Rebelcaptain Regency AU: Cassian Andor goes undercover in an attempt to find Galen Erso, who has been captured by Napoleon’s spies in England. He is tasked with finding Erso’s daughter, Jyn, in order to get an in with her distant relatives, who have ties to France and may know of Erso’s location. But he discovers that in this game of chess, she is not a pawn but a queen.
The Most Disturbing Things in John Winchester’s Journal: A Comprehensive Study.
@jaredsnuggles made a really incredible post about all mentions of the boys in John Winchester’s journal. It’s incredibly helpful for writing reference, and filled with genuinely heartwarming moments and an interesting glimpse into John’s POV.
But as someone who’s pretty infamously critical of John’s parenting skills, what I most noticed was the progressively disturbing way in which the boys were brought up, the responsibilities placed on them, and the way in may have impacted their psyches (performing!Dean, anyone?)
So let’s take a look at some of the most blatant examples of the Winchester’s upbringing that would have had the Child Protective Services knocking on most people’s doorsteps, and how it may have influenced the people they’ve become.
1. Encouraging violent, illegal, and womanizing behavior:
Dean turns fourteen today. He took off to the movies with a girlfriend. I think her name is Katie. Quite the ladykiller, that kid. Like I was at his age. Hell-raising, foul-mouthed, full of piss and vinegar. Silas had it right: he’s like me. If I’m not careful with him, by the time he’s twenty he’ll have left a trail of kids and arrest warrants all over the country.
For some reference, Dean was not “a lady killer” at that age. He was fourteen at the time, and didn’t even have his first kiss until he was at the boy’s home (where John dropped him) at age sixteen. At fourteen, he was still a child, having a presumably very chaste relationship with another child, seeing as it didn’t even involve the rudimentary making out.
Dean turns twenty-one today. I’d buy him a beer if I thought it would be something new. He’s also old enough to buy his own guns now. I tried to raise him right, and looks like I did. He’s a scam artist, a ladies’ man, and an absolutely loyal son. He knows what’s right and doesn’t hesitate to do it. I’m proud of him. Now that he’s hunting on his own I don’t see as much of him, but I know he’s out there. When I call him in on a job, he’s right there every time. I’ve spent the last sixteen years afraid that I was going to screw him up somehow. Maybe now I can forget about that.
This one is just messed up on multiple levels. For one thing, there’s a lot of talk about “performing!Dean” within the fandom, and it’s easy to see where that persona comes from: this, along with his ability to shoot, kill, and protect Sam, is one of the few times John expresses overt pride in Dean. Of course a child/young man struggling to garner his father’s affection and approval would adopt the most suitable persona possible to do so.
It’s my opinion that Dean, at his heart, isn’t a “scam artist” or a “ladies’ man:” he’s a homebody who loves to cook and clean and take care of people, with a lot of traditionally feminine characteristics. He can also be interpreted as having a lot of internalized same-sex attraction.
Would John have accepted that? From what I’ve seen, probably not. Performing!Dean is just the son John wanted.
I took the boys, said good-bye to Missouri, and got the hell out of Lawrence. If I never go back, it’ll be too soon. Not for Dean, though. The first thing he wanted to know was when we would go home. But we don’t have a home anymore, Dean. The sooner you get used to that, the better. We don’t have a home until we find what killed your mother.
The fact that it was hammered into Dean’s brain that they didn’t, and would not, have a home for the foreseeable future would have been a tremendous blow to a child’s psyche – particularly when it was just mentioned that he wasn’t speaking or leaving John or Sam’s side less than a month prior.
I’ll hunt, and the boys will hunt, and we will find whatever killed Mary and we will send it to Hell. And on the way, we will kill every monster and ghoul and ghost and demon and anything else. My boys will not grow up to experience what I have. They will not lose what I have lost.
As always, his intentions are clearly good here, but for some reference, this was 1983. The same year Mary died. Dean was four, Sam was an infant, and he’s already decided that they can and will hunt.
Took Dean shooting. If he’s big enough to try to comfort me, he’s big enough to start learning the tools of the trade. I only let him fire the .22, but he is a deadeye marksman. My drill sergeant would have taken him over me in a second. Times like this, I sure am proud of my boy. I have a feeling it’ll be different with Sammy. Maybe he’s just too young to show it, but I don’t think he’s got the same kind of killer instinct.
There are two disturbing things going on here: Dean is being taught to kill at age six, and John’s reasoning is the fact that because he’s old enough to serve as emotional provider for a fully grown man, he should be able to. And also, there’s something about a six-year-old having a “killer instinct” that just sounds incongruous to me.
This is also one of the few times he expresses genuine pride in Dean.
For his seventh birthday, I took Dean shooting again. He wanted to fire one of the big guns—that’s what he called them. I let him shoot the Browning, but I steadied his hands. Sammy wanted me to help him make Dean a card. It was like a normal day, like we were a normal family with a mom who was off shopping or at work or something. Instead of dead. That illusion never lasts. I can’t afford to let it.
Sammy is five today. Thank God. He almost didn’t make it. I could blame Dean, but it’s my fault. There’s enough blame to go around. I missed the kill, and I left Dean watching Sam, and he couldn’t pull the trigger when he needed to. I haven’t taught him well enough. If he is weak like that again, my boys will die.
The fact that he’s blaming his nine-year-old son for his inability to kill, subconsciously or otherwise, in addition to putting a nine-year-old in a situation where he’d need to kill, is disconcerting to say the least.
Last night, Sammy woke up in the middle of the night telling me he was afraid of the thing in the closet. I went and looked. There was nothing in the closet, but I’ve seen too much not to believe that there could be. So I handed Sammy the .45 and told him the next time he saw the thing in the closet, he knew what to do. I don’t think I’ll win any awards from parenting organizations, but five nights running now Sammy has slept without nightmares. Sometimes a .45 under your pillow is all you need.
Sammy is sixteen years old today. God knows he’s got plenty of torments. Now he’s got a driver’s license, too. Doesn’t make much difference. He’s known how to drive since he was nine.
Mary, you know I would never leave the boys with strangers I couldn’t trust. You know that, right? I never would.
The fact that he is apparently leaving them with strangers, regardless of whether or not they’re “trustworthy,” when at this point they are still toddlers, is by definition neglectful behavior.
4. Paranoia/controlling behavior:
Dean turns five today. I was thinking about where we’re going to be in the fall, because he should start school. Then I realized that I can’t leave him in a school. Anything could happen. Maybe a place that has half-day kindergarten. Maybe that I could do. I know I should. I know he should be able to run around with other kids, who don’t know how to fileld-strip the Browning. Well, Dean doesn’t either, yet. But he’s learning. He’s got a talent for guns. I can see it already. And he’ll need it.
I was a homeschooled kid myself, but the fact that John kept Dean isolated and out of academic environments in order to protect him strikes me as paranoid and controlling, as well as bad for Dean’s psyche.
He’s also been using guns at around five years old. I’m not even against guns, but that’s just messed up.
Dean turns twenty today. He’s in Ohio somewhere, hasn’t called in a couple of days. Tracking a possible poltergeist. He’s supposed to call in every night. Mission discipline is critical.
Sammy is eighteen years old today. Surprised he didn’t take off. We’re not getting along too well. He hunts when we need him to, but he’s never committed himself the way Dean did. Dean’s never known any other way to live, or if he has, he doesn’t act like it. He’s playing the role he was born to play. Sammy’s the younger brother. He doesn’t know what his role is, even though I can tell him until I’m blue in the face and we’re both ready to kill each other. He’s got one more year of school and then I’m drafting him full-time into the family business. I’ve given him more slack than I ever gave Dean, more than I would have ever gotten from my dad. He needed it. Now he’s a grown man, or almost. Time for him to step into what’s expected of him. Dean never even thought about college. We used to joke about it once in a while. But Sammy still believes he can have a normal life, but they’re both more useful to the world as hunters than … what, lawyers? Dentists? Sammy’s convinced himself that smart kids have to go to college. Part of my job is to convince him that college would be a waste of his smarts. And I gotta hand it to him on the brains front: there’s nothing he can’t find on the computer. I still dig around in actual books, libraries, newspapers. It’s all keystrokes and search words for Sammy. He’s done a good job hiding our trail on all the credit cards.
John never leaves an option for Sam or Dean to be anything other than “what’s expected of them.” He never asks them what they want to do with their life, or considers their opinions valid.
This is one of the later entries, so it’s clear John has had a long time to settle himself into his extremist way of thinking, but it’s still disturbing and sad.
Sam graduated. He didn’t go to the ceremony. I think he’s still carrying a grudge that it took him an extra year. What do you want me to do, Sammy? Should we have stayed in Lawrence while whatever killed your mother came back for you? Should we have sat around fat, dumb, and happy even though war had been declared? How long would we have lasted that way?
Sam left. I told him that if he was going, it was permanent. I meant it.
Dean turns twenty-four today. I was twenty-four when I married his mother. Sorry, kid. Every boy has to cut the apron strings sometime, and for you it’s not going to be until we kill off a supernatural entity that seriously needs killing. Then we’ll all be free of your mother’s ghost. We’ll be able to live normal lives. But maybe not. Maybe we’ve all been hunters too long now.
It’s clear that John didn’t consider his children autonomous adults, and expected them to blindly obey his authority. He also considers them complicit in his “war,” even though they were both very small children at the time.
In closing, it’s clear from the other entries that John loves his boys. But as I’ve pointed out before, you can love someone and still be thoroughly toxic, abusive, and bad for them. John’s parenting and projection onto Dean is probably the reason why he’s so uncomfortable with his own femininity (and ~possible~ bisexuality), and why he feels so continuously obligated to prove himself as a Scam Artist and Ladies’ Man™.
Even Sam, heartbreakingly, has finally internalized the message that he can never be anything other than a hunter, when he clearly at one point wanted to do otherwise.
So while John could, and did, have a lot of redeeming qualities, and wound up sacrificing himself for his son’s benefit, I hope this will lay to rest the debate about whether or not he was a good father.
Sirius sits up from where he’s lying
on the picnic table to raise his eyebrows. “Now Moony, that’s no way to speak
to your prison master.”
“I am not your prison bitch. If
anything, you’re my prison bitch.”
Sirius looks scandalised, and thus
James, lying with his legs in the air against the wall bordering the grounds,
decides to cut in. “Neither of you are prison masters, I’m the prison master. You’re both my prison bitches.”
“You can’t have two prison bitches,
that’s monopolising the prison bitch market.” They all turn, Sirius on the
picnic table, James lying on the ground, Remus sitting beside him with splayed
legs, to the voice and there- in an orange jumpsuit with one of the zippers
broken off- is their ticket out.
Alternate ends to that sentence
The girl who broke the daisy chain.
The one least likely to be a prison bitch.
The rest of James’s life.
She sits with them at dinner.
“What’s your name again?”
“Black, stop trying to look cool. I
know you know what my name is.” Lily puts her tray next to Remus, who is
sniggering into his hand. There is sunburn across her face from standing in the
sun and talking to them nearly all yesterday, and as a result it is difficult
to tell where her hair begins and her face ends. James looks up and grins.
“I think he intended it to be more
of a power move actually.”
“He’d actually have to have power in
order for that to be accomplished.”
Sirius brandishes his fork at her so
forcefully that a piece of chicken flies off. “Listen here Evans, I don’t know
what kind of prison gangs you associated with back at Northcote but here,
things are different.”
“I would hardly call us a prison
gang.” Remus is in the process of reaching for his napkin, only to find that
James had stolen it pretty much the moment they sat down.
“Well Moony, we are in prison and we
are a group of people who hang out, hereby, a prison gang.”
Lily gives Remus her napkin. “A prison
gang implies you have sinister motives.”
“You have no idea what our motives
James rolls his eyes and flicks
Sirius on the ear. “Our motives are not sinister” he says to Lily, who smirks.
A rumour goes around that Lily got
transferred because she killed two prison guards and ripped out another
inmate’s teeth after they removed cornflakes from the cafeteria. Noah Brewer
goes around telling everyone that her hair is so red because its full of matted
blood. It’s all very dramatic and Elise Porter makes a big show of moving
stepping aside for her in the halls.
James finds the whole thing
hilarious, and often talks her up in the guy’s bathroom to the point where
everyone thinks she’s a mass murderer. Sirius joins in, and then they’re
reenacting the supposed ‘ruthless killing’ once a week just before movie night.
Someone suggests putting the idea forward for the annual play.
She tries to be bothered by it but,
honestly? Remus charges everyone one baked potato from their Sunday lunch to
watch and they’re making a killing.
“So why were you transferred,
really?” James asks as she takes a book from him and shelves it. He’s been
standing in the library and talking to her for the better part of an hour now,
trying to figure out how to ask.
“You really want to know?”
“Well generally that’s why people
She raises one eyebrow and reaches
around him, grabbing a book from behind him. “just for that I’m not going to
“What? Oh come on Evans, you can’t set me up like that and then get mad when
I capitalise on the opportunity you created!”
“Stop using the word ‘capitalise’ in
casual sentences, it’s embarrassing”
“Says the girl who used the word ‘monopolising’
the first time we met.”
“Oh James, are you reliving the
moment I came into your life? Do you think about it all the time? Does it haunt
your days and nights, making you sleepless-“
“-keeping you awake as you dream of
me, shaking up your world with the word ‘monopolising’ and then shaking you up as you can think of nothing but
me? oh James, I’m so flattered that you picture me always-“
“Please stop. God, Evans, I’ll leave
this library. I’ll leave this fucking library and you’ll have to stack this
bullshit all by yourself. Try me”
Sirius puts in a request for them
all to get t-shirts that say #1 PRISON GANG for ‘medical purposes’ and they all
get called in for counselling. After that they’re not allowed to have metal
utensils so they have to eat with plastics. James breaks three forks in two
days, Sirius ends up eating with his hands by day four, Remus tries to stab
himself with the plastic knife in the middle of lunch because ‘any alternative
would be better than this’ and Lily goes on a hunger strike by day seven.
They get their metal utensils back.
“Seriously? That’s it? You got 12 years for that?”
“We were pretty damn good.”
“You were stealing cars. I stole a
car once when I was sixteen and so drunk I tried to start it by putting the
keys in the glovebox.”
“We once cleared out an entire
dealership in a night.” Lily’s mouth drops open and Sirius’s best shit-eating
“Told you we were good, Evans.” Lily
shuts her mouth and pretends to not be impressed.
“Well alright” she leans forward,
elbows on her knees, “what if I told you that I ran a multi-million-dollar
underground meth ring out the back of an old lacrosse shed after I got back
from working shifts at the supermarket my mum owned.”
There is a silence so loud she
worries she might have actually scared them. Sirius is agog, eyes huge enough
to see from at least 18 miles away and Remus is giving her look like he’s
trying to figure her out in his head, a complicated math equation inside a
girl. James breaks first.
“Hold on, so you’re a drug dealer and your mum owns a supermarket?” he’s
starting to smile, struck by lightning through the skull, “Shit, Evans you’re fucking fantastic. You had access to
drugs and free fruit roll ups.I’m outraged I haven’t known you my
“One question.” Lily says and Remus
starts from where he’s cleaning the sink, “If you guys were so damn good then
why did you get caught?”
Remus doesn’t turn around, and after
a minute she realises she’s asked something that has struck a nerve. He doesn’t
look at her.
“There used to be four of us.” He
“Potter, I’ve just had your driver’s
licence photo described to me in intense detail by Black, along with an
accompanying drawing by Lupin. Please describe to me the exact thought process
that lead to the green hair”
“Will it do any use denying this?”
“Fine. Then let me set the scene:
it’s summer, I’m seventeen, and am on a lilo in a stranger’s pool at 3.a.m.…”
Lily gets some sort of severe
sunburn even looking at a window and won’t stop humming David Bowie even after
threats of bodily injury. Sirius is always diagnosing himself with dramatic,
deadly diseases and won’t stop drumming on the table with his fingers. Remus
once accidentally swallowed a fly in his orange juice and won’t stop rolling
his eyes every time Sirius diagnoses himself with a dramatic, deadly disease. James
asks every week on the phone for his mother to send him a dressing gown and
won’t stop looking at Lily.
Honestly, someone should have caught
on that this would happen. Clearly, they are the dream team.
“I’m fixing it!”
“Really, Black? because it looks
like you’re fucking it!”
“What are you two doing.” Lily and Sirius wheel around and
look so clearly guilty that James thinks it’s a wonder that they didn’t end up
in prison years before. Sirius holds up two halves of what was once a daisy
“Happy Birthday, Prongs. Evans broke
Lily hits him over the head.
She has the idea in the middle of
the night and sits up in bed- an electric fence turned on in the dark.
she thinks. Oh, yes. That could work.
Lily corners him by the toast and
drags him by the collar out into the abandoned hall. James is about to object,
but he can feel her fingers against his skin through his shirt fabric and-
well- his tongue is suddenly too big for his mouth. Lily looks up at him, eyes
full of what appears to be determination.
“I like you.” She states, a pure and
He’s floored. “Like in a prison way?”
he asks, and then wishes to be cremated immediately.
Pause. “How the hell do you like
someone in a ‘prison way?’”
“I don’t know you just- just like
them, when you’re- ah- when you’re in the prison- you like me?”
“Yeah.” her eyebrows are furrowed
together and she crosses her arms over her chest, “in the normal way, meaning:
I want to hang out with you and fuck when we get out here. Not in the ‘prison
way’ you fucking-“
He’s kissed her before she can
finish her sentence. Then-
He pulls back. “You said when.”
She opens her eyes, looking a little
like she’s just been hit over the head with a bat. “What?”
“You said ‘when we get out of here’.
And you said the ‘when’ like you thought ‘when’ would be happening soon.”
She grins at him.
“Are we really going to do this?”
Sirius blanches, “Of course we are,
this is brilliant.”
“Yeah but…” Remus trails off, but
the meaning is clear. If this goes wrong, it will mean more than having no
metal utensils. Lily looks at James.
“We’re doing it.” He says firmly,
“Lily knows what she’s doing.”
(She actually doesn’t, because
that’s the thing about breaking out of prison, you only really get to do it
It involves, in no particular order:
a fork, the cords from all the
phones, a piece of sink piping, three sheets, a shower curtain, four really good hair ties, the stuffing of
one mattress, four good pairs of shoes, and at least three excuses that could
explain away any part of the plan, lest they be caught. These could include “we
are barricading down this wall to get some exercise”, “I am purposefully
blocking this sink because I am staging a protest against the water quality’ or
“I’m stuffing all this mattress foam down my pants because I believe in comfort.”
“Moony, I’m willing to consider letting you
off the hook for being my prison bitch if you pull this off.”
“Sirius, I am going to hire someone
to murder you.”
“Hire someone?! We’ve been friends
since we were eleven! You can’t even kill me yourself? Unbelievable. Typical prison
They get out, the specifics are
boring and, to be perfectly honest, Sirius hardly listened to the plan anyway
and ended up winging his half, while Lily broke her wrist jumping over the wall
because it turns out that the hair ties weren’t that good. Remus did alright,
although he did get a cold from being in the water tank to long, and James,
Fingernails grow back.
They’re all over the news the next
day, pictures plastered everywhere and news anchors calling them a ‘notorious
prison gang’ that frequently performed plays detailing a gruesome murder and
made other inmates ‘pay to watch’. ‘They also requested t-shirts be made to
solidify their status’, many reporters claim.
Lily hums David Bowie until they
cross the border, and Remus hits James every time he tries to change the radio.
Sirius yells about how great they are for ten minutes and then falls asleep
with his head on Lily’s shoulder.
“Hey,” she sticks herself in between
the drivers and passenger seat, grinning, “So we’re out of prison and- against all
odds- I still like you, so it must not be in a ‘prison way’ as-“
“Shut up. Oh God, Evans, mention
that again and I’ll kill you and then happily go back to jail for your murder.
“Remus, do you know how you fancy
someone in a ‘prison way’? because I sure don’t, let’s ask James her what that means exactly-“
“Moony, roll down the window. I’m throwing
myself out of it.”
Imagine #4 Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier - Part 2 (Request)
Requested by @mutantsupremecy: I request a fic
where there’s a hit list going around the world for mutants, and the X-men
along with the reader are on it? The reader can manipulate energy and stuff,
and Erik wants to protect her but Charles becomes protective?? Please??
Requested by @lostamongstthecosmos (and kinda by @samariabarnes, like 20 years ago, who’s probably already forgotten about it): Would you consider continuing the Imagine 4th
story? I’d love to see more
Not my gif
Warnings: typos, fem!reader, also I kinda messed up the timeline, I hope you don’t mind
The moment you entered
Charles’ office, you knew that something was wrong. He usually didn’t call you
to his office. He rarely called students to his office, let alone teachers,
such as you. And as you stepped through the door, you realized that you weren’t
the only person, who had been called in.
“What’s going on?”,
you asked as you stopped in front of the professor’s desk and looked at Jean,
who seemed just as confused. “I don’t know. I had to dismiss my students early,
he usually waits till the end of the lesson, before he calls me in.”, she
replied and you couldn’t help but feel a little sting of jealousy. Jean had
been your best friend ever since you had arrived at Xavier’s a few months ago,
and you knew about the close connection she had with Charles, due to her
telepathic abilities and the fact that he had helped her through some rough
times, long before you even met him, but you still envied her for their
closeness. You were aware, that you weren’t the first person to have fallen for
the professor’s intelligent charm, and you never even tried to approach him in
that way. He clearly didn’t see you as anything else than a colleague and not
that close friend.
I am not mad. That is far too meager. I am seething. Seething with the devouring rage in its most pure form. I have been proven yet again – for anything I wish to be properly done, I need to do so myself. Come to think of it, was there really such a dark moment in my life when I considered leaving a screwball that is my mother with that damn demon-in-training who most likely fan-girls over Satan as a sensible idea?! Clearly, I must have lost my marbles. Only the prospect of my sister suffering for this atrocity is keeping my temper even if barely but in check. And I vow to bring all of my skills and creativity into play when determining the most suitable way of punishing that brat, least of which will be a shortcut to the afterlife.
I make a mental list of all the bureaucracy I will have to deal with before embarking on this wonderful journey convinced that my treacherous face is already betraying all the enthusiasm felt on my part. Yes, I am bursting with joy, except I am not. I absolutely loath two things in life: mixing family with business, and getting my plans ruined. Perhaps this list is a little bit underdeveloped but I withhold myself from drifting away from the problem at the hand.
My dudes. It is now 3.45 AM where I am. My heart is warm and fluffy and aching red. My eyes are clear, my stomach is burning of butterflies. My head is mushy and my knees are weak. I wanna thank not only RAS but casting director David Rapaport for bringing these 2 sunflowers together, leading them to their true soulmates.
As I have now clearly lost my mind I must try to get some sleep. I THANK YOU ALL FOR THIS SPECTACULAR SPROUSEHART FAMILY GATHERING as I am sending my love to you from my very own grave. LiliCole did it, they officially killed me tonight.
Exclusive footage of the Sprousehart family during the past 24hours:
Lol, so according to you a significant moment in your life was when some boy broke your heart and left you and you had to learn the truth that he wasn't your world? Grow up little girl. That's not a significant moment. Stop putting your life in the hands of some boy. That's needy and pathetic.
Okay, maybe it’s your bad luck you decided to send this on a day when I have no patience and am on a short fuse but I have had enough with your bitterness flooding my dashboard, attacking so many people.
So, sit your ass down because I am about to school you in something we call HUMANITY, something your parents obviously failed to inculcate in you, you ridiculously vindictive coward.
First off, no. This significant moment in my life was not when I had my heart broken, you presumptuous twat. It was when, as I said clearly before, I lost someone. As in, have death rip that person away from my life. There, is that clear enough for you, you ignorant fool or do you need to be taught English as well about a very basic lesson of life: Do not jump to conclusions.
Secondly, even if, I was speaking of heartbreak, how is that in any way, needy and pathetic? It just goes to show that I as a human, had the capacity in me to love and be vulnerable enough to place my heart in the hands of another. That, as we are SOCIAL BEINGS, I developed a relationship that was strong enough to make me feel as though my life were better with that person in it. That the relationship was beautiful and meaningful enough to have made an impact on my life after it wasn’t there anymore.
OBVIOUSLY, someone like you who has nothing better to do than fire away malicious remarks at people, hiding behind not just a screen but also a label of anonymity would never understand this because you’ve failed at being human in its simplest form. Enough is enough though. I am sorry you are so full of jealousy and venom that the only way you can feel good about yourself is if you tear people down but you need to take a good long look in the mirror. Hopefully, you’ll be horrified by what you see staring back at you.
Get off my dash and do not for one second try and call anyone pathetic for having the immense strength of sharing a piece of themselves with another in this selfish, materialistic world. You could learn quite a lot from these people.
AU: Takes place after
age of Ultron before civil war in an alternate Universe where they were able to
get Pietro to a hospital in time revive him. He was dead for a few minutes
meaning Wanda still felt the death and reacted as she did killing Ultron before
they knew Pietro would live. I brought Spiderman in a little early for fun too.
I’m taking a lot of liberties with the cinematic timeline, but I just like
using all the characters.
Warning: violence, death, language, dark humor as a coping mechanism
You had been kept in solitary for the past two year because
you were a threat in gen. pop and they had to contain your abilities the best
they could. This was difficult since no one was sure the extent of you’re
“skills.” The one perk to solitary was it had given you plenty of time to begin
acting like the monster they thought you were. So as you sat at the table
waiting for the cowards behind the one-way mirror to enter every muscle in your
body shifted tensely on alert. The guards described your gaze as predatory.
Even though you had not once not obeyed an order or made a move toward them, it
was evident in their minds they were defenseless if you decided to. You hadn’t
had a visitor so it did make your day mildly interesting, but you suspected it
might be someone from HYDRA attempting to contact you. The idea of HYDRA just
made this inconvenient. You were no fool. You were afraid of them. In this
facility however, in this Podunk town, SHIELD knew exactly where you were. They
had provided your cell. No way HYDRA attempted to steal one of SHEILD’s
“monster in a snow globe” without the hope you would cooperate. You would never
give them that hope. You were much scarier inside that snow globe anyway. What
if it wasn’t HYDRA though? Who would have clearance to see you? Maybe-
If they had to switch places for one day (for whatever reason) it would mean mutual acceptance for Kaka and Ningame, but Gai would have no idea what to do with ninken at first. Then he would decide to go running with them and that would be the end for the poor dogs.
2000 laps around Konoha sounds like a perfect distance, after all??
Could you do Oikawa meeting his femgf's parents?? Ty! 😻
“How long has it been like this… How many years have I lost trying to make sense out of something that clearly doesn’t want to be figured out! Oh, the agony which overwhelms me upon remembering all the wasted opportunities!” the brunet cried out, raising his voice more and more so in hopes of his suffering reaching your heart.
With a groan, you slammed your fists onto the table, “Would you shut up already! It’s just math!”
A gasp escaped his lips as he sassily placed his palm over his heart, “Just math? Just math?! My dear (Name)-chan, it’ll never be just math. Do you realize how manipulative it is, making you do all of its work for no reason whatsoever?”
Despite your tries you couldn’t suppress the grin trying to break out on your face. If only he’d put as much energy into actually doing what he has to do instead of his conspiracy theories he could’ve come a long way.
“Yes, yes, I’m aware. It’s mental abuse to humans, we should just burn our textbooks to keep ourselves warm on the streets when we become homeless due to our lack of proper education!”
The brunet perked up, adjusting his glasses before he outstretched his index finger in a scolding matter, “Exactly! Mental abuse to humans! And, your sarcasm asides, I really do need help with this. I’m begging you!“
“You’re lucky I’m such an amazing girlfriend. What do you want to start with?”
“Math!” the brunet let out a cry, placing his palm over the recent lecture, “No matter how much I practice and no matter how much I think that I understand the lecture I keep getting bad grades and it’s so unnerving!”
You smiled meekly, “Math it is then! Where exactly do you mess up?”
“…the beginning? I don’t know! That’s kind of the problem, I don’t know what I don’t know; I just think that I do know- do you see my problem here?!” “I’m sure we’ll fix it.”
Two to three hours passed by spent in studying, or more so you shouting at the brunet because you had to explain the same thing over a dozen of times in a row without him paying attention and him screaming back that he just doesn’t get it.
Oh, what fun!
“Oikawa, pull it out!”
“What do you think I’m trying to do, it’s stuck in there- you know, this is your fault, had you not provoked me, you wouldn’t have unleashed the beast inside!”
“Not that forcefully, you’ll break it!”
“Jesus Christ, woman, would you stop nipping at my heel, I said I’ll get it out! I’m trying my best!”
Those were not the best words to greet your parents with; even though both you and Oikawa remained unaware of the duo standing before the doors they were sure of two things.
One, there was a boy in your room.
Two, you wanted him to pull something out and judging by their experience they were pretty sure that you weren’t doing something the way it should be done.
Your father, who, at that point, couldn’t take the suspense anymore, knocked on the door before he asked if everything was alright in there resulting in both you and Oikawa freezing in your spot.
Oh how you wished that the ground could just swallow you up. The brunet was unsure of how to act because he was scared shitless of meeting your parents- especially now!! Was he supposed to just introduce himself? Jump out the window? Erase their memories!?
“C-come in,” you found enough strength to mumble that out as you turned your head towards the doors, making sure that he could see that you were trying to pull out a pen out from your table.
“You- Are you decent?” your mother let out hesitantly, slapping her husband’s hand as soon as it reached out for the doorknob. You tsk-ed, following it up with an eye roll, “Of course we are! His pencil just got stuck in the table!”
“And no, that’s not a euphemism for anything!”
Upon entering, they indeed have taken note that the both of you were holding onto a pen stuck in the middle of your desk, “Erm, we were studying and a certain task was a little frustrating.”
“Studying?” you dad repeated, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he leaned towards your mother, his brow arched, “Is that what they call it these days?”
“Dad!” you hissed out, a red tint sprawling across your cheeks, “Was that really necessary?!”
“Was it necessary to greet us by making us think that you were up for making us some grandchildren with a boy we don’t even know?” your mother retorted this time, shaking her head at the frozen brunet.
As if on cue, Oikawa went down to his knees as he let go of his grip on the pen, “I apologize for meeting you like this, I’m Oikawa Tooru, your daughter’s boyfriend, we go to school together and I’m not really good at math which is why we were up here, you can check the textbooks- but I wouldn’t really suggest looking at mine because I can guarantee you that most of my answers are incorrect and-“
You could feel the amusement your parents felt as they looked down on the nervous male and you couldn’t help yourself but to scoff at least a little; Mr. Big-shot Oikawa Tooru was nervous as hell. What a sight for sore eyes that was!
Oikawa was just like a desert at that point; he went on and on and on… Their silence must have worried him so he only started talking faster and you actually got worried about whether or not he has enough air.
“I think they got the point,” you cut in, tapping his shoulder as you ordered him to get back up to his feet. You could physically feel him loosen up, he even cracked a smile upon getting back up to his feet.
“I don’t think we quite did,” your dad cut in, looking at the brunet through squinted eyes. You shot him a glare as you mouthed him out an order to stop messing with Oikawa which he took lightly.
Although your mother refused to butt in, her gaze held a dose of mischief. “Come outside, I want to talk to you Oicowa.”
“It’s actually pronounced Oika-“ one questioning look from your father was enough to shut him up, “Oicowa it is!”
He followed your father’s tall figure outside as he prayed to Iwaizumi that (Father’s name) doesn’t punch as half as hard as you do.
Once he shut the doors behind himself you whisper-shouted at your mom, “Why must you torture him?! He hasn’t done anything wrong- I mean yeah, he damaged the table pretty badly, but other than that he’s harmless!”
The woman waved you off as she went a hand through her raven locks, “He’s just doing that for good measure. Your boyfriend will be just alright, trust me.”
You bit down on your tongue as you let out a silent whine, “He still doesn’t deserve that treatment! Who knows, maybe I was the one that actually wanted some action!”
Upon noticing your mother’s widened eyes and a sly sneer you realized your mistake, “Shit, no, I didn’t mean that, I’m- I!”
“Kukuku~ Too late now!”
You released a groan. You really regretted their arrival at a time like this. ———-******************———— This was it; he was going to die. By the hands of an angry, middle-aged father. He always thought it was going to be his own, but apparently not.
“I believe you’re a genuine boy, Oikawa because (Name) wouldn’t go for someone who isn’t, plus the way you looked scared shitless was hilarou- I mean, it gave off an incredibly sincere vibe. So, in conclusion, even though I’ll keep a watchful eye on, I approve of your relationship with my daughter. I want her wish to be your command.”
“I assure you, you can count on that!” Oikawa’s heartbeat sped up- something about being accepted into a new family was so beautiful to him. Under no circumstances would he pass it up.
Your dad let out a chuckle as he pat the brunet’s back, “Good to hear. Now tell those two that I’ll be downstairs unpacking. By now they’re probably arguing on who will get that pen out of the desk.”
“My money’s on (Name),” Oikawa mumbled, “She was five seconds away from shouting out in frustration that she’ll do it instead of me.”
“Don’t you sell my wife short, (Name) certainly hasn’t gotten her attitude from me. Always doing things the hard way, pft!”
“I was wondering about that!” the brunet joked, stifling a laugh. Warmth spread through his body; for the first time in a while, he could feel his heart beating as fast as it possibly could.
If the heavens allowed it, he would live to see your first anniversary, which was something he was quite unsure of when he saw your parents barging in.
Shivers came over him once again.
He’ll have to charge you five hugs and a cuddling session to compensate for the trauma!
When you have time, would you tell us something about the Annunciation?
i. there’s this girl.
there’s this girl, and she lives in a village that barely earns the name—not even five hundred souls, living off rock and scrub, but there are flocks of goats in the hills and one synagogue hewn from stone, older than she has memory.
nothing good comes from galilee, they say, but her mother is there, and her brothers, the half dozen girls she has know since they were all babes gumming at their mothers’ teats, and yoseph, whose carpentry-rough hands cradled hers when he said, I will ask your father, I will.
the sky is vast and blue over nazareth, and it is almost enough to fill her arms.
ii. one day she comes back from the well, and there is an angel sitting at the table of her father. It has many eyes that blink languidly at her, and a circlet of fire at its temples; at her coming, it rises to its feet (a brightness that goes up, and up, having to crane its neck to fit beneath the thatched ceiling) and says, hail maryam, full of grace, the Lord is with you.
(its voice is like summer thunder, iron on iron)
be not afraid, the angel says more gently, for maryam’s breathing has gone ragged, her heart stuttering in her chest. you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name yeshua.
how? she demands, though her voice breaks on the word and she feels light-headed. yoseph, she thinks. oh yoseph. I am not yet married.
er, the angel answers, and none of its eyes will meet hers. you might want to sit down for this bit.