while their technical dancing is always superb, it always feels so stiff and wrong.

She never had, nor ever would have chemistry with them, like she never had with anyone at dancing, except Luz. Again she feels guilty at the thought, right until they start to move.

Luz smiles as she leads them across the dance floor in quick, smooth steps. She could dance pretty well if she said so herself, but she might have also been fitting in some formal practice with Lillith the last two days. Unlike Eda, Lillith is an exacting taskmaster of a teacher, but she won’t deny she learned a lot and moderately well in such a short period of time.

Amity is looking at her with quiet wonder as they gracefully spin across the floor and Luz grins at her. They don’t need to say much of anything, they seem to be in perfect sync and Amity wouldn’t know what to say even if she did.

The tempo picks up and they follow suit, feet barely touching the floor as they glide around the room.

Luz is deliriously happy at the way they fit together and just the chance to touch Amity without her freaking out or tossing food halfway across a room.

She loosens her grip on Amity’s waist and she takes the hint, letting go of her shoulder as she spins her away, the skirt of her dress billowing up around her knees before she’s tugged back into her partner’s arms with a flourish that makes her grin.

Their steps are effortless and she feels lighter than she has in a long time.

She’s not even vaguely aware that people have started watching them or some other couples have moved out of their way. Right now, they have eyes only for each other.

“Who is that with, Mittens?” Edric asks his twin as they watch the two girls twirl effortlessly around the dance floor.

“Dunno… but I have a pretty good idea.” She smiles but says nothing else and Edric hums at his sisters’ unusual quiet on the matter. if Emira isn't telling she must have a good reason.

The song is nearing its end, building to a crescendo when the unthinkable happens.

The high polished floor has chosen this moment to make itself known.

Amity knows what happens the exact moment it does.

She slips.

The heel of her shoe begins to slip forward out from under her and she braces herself for the impact as she falls backward.

It never comes.

Luz sees it happening too and acts with lightning reflexes gained from years of being a klutz.

Just as Amity begins to fall backward she wraps her arm around her waist and twists them around, redirecting the momentum and straightens out their connected hands, bringing her to a sudden stop just as the song finishes and to the rest of the party, it appears they have just performed the most amazing dip in the history of dancing.

Amity blinks up at her with wide eyes, their noses almost touching as she’s held aloft and Luz grins and winks before pulling her back to stand.

Several people clap and whistle at the performance and Luz smiles nervously, giving a little bow before they scurry off the dance floor.

“Are you okay?” she asks Amity quietly.

“F-fine, I’m fine…,” she says, but her heart is pounding in her chest.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Luz asks head cocked.

“Oh, yes, thank you.” she smiles and Luz grins before trotting off to the refreshment table.

Amity takes the moment alone to try and bring her heartbeat back under control, hand pressed to her chest.

Her fingers brush the brooch, pinned her dress and her heart flutters.

Stars, she's got to get herself under control.

"Here ya go!"

She jerks when her date has returned and is holding a glass of punch.

"Thanks…" she takes it and their fingers brush.

"Do you like it?" she suddenly asks and Amity is confused for a second before she realizes that she means the brooch, she must have seen her playing with it.

"It's beautiful, you really shouldn't have." She reaches up, fingers brushing the gemstone.

Luz shrugs, smiling.

"When I saw it I thought of you," she explains like it's the most obvious answer in the world, her brown eyes shine in the light of the fire from a nearby sconce and they take on a molten glow.

Amity swallows thickly.

"Thank you, for all of it. The flowers and the tart… it really made my day." She smiles.

"I saw you eating it at lunch," she admits. "I'm glad it made you happy." She smiles shyly as she shuffles back and forth from foot to foot and suddenly Amity is reminded of another brown-eyed girl who can't stay still and instantly feels bad for thinking of Luz, especially when she's having such a good time here with this sweet girl in front of her that she knows likes her.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure!"

"How did you know about the tarts?" she asks. She's been wondering for days now.

"Oh…," she hums, trying to decide if she should say. She doesn't think there's any harm in it. "Emira mentioned it one day, while we were talking."

That answered one question but gave rise to several more.

"Are you an illusion track student?"

"Nope" she pops the 'p' with a playful grin.

"Do we have classes together?"

"Maybe," she drawls, eyes twinkling. Amity finds herself smiling back. So that's how it was going to be.

"What track are you in?" she asks instead.

"Impatient aren't we, Miss. Blight?" She sidesteps the question with a coy smile and again familiarity is tugging at the back of Amity's mind.

Normally she'd be annoyed at the avoidance of her questions but she’s intrigued.

"You're not going to tell me anything are you?" She rests her free hand on her cocked hip and her date only continues to smile.

Luz is having too much fun with this.

"Depends on the question, It is a masquerade, ya know?" she teases.

Amity hums thoughtfully to herself as she tries to think of a question that couldn't identify her date but will give her some information.

Before she can think of something the current song playing comes to an end and in a puff of smoke her siblings have appeared again on the dais.

"If we might have everyone's attention for a moment," Edric begins.

"We're going to play a little game," Emira finishes.

"What's going on?" Luz asks and Amity shakes her head. Whatever her siblings are up to, she has not been informed of.

Looks like they had decided to take a chance on their parents finding out and have gone off-script. She's not at all surprised.

Her siblings just can't contain themselves at times. It's why they're always in trouble… she definitely doesn't like the impish grin on the twins' faces, she knows it all too well.

She grabs her date’s hand and she looks at her questioningly.

"We should go…" she tugs her away from the dance floor and toward another set of doors.

"What, why?" Luz blinks but allows herself to be drug through the doors out onto a large porch with a short stone wall enclosing it that overlooks Blight manors, large and immaculate backyard, which is bathed in bright blue moonlight.

"Trust me, whatever they've planned is not going to go well." She rolls her eyes. As if to punctuate her words there is suddenly a loud commotion from inside.

"You're probably right…," Luz mutters, looking back in the direction of the party over her shoulder.

Amity leads them over to a large patio set and seats herself in one of the chairs.

Luz opts for hopping on top of the stone wall to face her and Amity smiles.

"You're really not going to tell me anything about yourself are you?" She asks once they're settled.

"I'll tell you anything you want that doesn't tell you who I am," is her reply.

"Oh, how bout we play twenty questions?" she asks excitedly.

"What's that?"

"It's a game, we just take turns asking each other questions," She says.

"Okay."

"Okay,...um…" Luz taps her chin thoughtfully, wracking her brain. "Favorite color?" She settles on.

"Pink, but I feel like you might have known that," Amity answers, giving her date a sly look.

"I might have had a guess." She shrugs. "Your turn."

Amity hums thoughtfully. Talking of siblings...

“Do you have any siblings?” she finally chooses.

“Naw, only child.”

“I can’t even imagine what that’s like…,” Amity huffs with a rueful smile, glancing across the lawn as the sounds of chaos inside rages on.

“Kind of quiet, boring.”

Amity blinks, gaze going back to her companion.

“What about your parents?”

“It’s just me and my mom, and she tries, but she works all the time, so usually I’m on my own.” Luz shrugs, frowning. She hasn’t ever really talked to anyone about this before. Especially not her mom, it would only make her feel bad.

Amity hadn't ever really thought much about what her life would be like if she were an only child, having to carry all the weight of her parents' expectations. It probably would be kind of lonely too.

"My parents are usually gone too… but it's probably for the better," she mumbles the last part, never having intended to give it voice.

Luz wants to ask but she remembers what Willow said about Mr and Mrs Blight not being the most affectionate, so it might be a sore spot for her crush. She chooses to ignore it, for now.

"You asked two questions so now I get to ask two," she says instead.

"I guess that's fair…" Amity nods.

"Why did you choose the abominations track?"

"My parents" Amity shrugged. "Abomination magic is one of the hardest to learn, so it's the most prestigious…," she trails off.

Luz screws up her mouth, sensing a theme and decides she wants to stay clear of any topics that might involve the Blight parents.

"How come you dye your hair?" as soon as the question leaves her mouth she knows it's the wrong thing to ask.

Amity is making a face, lips pursed.

She's quiet for a long few minutes and Luz is sure her question is going to go unanswered until Amity finally speaks.

"My mom makes me."

Luz can't win for losing it seems…

They're alone on the porch, and for reasons she can't explain she feels safe enough to talk about this with the girl sitting in front of her.

"She likes me and the twins to match, so I have to dye it green." she's pointedly not looking at Luz, who bites her tongue;hard.

She wants to say so many things, like how wrong that is, and if Amity doesn't want to color her hair she shouldn't have to, but she doesn't, because she realizes, for once, this is a situation out of her depth. As with her own mom forcing her to go to a boring summer camp to try and make her a little more normal.

Living with Eda the last almost two months had given her more autonomy than she's ever known before, but Eda isn't her mom, and while she takes care of her, she's more like a wacky aunt, who lets her do things her mother would probably have a stroke over. So sometimes she forgets that they’re kids, and subject to the whims of their parents.

Luz tries to overlook it by knowing that her mom just wants what's best for her, even if she doesn't like it, but it doesn't feel that way with Amity and Mrs. Blight, but Luz knows enough to know that she doesn't know enough to say anything about it; so she doesn't.

Instead she says: "I bet your brown hair is really pretty."

Which seems to be the right thing to say if the way Amity is now looking at her is any indication.

She smiles and reaches up to brush some free strands of hair away from her face. The pink of her cheeks not entirely hidden by her mask.

"Thanks"

Amity shared something that Luz thinks is probably personal, so it only seems right to share something back.

"My mom made me go to this boring summer camp to try and make me more normal," she says.

"Normal?" Amity's eyes narrow behind her mask.

"Yeah, at my old school everyone thought I was weird, so I didn't have any friends and kept getting in trouble for being… a lot." She shrugs.

“Weird how?”

“I just didn’t like the things other kids liked, or I guess actually the stuff I like is weird to them. I made a model of a griffin and everyone freaked out about the spider breath…”

“But they do have spider breath, that's anatomically correct…”

“I know, right?” Luz threw up her hands. “Then I auditioned for the school play…” She tells the story and Amity is trying to contain her laughter behind a hand.

“It was just some sausages!” She stuck out her tongue. “But apparently my death scene was ‘disruptive and overly dramatic’.” she finger quotes with an annoyed look.

“That’s rather tame for a play at Hexside, last year the play lead was eaten by a griffin.”

“Yikes…”

“They got him back… eventually.” She makes a face.

“So what you’re saying is don’t audition for any of the school plays?” Luz laughed.

“Not unless being eaten by a griffin sounds appealing to you.” She smirked.

“Noted” Luz holds up a finger.

They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

“You must have been lonely…” Amity breaks the quiet and Luz looks at her questioningly. “Not having any friends or siblings and your mom is always gone…,” she says peering sadly at the girl across from her.

Luz looks down at her feet as she kicks them back and forth, probably scuffing the backs of her brightly polished shoes as they hit the stone wall she’s sitting on.

“Yeah…,” she says quietly, glancing back up to see those bright gold eyes looking at her and she taps her fingers on the cold hard stone beneath them nervously. “It was pretty lonely,” she admits.

“Are you still lonely?” Amity asks.

Slowly Luz shakes her head.

“Not anymore.” she smiles, and it’s more subdued than any of the other bright smiles of grins Amity has seen this evening but it has an undeniable sincerity to it that makes her smile back.

“We should probably head back inside…,” she finally says after a while and when she’s noticed that the commotion inside has been replaced with quiet music.

“Ah, right!” She vaults off the wall and lands with a quiet thump before offering Amity her arm. “Shall we?” she smiled in what she hoped was charming. She’s not sure if she pulled it off or not by the way Amity huffs a laugh at her, but she slips her arm through hers regardless.

“Lead the way.” she teases and Luz grins and even in the dark, it’s blinding.

#Lumity #Luz Noceda #Amity Blight #Edric Blight #Emira Blight #Lillith Clawthorne #Eda Clawthorne #fic #TOH #the owl house #Moonlit Masquerade

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captainscanadian · 5 years

Text

Better | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 1)

My Masterlist

Summary: Doctor!Bucky has a day off but instead of leaving the hospital to go home, he decided to spend it at the bedside of the woman he loves.

Word Count: 4592

Pairing: Doctor!Bucky x Doctor!Reader, Doctor!Bucky x Platonic!Nurse!Wanda, mentions of Steve, Sam, Natasha & Sharon as minor characters

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Abuse & Alcoholism, Surgery, Organ Donation, IV & Needles, Emotional Distress, Physical Pain, Drugs, Hospital Stay

A/N: Doctor!Bucky is my guilty pleasure.But I have more Bucky AUs and a Chris Beck one-shot coming soon!

It was the hint of orange against the dark blue sky that marked the start of dawn. As Dr. James Barnes found himself awakening from his slumber, he rubbed his eyes to look up at the pasty white ceiling of the dimly lit on call room where he had taken refuge after his ten-hour surgery. Working long shifts that typically lasted twelve to fifty consecutive hours depending on the circumstances had become a routine for him. Although he did appreciate taking a day or two off once he had reached his weekly limit, he could not get himself to go home that night. His lack of sleep, combined with his aching limbs as a result of being on his feet for almost a whole day, meant that he could not even drive home. He had no choice but to stay within the premises for the night.

As he climbed out of bed, he retrieved his navy blue scrub shirt from the tiled floor of the on call room and shrugged it on, rubbing his eyes again as he let out another yawn. He ran his fingers through his jet black mane, noticing that a few strands of his hair were still partially wet. He had found some time for a quick shower before he had made it to the on call room, but he had just been too lazy to dry his hair. He tucked a few loose strands behind his ear before making the bed. It took him a moment to be completely rid of his fatigue and he remembered the beeping sound that had woken him up. His picked up his pager that rested upon the nightstand where he had left it before he had crashed a few hours ago.

Upon checking his page from Wanda, his most-trusted nurse, Bucky picked up the phone and dialed the extension code for the nurse's desk at the post-op ward. "Hey, this is Dr. Barnes returning a page." He said, groggily, to which he earned chuckle from his favorite nurse.

"You told me to page you when Y/N wakes up, Barnes." She told him. "Did you forget?"

"... Right. Sorry, I'm still half asleep." He let out another yawn. He had completely forgotten that your surgery had been last night. He had been planning to sit in the gallery and watch Dr. Romanoff operate on you once his shift had come to an end. But with an unexpected emergency pulling him away for the night, he had only managed to get a glimpse of you in post-op by the time he had returned from his surgery. Had Wanda not urged him to get some shut-eye while he awaited for you to wake, Bucky would have probably dropped to the floor. He was too exhausted to even be worried about you, it seemed. But hearing Wanda mention your name had fully woken him up in an instant. "I-I-I'll be over there in a moment..." He said between a yawn, clipping his pager onto his waistband before slipping into his black tennis shoes.

"I figured. There's a cup of coffee here at the nurses' desk with your name on it. I'll see you when you get here, Doc." With that, she hung up.

It took Bucky a few moments to gather himself before he walked out of the on call room. Perhaps, it was a good thing that he had the next two days off from work, thanks to his overworking nature that had resulted in him reaching his weekly limit of hours he could work. If he were in the OR at this state though, he probably could not even tell the difference between a vein and an artery if he wanted to. It was for the best. If anything, he needed to be forced to take the time off. Plus, he was planning on spending his time off by your bedside if you needed him. It was just an added bonus.

He jogged his way up the stairs to the nurse's desk on the post-op floor. "Wanda, you're a godsend." He picked up the cup of coffee and took a sip, feeling the bitterness of the dark roast seep down his throat, followed by the urge to spit out this concoction that was the farthest away in taste from his usual vanilla bean latte. "Never mind. Actually, I take that back. You're not a godsend. This coffee is absolutely disgusting and it's such a disgrace to humankind."

The perky nurse let out a laugh from behind her computer screen before shaking her head. "Don't you dare be such an ungrateful little shit, Barnes."

He rolled his eyes as he set down the coffee. "Don't you dare speak to your boss like that."

"Why? What are you going to do? Fire me?" She asked as she looked up at him, her eyebrow raised.

Bucky rolled his eyes playfully at her attitude, even though he felt like it was way too early in the morning for them to be bickering like this. Even though Wanda was only a nurse, the two of them had known each other since he had been a pre-med student at NYU. Aside from Steve, whom he had known since childhood, and Sam, whom he had only met while they were both residents, Wanda was someone who had become a younger sister to him. Having lost her own brother at a young age, she too had accepted him as a brotherly figure over the years. Their constant sibling-like banter was just proof of how close they really were and almost everyone at this hospital knew about their bond. "Or I could trade you with Sam for Sharon."

"Asshole." Wanda rolled her eyes back at him before taking back his coffee, taking a sip of it and watching his face fill with disgust.

He leaned against the desk, shifting his weight from his left leg to his right. "Has anyone from her family been down to see her yet?" The look in his eyes filled with concern and the tone of his voice was softer than it was before, it was hushed. For some reason, a part of him feared that the others might hear him and come to know of his deepest secret, his love for the woman he worked with.

She shook her head as she turned away from the screen once again. "Not that I know of. I did notice her mother go in and out of her father's room until visiting hours were over. And then I saw her sitting at the lobby when I went down to get coffee. She seems to be sticking around the premises but I don't think she intends to go and see her daughter."

He let out a sigh of disbelief before shaking his head. A part of him knew that he should not be pissed at your situation; it was none of his business. But he could not help but be angered by the way your family was treating you after what you had just done for them. Perhaps, it was because he valued human life so much that he respected your sacrifice, or it was because he valued you as a human being much more than they did. But Bucky was not going to let anyone else treat you like shit. He was sure of it. "Unbelievable."

Wanda raised her eyebrow at him. "Please don't tell me that you're going to go out there and yell at them? This is none of your business." If there was anyone in this entire hospital who knew about Dr. James Barnes' feelings for Dr. Y/N Y/L/N, it was her. "And I don't think she would want that."

"No, I know that but I have to say... they're the ungrateful shits here, Wanda."

"It was Y/N's choice, Bucky." She reminded him. "It was her body and her choice."

"You know, she said those exact words to me when I told her not to risk her own life to save the man who destroyed her childhood. She sounded just like Steve that I wasn't even surprised. He taught her well." He laughed at the thought of how his attempt to talk you out of donating your liver had been defeated. "She's better than any of us could ever be."

Though you hadn't been as close to him as you were with Steve, Bucky had taken a strong liking to you over the last few years. You had first come to this Brooklyn hospital to take up a fellowship in cardio-thoracic surgery with the incomparable Dr. Steve Rogers. As you were a career-driven woman who was extremely focused on the job, Steve had taken you under his wing and taught you everything you knew as a surgeon and as a human being.

"She's a natural, Buck." He would beam with pride for his young fellow while he drank with his best friend after a hard day's work. "You would love her." Bucky and Steve had been best friends since childhood. They had graduated high school together before going off to NYU for pre-med. After being neck and neck with their MCAT scores, they had also attended Columbia Medical School together. They had survived the competitive stage of residency and trained together under the best cardio-thoracic surgeon in the country, only to return to their hometown of Brooklyn and work side by side. They were practically inseparable.

If Steve had only known how right he had been back then about how much Bucky would love you if he ever met you, now that Bucky had realized it himself. You had first met him at one of the worst points during your fellowship, having lost your first patient while you had been training under Dr. Rogers. It had been Steve's decision to let you fly solo for that particular procedure, but things had slipped out of your hand in the matter of a millisecond. You found yourself sobbing in an on call room and beating yourself up for it. A life was lost on your operating table and you had taken an oath to do no harm. It crushed you when you realized that you had disappointed your mentor, after all those sleepless nights of studying so hard to get yourself where you were.

It wasn't easy for you to be alone from such a young age, especially with no support from your family and no real friends. You had lived on your own since you were eighteen years old, having fled your abusive home to find yourself a safe place here in New York. After your impeccable grades had managed to get you into NYU with a scholarship, you had pushed yourself through the next eight years of schooling while you worked two part-time jobs to make ends meet. Your mother hadn't even bothered to show up at your medical school graduation even though you had sent her an invite, not that it really mattered to you anyways. You had come to terms with the fact that you were all that you had. You had built a life for yourself and a career that was going to be your backbone; you didn't need people, you thought. But that night, even your career had seemed to be letting you down.

That was when you had met Dr. Barnes, the next best heart surgeon in the hospital, who had managed to scramble into the nearest on call room that night for a power nap, only to run into your tearful self. He had asked you what was wrong and you had poured your heart out to him. If you had been so worried about disappointing Steve, you might as well ask Steve's best friend about how to handle it. As it turned out, he somehow possessed a different approach to teaching than his best friend. He claimed that Steve shouldn't have let you take on that patient until you had been prepared for what you had now missed, but he understood the reason why he had done that. After all, Dr. Rogers did have a reputation for being a little unconventional in his teaching. It was one of the reasons why you had been determined to work with him in the first place. "I feel like I failed him." You had told Dr. Barnes in the midst of tears. "I don't think I'm good enough for this, Dr. Barnes."

"We've all been there, Dr. Y/L/N. We've all lost patients. We've all blamed ourselves for the things that are always beyond our hands. There are some things that we as doctors can't control. Steve didn't get where he is without losing a single patient during all those years of training. I didn't get where I am without losing a patient. We are not perfect. We're human. You shouldn't blame yourself for what happened. You should learn from it and be better the next time around. Steve can be a jerk sometimes, I can tell you that. But if he told you to walk it off, you walk it off." He had told you, making you chuckle through your tears. "I'm not going to tell you that the road ahead is easy. But you signed up for this so you have to deal with the good and the bad."

"I don't think I can ever be as good as him." You admitted, sighing in defeat. "I don't think I could ever be as good as you."

"Then you should probably aim to be better than us."

Looking back at that conversation now, Bucky couldn't help but realize that you had in fact been better than the two of them. The years had managed to mold your extremely formal mentor-student relationships with them into a much more genuine and beautiful friendship. Steve had become family to you, after having learned of your own familial situation. With his friendship came your friendship with Bucky, Wanda, Sam and Natasha. They were your family now, not the people that you shared blood with. Your biological family hadn't been the best but the family that you had found for yourself in New York were much better.

When you had learned from Natasha that her recent patient with liver failure happened to be your alcoholic father whom you had fled all those years ago, a part of you refused to remember that you even had actual parents. But you were human, after all, and you were bound by your emotions. Looking into his file, you had come across the fact that he was going to be put on the donor list. As they had not found a match for a liver transplant, you had volunteered to get tested and found that you were a perfect match. Your mother had been selfish enough to save her husband's life that she had accepted it. Dr. Romanoff stood by what was best for her patient as any doctor should be. Sam and Steve had respected your choice, commending you for coming forward to save the life of the man who had once ruined yours.

But Bucky had somehow tried to talk you out of the surgery, fearing that it would put you in danger. A liver transplant was no joke. Not to mention that he did not agree with the fact that you were willing to give a piece of your own flesh to save your father's life, expecting absolutely nothing in return. But you had convinced him that as a doctor and as a human being, this was the right thing to do. Even though Natasha was a great general surgeon, he did not undermine her expertise. He was just worried that something inevitable might take you from him during this surgery. He realized that he had loved you so much that he did not want to lose you. But thankfully, the things beyond the control of a doctor that he had once told you about did not get in the way when your own life was on the table.

The beeping sound of the cardiac monitor was a constant reminder that you had survived this surgery. Not that you even doubted Natasha's ability to perform a partial liver transplant. She was definitely the best general surgeon at the hospital. But your fear of the unforeseeable factor had been present ever since you had agreed for this surgery. Even when the anesthesia had been administered and you found yourself slowly losing your consciousness, you had hoped that you would wake up from this on the flip side of the eight hour procedure.

Wanda had been at your bedside the moment you opened your eyes. You had been thankful to see a familiar face, not that any of the hospital staff were unfamiliar to you. But a part of you had expected that you wouldn't be waking up to your mother or an extended family member sitting next to your bed in anticipation of you waking up. Clearly, you had been right about that. Despite the fact that you had now saved your father's life, they could not be bothered about your well-being. They never were,

Being alone as a doctor was not that much of big deal but being alone as a patient sucked. Not only did you have to deal with the nerves before the surgery and the physical pain after it, but there was also the two month recovery time that could not be spent alone in bed rest. You did not know how you were going to survive that, but as you were used to being alone for all these years, you need not to worry. You'll cross that bridge when you get to it.

After checking your vitals and bringing you a cup of water to ail the dryness in your throat, the nurse had left the room. You had asked her about your father's post-op condition but she hadn't said anything about that. It made you worry for the slightest. What if he had suffered the complications of this operation? What if his body had rejected the piece of yours that you had voluntarily given up? That would have made your sacrifice so pointless. You did care about him, even though he had been so horrible to you. It wasn't because he was your father. You had stopped thinking of him that way years ago. But you were a doctor and he was a patient. You had what it took to save his life, ironically which was his blood, and you had made the call to step up.

The sound of footsteps against the cold tiled floor of your hospital room made you gently turn your head towards the door. Wanda had adjusted your bed to help you sit upright but it was still a little uncomfortable for you. Now that the anesthesia had slowly worn off, you were starting to feel some pain in your side. But your chapped lips curled into a weak smile when your eyes landed on the handsome doctor who had just entered the room.

His hair was not as perfectly coiffed as you remembered but it was still as silky as you remembered, the dark strands glistening against the light of the morning sky. His ocean blue eyes looked calm and a lot less blood shot than you were used to. The Dr. Barnes you knew and loved was a sleep deprived mess who cared more about his patients than his own health. But the man who stood before you looked refreshing, like coming up for a breath of fresh air just before you thought you were going to drown. You felt safe in his presence, you had always did.

"I wasn't expecting any visitors at this time and I certainly wasn't expecting a visit from you." You managed to croak out, taking another sip of the water that the nurse had handed you earlier. "But I'll take it."

"Why would that be the case, Dr. Y/L/N?" The man chuckled as he pulled up a chair next to your bed and sat down. You noticed that he was still wearing scrubs and it made you wonder. Had he been working all night and decide to stop by before he headed home? Or had he just arrived at the hospital for the start of his shift and decided to check on you before he was to begin his morning rounds?

"Because I went against your advice for the first time ever. You told me not to go through with this transplant and I did." You reminded him as you sighed. "I just assumed that you would be mad at me."

"Well, it was your choice." He just shrugged. "And now that I think of it, you may or may not have followed another one of my advice."

You let out a soft chuckle, followed by a wince at the pain that you felt in your side, now that the anesthesia was finally wearing off. You knew that you had the option to control your own pain medications through IV but you did not want to fall back into a deep sleep, especially not when James Barnes was sitting before you. "I thought you hated me." You admitted. "You didn't even come down to see me off before the surgery. Rogers was there, even Wilson and Carter. But you were nowhere to be seen."

"I'm sorry, I couldn't be there. I wanted to. But a trauma came in, flail chest, I had to go down for a consult and I was held up." He replied as he reached forward to take your hand in his. "How are you feeling?"

You gave him a nod as you smiled weakly, feeling his gentle grip against your hand. "For someone who's missing a pound of flesh, it's not as painful as I thought it would be. But then there are also several tubes attached to my body and that's not the most attractive thing on the planet." A part of you was worried that you probably looked like a disaster. Along with the IV that was pumping fluids and medications into your body to keep you hydrated, you also had a catheter in your bladder to prevent you from having to get up to go to the bathroom, and several drainage tubes in your abdomen to drain the blood and bile from your body after the surgery. A part of you was embarrassed to have Bucky see you like this. Despite the fact that he was a doctor, who was definitely used to dealing with much worse on a daily basis, you couldn't help but wonder if he thought you were unattractive like this.

"A pound of flesh?" He asked, giving you a confused look.

"Shakespeare." You clarified, wincing again at the pain. A part of you wanted to up the dose on your pain medications. But you feared the risk of the nausea and other complications and side effects that would follow. "The Merchant of Venice takes out a loan and promises to pay Shylock a pound of his flesh... if he doesn't pay back the money on time. It's a good play. You should read it sometime, you know... if you ever find yourself with a day off from cutting into people's broken hearts." You fought the urge to laugh but you failed, feeling the pain in your abdomen only growing by the second.

"Oh, I don't think I could be able to handle Shakespeare. I wasn't the best student in my English class and I was more into the science side of things."

"And you have the medical degree to prove it." You stated with another laugh, only to wince again at the pain which continued to get worse. "Oh fuck..."

Bucky leaned over in his chair to reach for your PCA remote on the bed side, his eyes filled with worry as his lips curled into a frown. He looked over at you for approval. "Do you want me to do it?"

"I thought I could avoid having to pump all those drugs into my body but..." You paused and bit down on your bottom lip as the pain took over your entire abdomen, making you hold your breath for a moment in hopes that it would dissolve. But it only got worse. "Please..?" You shut your eyes as the tears pricked at your eyes, hoping that Dr. Barnes wouldn't notice them stream down your face.

"Y/N..." He hated to see you in pain. "Are you sure you don't want me to page Romanoff?"

"Oh shit, that hurts like a bitch." You felt him squeeze your hand before pushing the button for another dose of pain meds to pump through your IV. "No, no... it's fine. She'll be down here for rounds anyways. Don't bother rushing her to get to work this early in the morning. She's not a morning person and would probably kill you. Just give me the meds. I should be fine."

He nodded as he watched the computer screen, making sure the medication was being pumped into your IV as it was supposed to. "If you start feel drowsy, you just let me know, okay? Don't try to fight it. You lost a lot of fluids. You need to rest." He still hadn't let go of your hand and you squeezed it tightly as you waited for the pain meds to kick in.

"Don't you have rounds? You should go. I should be fine once the drugs kick in." You loosened your grip on his hand wanting to let him go back to work, but he still held onto it, never letting go.

"I went over my weekly limit and I got the next two days off. I just thought I might stick around so that you won't be alone." He told you, making the pain stricken tears finally stream down your face. You couldn't hold them in anymore. Perhaps it was the medication or the emotional trauma that came with having your abdomen cut open. You felt stupid. He had been right. Your family did not care about you. You were alone. He was only here because he pitied you.

"You don't have to do that."

"But I want to."

As you began to feel drowsy, your mind refused to believe what you were hearing. Did Dr. Barnes just say that he wanted to spend his day off by your bedside? You shut your eyes, trying not to lose your consciousness as you slowly felt the pain begin to numb away. Bucky still hadn't let your hand go as he sat down next to you. "You were right, Dr. Barnes." You whispered but you weren't sure if he had heard you. Perhaps, you had just thought it in your head and he hadn't heard you. But he did not respond for a moment.

"Well, you're better than me, doll." You heard him whisper and then you felt his warm breath against your eyelids. It took you a moment for you to realize that he was leaning over your bed. You then felt his free hand stroking your hair before your felt his soft lips press gently against your forehead. You felt it all, the love that he had been holding in his heart for all these years. He probably thought you wouldn't have noticed. But you had.

#bucky barnes x reader #buck barnes au #doctor!bucky #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #tw abuse #tw alchoholism #tw surgery #tw needles #tw pain #tw drugs #tw hospital #aj writes #better

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aurorasilverthorne · 4 years

Text

Total Misunderstanding Part #1:

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Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING!!! Esteban, Shuriki, Armando and Fiero belong to Disney.

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Note: Elizaveta, Aléjandro, Llorona and Esperanza all belong to me. If you use them in fanfiction or fanart, please remember to give me proper credit as their creator. Thank you.

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Esteban wasn't prone to sleeping late. He'd been an early riser all his life, but he'd spent the night entertaining the queen, and had indulged in one too many glasses of wine.

I should've stopped at three...

But Shuriki had been in such high spirits and invitations to her bed were rare these days. Esteban had begun to believe Shuriki was losing interest in him altogether. The previous evening had assured him she still desired his touch.

Esteban groaned. His head kept throbbing like a pulse as he tried to go back to sleep and not think about the day ahead.

Dame Elizaveta Kapeka of the Northern Islands was going to arrive later that afternoon and that was troublesome. Shuriki always viewed other women as competition. Esteban should've been worried, but all he could think about was the noise their constant bickering would make.

I'm starting to sound like Shuriki.

Shuriki was probably still in bed sleeping off her hangover. He sat up slowly so as not to irritate his already nervous stomach.

Had he even eaten anything? He couldn't remember. Esteban was debating on whether they should just forego their meetings for the day when his bedroom door flew open startling him so bad that he fell off the bed. When he opened his eyes, Armando was standing over him, his expression that of a man on the verge of panic.

"Dame Elizaveta Kapeka is here!"

Of course she is...

Esteban hauled himself up off the floor. "Where is the queen?"

"Sleeping," Armando answered sheepishly.

Esteban gave the steward a half-hearted scowl then snatched his coat off the back of a chair as he headed for the queen's personal chambers. He managed to make it halfway down the hall before pausing to retch in a gilded vase.

Apparently he'd eaten something after all. Carrots, or corn maybe? Esteban didn't really care and he wasn't going to stick around to find out.

The drapes were closed and the previous night's candles burned down to the wick when Esteban stepped into Shuriki's bedroom. He nearly tripped over a pile of clothing before pulling back the curtains on the massive canopy bed.

"Your Grace?

Shuriki groaned.

"Elizaveta Esfir Kapeka of the Northern Islands has arrived."

"Who?" Shuriki asked her voice muffled by the blanket covering her head.

Esteban could tell she was still half asleep elsewise she would have launched into a tirade.

"Elizaveta? Older lady, silver hair pulled back in a braided bun? Green eyes? Any of this ring a bell?"

Shuriki pulled down the blanket to scowl at him. "Seriously, Estéban? We've met a plethora of women that could fit that description."

The chancellor sighed. "La Monstrua de Ojos Verdes."

The Green Eyed Monster.

Shuriki had thought she was being clever when she had given Elizaveta the cruel nickname. He wasn't about tell the queen most of the palace staff called her that when she wasn't within earshot.

Shuriki scowled. "Ugh, not her."

The last time Kapeka had come to Avalor to talk trade, she and Shuriki had almost killed each other due to an argument over negotiations. Shuriki refused to say why she detested the other sorceress so much, but she and Elizaveta were always vying for dominance any time they had to interact with one another.

Shuriki wanted nothing to do with it. "Leave me here to die."

Esteban huffed. "It's customary in Avalor for the ruling monarch to greet visiting dignitaries."

Shuriki buried her head under a pillow. "I really don't care about proper decorum."

Esteban folded his arms and began to tap his foot impatiently as he tried to figure out a way to rouse her. Then it hit him like a runaway carriage. "Well, if you aren't feeling up to it..."

"-Oh, thank Maru-"

"I'm sure Doña Paloma wouldn't mind helping with the dame."

"That money hungry hussy?!" Shuriki grabbed his cravat and yanked him towards her. "Estéban, I told you to stay away from her!"

"Mamá...? Papá...?"

Esteban and Shuriki both turned to see their seven year old twins, Aléjandro and Llorona, hovering in the doorway.

"Oh, my little darlings..." Shuriki cooed.

She released Esteban and held out her arms to the pajama clad children. "Come here..."

Esteban knelt to steal a hug from the little ones before helping them up onto the bed.

"Why are you fighting? Did Papá do something wrong?" Alé asked.

"We weren't fighting, were we, Estéban?"

Esteban shook his head. He couldn't help smiling when their children were around. "No, just having a discussion, that's all."

"About what?" Alé asked.

"Oh, nothing important," Shuriki answered, giving Esteban a warning glare to drop the subject. She smiled softly at the twins. "What are you two doing out of bed so early, hmm?"

"I don't feel good," Aléjandro replied.

Shuriki frowned. "You don't? What's wrong?"

"My nose is stuffy and I keep coughing. It makes my throat hurt, Mamá."

"My poor, sweet boy..." Shuriki pressed a hand to his forehead. "You're running a fever. Estéban, cancel everything that's on my agenda for today. If Elizaveta throws a fit about rescheduling, tell her to go eat sand. And have breakfast brought up. The children need to eat, especially Alé or his illness will worsen."

Shuriki was adamant about not using vulgar language in front of the children. She would've been spewing obscenities at Elizaveta by now if not for them. "Yes, querida."

"Can we have ice cream for breakfast?" Aléjandro asked, giving her the cutest look he could muster.

Shuriki quirked an eyebrow feigning displeasure, but her facade cracked, and she gave him a smile. "Oh, alright. The cold treat will help with your sore throat, but you'll have to finish the real food first. Only then can you have the ice cream."

Aléjandro nodded and smiled. "Si, Mamá. Gracias!"

Shuriki chuckled. "You're very welcome."

What she didn't tell the child was that she'd be lacing his treat with a medicinal potion to combat his illness. Shuriki had learned early on that the best way to convince a child to take medication was to hide it in their favorite desserts and not tell them it was in there elsewise they wouldn't eat it and she'd have to force it down their throat which was something she didn't enjoy doing.

Esteban knew it was probably a bad idea to make Elizaveta wait, especially given they intended to reschedule, but his son was sick, and he felt like it had been ages since he'd enjoyed a warm meal with his lover and their children.

Esteban even made breakfast. He cooked them guava-cheese empanadas and pão de queijo with atole and avena because they'd do less damage to Alé's sore throat when he ate them. He prayed the fruit he'd put in the oatmeal would strengthen the boy's immune system and speed up his recovery. He also prepared some green tea with honey and lemon in the hopes that it would keep Shuriki safe from the illness while she was caring for their son.

Shuriki was waiting for him when he brought in the food. She'd retrieved four year old Esperanza from her crib so she too could enjoy eating with her parents and siblings.

Esteban blocked young Aléjandro's view of the ice cream bowls so that Shuriki could stir a vial of healing potion into the already half melted treat then feign resignation as she handed the child the bowl.

Aléjandro ate every bit without questioning his mother's motives. If he'd asked, Shuriki would've just fibbed and claimed she'd let him have the sweets first due to him giving her the puppy dog eyes. They couldn't risk him getting too full off the empanadas or the potion would upset his stomach.

The boy was half way through his second empanada when he began yawning and rubbing at his eyes. "Mamá...I'm tired..."

Shuriki bit her lip to suppress a triumphant smirk as she pulled him close and stroked his hair. "I know, child. Close your eyes. I'm here. No harm will come to you."

Alé tucked himself up against her side and buried his face in her shoulder. At first, she thought he'd fallen asleep, but then the boy lifted his head. "I can't sleep, Mamá. Sing for me, por favor?"

Shuriki groaned. She wasn't a fan of music or dancing due to having a problem with sensitivity to noise. She'd gone so far as to ban both from Avalor, but had allowed Esteban to keep a guitar. Shuriki had also let him teach the children how to dance. She'd even sung a lullaby or two back when they were infants in the hopes they'd fall asleep. She'd been in desperate need of rest herself, of course, elsewise Shuriki would've taken a dagger to the throat rather than be heard singing or seen dancing around even if it was for her children who were the only people she loved more than Esteban or herself.

"Why would you want that?" she asked. "My voice sounds terrible when I sing."

"But I like when you sing, Mamá."

She quirked an eyebrow. "You can't be serious."

"It helps me sleep and makes me feel better." He gave her another one of his puppy dog pouts. "Por favor, Mamá?"

Shuriki sighed. "Fine..."

The sorceress closed her eyes trying to gather her thoughts. The Northern islanders didn't have too many lullabies as music, dancing and art were all considered nonsensical frivolities. There was a song she did remember from back when she was a child. Her mother had sung it to her on the rare occasions when she was ill.

Now is the time for the wolves and thrushes, to sing to the moon from the forests and rushes.

Sleep, my love. Sleep my only dear, in the dark.

Fragile and magical shadows will suddenly start to appear, lovely and lyrical, a frightening miracle, within your ear.

Carefully raising their voices, in a chorus loud and gracefully clear,

Over and under, the multi-toned, wonder of dreams endear.

Why are they singing, calling, and braying all night long?

What are they trying so hard to convey with their haunting song?

Sometimes when somebody loves you, they say and do things you don't understand.

And there in the harsh truth lies the proof of a parent's love.

Aléjandro fell asleep midway through the song. Esteban sat and listened to Shuriki sing while she stroked their eldest child's hair.

He tended to forget just how hard her childhood had been. The Northern Islands was a dark, cold place with authoritarian laws and an intolerance for failure of any sort. It was a miracle that she'd survived what with the horrid weather and the unrealistic expectations heaped onto her by her parents, peers, and the royal family she'd once served.

Shuriki laid Alé down beside her and curled herself around him to cuddle and protect the child while he slept.

"Put Esperanza back in her crib, and make sure Llorona gets back to the nursery on your way out, would you, Estéban?"

Esteban nodded. "Si, mi amada."

"But I want to stay with you," Llorona pouted, "I don't want to go back to the nursery. There is no one there for me to play with."

"Nonsense. You've more than enough toys to play with," Shuriki said, "And the last thing I need is for you to catch whatever it is your brother has. Now run along..." Shuriki was only half listening or she would've realized it was the lack of playmates not the quantity or quality of toys upsetting her eldest daughter.

"But, Mamá-"

"I said no," Shuriki snapped.

Shuriki hadn't meant to be so harsh towards the girl, but the damage was done. Llorona recoiled at the sharpness in her tone before retreating over to Esteban who was putting Esperanza down for her midmorning nap. Shuriki wanted to tell Llorona to come back, that she was sorry for having lost her temper, but the girl had bypassed a preoccupied Esteban and already left the room before she had the chance.

Shuriki sighed. "Estéban, would you-"

"I'll check on her on my way back to my office," he promised, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. "You just focus on Esper and Alé right now and leave everything else to me."

"Thank you."

"You're muy welcome, mi corazón."

"I didn't mean to shout at her," Shuriki admitted. "I just...it's so frustrating at times..."

"I understand what you mean," he assured her. "Llorona is going to be fine."

"Are you sure?"

Esteban nodded. "She's always been a resilient child. Give her an hour or two and she'll have forgotten all about it."

#eoa #disney #elenaofavalor #shuriki #elena of avalor #chancellor esteban #esteban flores #fanfiction #EoA #original character

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handlewithkara · 4 years

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@peggystormborn I think Iris Barry is the exception for a variety of reasons (imo partially race, partially the committment of the writers to the couple). But Oliver and Felicity did A LOT OF triangles before they committed and some of the writing for them was terrible on the romance front. People like to just remember the endgame, but they forget how terrible the road there was (Laurel, Sarah, Oliver marrying another woman, Oliver having a child with another woman, an entire crossover dedicated to a fantasy wedding between Laurel and Oliver, evil!Oliver being married to Kara). Granted in a lot of ways it was because Felicity wasn’t the original OTP and I think it took Marc Guggenheim a long time to finally accept it (I think he’s one of those writers who deep at heart doesn’t really like romance at all, and just eventually only grudingly accepted it, but I think the earlier seasons feel like there was a lot of latent animosity from the writers towards the storyline).

(and one can debate how Barry/Mirror Iris is something like a triangle, even if it is a triangle made up by writers who desperately want to maintain the “pure” status of an OTP, I mean, as long as you don’t think too hard about the implications of Mirror!Iris [I also think that the fact that Iris and Felicity predominantly don’t have superpowers makes it slightly easier for them to work as a functioning couple])

People thinking that the writers have handled Kara’s Kryptonian relations poorly doesn’t change that if the topic does not interest the writers they are not going to write it (and if they write something really tonedeaf about it, that is usually a sign that they don’t really care about a topic). It’s a very common trait of fanbases to take certain topics more seriously. Criticisms of co-dependency and calls for therapy are very, very common examples of this in a multitude of fandoms.

You have this all over the Supernatural ending, with people saying “Dean was acting suicidal for years, it sends a horrible message that the show ends up with him dying” and “John Winchester was a horrible father, it’s a horrible message that the show ends up with him being in heaven as part of Dean’s personal heaven and the show never doing a story where Dean recognizes that John screwed him up and fully breaks ties with him” and “the brothers were co-dependant, the show getting rid of all the characters who are not them and making the ending exclusively about them is a horrible message”.

I think it’s pretty clear that these things weren’t written because the writers intended to send that message, they just clearly see the characters very differently and many things the fans obsess over they see as just not that great a deal. Fans often latch onto characters and stories because they see part of themselves in them and project their own experiences and their emotions about those experiences into those characters (look no further than Lena’s fans and what they think is most important about her character). Fans also love their characters and want their angst to be explored, while most shows just want to keep the plot going. That’s why you will have amost every fandom clamoring how the show should do a therapy plot for their favorite character. To them that makes sense, they love their favorite character, so them sitting on a couch and talking about their feelings of course is going to sound fascinating. Doesn’t mean that the writers tick that way at all.

Supernatural can show pretty clearly how there can be a fundamental miscommunication between the fans and the creators. Where maybe writers might think that Dean’s dogged loyalty is his most fascinating trait, while fans might think his angsty woobie appeal is his most fascinating trait and his loyalty is boring or just a jumping off point or even actively harmful. Social media and fandom, I think it just has a habit of attracting people who have problems in their real lives and they are likely to project their own problems into these characters, but that does not mean that the writers are anywhere the same headspace (particularly in regards to how abusive or co-dependant a relationship is, I think just like with John Winchester, writers are way more likely to have a more positive view towards relationship and stories like that, because to them, those relationships are something good in their world because they are drivers of drama, providers of dramatic scenes).

And I think history has shown, no matter how annoying it is to the fans, new showrunners just will not be beholden to the themes and messages of previous showrunners. They will pay tribute to whatever part of previous seasons they like, but they are likely going to come in with their own spin, their biases and their own takes of the characters.

(for what it’s worth, I theorize season 4 started out with the plan for a sister season, to explore (via Red Kara and Elseworld and Amnesia) what is Alex without Kara, what is Kara without Alex and they just sort of lost the main plot somewhere in the middle between introducing Nia, introducing Lex and poorly thought out political metaphor)

Right now, what little we know of season 6 makes one hopeful that it could have a significant Alex and thusly sister focused plot, with Alex playing around with being a vigilante and there being rumors of another young sisters episode.

What is interesting about this is that either of Alex most likely developments, Alex becoming a hero in her own right OR Alex finally getting her baby and family provide interesting jumping off points for Kara to reflect on her own life. This does not mean that the writers will actually take this opportunity seriously, but it is at least possible.

Alex has been a physical fighter working with Kara since forever, but her getting her own costume could be a signal that she is getting her own hero identity. Alex being her own heroic person rather than just the no-name who supports Kara ideally should be an interesting change up in their dynamics. Either with Kara cheerleading and supporting Alex they way Alex has always supported her or with Kara realizing that maybe she has to step back a little and let Alex be her own hero and trust her that she can handle things on her own (potentially culminating with Kara leaving the protection of the city and Earth in the hands of Alex).

I could picture Kara having a relationship with William and eventually rejecting him symbolically but I just really wouldn’t expect it to be about Argo. But I could picture a plot where seeing Alex thrive as a hero makes Kara think she has the freedom to kick back and focus on her romantic relationship or focus on being just Kara Danvers for a while (and in the end realizing that that is not enough for her, I just would expect this NOT to be about Kara Zor-El but about Supergirl, Kara realizing that she needs to be Supergirl to be happy even if being Supergirl has made her life more complicated in many ways).

On the other hand, if Alex were to finally get her child wish fulfilled it could a be a good story to explore what the equivalent is for Kara (while with Alex, she has always been protective of Kara, so her having somebody else to raise and be protective over would also provide good emotional dramatic potential).

But it could just as equally be that they parallel Alex being happy with a baby and a girlfriend as their little family with Kara just getting William as the nice unproblematic understanding boyfriend, forming their own family unit albeit without a child. Or it could be Kara just getting gratification of being a supportive and loving aunt. You never know. Supernatural shows that just because the fans are convinced that the show will go one way (Family is about more than blood ties! The show will end with showing how Sam and Dean have evolved beyond “the two of us against the world!” and their family unit now includes Eileen, Castiel and Jack) doesn’t mean that the writers see it the same way.

It’s very interesting in how this reaction mirrors the reaction to the How I Met Your Mother Finale where the writers thought it made sense to circle back to the start and most of the general audience disliked it because they felt the characters had developed beyond the original premise. But it still shows how this particular pattern of thinking is one that writers are very likely to fall into.

Finales often have a way of exposing whether one’s (or even the audience in general) perception of the characters and their relationships and perceived moral takeaways align with the one’s of the writers. I don’t even think that that is something that can just be “fixed” by telling writers “don’t be the Game of Thrones finale, don’t be the HIMYM finale”. If powerful writers just have a certain perception of characters, that’s just how they see them and they can’t just break out of.

I guess one can argue that maybe it’s a sign of poor writing (even if it might be good business sense) if a show supports such a variety of readings till the very end (are we watching a story about co-dependant siblings which should end with them lovingly and supportively letting each other go? or are we watching a show about siblings through thick and thin, more powerful than anything?), but I think in some cases it just arises naturally because of the way fans can project themselves into characters in ways that was not intended by the writers and that can’t fully be controlled by them (and since those projections are heavily influenced by people’s very varied personal experiences you also can’t just please everyone).

#supergirl #kara zor-el #kara danvers #danvers sisters #alex danvers

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fullmarvelheart · 4 years

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Monsters & Pancakes

Pairing: Avengers x Enhanced!OFC

Word Count: 2,462

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death and familial loss.

A/N: Welcome to Chapter 3! I hope you all enjoy the story as well as the characters! Image is not my own. All rights go to the original creator. Sorry this took so long to get out! I hope you enjoy reading it!

Series Masterlist

I slowly begin to wake and curl more into the couch. My body feels less heavy than it usually does, more alert. That alone has me feeling uneasy before I realize I'm on my couch... not my bed.

I shoot up in terror knowing fully well that he did something to me, that Loki made me pass out. Though, the fast movement throws me off balance and I end up tumbling to the floor. While pushing myself up with a groan, I hear hurried footsteps rush towards me on the floor.

"What in Odin's name are you doing on the floor?" He chides somewhere behind me.

"What did you do to me?" I sneer while turning towards his voice.

"Just a simple sleeping incantation." He tells me while nonchalantly crossing his arms.

"Why?" I growl while forcing myself to stand. He sighs while rolling his eyes.

"For one, I was brought, somehow, to this place, against my will might I add. So, my trust in you was not and is not very high. Another reason I kept you asleep, after I explored to make sure it was safe, was because it appeared that you needed it." He explains in a very frustrated tone. I take a deep breath.

"I guess we're even then." He looks at me curiously. "Both being kidnapped by the other..." I elaborate.

"Not quite..." He states while I cock an eyebrow. "Your name... I still do not know it."

I sigh while trying to run a hand through my very knotted dirty-blond hair.

"People call me 'Saddie'." I tell him while walking to my room to retrieve my brush.

"You didn't answer my question." He huffs.

"Yes, I did." The retort comes out more bitter than intended but I don't care to change it.

"I asked for your name, not a nickname. I told you my name without the added titles."

"'Of Asgard' isn't an added title?" He groans at the sarcastic remark while I carefully brush the wavy tresses.

"Your name?" He asks again, though annoyed.

I sigh, not wanting to say it out loud.

"No need to tell me, you just did." He chuckles darkly from the hallway.

"What?!" I yell.

"Don't worry, Sadira, I think it's a very unique name." I feel my face grow hot with anger and notice the lightbulbs starting to flicker.

I storm out of my room only to spot him standing frozen in the hallway, staring at the flickering bulbs.

"Do NOT use that name!" He turns around to face me quickly. "And stop reading my DAMN MIND!" I scream.

He holds his hands up in surrender.

"I give you my word, not to do that again." He tells me.

I scoff.

"I don't know if I believe you."

I brush past him and make my way to the kitchen. I haven't eaten since before I left for work, however long ago that was. As the thought of food crosses my mind, my stomach growls painfully and I resist the urge to groan because of it. God, I want something sweet.

As I begin to prep my meal. I see Loki leaning on the doorway, just observing.

"Do you want anything?" I ask, my head deep into the refrigerator.

"Sure." I hear in reply. "As long as you don't poison it." I half-chuckle.

"You never know..."

I begin to pull ingredients together and place them on the counter.

"Why did you teleport into the middle of the street?" I ask while focused on the food in front of me.

"Huh?"

"Well, you suddenly appear on Earth in the very early morning, looking very upset or unnerved for whatever reason, and then appear to want to blend in. Seeing as you're wearing... what do you call it... ah, Midgardian clothes, instead of what looked like a cape when I first saw you. It looks to me like you're on the run." I explain.

"You saw that?"

"I saw everything. The beam that brought you here and everything that followed until you spotted me." I say, while waving a spatula around as I talk.

"But why did you think I was on the run? Maybe you are yourself." My eyes snap up to meet his. "You have nothing personal in here. No pictures of family... friends, no images at all. Not even a plant." He pries while moving closer to me.

"Because I have none."

"What?"

"I have no friends or family." I growl while tightly gripping onto the spatula.

I move my eyes back onto the food I'm preparing in order to prevent the tears in my eyes from spilling. And I try so hard as to push them back.

"Now, are you on the run?" I ask through gritted teeth.

"In a sense... Yes. Are they actively looking for me? No. No harm will come to you because of it."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding in at his explanation.

"Who are you hiding from?" He asks, carefully.

"Too many people to list." I chuckle darkly as I put the mixture into a pan. "Mainly HYDRA though. Unfortunately, S.H.I.E.L.D. hasn't been able to completely rid the world of them." I grumble.

"Ugh, S.H.I.E.L.D." He grunts with such distaste.

"I take it you've encountered them." I state while looking at him from the corner of my eye.

He hums in acknowledgement while I flip the item in the pan.

"Well I haven't, but I'm grateful for them nonetheless. If it wasn't for S.H.I.E.L.D, HYRDA would still have me. And I don't want to imagine the horrors that would come from that."

I begin to plate what I had prepared before washing and cutting up some strawberries.

"What is your favorite fruit?" I ask faintly.

"What?"

"Do you have a favorite fruit?" I ask again, though slightly annoyed.

"No, none that I know from Midgard." He says, very confused.

I hum while taking a can of whipped cream from the fridge.

After stacking two pancakes, I drizzle the cut strawberries on top before adding a spiral of whipped cream and a drizzle of maple syrup. I pass the finished plate to him along with a fork and knife before doing the same to my plate. I walk to the fridge and put all the ingredients away, but not before spraying some of the cream into my mouth.

I look back at Loki and notice he wears a disgusted expression.

"What? My house, my rules. And besides, it's for good luck." I defend while stabbing my fork into a piece of a pancake.

He scoffs but says nothing. I shake my head and continue eating. My thoughts begin to wander to all the events that occurred today, when I gasp.

Loki gives me a strange look as I run over to the living room and turn the TV on the first news station I find. The Q-Ship is still being played all over each network with the headlines reading "Attack on New York City". Various "experts" talk and give their predictions of what it means or what's going to happen. I scowl at the stupidity of those so-called "experts". The really have NO idea what the hell is going on.

Tony Stark's face shows up on the screen as the title reads "Missing". I hope that he's still alive, still in the fight. I know we'll need him. I mean, they'll need him.

Hpmh "we'll"...?

I am NOT getting involved in this anymore.

The image then changes to Cull Obsidian and Ebony Maw giving their oh-so nauseating "rejoice because of our presence" speech. I growl at their faces immediately causing the TV and the lights to begin to flicker.

"You know the Black Order." It's not a question but a statement. I turn to face Loki who has an uncertain look on his face.

I sigh, but say nothing to confirm or deny before looking back at the TV. What's the point? The answer is already known.

"Saddie... How do you know them?" He says inching closer to me. I can feel the spike of his heart-rate, I can feel his fear as if it was my own. Though, some of it is my own fear too.

"I guess that's who you're running from." I half-heartedly say with a chuckle. Though, I'm not even sure I'm correct.

"How do you know Thanos?" He asks slowly, cautiously, scared of a reaction. My reaction.

And he should be, because at the mention of his name, I begin to shake uncontrollably.

"Please... Please, don't. You don't want to know." I croak, shutting my eyes from the new tears in my eyes pushing to be set free.

Before either of us can do anything, the screen changes to "Possible Alien Attack in Scotland".

"Now why the hell would they go to Scotland?" I ponder out-loud with tears still rimming my eyes.

My eyes widen in slight fear before I pivot to face Loki.

"When was the last time you faced the Black Order?" I question quickly, harshly brushing off the lone tear that fell.

He flinches from my sudden actions, but remains silent.

"You're running from Thanos and his children. What happened to cause you to run?" I push because I need to know. If this is what I think it is, I'm not safe anymore, no one is.

Still there is silence...

"Tell me!" I scream at him.

His face scrunches briefly before he sighs.

"The day I arrived on Midgard. Ragnarok happened to my realm, Asgard. Me and my brother, Thor, we escaped with our people. Then Thanos arrived, he wanted the Tesseract. Inside was one of the six Infinity Stones. They're-"

"I know what they are. But did you just give one of the stones to him?! Why would you even consider that?!" It can't be the same Thor as... No, no it's just a similar name. Focus Saddie!

"I didn't! Not at first! He already had one! He had the Power Stone, and he had my brother! And he was torturing him for the stone! You have no idea what that's like. To bargain for the life of someone you care about!" His words send a dagger to my heart and I feel the burn of tears in my eyes again.

"I have every idea what that is like! That is why I have no family left!" I scream, the lights start flickering again.

Silence envelops the room again except for our raging breaths slowly calming down from our shouting.

"Balance... That's what he calls it. Where there is an entire population, Thanos will leave half. Two planets in a system, one remains untouched. Two siblings..." I trail off and only one tear rolls down my cheek. "You were the sibling that should have died... weren't you?" My voice soft with sadness and understanding.

He says nothing, he doesn't need to.

"You need to tell your brother you're alive." I say choking back a sob.

"What? I can not simply do that! You have no ide-"

"STOP SAYING THAT! I lost my twin sister because of that monster!" I scream. "I am in your brother's shoes. I mourn the loss of my sister everyday! I blame myself! He needs to know, he needs to know you're still alive!" The tears have been rolling in uncontrollable waves down my face before I inhale a deep breath and exhale, slowly willing myself to calm down.

"There are more Infinity Stones on Earth... That is the only possible explanation for his presence here." I reason while the tears slow.

I kneel down and extend my palm on the ground. Reaching my power outward, I let myself connect to the Earth. It's over-powering and extremely painful to do because of my limited practice, but I persist.

"What are you-"

I let myself slip into the feel of the world, the magnitude of power it possesses, but I feel it. One form of power that exists above all else on this planet. The only Infinity Stone on Earth. I gasp, call back my abilities, and fall backwards. The power surges, then every electric source in my house flickers to black. I sit in the dark silence as I still can feel the stone somewhere in New York, somewhere close by. The power goes back on and I turn to a stunned Loki.

Tapping into the city's power supply, I try to recharge my energy as quickly as I can before sitting up, and pushing past the annoying man in my living room.

"Where are you going?" He calls out as I throw the door open to my room.

"There's an Infinity Stone still on Earth. Either the Black Order, or Thanos will be there. I'm going." I tell him as I drag a chest from under my bed.

"What?! Are you mad?!"

"Possibly..." I mutter to him as I throw the lid open.

Possibly? Try undeniably!

Yeah, I'm so not getting involved in this... dammit.

Inside the chest various knives, daggers, and even my bo-staff lie waiting to be used. Most of the metals are specifically designed for me by the Mad Titan himself. Smiling to myself at the comfort my weapons bring, I use my power to throw Loki out of the room and shut the door. After locking it, I begin to change, but not into one of the garbs I wore while my sister was still alive.

Instead, I slip on the suit HYDRA had made for me before I escaped. It's a navy catsuit that almost resembles Black Widow's own one. I zip it up to my neck then pull on black lace-up boots and my black fingerless gloves. I arm myself to the teeth with several small knives, four daggers (the two largest, from my time with HYDRA, rest on my thighs), and the bo-staff that extends into my favorite duel-bladed weapon.

Sealing the chest back up and returning it under my bed, I unlock and open the door to which Loki stumbles in. Apparently, leaning on the door was smart. A very, very, smart idea indeed.

He scoffs at my thoughts when he regains his composure. Though, I recall telling him not to read my mind anymore, I have more important things to do than to yell at him. Instead, I settle for an eye roll.

Looking me up and down as I place my long hair into a high ponytail, his mouth hangs open as he stares. I ignore the goosebumps that erupt under his gaze. Wow, do I need more male interaction or what? Mentally chastising myself, I clear my throat, bringing his attention back to me, or to my eyes.

"Please don't do anything destructive while I'm gone." I practically beg before teleporting away.

Chapter 4

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repeatedceesaw · 4 years

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Teen Wolf

Welcome to a friend / roommate request for Sadie based off Teen Wolf. Ultimately this all just comes down to found family and everyone (or almost everyone) living in the same building being rented to them by the resident 'old man hangs out with young adults' landlord. Most of the characters will have known each other since 18 if not before, but while I've written mostly actual information about the characters, they're definitely more of guidelines in some parts due to the different universe mechanics. I've given three ideas for classes for each character but they're definitely suggestions and make the characters your own.

CONTENT WARNING This request contains references to family death, child abuse, and just generally shitty backstories.

( find part 2 here )

Stiles Stilinski

Open ✖ 22-24 ✖ Hexes & Cursebreaking / potions / alchemy ✖ open

✖ Occupation: Student

✖ Short Bio: Hyperfocused, sarcastic, witty, loyal to his friendships but not the best influence due to his own boredom and curiosity. mother died when he was younger and father has a 24/7 job basically so he raised himself, and maybe an 11 year old with an insatiable and dark curiosity shouldn’t have been left to his own devices. definitely got warned several times for his underage magic experiments but due to his age never really got in real trouble. honestly doesn’t really like most people and once you’re in his friend group and he accepts you, you are his prime priority. unfortunately sometimes his loyalty turns dark, and he’s more than willing to cause harm to those who cause harm to his group. is tempered a lot by the rest of the group but rarely should be left alone with Erica because they have the same sort of feelings about that. there’s a faint rivalry between isaac and stiles since scott adopted isaac into the group and stiles still harbors insecurity and a grudge for how easily isaac got scott’s attention when scott used to be stiles’ best and only friend. huge ex crush on lydia but now they they actually know one another, they are a terrifying duo of puzzle solving and thinking outside the box.

Scott McCall

Open ✖ 22-24 ✖ Cryptozoology / animal magic / combat ✖ open ✖ Occupation: Student / After class job ✖ Short Bio: puppy ™, sees the good in almost everyone but also sees situations as what benefits people the most (if he doesn’t like you, might sell you for a cornchip if it gets someone he likes out of a sticky situation), is way too trusting and cares about almost everyone, thinks with his heart. definitely works outside of class with either kids or animals… or both. the sort of help out afterclass with cryptozoology and then tutor younger students if he knows the subject. lowkey dumb, but is a hard worker. raised by a single mom (and sort of stiles’ dad), he begrudgingly goes along with stiles’ schemes because who else is going to make sure stiles doesn’t go looking for a dead body and gets murdered? exes with allison, bromance with isaac and childhood friends / are they gay with stiles. kira and scott together are pure and great, even if his he still hasn’t gotten over his first love

Lydia Martin

Open ✖ 22-24 ✖ oneiromancy / necromancy / alchemy ✖ open ✖ Occupation: Student / Possibly a TA? ✖ Short Bio: #betterthanyou, brains and beauty, she used to dumb herself down in when she thought popular girls couldn’t be smart but quickly got bored of it and chose to dominate in class. stiles could probably give her a run for her money if he bothered to study at all but best he could do is second place to her first. intends on winning academic awards and wiping the floor with absolutely everyone. entirely possible she’s finished half the courses offered by now, multilingual to the extreme especially in various spell languages and is most likely to create new spells or be doing research into some half forgotten art. struggles a little with her ability but is determined to master it like everything else. best friends with allison and was on and off with jackson in the past. not here for any women vs women bullshit and well beyond the years where she ever thought she needed a man on her arm for status. as much as it’s really not her job to improve and change a man, she knows jackson better than anyone and does go to bat for him occasionally and helps him unlearn all his bullshit posturing, sometimes with understanding and sometimes with tough love.

Allison Argent

Open ✖ 22-24 ✖ combat / healing / folk magic ✖ open ✖ Occupation: Student / Head of Family Business ✖ Short Bio: beautiful smile, dimples, sunshine. is genuinely just a nice person with a pretty big physical training background from her family and was so lovely when they all met. now though, she’s learned more and more of her family’s backstory and cruelty, and the horrors have changed her. Older now, she works hard to be the best leader she can and guide her family to the right path. although her naivety has gone now, she’s still just Good ™ . Callous when she needs to be, she’s worked hard to get through her issues and find her own morals. wants to help people but is more in the middle of stiles and scott’s ideals, more suspicious and careful than scott, but less cynical than stiles. used to date scott and they were pure and in love until she found out her family secrets and pushed him away. dated isaac for a bit and there was always a weird feeling between the three of them, with both loving her and her loving them both. after erica and her buried the hatchet, she’s just happy to have more friends and tries not to get jealous when she sees kira and scott but first loves can be hard to let go even when the timing isn’t right anymore. jackson is definitely an ass, but he’s her swimming partner and an excellent person to talk to when you just want to bitch (specifically about scott or stiles)

Derek Hale

Open ✖ 26-30 ✖ herbology / healing / rural/folk magic ✖ open ✖ Occupation: Local Ghost (completely open, he can even be a student again if you want) ✖ Short Bio: the older friend who missed out on some of his teenage years due to tragedy, it’s a little weird that he’s always hanging around these younger adults. still, he’s mostly harmless and even a little pitiful and soft when you get through his aggressive defence. definitely a major concern when they first met, it was stiles who really dragged him into the group and showed compassion for the shitty things derek went through. historically has had a really shitty relationship with allison’s family but the two of them have worked through most of their issues. lost most of his family when he was a teenager and hasn’t entirely worked through his survivors guilt so although he likes to think he’s the dad of the group, he’s really just the somewhat incompetent older brother who tries his best. erica, boyd, and isaac tend to humor him but other people not so much. he progressed from leather jackets (he, erica, boyd and isaac all had matching ones that they sometimes pull out from retirement) to sweaters. progressed from a camaro to an suv. big literature nerd. with part of the life insurance payout, he bought an old apartment building they all live in and is doing it up, everyone else’s apartment first while his stays untouched.

Erica Reyes

Sadie van der Ven ✖ 22 ✖ illusion magic, scrying, healing ✖ cerise ✖ Occupation: student ✖ Short Bio: part one of the ‘didn’t used to have power and then suddenly came into their own’ squad. was once bullied for her looks and left out of things due to her health. always deeply concerned with proving herself, even if it’s dangerous for her. with an original family who didn’t know how to handle her, she kept pushing herself until she pushed too far. when she eventually had her power glowup, she let it go to her head and wanted to take revenge on those that teased her before. definition of ‘bullied girl glows up, seeks revenge’. big proponent of girls vs girls until she eventually settled and found out that teaming up and having fun was much more satisfying. huge crush on derek but who knew he wasn’t into teenage girls as a grown adult? just wants to feel powerful and uses magic and looks like armor against all her insecurity. big movie and comic nerd with stiles and had a crush on him throughout much of their first meeting before she joined the gang. listens almost exclusively to boyd in terms of being told not to do the thing, but if he’s not around… definitely up for getting into trouble. just insecurity in a pretty cover.

Vernon Boyd

Open ✖ 22-24 ✖ elemental magic, defense, cleromancy ✖ open ✖ Occupation: student ✖ Short Bio: part two of the ‘didn’t used to have power and suddenly came into their own’ squad, boyd is the only one who didn’t become a goshdarn nightmare when he started using magic properly. with how quiet he is, you’d think he wasn’t interested in being friends with anyone, or wanted to be anywhere else. this isn’t true. he loves being around people, he’s just silently judging all of them for bad choices. having spent a lot of his time looking after his younger siblings, he didn’t really have time to hang out after school and eventually ended up just sitting alone at lunch. worked hard after his siblings’ bedtime, he had a job to try bring more money into the family. he’s probably the only one who realises that derek chose him, erica, and isaac because they were lonely and insecure and while he thinks that’s super fucked up, he also realises derek is super fucked up too and gives him a break for it. while he’s not the absolute closest to derek in terms of sharing past trauma over lunch, is definitely derek’s favorite and probably best friend. big brother who keeps people in line but disappears into the shadows when it’s not really needed. big on his found family. you think he’s quiet but he’s just the only one who can control himself when it comes to actually saying the snarky things out loud…. mostly

#magicsrpg #hello cerise fucking STRUGGLED with this coding #if anything is out of place then too bad thats how it is now #part 1 because it refused to post all at once #wanted ad

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bee-dot-exe · 5 years

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La Forêt Des Rêves

Now that everything has been posted to Ao3, and all of us have been revealed, here's my fic for you on Tumblr. Happy belated holidays @anxiouslyfred. Also a massive thanks to @friendlyfacestabbing and @melonlord527 for being my awesome beta readers.

Sanders Sides

Prinxiety

Some angst with happy ending/comfort/fluff

Word count/appx. 2,200

The sun was just beginning to set in the sky above, slightly hidden behind the clouds and trees, creating a peachy hue. Virgil watched for a bit as the clouds turned rosy. They marched as the glow of the world around him grew. Eyes fixated and mind exploring, Virgil was taken from his daydream state rather abruptly, at the sound of brush breaking closed in.

Logically, he knew that the sound of brush rustling and sticks breaking was likely from an animal who meant him no harm, but the mind tends to play tricks when it had nothing else to do. What if it was another person, a stranger, a murderer? He managed a couple of deep breaths before creating an aura like state, a cloak if you will, of protection.

Brush cracked again before it's source of sound appeared. A deer, a buck in fact, standing before him. He was beautiful, he looked powerful and strong, and Virgil raised his chin slightly and cocked his head forward. The buck lowered himself slightly and bowed his head back to Virgil. His brown eyes shining in the blushing light as Virgil watched.

The buck suddenly stepped with one foot forward, his brown eyes blinked once, Virgil blinked back, and then the buck had disappeared.

That wasn't a dream, was it? Virgil didn't dream that. Definitely not. But where did the buck go?

In place of the creature who once stood before him, perched a dove, golden streaks of light and shadows glazing it's porcelain feathers. The bird cocked its head to the side before shaking its delicate feathers. Virgil stood still, extending a hand to the dove. The dove looked at Virgil, it's small eyes almost looking into his soul, suddenly fluttered it's wings, it was headed for the perch of Virgil's hand, but before it reached him, it too appeared to have vanished, leaving only a feather the color and texture of lace behind.

Blinking curiously, Virgil cautiously took a step forward, intending to pick up the feather. Instead, it sparkled and began to glow red, leaving Virgil to shield his eyes momentarily. When his eyes opened, a young man stood before him, lowering to a bow with deep brown eyes shining up to him.

"Your wrist."

"I'm sorry?" Said Virgil, he was in too far in shock to form much more of a sentence.

"Your wrist, it's glowing, you're like me."

So it was, a line that had formed years ago when the bracelet first made contact with his skin but was now a faded scar, was glowing softly as the other boy spoke.

"I know you're like me."

Said the young man, holding up his left hand, revealing the same kind of scar, but on his ring finger.

Virgil could remember when his teacher first gave him the bracelet, he thought it was nice, but then it started getting smaller. He started to panic and tried pulling his wrist away from his teacher, but it was too late, the bracelet was now being imbedded into the skin of his wrist. It felt like his wrist had been set on fire, but the pain vanished almost as quickly as the bracelet itself, all that remained was a scar and the memories. The same thing had apparently happened to this boy, but his scar was quite a bit smaller in circumference, that was what really convinced Virgil that he wasn't in a dream and that there was someone he had some form of connection with. He suddenly felt very exposed.

"I'm afraid I don't understand" Virgil said while taking a small step back.

Of course the young man was right, Virgil wasn't like everyone else, but that didn't mean he was about to tell that to a random somebody, no matter how piercing his brown eyes or how toned his muscles were.

"I know you saw what happened, I know you saw my transformations, what all can you do?"

Virgil shook his head slightly, he didn't want to show anyone anything right now, especially this stranger.

"Why are you out here anyway?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"Touché." The young man replied with a smirk.

Hesitantly, Virgil replied.

"Too much going on, needed a break, needed to walk."

"Lessons do that to me sometimes too, it's okay to get overwhelmed, did you do anything besides just leave?"

Not really sure what this guy meant by the end of his sentence, Virgil shook his head a little, and wrapped his arms around himself, more for the matter of comfort, but the heat impact helped as a sudden gush of wind brushed between the two. Virgil stood shaking slightly, less because of the slight temperature change and more because of his anxiety. His breathing started to become erratic, but he lost his ability to breathe at the same time, everything in his chest suddenly felt tight and he started to lose his ability to hear clearly. A stronger breeze suddenly came through and Virgil started to panic a bit more, he didn't want to do anything, not right now. He always causes problems. He's never been very useful.

What was he asking and why? Why was this boy standing there? Where did he come from? What happened to Virgil's voice? Why did it hurt to breathe? Why was he kind of dizzy now?

"Hey there, it's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you. Can you hear me? Could I help you? Repeat after me if you can. 1, 2, 3--."

The boy motioned for Virgil's eyes to focus on him, as he was demonstrating to inhale, then hold his breath, then exhale, and slowly but surely, he got his breathing somewhat more under control and everything started to sound less like he was underwater and the air around him had almost come to a halt at this point.

"Hey, you did really good, are you back with me now?"

Why was this guy being so nice? He didn't even know Virgil. Why couldn't he say anything? He probably looked so dumb. All he could do was nod his head.

"That's awesome. Wanna sit down for a minute?"

Virgil nodded again.

"Can I sit with you?"

Finally, he nodded, and he got the words back, and they didn't get stuck in his throat.

"What's your name, by the way?"

"My apologies, I'm Roman."

So the mystery man had a name.

"Virgil."

"It's wonderful to meet you, I do hope you're feeling better now, Virgil?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry." Virgil said while tugging lightly at the sleeve of his jacket.

"No need to apologize, honest."

Sitting against a maple tree across from him, Roman focused in front of him, and a hummingbird began to take form. Its wings a kind of sapphire color and its breast fuchsia. Its tiny and delicate feet perched on his finger.

"Would you like to pet him?"

Virgil began to shrink slightly into his jacket, that bird was way to small, he would damage it, he would knock it off, he would---

"Hey, are you there, are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry." Said Virgil shrinking still and now his cheeks were lightly dusted with blushes.

"It's really alright. He won't hurt you, and you won't hurt him, I swear to you. Would you like me to show you?"

He was still slightly hesitant, but nodded as Roman seemed so genuine, so he sat on his knees in front of the boy and the bird.

"Gently, like this."

The young man took hold of his hand and directed it toward the tiny creature, leading him to extend a finger, and use the back of it to stroke the feathers down its neck and back. It was so soft. The bird stretched its neck and head forward in content. Roman still held onto Virgil's hand. It was soft too.

Virgil looked curiously at the Roman's hand before gently pulling away from him and the bird.

"I realize I probably interrupted your walk, so I apologize, I can leave."

"No, wait, it's honestly fine, It's not like I was really doing much anyway, you can stay with me. Please."

"If you're sure." Said Roman, and Virgil nodded, so they walked together.

The sun was just barely hanging on as dusk and nighttime approached, the clouds sand sky were now an almost lavender color, it made the lights shining through the trees and onto the ground below an array of dandelion and amethyst and indigo.

They walked in silence for a moment more before Roman spoke up.

"This has always been my favorite time of year, once summer ends and autumn begins, when the leaves have turned and begin to fall and coat the ground."

Virgil turned his head to listen and saw that Roman had crinkles along the outer corners of his eyes when he smiled.

A wave of sudden courage blanketed Virgil, he inhaled through his nose, and Roman turned his head. When Roman looked his direction, Virgil's naturally brown like tea hair was slowly turning an ombré of shades of crimson red and sunny gold and deep forest green from the roots. Roman's brown eyes sparked with awe and they still had that crinkle.

"So, that's something I can do, I guess." Virgil said to Roman while tugging at his sleeve nervously.

Roman stood speechless for a moment, until Virgil asked him to say something.

"Would you dance with me?"

"What?" Alright, he wasn't expecting that to be Roman's answer.

"Dance with me." He repeated.

"Hold on, Romeo."

"It's Roman, actually." Virgil smirked at that.

"There's no music."

"We don't have to have music."

"We don't even really know each other."

"Alright, fine, we'll get to know one another." And Roman took him by the hand and lead him to dance in the middle of the woods with nothing but the sounds of life around them.

"How old are you?"

"Thirty." Replied Virgil.

"Wonderful, me too!" Roman said while leading the dance, which Virgil didn't mind, he didn't think he was very good anyway.

"What's your favorite color?"

"Red of course." Roman said while gestering with his free hand to his shirt.

They asked each other more things, like if they had siblings and their taste in music and such, then it was Roman's turn again.

"What other things can you do, besides change your hair?"

"It's not really that important."

"Come on, of course it is, I'm sure it's amazing!"

"I really don't think I should show you right now, Roman." Virgil said while starting to get anxious, a sudden breeze covered them both.

"But why don't you want to show me? You know you can trust me."

"I just don't want to, okay, is that so wrong?" Said Virgil, with his voice slightly lower in pitch, and the light behind his eyes slightly faded.

"No, Virgil, I'm--"

"Not proud of you. Disappointed in you. Afraid of you. Tired of you. Leaving you."

The negative thoughts in Virgil's head were now echoes in the open air, and they swirled around him, he stood practically surrounded by a hurricane. Roman stood still and in awe at the creation. Virgil stood inside of his personal hurricane with hands over his ears, trying, and seemingly failing, to block out the noise of his thoughts. Some nearby debris from the forest around them was incoming and added to the mix.

Roman took a step forward, raising a hand to protect himself from the incoming nearby debris.

"Virgil, can you hear me?"

There wasn't any indication that he was mentally present.

"Virgil, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to cause any of this personal torment."

A new thought emerged and surrounded Virgil's head, it said "not your fault."

"Well it's not yours either."

Roman saw some light return behind Virgil's eyes at that remark.

"I shouldn't have pushed you, I know that I need to stop when too late sometimes, I respect you no matter what you can do."

And Virgil could see through the debris and the pain and anxiety, that Roman was smiling, and the corners of his eyes crinkled, and everything around him slowly came to a halt, and Virgil fell to his knees, but Roman caught him before he could fully fall forward.

"Roman--"

"No, don't, you have nothing to apologize for, you couldn't have controlled that."

Virgil stayed silent for a moment, before he spoke under his breath.

"It kind of is though."

"How so?" Roman asked.

"Did you not notice the whole weather changing around me thing?"

Roman considered his wording, before looking into Virgil's eyes.

"Virgil, can you look at me?"

He looked into Roman's brilliant brown eyes.

"There you are. Alright, yes, of course I saw that. I saw something come into creation because of something you can't control. Anxiety is just a voice in you brain that always has to have the last word. It's a bully. You couldn't help what just happened around you."

"But I--"

Roman shushed him, and suddenly their lips were pressed against one another's, and they kissed, as the silver moon rose and sky faded to royal blue. In reality, the kiss only lasted about a minute, but it felt like an eternity. His lips were as soft as he hand he took Virgil's own in and the kiss as striking as his brown eyes.

"Do you believe me now?"

Virgil put their lips back together as his answer.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #fanders fics

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theanimeview · 6 years

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Reboots: They’re for who?

When I was interning a handful of summers ago, I remember talking with a handful of editors and peers about our favorite comic to television adaptations. I said honestly that I am not a fan of Teen Titans Go because I don’t think it has a lot of substance when compared to Teen Titans or Young Justice. It’s a problem I have with a lot of reboots, and I remember distinctly one of the editors saying that reboots “aren’t for you.” That’s a fair statement, they’re not for me specifically, they’re for... who exactly?

What the editor meant, I believe, is that a reboot isn’t really for the original fans of a series. It’s for a new generation to experience the characters and become fans. The characters we see from one show to another are kind of like reincarnated versions--they may have similar names and art styles but, the characters are kind of new because their stories are new. I think that this is often correct. However, I want to disagree a little with the idea that reboots aren’t aimed for older fans. Good reboots should have something that the older fans can enjoy too. I say this because clearly reboots in some ways market to the audience that watched the previous iteration(s), sort of like a big sign saying, “Hey, remember this show you loved as a kid? The one that we sold a lot of for a long time? Yeah? Great! Why don’t you check out our new version and show it to your kids/younger siblings/others?!” Their’s nothing really wrong with that, its an effective sales/marketing strategy, but for it to work the new iteration needs to have something old fans will appreciate.

A great example is My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic - the series takes the older characters, characters that fans of the previous iterations have loved for a long time, and translates them to the current climate of television, allowing for a new generation of fans to fall in love with the characters. The new show still holds some elements of the underlying message that the original show or stories held. What I mean is that My Little Pony has always focused on friendships and what it means to be a good friend; this message has carried on over the years to what we see today. The old fans can appreciate that the morals or backbone of the show are still there and the new fans can fall in love with these reborn-characters on their own.

I remember watching the vintage version of MLP on youtube in middle school and loving it. When the new version came out around my junior year of high school, I never quite got into the show again, but when my nieces started watching it, I had no problem enjoying episodes in passing. The same thing happened in college when many of my friends liked binge-watching seasons of it on Netflix. While I still wasn’t a die-hard fan again, I enjoyed that the friendship elements were still there and felt comforted that my nieces not only enjoyed a collection of characters I had loved previously but also by the fact that the show was still teaching aspects of how to be a good friend and responsible individual. MLP FIM is a perfect example, to me, of what a reboot should be. It’s easy to merchandise to new and old fans (which the company producing it will like), it’s still got the elements needed for the nostalgic appreciation and a revival of the fandom in older viewers, and it provides something a new generation can enjoy. If I’m babysitting and my nieces and they say let’s watch it, I’m 100% down for the reasons stated above.

Now let’s look at shows like Teen Titans Go from 2013, or The Powerpuff Girls 2016. Are the shows merchandisable, of course--but do they hold true to the same values that we saw in the originals? I would say, No.

Teen Titans was a beloved show. We saw a mix of comedy and adventure expected of a story with teen superheroes, but we also saw some serious elements befitting characters who are transitioning between childhood and adulthood-for all intents and purposes-alone. They’re, in many ways, outcasts who are bound together by their friendship and a mission to protect the planet from harm. Their episodes are memorable and often have a deeper underlying message. In many ways, the show begins with an examination of crime, and the adult world at large, as being one of black-and-white. It’s how children often see the world, but as the series progress or even single episodes, characters learn that there is a lot more grey area and nuances than we previously thought or understood.

Like, I remember the episode “Sum of His Parts” where Cyborg confronts, not for the last time, challenges with his disability as a half-man, half-machine individual. While the robotic parts give him great abilities most of the time, there are situations where they become more of a hindrance than helpful. It was a meaningful episode that allows us to see that despite having a cool robotic exterior, and the name “Cyborg,” the character himself is a human being with complex emotions that will not always show on his face or in his interactions with others. When I first saw the episode, I remember Cyborg’s last line, “I am just like you, but it’s not your arm that makes us the same, its the stuff that’s connected to it.” It reflects a lot about the character and the emotions he has, as well as stating something about image and what’s inside. While I don’t have a robotic arm, I felt like a part of me was reflected in his character in that episode because I have insecurities (everyone does), and while I sometimes hide them well it doesn’t mean they aren’t there. I also remember the episode “Troq,” in which Starfire faces racism. She and her team (once they are informed of how she is being treated) must set aside their anger for the greater good. It’s a difficult episode for many reasons, the most important of which is that 1. Racism still exists and is something people must fight against 2. Sometimes you have to work with your enemy to prevent a greater evil from taking place. Both are difficult to accept, especially as children, but they’re realities of our world. As I get older, both seem to become more prevalent in my life, particularly the later as sometimes you have to work with awful people to get a job done. Even the former though is something I’ve had to see and face in life.

The original Powerpuff Girls, likewise to TT, had memorable episodes not so much for their imagery but for their stories. For example, “Equal Fights” is an episode I may never forget. In it, a female thief behaving like a radical who hates men points out to the PPGs that women have suffered a lot in history and uses this as an excuse for her behavior. It seems almost justified as retribution against the patriarchy for how women have suffered, at least, until the PPGs’ primary female role-models step to remind the girls and the audience that two wrongs don’t make a right. The common theme with these memorable episodes in these memorable shows is that we, the audience, should learn something from the presented morals and ideas. They encourage us to think more about our situations and our autonomy in society.

Overall, these shows attempted to help children navigate the difficult world around them--that is what made them beloved by their audience. Perhaps the greatest proof of this is that new shows that have gained popularity today seem to continue this message of helping youth transition into thoughtful adults - like, Steven Universe.

However, some of the reboots seemed to have missed this point entirely. Rather than aiming to create an encouraging message for kids, they instead aim to briefly entertain--like a meme. The episodes aren’t memorable, not really. I think the most memorable thing I’ve seen from Teen Titans Go is "Let's Get Serious!" where Young Justice characters make a unique appearance. Aqualad critiques the Teen Titan Team about their ridiculousness and, in all, a very meta-episode in which the end leads us to believe that Teen Titans Go is just supposed to be a joke and we shouldn’t be so serious all the time about a children’s show. Ha Ha. (Let that sarcastic laugh sink in.)

I don’t have kids (yet), but I have nieces and nephews that I care about--and I know how easily kids can be led astray or tricked. Hell--I remember being a kid and how easily adults could manipulate me and my peers simply because they hold the authority. Adults can be manipulated too, I mean look at the Milgram Experiment. So when I look at these poorer reboots and see nothing of substance, when I look and see things that seem to encourage stupidity and lack of thought, I don’t feel like letting them watch the show because some of them aren’t old enough to understand that Beast Boy’s inability to open a textbook is supposed to be a joke. Particularly when he “saves the day” at the end. Sure, I can laugh at it, because I can see it as a joke, but one of my nephews might see a cool and funny superhero shoving a banana into his ear and think “that’s funny, I’ll do it too to make someone laugh” and end up with an ear infection (which is something a friend of mine’s little brother actually did).

In the case of Teen Titans Go, perhaps the creators really do intend for it all to be a joke, like a subversion of the original’s message(s). But then that, to me, is evidence that these are not truly marketed to a new generation of viewers--it’s marketed to the adults that watched the show previously. The joke is that the series is meant to be a form of high comedy with low comedy dialogue (if you don’t know what high comedy and low comedy are, please see here: https://www.enotes.com/homework-help/tell-me-about-origins-comedy-whats-difference-276012). If it is, in fact, not for the older audience, but to a growing generation, then I don’t think the joke is a good one because in some cases it insults the audience’s intelligence and in others overestimates the still-developing cognitive abilities of some viewers.

If TTG is for the former audience, I can appreciate it as a joke. I mean that sincerely, as I’ve found a handful of episodes to be funny and enjoyable. However, I would not recommend the show to kids.

As for I’ve seen some of PPG 2016, I can’t remember anything story-wise, only a collection of meme-like images, like the girls twerking. It’s, again, a show I wouldn’t want kids watching simply because it doesn’t seem to have any value--even from a comedic standpoint.

Of the reboots I’m mentioning, there are many more.

In conclusion, I think that good reboots are intended to be primarily for a new generation of viewers but also hold something that a majority of the previous iteration(s)’s audience(s) can appreciate or even love. Bad reboots focus on the “instant gratification” of entertainment and seem to ignore part of what made the originals so great. They seem to be created for meme-like instant laughs, not memorable content. That seems like a flaw to me but clearly works as a selling point for some shows. Of the two reboot examples I gave, TTG continues. Why? Probably because it holds comedic value to an older audience while providing content that’s not entirely unstable for kids to see. PPG, though, struggled with its release because it didn’t really have value to the older audience that formerly loved the show and relied to much on instant comedy to create a storyline that would keep a younger audience interested.

Essentially, TTG assumes that the new audience is smart enough to understand that the Teen Titan team is acting stupid. It likewise creates comedy that the older audience can laugh at. TTG will never have the same level of appreciation for storytelling that it’s original once provided, but it’s not intending to. PPG’s creators may have had similar intentions, but didn’t fulfill.

#reboot #reboots #ppg #mlp #mlp fim #mlp: fim #powerpuff girls #power puff #power puff girls #My Little Pony #my little pony: friendship is magic #my little pony friendship is magic #teen titans #teen titans go #tt #ttg #analysis #long analysis

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cristinablackthornkingson · 6 years

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Shadowhunter’s Short Story #14 part 2.

Mark Blackthorn had heard many stories from Magnus and Alec about how difficult it was to parent a toddler, to get them to do the smallest task. He had always thought they were being over dramatic, Tavvy was a fairly complaint child and whenever he looked after Max and Rafe they were good for him too, he thought being a parent would be easy, all fun and games, he knew Julian had a lot of trouble raising his siblings but he was only 12 when he took it upon himself to care for them, Mark was 23 when he became a father, so he had no worries about the difficulties of parenthood, he had thought it would be easy and fun, he had never been so wrong.

2 years ago he, Kieran and Cristina welcomed their first daughter, Elena Maria Blackthorn-Kingson and she was the light of Mark’s life, she looked just like Cristina and was the sweetest little thing he had ever encountered. When she was a baby, shortly after she was first born, Mark would often sit skin to skin with her, she was so tiny she could fit inside his shirt, he couldn’t believe it. Kieran loved having skin to skin with her too, it was something often done in Faerie and it made him feel very close to his daughter. And of course Cristina missed nothing more than being able to snuggle her daughter on her chest, she remembered so fondly those early days in the Institute Infirmary where she would open her gown at the top and lay Elena on her chest, and snuggle with her for hours on end, she would give anything just to feel that one more time.

Though Elena was the sweetest little girl in the world, she was also very stubborn and didn’t like being told what to do. Currently it was drawing close to six o’clock in the evening, almost Elena’s bedtime, Cristina had gone out for a while with Emma, and Kieran and Mark were trying to persuade their daughter to get into her pajamas and brush her teeth, but Elena was having none of it, she wanted to stay up and play with her Uncle Ty and Aunt Drusilla and she also wanted to wait for her mama to come back and read her a story.

“Where do you suppose she’s got off to now?” Mark asks Kieran in a disparing tone, moments after Elena wriggled from his grip and bolted down the corridor.

“Perhaps our room, to see if Cristina is back.” Kieran calmly says. Elena certainly had a wild side to her, she would do well in Faerie, not that he ever intended to let her go there alone, if at all.

“I’ll check our room, can you check with Ty and Dru?” Mark asks, running a hand through his already messed up hair.

“Of course love, don’t worry, she can’t have gone far.” Kieran says in a reassuring tone. It was tempting to have Magnus put a tracking spell on Elena so they would always know where she was, but it felt a bit inhumane, as if she were a dog and not a little girl.

Five minutes later Kieran finds Elena in the library with Helen, who was trying to get a firm grip on her to take her to Mark and Kieran.

“Elena Maria Blackthorn-Kingson.” Kieran says in a firm tone, making his way down the steps to the library. Upon hearing her father’s voice, Elena froze, knowing that her parents never used her full name unless she was in trouble.

“Daddy?” Elena innocently asks. Kieran lowers himself to Elena’s level and firmly says

“You know you cannot run away like that, your poor papa is very worried about you and very upset that you’re misbehaving, I know you want mama to put you to bed but she had to go out with Aunty Emma for a while, if you’re still awake when mama comes home she will come read you a story, but you have to at least get ready for bed now, alright?”

“But I not tired daddy.” Elena quietly says.

“I think you are, otherwise you wouldn’t have almost fallen asleep during dinner.” Kieran replies. Elena was exhausted, there was no denying it, she was practically asleep on her feet as it was.

“Want mama” Elena says in a solemn tone. Kieran prayed his wife would be home soon.

“I know my love but mama isn’t home yet and might not be for another few hours, papa and I will stay with you until you fall asleep, will that make you feel better?” Kieran gently asks. Elena takes a moment to think before nodding her head and saying

“But want Aunty Helen to read me story first!” Kieran looks up at his sister-in-law and trying not to sound pleading he asks

“Would you mind?” Helen smiles softly at him and says

“Of course not, I’d love to read my sweet niece a story, come here Elena.” Helen holds her arms out to the little girl. Helen longed for the day she would have a child of her own, she and Aline were trying to have a family but it was proving impossible, they had chosen the route of adoption but they were having no luck at all.

Elena launches herself at her aunt and clings to her tightly.

Within the next hour, Elena is tucked up in bed between Kieran and Mark, her little chest raising and falling steadily, her dark curls mussed but still like a halo around her head, her arms wrapped tightly around her favorite teddy that once belonged to Ty, but he then gave it to her when she was born.

As Kieran and Mark gaze lovingly down at their daughter, they hear the bedroom door creak open and Cristina quietly makes her way into the room.

“How was she?” Cristina asks, sitting on the edge of the bed beside Kieran, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Stubborn as usual but we got there in the end.” Kieran says. “She wasn’t the only one who missed you though.” He softly says, bending to kiss Cristina softly.

“If that’s the way things are going to go I think we should get back to our own room.” Mark lightly says, causing Cristina to blush and pull back from her kiss with Kieran.

When they get back to their room and settled into bed, Kieran starts kissing Cristina again, while Mark kisses his way down her neck. She knew she should tell them to stop for a minute, that she had something important to tell them, but she couldn’t make herself, especially when Kieran slid his hand up her shirt, cupping her bare breasts. Both boys were already shirtless, though Cristina did not remember them taking their shirts off, and it wasn’t long before she was without a shirt too.

It was as she felt Mark place his lips over her nipple and felt Kieran unbutton her jeans, that she knew she had to stop, for now at least.

“Wait, wait, stop a minute.” Cristina firmly says, trying to regain her breath.

“Is everything alright?” Mark asks in a concerned tone.

“We will absolutely stop if you want us to, but we thought you wanted to try for another baby.” Kieran softly says, brushing Cristina’s hair back.

“I-I did, I do, but... well we don’t need to anymore.” Cristina says in a soft tone. “What do you mean?” Mark asks in a tone of confusion.

“We don’t need to try for a baby because I’m already pregnant.” Cristina says in a joyful tone. She had told Kieran and Mark she was going out with Emma for a while that evening, but she didn’t tell them where they were going, The Silent City, where Cristina’s pregnancy was confirmed.

“You are? Really?” Kieran asks in a tone of awe. Cristina wipes at her tears of joy and nods her head.

“Yes, yes I am, the baby is due just before your birthday, Mark.” Cristina softly says. Mark’s face breaks out in a wide grin and he says

“Well that is the best birthday present I could ask for.”

Kieran tentatively places his hand on Cristina's bear stomach, remembering how he had done the exact same thing when she was pregnant with Elena, remembering how beautiful she looked carrying his child, remembering feeling Elena kick and squirm inside her, her little foot pushing against his palm, he couldn’t wait to feel this baby, he couldn’t wait to meet them, he was no where near as anxious as he had been when Cristina was pregnant with Elena.

“There’s nothing I love more than seeing you carry my child.” Kieran softly says, lowering his head to her stomach and kissing the spot right where their baby was growing.

They agreed to wait a few months to tell Elena and the others, in case anything happened. At 11 weeks they thought they had been right to keep it a secret, as Cristina had started bleeding heavily, and she, Mark and Kieran were convinced it was the end of the pregnancy. They rushed to The Silent City, where Kieran was granted entrance due to the fact it could be his child Cristina was carrying. Thankfully after some brief examinations, Brother Enoch told them their child was fine and Cristina had simply experienced some bleeding around the placenta which does not harm the child, and mends itself but can be very frightening.

They waited another few weeks after this to tell Elena and their friends and family. Thankfully by the time Cristina entered her second trimester, the bleeding had stopped completely and everything with her and the baby was healthy as could be.

When Elena found out she was going to be a big sister, she was absolutely overjoyed, she wanted the baby to be here right away and didn’t understand why the baby couldn’t come out right this second, but after some quick explanations from Aline, she calmed down and started counting down the days till her sibling was born.

Everyone in their family was overjoyed for them. Emma and Julian were Elena’s godparents, so this time around they asked Helen and Ty, who were both more than happy to accept the offer.

Just like when Cristina was pregnant with Elena, they decided not to find out the sex of the baby but chose one girls name and one boys name. If it were a boy they would name him Eduardo Antonio Blackthorn-Kingson and if it was a girl they would name her Arianna Alexa Blackthorn-Kingson.

Cristina was now currently 8 months pregnant, 3 weeks from her due date. She was beginning to tire of being pregnant and just wanted her baby to be born. As when Elena was born, Tessa would deliver this baby and Kieran and Mark would be with Cristina the whole time, while Helen and Aline kept an eye on Elena.

Cristina was currently sitting in on a Downworlder-Shadowhunter Alliance meeting with Magnus, Alec, Maia and Lily. Normally she loved these meetings, but today she really wasn’t feeling well, her stomach ached as did her back and she felt as if the baby were kicking so hard their hand would end up punching through her.

“Are you alright Cristina? You look really pale.” Alec asks in a concerned tone, noticing how quiet Cristina has been today and how much she’s been holding her back and stomach. He hadn’t been around very many pregnant women but he had been with Tessa when she went into labor with her daughter that was now 4, she had been just like Cristina, pale and quiet, and holding her stomach and back. Tessa’s waters had broken all over his feet and though of course he wasn’t mad, he wasn’t hoping for a repeat experience anytime soon, and it had put both he and Magnus off having any future children by surrogacy.

“Oh, yes, baby is just kicking up a fuss as usual.” Cristina calmly says, even though she was in a great deal of pain.

“I am so glad I can never get pregnant.” Lily quietly says, she had tried desperately to hide the look of horror on her face when she first saw Cristina and her huge, swollen stomach, it looked like a nightmare to her, something growing inside you, living off you for months, she had never wanted children before and she certainly didn’t now.

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be for sure, but it is worth it in the end.” Cristina softly says, cradling her swollen belly, wincing as a strong pain hit her.

Half an hour later, just as the meeting was wrapping up, Cristina was feeling a lot worse, she needed to go lie down for a while, this whole being pregnant business was not fun.

“Cristina, can I talk to you for a moment?” Magnus asks, beckoning her to his side. She really didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, but she knew Magnus wouldn’t be wasting her time. Just as she arrives at Magnus’ side and is about to ask him what he wants to talk about, she feels a popping sensation in her lower abdomen and there’s a gush of water from between her legs, soaking the rug and Magnus’ very expensive looking shoes. Magnus couldn’t help but gasp in horror and Lily didn’t know whether to be sick or laugh herself silly.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!” Cristina exclaims.

“It’s alright, I was looking for an excuse to buy a new pair anyway.” Magnus says in a light-hearted tone, though he was secretly devastated, these were his favorite shoes and now they were destroyed with amniotic fluid, he wasn’t very impressed with Baby Blackthorn-Kingson, he would be having firm words with them once they’re born.

Lily and Maia helped Cristina up to the infirmary while Alec contacted Tessa and told Mark and Kieran that their wife was in labor.

Tessa barely got there on time, by the time she did arrive, Cristina was fully dilated and the baby’s head was visible. It was a quick and smooth delivery and before Cristina knew it she was listening to her baby crying.

“Tessa, is it a boy or a girl?” Mark excitedly asks, clutching Cristina’s hand tightly. Tessa smiles brightly up at all three of them as she wraps the baby up.

“You have another beautiful little girl.” She softly says, handing the baby to her mother.

“Oh Arianna, Ari, sweet girl I love you so much.” Cristina softly says, kissing her daughter’s head covered in white blonde hair, just like Mark’s. She was the image of Mark, with his hair, eyes shape, mouth shape and nose with just Cristina's pallor and bone structure.

“By the angel, she’s perfect.” Mark softly says, stroking his daughter’s little locks of blonde hair.

“Elena is going to adore her.” Kieran quietly says, grinning widely, as Ari reaches a little hand out of her blankets and grabs his finger.

Elena did in fact adore her baby sister, she loved snuggling her and helping to change her and playing with her.

“Mama was I this small too?” Elena curiously asks Cristina, looking at her sister snuggled inside her mother’s gown, resting on her chest.It had now been 2 days since Arianna was born and Elena didn’t want to leave her side.

“Yes baby you were, I use to snuggle with you inside my gown too, and your daddy and papa would snuggle with you like this too.” Cristina softly says. She had never felt so happy, here she was with her two wonderful husbands and her two amazing, beautiful daughters, she felt like she was in heaven.

Later that night while Cristina takes a shower before joining her husbands in bed, Mark and Kieran place Arianna on a pillow between them and Elena crawls up and lies beside her sister, facing Mark, who was propped up on his elbow, gazing at his daughter’s adoringly. He had no idea how he got so lucky to have these two beautiful little girls along with Cristina and Kieran, he could not possibly be happier.

“Why you so smiley papa?” Elena asks, looking up at her father with questioning eyes, one brown and one silver. She didn’t think she’d ever seen her papa so happy nor her daddy, and she loved it.

“I’m just so happy to have you girls and your mama and daddy, what did I do to deserve you?” Mark softly asks, brushing Elena’s hair back from her face.

“I ask myself the same thing every day.” Kieran quietly says, gently stroking Ari’s blonde curls.

“Daddy, papa, am I ever gonna have a brother?” Elena curiously asks. “We don’t know baby, don’t you like having a sister?” Mark asks. Elena nods and says

“Love Ari but want brother too.” Mark, Kieran and Cristina certainly wanted more children, after Elena was born they agreed they’d like to have more children, they hadn’t settled on any number or anything, if The Angel only blessed them with Elena then they would be happy, but they would be delighted to welcome more children into their family and the same stood now Ari was here.

“Well we don’t know about a brother but we certainly hope you’ll be getting more siblings in the future.” Kieran says, placing a kiss on Elena’s cheek, causing her to giggle and squirm.

“Silly daddy.” Elena giggles, snuggling up to her sister.

“Look at my two girls, you’re such a wonderful big sister already, Elena.” Cristina says in a fond tone, coming into the room, fresh from her shower, settling herself in beside her youngest daughter, her back to Kieran.

“Mama, daddy, papa, I sleep in here tonight? Please?” Elena begs, batting her eyelashes at her parents. It would be nice to spend the night with both their daughters, especially since Ari would need a lot of attention from them the next while, and Elena wouldn’t be getting as much attention as she had before her sister was born.

“I think that’s a lovely idea baby, I’ll put your sister in her bassinet and then it’s time to sleep, alright?” Mark says in a loving tone, sitting up and gently scooping Ari into his arms.

Only a few minutes later, Arianna was sound asleep in her bassinet and her parents and sister weren’t long after her, curled up together for the first time as a family.

#cristina rosales #cristinaxmarkxkieran #mark blackthorn #kieran hunter #Magnus Bane #Alec Lightwood #lily chen #Maia Roberts #helen blackthorn #Ty Blackthorn #emma carstairs #JULIAN BLACKTHORN #the dark artifices #shadowhunters #the shadowhunter chronicles #tessa gray #cassandra clare

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white-collar-lawmen-and-conmen · 7 years

Text

Ohana, Meet My Stitch

Summary: Neal isn’t exactly the kind of man your parents had in mind when they hoped you’d find someone. Luckily, your little siblings’ favorite movie is Lilo and Stitch, and they’re good at picking up on the life lessons in movies.

Word Count: 4,637

M/N = Mother’s Name

O/B/N = Older Brother’s Name

Y/S/N = Younger Sister’s Name

Y/B/N = Younger Brother’s Name

On your last break, you hadn’t gotten to come visit your family. It was a relief that you finally could. Moving to New York put you pretty far out of visiting range, and although you missed them, you knew that it was just a choice you’d made for your life and you were happy with that choice. Especially because it gave you your thief, you reflected, raising a hand impulsively to the necklace that rested almost constantly around your throat. A smile graced your already happy and relaxed features as you thought of who you were going to go see after your vacation was over.

“Y/N,” your little sister Y/S/N whined. You looked over at her, jerked out of your train of thought. “You weren’t listening! Me and Y/B/N wanna go get ice cream. Will you take us?”

You looked at their plates. Sure enough, both of them had eaten all of their broccoli without complaint just for the promise of confections. “Y/B/N and I,” you corrected first, then smiled. “And of course, as long as I can get ice cream, too.”

Your brother giggled at you. “You’re a grown-up, you don’t need to ask first!” He reminded you. He had the pudgy baby cheeks of a kindergartener and his hair was growing almost long enough to be shaggy. He’d go for a haircut soon.

“What were you thinking about, Y/N?” You looked over to your sister’s other side at your older brother. O/B/N had already graduated college and found a local job, but after a couple years in Miami, he had taken a job closer to home. Since he had moved out, you’d gotten along a lot better without as much to argue over. Now, however, you remembered the smirk he wore like you’d only just seen it yesterday – when he teased you mercilessly for finding out that you had asked your crush to homecoming.

“Nothing,” you answered quickly. “Just that Dad makes awesome roast.”

“Uh-huh,” O/B/N flatly said, raising his eyebrows. He glanced down at the necklace you had touched. It wasn’t much, but it was beautiful, and it was specially chosen for you by someone you loved, so in your eyes it was priceless. “What’s that?”

“It’s jewelry,” you retorted. Your mom groaned as the bantering started again. “Aren’t you supposed to know what jewelry is, Mr. Getting-Married-Next-Fall?”

“Ha-ha,” he shot back, grinning. “I know what rings are, not a neck decoration. Who’s it from?”

“No one,” you answered quickly – too quickly. Your little siblings, six and four respectively, looked between you and your older brother like they were watching a fascinating ping pong game. Your dad cleared his throat, and your mom narrowed her eyes.

Your family didn’t know about Neal. The relationship wasn’t new, but it wasn’t very old, either. Then again, you doubted they’d see it that way when they realized you’d been dating someone seriously for almost eight months. You kept meaning to tell them, but it kept falling by the wayside. You were busy as it was, and admittedly you weren’t sure you wanted one of your few visits to be spent arguing over whether or not Neal was good enough for their little girl.

“Y/N,” your mom asked with her very interrogative parent tone. You winced. You may be out of the house, but you still felt like a kid sometimes when she did that. “Did you meet someone?”

“…” O/B/N leaned back in his chair triumphantly. You knew you had to answer, and so you reluctantly caved. “… Okay, yes.”

While your little sister started a chant about you K-I-S-S-I-N-G, your father motioned for her to stop and be a little quieter. “Who is it?” He asked, actually looking a little excited. The one time he had come to New York had been to help you move into your apartment, and while there, he’d met Jones, a friend of yours who helped you move in. Jones was actually the one who introduced you to Neal. “Is it the sailor?”

You laughed. He’d liked Jones because they both had experience in the navy. “No, Dad, Clinton’s with his own girlfriend and has been since before you met him.” Looking around the table, you saw how everyone was in a good mood and decided that now that the issue was out, there wouldn’t be a better time. “His name’s Neal.” Thinking quickly over what you could say, you chose to omit certain information. If they realized how important he was to you before they learned his history, they’d probably be less likely to start something with you over your choice in partner. “He’s an artist-“

“Ah, the romantic type,” your older brother joked, being a playful jerk. “So what you’re saying is he’s unemployed.”

You kicked him under the table. “Be nice! He actually works for the FBI,” you said haughtily, proud of your boyfriend. “As a confidential informant. Which means that he works with an agent to help solve white-collar crimes, particularly as they relate to art, forgery, and counterfeiting.”

“And how is he?” Your mom asked, taking another look at the necklace that you treasured. “Are you happy with him?”

“Very,” you swore, smiling shyly. “Neal is the best. He’s my best friend and boyfriend rolled into one.” Which, in your opinion, was what relationships should be. If you can’t trust someone to be a good friend first, then how could you trust them to be a good significant other? “I really never have to worry about… that sort of thing.” You sent your little brother and sister a look – they didn’t really need to hear whether or not you were concerned with lying, cheating, or poor treatment, so instead you meaningfully told your parents and brother, “All I worry about where he’s concerned is if he’s safe at work.”

“If you like him, he must be a catch,” your dad mused thoughtfully. He took seconds of the roast and pointed his fork at you. “You should invite him to come visit with you next time. We’ll make sure everything’s good.” He winked at you teasingly and you knew he didn’t mean anything by it.

You shifted a little. You were absolutely certain that your relationship with Neal was serious, and you were confident that you’d be together for a long time… but Neal couldn’t come visit, because the FBI would never let him leave his two-mile radius just to meet his girlfriend’s family.

It took you the entire trip to and back from the ice cream shop to figure out what you were going to say. The little ones, with sticky fingers and ice cream around their mouths, ran out of the car excitedly to go play with the dog in the fenced yard. You looked into the rearview mirror and pretended your parents were in the car with you.

“Mom, Dad… it’s not that I don’t want you to meet him… but he can’t come see you. He can’t leave New York.” You sighed and aggravatedly shook your head. You were pausing too much, and that was too indirect. “Mom, Dad, my boyfriend’s an ex-con, so if you want to meet him, you have to come within his radius.”

For just a second, you admired that approach. Your expression and your voice had remained steady throughout your sentence. Then you realized that you had only said “ex-con” and “radius” without any context, and even your laid-back father was going to be at risk of a heart attack.

You groaned and smacked your head on the steering wheel.

“Um… Mom, Dad.” Your voice felt like it was sticking in your throat, but you pulled out a seat at the kitchen table while they played cards together.

“Yeah, princess?” Your dad gave you a smile and reached over to show you his cards. “Wait, first, tell me honestly. Do I have a chance?” He gave you a winning grin to try to persuade you to help him.

You shook your head. “I’m not doing that again,” you declared stubbornly, while your mom glared at him for trying to get your help. “Okay… I’m serious about Neal… but I think I need to tell you, he didn’t apply to the FBI. It… he works there because it’s part of a work-release program.”

Both of your parents put down their cards. The silence in the kitchen didn’t last too long, but it was deafening while it did. Your dad looked very intensely thoughtful and didn’t even remember to make sure his cards were facing down.

“A work-release? From what?”

“From prison, Dad,” you said tiredly. Your mom’s eyes widened and nostrils flared and you cringed – those were the first signs of anger or overreaction. “Please listen. I’m not dating a monster. I’m dating an artist who just… happened to insinuate that some of his works were created by someone else.”

“A forger,” your mother translated, her tongue sharp. She was usually a gentle person, but she could get protective sometimes when there was no need, and sometimes she still thought she needed to keep you safe from your own youth or inexperience.

“Yes,” you honestly replied. “Neal was a forger, and he always took care to never bring anyone harm. Even the agent who caught him will attest to that. Now he uses what he knows to help the FBI catch the people who do cause harm.”

They looked at each other, severe and stern. You could tell they didn’t really know what to do. After how you had spoken about your boyfriend and your reaffirmation that you fully intended to stay with him, they both knew they couldn’t just talk you out of it. Besides, it wasn’t like you were only going on a first date. You were committed to him.

“I know this is a lot to ask,” you said, voice soft and nonconfrontational. “But he means a lot to me, Mom.” You specifically targeted her when you talked. Your dad had always had a problem with the prison system and how it handled offenders, like teens who never should’ve had to do time when compared with murderers who walked on technicalities. He wouldn’t see Neal in such a harsh light. “And I’d really like for you to meet him and give him a chance. It just means that you’ll have to visit New York… as part of his deal, he has to stay in the city.”

Your mom looked down at the table. The irritation and discontent was radiating off of her and you felt it hitting your skin like itchy pinpricks. Nervousness made your stomach flutter. What if she said no? Were you really going to have to fight with your parents, just because you loved someone who had done something illegal? He forged. He didn’t murder.

“Okay. M/N, that’s a reasonable request, don’t you think?” Your dad swooped in to the rescue. He reached for his wife’s hand. “We can withhold judgment until we meet him. Besides, what’s the worse evil? A nonviolent artist or a dangerous criminal?” He made a hand gesture like he was weighing them on scales, and the side that represented Neal won out. “If our kid sees something good there, then there must be something we should look for, too.”

You smiled in relief and anxiously looked at your mom. Though still unhappy, she grudgingly tilted her head towards her husband and nodded. “We have to go to New York,” she decided, not thrilled.

“Oh no,” your dad sarcastically protested. “Not that. There’s nothing to do in New York. Please, don’t make us go.”

Back in New York, you realized you had another person you had to talk to about making a meeting happen. Your parents were already looking at airfare for the whole family, not wanting to waste any time.

Lazily, you drew random shapes into the back of Neal’s hand, leaning into his side while he held his arm around you for a few good cuddles. Both of you had had long days, and all you’d really wanted was to spend some quiet time together. Knowing he wasn’t feeling particularly great made you even more weary about the subject you had to bring up.

Gently, you kissed his cheek. “Hey, love.”

He smiled tiredly and leaned his head towards you. “Darling,” he responded in kind, pressing a kiss to your warm forehead with tenderness and care.

“You know I was visiting my family? I… I kind of told them about us.”

“Oh?” Although his posture didn’t change, you detected the curiosity and a little bit of guardedness that entered his voice. Neal shifted his arm after a second to rub your upper arm with his hand. “Does that mean I’m officially a fixture?” He teased.

You shut him up with a gentle swat to the thigh. “You’ve been a fixture and you know it.” To get more comfortable, you rested your cheek on his shoulder. “Actually, I… they want to meet you. And they know to come here to make that happen, and they’re determined to do exactly that.”

“Oh.” There was definitely wariness there. Neal moved his arm off of your shoulders. You sat up and bit your lip. He didn’t stand up, just moved so he could look at you without turning his neck as far, and he put his hands down in his lap. “Is that a good thing?”

“I think so!” You hurriedly said, reaching to put your hands on his knees before he withdrew. “Neal, I want you to meet my family. I think if you just act like yourself instead of like, you know, Nick Halden or whoever else, they’ll like you.” Nick could kind of be a jerk. You supposed that was a bit necessary for a corporate spy slash high-stakes gambler slash embezzler slash whatever else he was undercover. “I want Neal Caffrey in my life.” You lifted one of his hands and gave his knuckles a kiss. “And that’s who I want them to meet.

“But I also know that you don’t exactly like all that stuff.” Your shoulders sank just a little. You had heard a few hushed remarks from Mozzie – they didn’t give you much, but you realized that Neal used to want the fence and dog and kids type of future with Kate. Since then, he had gone for Sara and, for a brief period, it seemed like he reconsidered Alex, straying further and further from the domesticity of your family’s lifestyle before you caught his interest. “So if you’d rather not meet them, I’ll make up something. I’m sorry, I know I should have asked you first, but I was put on the spot and didn’t know what else to do.”

Neal had started smiling softly at you as soon as you said that you wanted him. You didn’t want him to act a part for your parents, you just wanted him to be himself, and you sadly knew that he wasn’t appreciated enough for who he really was. His smile was small, but it was meaningful and made you feel sure you had said the right thing. He leaned in, cupped your cheek, and gave you a long, slow kiss.

“I think,” the artist said when you pulled apart, “That I want to meet my girlfriend’s family if she wants me to.” He swept your hair behind your ear and smiled at you romantically. “It seems important to meet my love’s family.”

Neal was the epitome of confidence. Nothing shook him except a gun in his face, and while you knew your mom could be intimidating, she wasn’t that intimidating. So it was pretty endearing to you that he couldn’t seem to stop fixing his tie, cuffs, and hair on the taxi ride to the restaurant where you were meeting your family. Tonight, you were having dinner with your parents. Tomorrow, you were going to take them on a tour of your favorite places in Manhattan while Neal worked, and the day after, they would have to leave again before Y/B/N and Y/S/N missed school.

“Stop that,” you scolded gently, taking his hand and pulling his wrist to your lap. You straightened out his shirt sleeve, which had been fine until he started messing with it again. Next, you reached up and ran your fingers through his hair, fixing the fringe that he had knocked out of its customary coif. “You look perfect.” You kissed his cheek. “You’re a people person. This’ll be easy.”

He turned his hand over and took yours, looking at his hair in the reverse-facing camera on his phone. He slid it away quickly and moved his other hand over to take yours, too. “I can’t help it,” he worried, biting his lip. “I’m a people person when I know what to do.” He straightened quickly as something occurred to him. Then, quickly, he urged, “Before we get there, tell me what they like. What’s your mom do? Hobbies?”

“Neal!” You laughed out of sympathetic nerves. “Sweetheart, stop it.” You squeezed his hand. “Be you. You don’t need to pander. Come on, you’ve got this. Where’s all this doubt coming from?’

“I just…” A small blush arose in his face. Your thief looked away and out the other window for a moment before he gave you his full attention again. “Your family’s important to you,” he reasoned. You saw a flash of insecurity that made you feel bad. “If they don’t like me, then…”

“Then I’ll handle that, but I’m not worried. Neal, I love you, and what they think will not change how I feel.”

He smiled. He had to force it, but some of the relief was palpable. It made you sad that he had felt it was a real concern, and maybe he still did, but if it came to that, then you’d just have to prove what you were saying with your actions.

Dinner started out well enough. Neal held your hand as you walked to the table, and he pushed your chair in and sat down next to you, putting him between you and your little brother, who looked on Neal’s shining silver cufflinks with curiosity. He liked things that shone.

You hadn’t wanted him to put on an act, but you saw a little bit of a façade for the first several minutes. You didn’t let on to your family that anything was off, but Neal had some of that charisma in his smile that was just a tiny bit different from his real, casual charm. He kissed your mother’s hand (she wasn’t too thrilled) and did the same to your little sister, and while you were waiting for entrees, he held yours.

Almost right away, he found something to talk about with your father. Neal mentioned that he’d worked in a hedge fund for a short time (he left out the part where he was undercover as a corporate spy and was nearly murdered by the manager) and gave your father and brother the explanation of what he did at work and how it related to business, all while expertly avoiding any terms or phrases that would remind them of the sentence they knew he was serving.

It wasn’t the conversation as much as it was your interactions with him that your family cared about, though. Neal offered to let you try his drink and kissed your cheek, and he wasn’t shy about smiling at you or calling you sweet names, and he was open with mild and tasteful PDA. Your total comfort with him had to go a long way, too. Before you realized it, both of your little siblings had decided he was normal enough to lose interest and were playing with a few Lego toys, and your parents and O/B/N had relaxed to enjoy the meal. O/B/N was particularly impressed by Neal’s wit.

“Where did it go?” Y/S/N asked, her voice coming out a little high and squeaky with excitement. Neal was showing her a magic trick, and made one of the smaller Legos disappear up his sleeve.

“Where do you think it is?” He asked with a friendly smile.

Your sister looked at the other little one and they both decided to say completely different guesses at the same time, and neither of them were correct. You were kind of concerned that one of those guesses was the garbage disposal. Neal’s eyebrow shot up and your father made a hurried note on his phone to check the sink when they got home.

He made it reappear seemingly from behind her ear and both of them clapped excitedly. When he gave it back, they started trying to make it disappear on their own, but had no idea that sleeves were required to do so, and your clumsy sister dropped it.

“I’ll get it!” Y/B/N yelled, making your smiling mother remind him to speak quieter in a restaurant. He got out of his chair and down onto his knees, crawling under the table. Neal was about to answer a question from your mother when your brother interrupted. “Mr. Neal, you have something on your leg! Why is it flashing?”

The awkward silence made Neal clear his throat. You leaned to the side, looked under the table, and said, “Get back in your chair, kiddo.” While Y/B/N did as you told him, clutching the Lego, both of your parents and your older brother turned their eyes on Neal more warily.

He held up a hand with his fingers splayed, asking for a moment to explain. “It’s a part of my deal with the FBI,” he explained, courteous but weary. He let himself sound genuinely tired of the anklet, but not displeased or ungrateful with his situation. “All it does is alert my supervisors if I leave my bounds.”

“What deal?” Y/S/N asked, nibbling on the crackers that had come with her minestrone.

Unlike your older family members, your little brother seemed excited. “Why does the FBI make you wear it?”

At first, Neal was unsure what to say. How do you toe the line between honesty and censorship for a child? How much did your six-year-old sibling actually need to know?

Your mother filled in for him. You sent her a sharp look, but didn’t interrupt because you knew that would make it worse. Neal wasn’t very happy, but he knew that contradicting or interrupting would make her angry, and that was the opposite of the impression he wanted to give. His lips thinned as he tried not to seem too terse.

“Mr. Caffrey has done things he shouldn’t. The FBI keeps track of where he goes so that they can stop him if he starts to do it again.” She didn’t look at Neal.

Your sister’s face broke out into a grin and she clapped. “Like Stitch!” Everyone around the table looked at her, except for Y/B/N, who knew what she meant immediately and giggled.

“What?” You asked, puzzled.

“Stitch!” Y/S/N insisted. “Stitch did bad things and got into trouble, but he was still good, like Lilo!”

Neal chuckled quietly when you all realized what the kids were talking about. You smiled and looked down at the table. Your father laughed.

“Yeah,” you agreed, thinking that that was actually a good way to explain it to them. If that was how they understood it, then why not? “And the FBI is kind of like Dr. Jumba.” You looked across the table and locked eyes with your mother. Although you were speaking with phrases for the kids’ benefit, you aimed your message at her meaningfully. Neal was important to you, and he wasn’t going away. The sooner she understood that, and understood that Neal didn’t deserve to be iced out, the better. “They know that Neal isn’t bad. They just want to help him, and to help others.”

“Mooom,” Y/S/N begged, hugging her leg. “Can we go see the coasters now? Pleeeease?”

“Coney Island closes in an hour,” your big brother said, looking it up on his phone. “I’ll take you both tomorrow night, I promise.”

Y/S/N pouted and Y/B/N let himself slide into the rental car with a huge sigh. “We’re never gonna go,” he complained, making O/B/N, Neal, and yourself all laugh.

You saw that both of the little kids got into the minivan, but begged Neal to do another magic trick for them while they put their seatbelts on. Your mom pulled you aside while he entertained both of the kids.

“You’re really sure he was in prison?” She asked in a hushed voice, looking over at Neal’s back. You could hear him feigning shock that made the kids giggle and wonder where their Lego went. “He seems so nice and normal.”

“He is nice,” you told her pointedly, but didn’t comment on the ‘normal’ thing. “Mom, I told you. Neal’s special. He’s special to me. I’m definitely keeping him for as long as he’ll let me. I know you worry, but you don’t need to. I was careful when we started, and since then, he’s proven over and over that I can trust him. It’s not up to you to second guess that. You can either be supportive, or we can just not talk about this part of my life.”

She nodded, looking away from you and to her younger siblings. “Well… okay. You could do a lot worse,” she admitted. “I just hate the idea of you being hurt, by anyone.” You smiled. You didn’t need her permission, but it was nice to have her approval anyway. “As long as he keeps being as kind to you as he was while we’ve been there to watch.”

“Mom, I promise, he’s a total gentleman. Except for when he steals my coffee. But even then, he buys me more coffee, so it evens out.”

“I didn’t know that movie was even still popular,” Neal commented, his fingers threading through your hair while he put it in a braid for you. You sat in front of him on his bed while he parted your hair into sections.

Now that the night had gone so well, and ended on such a nice note at that, you had decided to stay overnight with him for celebratory cuddling. Neal was amused that Lilo and Stitch had been the solution to the tension your mother had felt.

“Just be glad it still is,” you advised, laughing a little.

He smiled and leaned in. You felt your hair tug a little as his hands changed position, and a minute later there were lips at the back of your neck. You felt him smile against your skin. “Your family likes me now,” he stated, pleased and borderline smug.

“Of course they do,” you replied as if it were obvious. “I chose you, and I have fantastic taste.”

He gave you another kiss on your neck before leaning back and resuming the process of making your braids. “It’s too bad you can’t meet my parents,” he wistfully complained. “It would be nice if we could both experience that. I haven’t felt so nervous under scrutiny since third grade.”

You snorted. “Really? What happened in third grade?”

“I had a gap in my teeth,” he mumbled. You giggled and he twisted the hair tie around your braid, smoothing it down and scooting closer to wrap his arm around you. “Shush. That’ll teach me to share with you.”

“Oh, baby, I bet you were adorable,” you promised, leaning back against him. “And anyway, I’ve already had to undergo your parent test when I met Peter and Elizabeth.”

“What?!” Neal indignantly moved back and stared at you. “They’re not my parents!”

You snickered. “For the purposes of this discussion, they kind of are.”

“Are so not!”

“Peter told me to have you home by midnight!”

“Peter’s not my dad!”

Requests are open!

#white collar lawmen and conmen #lawmen-and-conmen #white collar #white collar x reader #neal caffrey #neal caffrey x reader #reader insert #reader #oneshot #requested #ohana meet my stitch #family #bonding #meeting the parents #boyfriend #dating

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