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mushroom-cartel--writing · 3 years

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to be [a]sundered

Summary: Kugisaki Nobara is blessed. She will never know.

Relationship(s): Kugisaki Nobara & Reader, Kugisaki Nobara/Reader

Note(s):

Here’s the link to read this on AO3! (You know the drill, extra tags, different notes, the format I intended, etc. Oh. And the comment section.)

There’s manga spoilers in this fic alongside headcanon.

So far, out of my menial amount of JJK fics, this one has probably been the most enjoyable to write. With Nobara’s background I can play around because it’s just there.

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“I’m going to Tokyo,” she says. Come with me.

“No.” Can’t, sorry.

Mahito touches her soul.

Kugisaki Nobara is blessed.

She will never know.

The first time she introduces you to her friends, Saori nearly gouges your eye out with a sugar spoon and Fumi spills the contents of her cup across the table.

“I have cake,” you say, offering a cutesy box to Saori who’s still got the sugar spoon trained on you. “It’s baumkuchen. An old acquaintance gave it to me for free but I figured it’d be too much for just one person.”

Nobara, giggling, just offers you a seat and asks for more tea.

On the outskirts of the village there is a shrine.

They say it houses a god that blessed their lands long ago and watches over them to this very day; they hold a celebration in its honour every year, a small share of the harvest season’s best crop is offered up to appease the god.

Her grandparents say it houses a malevolent wonder-terror who feasts on the soul of its worshippers once the sun goes down; her grandparents say the aforementioned god and malevolent wonder-terror are one and the same, born from a wish made by humans.

You laugh when she tells you the crap people have come up about your home. (You appreciate the free food, though.)

You are not a god or something malevolent. You’re you.

Not quite divine but too powerful to sniff at.

Humans cannot see or sense you. Not even those who can bottle their negative energy, the ones you occasionally see passing through the village. Usually, you have to will yourself into existence. But she can regardless.

Spirits, the weak and strong, good nor bad, fear you. Your presence sets their survival instincts off, running immediately when you try to approach them. She has to give chase and incapacitate them for you when the hunger becomes agony.

You taught her well, it seems.

Too well.

Mahito touches her soul and it burns, burns, burns.

Kugisaki Nobara was barely old enough to be out on her own, but her grandparents trusted her to stay safe. The village was small, everyone knew each other, word spread fast, so if something happened to her on her small excursion… Well, no one would come looking for her, would they?

It was a lie when she said she was just going out to play with friends at the park.

Nobara didn’t have friends.

All the other kids were boring. She didn’t like their company. Whenever there was a big gathering, she’d try her best to avoid them and hide from the adults in bushes.

Despite knowing this, her grandmother let her go.

She hated being cooped inside with nothing to do and today was perfect! The humid air made her clothes stick to her skin but at least the wide-brimmed straw sunhat she snatched from her grandfather’s shed protected her from the sun’s wrath. It meant her peers would be over at the river halfway across the village; people wouldn’t go back to working on their fields until it cooled down a bit later in the day; they wouldn’t see her; and she’d be on her lonesome.

She wanted to laugh to herself. Everything was coming together.

Finally, she could check out that place she’s been meaning to visit ever since she first heard of it: the derelict shrine.

Her grandmother warned her to stay away from it, lest she give her name away by accident to the being living there and have her life stolen, but Nobara, inwardly, thought it was a load of cow dung. She’d die? Hah?! It was all superstition! (She would never admit it did spook her a bit.) Besides, things like vampires and witches and ghosts didn't exist in the first place. She’d be fine.

Humming with a skip in her step, Nobara made it to the shrine in due time.

“Hello?”

“Why hello there!”

She took everything back.

You had to be a ghost with the way you snuck up on her soundlessly. You kept insisting you weren’t. You glided along the floor.

You had to be a ghost. And now you were serving her snacks and tea. Inside the shrine. Inside what was, supposedly, your home.

“Why don’t I believe you?” she voiced aloud.

You stared at her, face deadpan, and poured hot water over your hand. She watched your skin scald. “Does this answer your question?”

Kugisaki Nobara at five years old was a bit of a skeptic, contrary to her personal beliefs.

“No. Not really.”

11:25 PM →

You emerge from the gaping hole where her left eye was blown out alongside a good chunk of her head, something writhing and fierce and oh-so familiar.

Ah. Right. This feeling; this foreign dread dawning upon him, piercing Mahito innermost; your dull but irritated eyes trained on the cursed spirit akin to a lizard eyeing up a cockroach. You’re like him, possessing a soul that absolutely cannot and should not be touched.

Shit—that means she too—

Hahahahaha.

You don’t even need to spare him another glance. You know what he’s thinking. You know what he’s done.

You won’t be as lenient with him as Sukuna was.

But here’s the thing. Although a student may surpass their teacher one day, the teacher might not relay all that they know to the next generation to ensure the safety of their student and those around them. However, Mahito is nothing to you. Itadori Yuuji, on the other hand, is important, so you grab him and throw the boy behind you.

“Reverberate,” you intone, bearing the exact same wounds as her.

His senses are heightened a thousandfold, but not nearly are they even close to yours.

You shove a nail of hers into yourself, saying, “Plunge.”

It hurts. It hurts, it hurts, ithurtsithurtsithurts, hurtshurtshurtshurtshurTshURtsHURTS.

“Quietus.”

“We’re soulmates, you and me.”

She bursts out laughing. “Like from those cheesy dramas?” Nobara asks. Because. She needs to know. Whenever she’s around you, everything feels… right. It’s hard to articulate. Her heart doesn’t rush when you graze her skin but the particular spot where contact was made always tingles with a reassuring warmth; you’re real, not a fabrication of her imagination. She doesn’t fantasise about you like the way her peers do with the object of their affections. Your very presence makes her comfortable. “Are you having second thoughts?” she jeers, poking you hard in the ribs. (She’s still bitter about your decision.)

The intended jab has no effect.

“No,” is your reply. “What I mean is that your soul and mine are the same. If something happens to you, I’ll know.”

“What? You think I’m gonna be some part of a demonic summoning ritual where I’ll be a human sacrifice?”

“Time and distance makes no difference.”

“So if I just say the word…?”

“That… that’s not what I…” You sigh and scrub the gunk from your eyes.

How are you supposed to explain the whole situation to her?

Oh, yeah, about a couple aeons ago there was a being who tore themself in two—one part immortal, the other mortal—in order to understand their reason for existing. Their immortal self would be stagnant and observe their mortal self who would continuously live, die and reincarnate, until the latter, under their own volition, sought the former out and then a conclusion would be made between the two on whether or not they would remain as separate entities or rejoin together as one again.

Your original self (you and her; her and you) wasn’t great at planning ahead, that is plain to see. They didn’t think about the consequences, they just wanted an out. And fast.

Well look at you now. Distorted beyond reason. You’re an exercise in self-destruction. You stopped considering it being a miracle that you could wake up every morning by yourself and do what you wanted: the novelty was short-lived. You want to die but you’re at the point where it’s easier to convince yourself you do not than to focus on how you will off yourself somewhere that no one (and nothing) can find your undecayed corpse because the company you keep will become worried if you let the happy facade slip.

“Never mind,” you mutter.

She was ten when she first saw the skull.

It tumbled from your billowing sleeve as you rummaged around your pockets, rolling to a stop at her feet.

She lifted it up. “Whose is this?”

It was a weird skull, not like those she’d seen in her textbooks. She thought of asking Fumi about the skull later, when school started back up, but the idea was literally snatched from her mind when you saw exactly what she was holding.

In your hands, the skull seemed smaller. Inconsequential. Another another weird quirk of yours: carrying around random things. Maybe it was a model? You told her to forget about it and stowed the skull away—back into your sleeve—and dragged her along the beaten path you insisted on walking.

The next time, she was thirteen and helping you clear up your home. Fumi was there too.

They’d been going through a closet stuffed full of old junk and out the skull tumbled, right into Fumi’s lap. Rightfully so, her friend screamed. It took you several minutes to calm the poor girl down, her view of you now askew. Nobara was on your side when Fumi tried convincing you whomever the skull belonged to deserved a proper burial out in the forest and you refused.

No matter how hard she tried, you would not budge.

And that was that.

(From then on, whenever you made yourself visible to Fumi, she regarded you warily before seeing the way you looked at Nobara like she hung the stars and the moon.)

The last time the skull made an appearance in her life, Nobara had just turned fifteen.

A strange pair of men were at her door at the crack of dawn, rousing her grandparents, which prompted them to drag Nobara out of bed at such a god-awful time of the day. They all sat at a table soberly, discussing her future while Nobara found her attention gravitating to you.

You were playing with a stray cat in the garden, its stomach presented to you eagerly so soon after it deemed you safe, and making the most disgusting cooing noises she had ever heard to it with a dopey grin.

It was only at the call of her name that her head snapped back forward.

Yaga Masamichi was a strange one, tinkering so openly with a corpse in front of her deeply superstitious grandparents, but, strangely enough, it was his companion, a shock of white hair and bandage, that caught her eye. The young man was looking your way.

Not at the cat pawing up at thin air. Oh no. The blindfolded stranger’s gaze was dead set on you; she saw his brow raise minutely as Yaga and her grandparents continued talking, her tools of trade that was cobbled together from old sheds and the local hardware store bared flat on the table; she watched him watch you rub the cat’s belly before you lifted it high into the air like a parent would to their child. It was obvious what the situation playing out was: you had caught on to the stranger’s sighting of you long before she did. To emphasise the fact, you even babbled to the cat, “Higher, higher! Oopsie-daisy!!” before letting it back down and nuzzling it against your face, affectionate and close.

Yaga only noticed the change in atmosphere when the cat’s meows suddenly went quiet. But the other one (white hair, bandages, feels wrong, rotting flesh and fresh) grinned, slapping an enrollment form on the table.

“You. Leave that thing behind when you come to our school,” said Gojou Satoru, his introduction earlier all pomp and a wellspring of positive energy memes a stark comparison to now as he continued watching you, all but ignoring her grandmother shouting up at him to stop spouting nonsense.

(“What drivel! My granddaughter surely won’t—”)

She went back to spacing out in your direction.

Without hesitation, you dropped the cat into your gaping maw and swallowed it whole in one gulp. The first cursed spirit you managed to catch by yourself. Your ability at masking your aura was improving. That was good.

The skull peeked out of your hoodie’s pocket, the many orbits winking at her.

Screw the rules, you were coming with her whether the bureaucracy liked it or not.

At this rate, she’s going to die for sure.

You know what to do.

You’re one and the same. If Mahito touched one half of your original self and corrupted it, reason dictates that giving her body (the container) yours will fix her. But there’s a problem.

The implosion practically ruined her chances of survival, reducing it to null.

Not even a high grade sorcerer could hope to reverse the damage. Bone is a special material. Bone takes time to be cultivated or to grow. For a jujutsu user, especially, a substitute of different material won’t cut it. Bone, like the soul, contains an essence of sorts, it’s one of the few natural conductors of negative energy humans can have.

Your point: bone is not easily replaced.

Kneeling over Nobara, you grab from the air the object you were entrusted with over a millennium ago for safekeeping.

“Oi, oi, oi, you. You. Freak-god-thing.” You regard Itadori Yuuji with disdain. Or rather, the lone eye and accompanying mouth that’s on his cheek. “Is that what I think it is.”

“What? Are you objecting? Or worse—obstructing?”

“I don’t know about you or the brat, but you’re gonna fuck up the girl if you do that.”

“And since when did the King of Curses grow a heart?”

“I fucking didn’t, you prick.” The eye manages to scowl without a brow. “I’m just saying… You are sending her to condemnation.”

“Says the finger shagger,” you retort. The mouth disappears; Itadori Yuuji has an indescribable expression on his face but you know he won’t try and stop your hare-brained idea, he wants what you want.

You know what you’re doing.

You’ve had to do this a few times before.

It will work.

“Hello?”

A child? Who in their right mind would—

You freeze in your tracks. It’s them, your mind exclaims. It’s them. Them. Them. Them.

… Her.

You walk up behind her, beaming.

“Why hello there!” you chime, so, so happy.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #kugisaki nobara x reader #nobara x reader #gn!reader #gender-neutral reader #reader insert #one-shot #originally posted on ao3 #jujutsu kaisen

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lovelikedestiny · 3 years

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4. Booker: How shall I win back

Warmth in every curl of lip,

keeping first watch every night.

Finding out that he may have sentenced one of the people who never failed him to final death with his original plan was not on Booker's checklist. Standing up? Yes. Fighting the urge to drown his inner pain in alcohol before noon? Also. Finding his place back in the family he betrayed? Hell yes!

But not that. Never that.

It is true that in his worst moments he looked - poisoned by jealousy - at the happiness Joe and Nicky had with their mutual immortality. That he was angry because he would never be allowed to have something like that ever again. That he hated it when Nicky and Joe were so careful and loving to take him into their family and not to exclude him because he didn't deserve their kindness.

But even then, Booker never wished to destroy their happiness in any way. Because even if the love of the two for each other is obvious, being part of their family meant being loved by them. To bask in the warm glow of their relationship while Nicky prepared humming food in the kitchen and made interjections in the remarks of the day, which Joe told Booker with such funny expressions, fake voices and hand movements that Booker laid laughing under the table. Nicky's and Joe's love belongs only to the two of them, but it gives so much more to those around.

It reminds Booker that he is not completely alone and has support. A home. Every day it shows Booker the good they are fighting for. It reminds Booker how to live when all he wants to do is die.

Congratulations. You did a great job.

He probably even deserves that he not only betrayed his family now, but also started to destroy them from the inside. The agony of knowing he did this to Nicky will burn and burn in his chest, between his ribs for eternity, and for one cruel second Booker thinks that this is only fair if they can't find a cure for Nicky. Because compared to Joe's pain if they should lose Nicky, his guilt is not even a fraction.

Oh god, Joe. His best friend. Bad jokes, stupid but fun actions, joint soccer games, a bright grin. All of this is wiped away like dust and reveals the almost broken mirror underneath, the glass of which is showing more and more cracks.

The silence that follows Copley's revelation cracks in Booker's ears, pushing him down and crushing him with its weight. It would be so easy if Joe showed any sign of anger at him. If he directed angry words at him, hit him and made him bleed because the physical pain would distract Booker from the gash that is opening in his heart.

Booker could handle an angry Joe, shit, that would be exactly what he'd deserve. They let him into their family again, put their trust - at least the trace that existed - in him and now it turns out that Booker is the wolf in sheep's clothing in their midst. God, Universe, you assholes, now would be a good time to strike me with a lightning bolt.

But Joe does nothing, and Booker bites his tongue so hard that he can taste the metallic flavor that has been their companion for centuries. Just like Death, who reaches for them with bony fingers but couldn't hold them. Until now. The idea that death at that moment could reach out its fingers to grab Nicky is unbearable for Booker.

Still completely motionless, Joe sits next to Nicky and looks blankly at Copley, who closes his laptop so quietly as if he were afraid that any noise would tear them out of their silent state. And then Joe turns his head painfully in slow motion. Not to look at Booker with anger and hatred and disgust, but to look at Nicky, which is much worse for Booker than an angry Joe. Because the silent scream that leaps from Joe's face at Booker hits him like a fist in the stomach. It takes a lot of effort not to double over.

Nicky has still fixed his eyes on Copley, his face unfathomable, untouched as a surface of water, but Booker knows that Nicky always tries hard not to let anything out when the rage inside him is all the more violent.

This knowledge is not helpful to Booker's emotional state. Even though Nicky doesn't look at Joe, there is the kind of creepy and impressive communication between the two that Booker has not seen for the first time, and Nicky reaches for Joe's hand, which is already moving towards his. Joe's fingers easily find Nicky's and when Nicky brings Joe's hand to his lips and kisses it, Booker mentally throws himself out the window because Joe was right. He's a selfish asshole and Nicky and Joe pay the price for it...

When Andy finally moves, Booker barely swallows his sigh in relief and Nile's attitude changes too, turning to the leader they all see in Andy and whom they always rely on.

Her ice blue eyes pierce Booker and she jerks her head, carefully controlling her noble face. “Booker, come with me. Nice work, Copley, now at least we know what kind of shit we're up against.”

She whirls around and marches out. Uncomfortably, Booker gets up and follows, more slowly but obediently. Every step drives the splinter of his failure deeper into his body.

They go to the patio door, which Andy pushes open carelessly and she only comes to a stop when they stand in the middle of Copley's garden. Whatever Andy has to say, Booker is more than ready to hear. He knows he got them into deep shit.

With her back to him, Andy stares at some nearby trees, and Booker takes waiting as a form of punishment in itself. "Boss, I-" he starts, has no idea what he's getting at. Only that he can no longer stand the silence that whispers to him traitor, failure, murderer, exile.

Lightning-fast Andy pulls the gun out of her waistband, turns half around and shoots him in the right leg.

The crashing shot startles a couple of birds, and Booker is too surprised when his leg gives way and knocks him half to one knee to make a painful sound. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

He grunts suppressed, but literally embraces the pain. Leaning on his other leg, he starts to straighten up, but Andy shoots him in the other leg and Booker grinds his teeth as he lands face first in the cool grass.

The gunshot wounds burn and Booker soaks in the earthy smell of the ground as he feels the injured tissue contract again and pushes the bullets out of the wounds. It's questionable whether Andy will shoot him again, but Booker is ready to take it.

"Fuck!" She finally growls and after Booker has rolled onto his side, he discovers that she has put her gun away again. With hands trembling and cramping with pent-up emotions, she paces back and forth in front of him, buries one hand in her hair and pulls on the dark strands in frustration. “It should have been one of us, Book. Might have been, fuck!” She kicks a stone that is probably some kind of design in Copley's garden. "Fuck, fuck, FUCK!"

Booker lets her scold and curse and kick the stone and sits up because there is nothing he can say to allay her anger stemming from underlying fear and concern.

"Get up, you fucking asshole!" Andy finally hisses at him and Booker obeys the order with his head bowed. He doesn't blame Andy for the gunshot wounds or her insults, she always tends to speak out when something has shaken her to the bone.

You killed her baby brother.

Shut the fuck up, Booker instructs his inner voice, gritting his teeth, as he has done since he and the others took different paths on the banks of the Thames.

“Why couldn't it have hit me? I'm already mortal, damn it!” Andy gives the impression that she would like to shoot something or demolish one of Copley's raised beds. “Both of us, Book, have been so sick of this endless life and have only seen the burden of many lonely years with no light at the end of the tunnel. And Nicky and Joe, of all people, who saw time as a gift, have now got what we both have always hoped for. Life ain't fucking fair. But why Nicky?"

Why the heart?

Continue reading on AO3 ;)

#the old guard #fanfiction #tears on marble face #chapter four #Booker #Joe #Nicky #Copley #Andy

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notyetneedcoffee · 4 years

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Soul Seer, Pt. 10

Loki Master List

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Only angst and a raging God of Lies in this chapter

Author’s Note: Takes place right after Avengers 1, with time travel elements and hints of Infinity Wars. Does NOT follow cannon after Avengers.

Every screen in the lab displayed analysis of the Chitauri materials or calculations for re-engineering the cities infrastructure. Despite the rapid pace of data collection, only one person worked in the quiet lab. The urge to sneak up behind him, to frighten him and see how tight of a hold he had on his monster, tickled across Loki’s mind. As fun as it might be, it would not be productive. So, Loki purposely scuffed his boot along the floor as he entered the room.

Banner looked up from the computer monitor, removing his glasses. He looked around the room, absently realizing they were alone. “Loki.”

“I would like to speak with you.” He circled the worktable, eyes instantly taking in the data flowing across the screen. Banner was examining his plans for an energy converter. “If you have a moment?”

“Um, yeah.” The doctor motioned to the chair. “What’s on your mind?”

Loki lowered himself slowly into the chair, gathering his thoughts. After spending the night skimming through the recollections of your day in the city, he found himself at odds. The mortals of Midgard never meant anything more than a distraction to him. At the most, they were a means to an ends. They were too fragile, too short lived, to be of any significance. However, after seeing them through your eyes he realized something most distressing. He found something in common.

On Asgard, he learned at a very young age to conceal his emotions and lock them away. Even though Asgardians reveled in battle and celebrated robustly, they were not prone to the depth of feelings he seemed to possess. Only his mother seemed to understand. He always felt as if it were a cruel trick of the Norns, that they would make him so keenly aware of other’s motivations and yet feel the impact of their actions so deeply.

Loki had laid beside you, petting you hair as you slept, as he made peace with the realization that for all of Midgardian’s frailties there was an intensity and depth of emotion he understood. He never would have understood were it not the connection he now shared. He’d been blind to it for a millennia.

“What is the status of people?” Loki asked, nothing of his inner turmoil on his face or in his voice.

“The, ah, people?” Banner cocked his head.

“The people of your city? What have your rulers done to assure their safety and well-being? Are they being housed and fed? Have proper tributes been made to the honored dead?” Loki leaned forward, intent.

“Oh.” Bruce leaned back, tossing his glasses on the table. He rubbed his forehead. “That’s a big question. See, things don’t really work quite the same here.”

“Explain.”

“So, what is this about?” Fury strode down the hall toward Stark and Rogers.

“Banner just asked us to join him and Loki in the conference room. They have something to discuss.” Steve shrugged. He knew Bruce well enough to trust that they would not be wasting their time.

“Apparently, the good doctor has been giving Reindeer Games a civics lesson.” Tony smirked. Fury scowled. “What? This could be interesting.”

The three turned the corner towards one of the many conference rooms in the tower. Loki’s voice boomed down the hall. “That’s barbaric!” Banner answered but it wasn’t clear. The god’s voice still reverberated down the hall. “And they call me monster!”

Tony glanced sideways a Fury with a grin. “See? Interesting.”

In the conference room, Bruce sat on the table near one of the big screens showing a long list of statistics. Loki paced along the outer wall, staring out the window. Steve came fully into the room. “What’s barbaric?”

Loki stopped, hands fisted. He turned slowly towards Rogers. “That the rulers chosen by your precious country, provide neither guaranteed care for their physical well-being, nor recompense for the loss of their domicile or trade during war or disaster.” Loki growled a little deeper. “And there are no tributes given to the honored dead.”

Fury sighed, “There are programs that...”

Loki cut him off. “Oh, yes, I’ve read all about your programs of so-called welfare, and health-care, and other miasma filled bureaucracy. From what I can tell, most of the resources go to those who already have resources to spare. What ruler allows their subjects to suffer so?”

“Oh, so you arrived and blew everything to shit to be a benevolent king?” Fury spat.

“There is no such thing as homelessness, or hunger, on Asgard.” Loki hissed. “No one dies because their wounds or ailments go untreated.”

“Well, we’re not a world of bottomless resources.” Fury bit back.

“You have more than enough!” Loki stepped closer.

“Loki.” Bruce’s quiet voice cut through the tension. “Let’s dial it back, and get on topic.”

He took a deep breath, giving Banner a subtle nod of his head, before returning to the window.

Tony fought to keep the smirk off his face. He never imagined Loki and Banner swimming in the same side of social politics pool. “Yeah, ah, what’s up doc?”

“Loki wants to help with the rescues.”

“I can locate survivors better than your technology. I can communicate with them if needed when you cannot. Besides, the use of my magic and my strength is as useful as yours in mere physical aspects of reaching the living.”

“Locating survivors would be a big advantage.” Steve easily admitted. “People may not be willing to accept your help, though.”

“There’s no need of them to know it is me.” Loki turned toward the Captain. A green shimmer fell over his body. Standing before them was a man, only vaguely similar in face. His hair was short and light brown. His face sported a light scruff of a beard. His skin took on a slightly more golden tone. He wore jeans and Stark issue pullover.

“Just can do that whenever you want, huh?” Fury sighed.

“Yes.” Loki smiled. “Man, woman, any shape or form I wish. It is a key part of my nature.”

“Gotta be fun for Princess Buttercup.” Tony mumbled. Banner’s eyes widened. The corner of Loki’s lip twitched.

“Would this take away from the other work you’re doing?” Steve, ever the practical one, wanted to stay on point.

“I do not have the need of sleep that you mortals do.”

“Why?” Fury crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

“What do you mean?” Bruce began, but Fury held up a hand.

“I want to know why, after three days, is Mr. High-and-mighty all of sudden interested in the welfare of a bunch of mortal ants under his boot.” Fury growled.

“I am interested in fulfilling my vow to the AllFather as completely and as quickly as possible. The century duration of the sentence is at his discretion. I intend to be far away from this rock long before the one hundred years are spent.” Loki lied easily.

Steve knew it was a lie. He’d seen the agony you’d been in evening before. Loki’s concern for your welfare and what he’d witnessed of your connection led him to believe that the Asgardian’s interest grew from his need to understand your pain. It was enough for him to believe in Loki intentions. “Okay, I’m in charge of the rescue effort. Let’s go figure out how to best work you in.”

Loki turned his eyes from Fury, settling instead on Rogers. He gave him a small bow of his head. “I’m at your disposal, Captain.”

You rolled over crawling from the fogginess of deep sleep. The pink rays of early sunlight broker through the cracks in the curtains. Frowning, you realized you were alone. Sitting up, you called out. “Loki?”

“Yes, my pet.” His form simmered into existence at the foot of the bed. “It’s early, why are you not sleeping?”

It took a moment for your brain to catch up with what you just saw. You frowned. “You’re not here, are you?”

Loki smile. “So perceptive. No, little one, I am downstairs meeting with Captain Rogers. Worry not. You should sleep some more.”

“No,” You stretched and kicked off the covers. “I’m up.”

“Mmm,” He purred drinking in the sight of your naked form. “Then I shall complete our meeting and join you shortly.”

You smiled, amazed the Loki standing in front of you wasn’t real. Although, you realized, you couldn’t smell him. He always smelled wonderful. “Finish what you’re doing. I’m just going to take a bath anyway.”

He chuckled. “In that case, I will be there all the sooner. Besides, I have news.”

A/N: Thanks to everyone for hanging in there. I’ve finally circled around to this and have four chapters in the works!

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@rainbowkisses31 / @dsakita / @geeksareunique / @lbouvet / @buckybarneshairpullingkink / @theneuropsychwriter / @vanillabunn21 / @sammghgecko / @beautifullungs / @badassbaker / @the-omni-princess / @sebbysstangirl / @jesseswartzwelder / @unadulteratedwizardlove / @the-reading-octopus / @bangtan-serendipity / @kiki5283 / @mindtravelsx / @kneel-before-queen-loki / @thorfanficwriter / @dawnlaufeyson / @theladybiers / @jillilama-blog / @vodka-and-some-sass / @archy3001 / @asgardianthot / @a--1--1--3—3 / @tahiri-veyla / @rinthehufflepuff / @myownviperroom / @kermittheshipper / @ultrarebelheart /@ultracolorfulnerdcollection / @rynabarnesrogers / @alexakeyloveloki / @everything-is-awesomesauce / @1800-fight-me / @notyourtypicalrose / @sex-cee-seabasss / @osric-the-l3m0n-l0v3-demon / @wwe-fanfiction-queen / @thorfanficwriter / @scarlettsoldier / @morganhoran1671 / @michelehansel / @sexyvixen723 / @readermia / @buchanansebba / @imma-new-soul / @asiaaisa77 / @night-cereus / @vintageroses1014516 / @lovely-lollipops-blog

#loki x reader #loki fic #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki smut

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sloppy-butcher · 4 years

Note

Ok,new follower here. So this blog is amazing,you writings are just beautiful. I hope I can become as good as you, beause I would like to open my own blog, but I always think my works are too bad. Anyways, I don't know if you write soulmates stuff, like your partner name is written on your body or thigs like that. If so, could you write something related with Joey and Frank sharing the same male sm reader? If you don't feel comfortable writing for three characters or for a male reader it's fine!

THANK YOU SO MUCH for your support T_T I love you so much! I encourage you to start that blog because the only way to get better is to try. and if you do start a blog, drop me that link babey

So i spent a hot minute finding which soulmate alternative universe would best fit your request since you didn’t specifically state which au you wanted. Well, i found a reaaallly interesting one. hope it’s okay

This AU states that soulmates share pain. If one is hurt the other shows their wounds or bruises. I think this will work well with Frank and Joey and a survivor!S/O. I have no problem writing for a male S/O (although i will probs just make this gender nuetral as i dont see gender really playing an important role in this (and i prefer gender nuetral tings)) or for three characters. i will have to write this in HeadCanon form as i am very lazy and i dont want to write like a full fic T_T cause you know.... i have toomuch to say

hope these are okay? ily

Soulmate Au HeadCanons: Poly!The Legion (Frank and Joey) with a Survivor S/O

They realized their connection long before they even knew you existed. The theory was that soulmates shared pain and it was obvious to them that they were meant to be together. Joey would share in Franks pain, he could feel the scar that tore across his face and Frank could feel when Joey had worked himself far past his breaking point. They thought they were the only ones connected in this psychic-link, bound by a force too grand and cosmic to be comprehended by simple-minded mortals. But like the universe, fate works in mysterious ways and everything changed when you joined the Fog.

Joey first noticed it when he went to sit down at the end of a particularly gruelling workday. He felt his left shoulder explode into a burning hot pain and his body seized with the sudden shock. He barely held back his cries of a surprise but Frank wasn’t so well-restrained. Joey heard him from across the Lodge and fearing for his friend, ran off in the direction of his call ignoring his own body screaming for him to stop. He found Frank surrounded by a worried Julie and Susie. They looked between him and Joey, expressions from behind their masks piercing through to Joey's soul. They were worried for their friends, Frank’s scream and Joey’s sluggish and limp stature was enough to tell the girls that the pain the two were experiencing was, no doubt, incredibly excruciating. No one knew what had just happened, neither of them had been hurt or injured, and they feared that maybe the two were being punished by the Entity for a lacklustre performance. But both boys assured they did well enough to keep the thing satisfied and when the pain spontaneously faded, the whole incident was pushed out of their minds and momentarily forgotten.

But the pain never stopped completely. It was sporadic, turning on randomly like a lightswitch bursting with newfound anger and agony that would contort their limbs and burn their muscles. And there was nothing they could do to alleviate the pain, no amount of massaging or rubbing could take away the sharp edge of the hurt; there weren’t even enough painkillers in the realm to quell the agony. The only thing the boys could do was just sit there and wait for the pain to decide to go away. It was torture, sometimes the simple act of sitting alone was pure unadulterated suffering. But still, the boys had no idea where this pain was coming from.

It was only after Joey returned from a trial in which he had mori’d a rather annoying and pesky survivor that something started to click. Joey walked into the main lounge of the Resort and found his friends standing around the fire pit waiting for him. Frank had his shirt off and the pants of his left leg rolled up. Ordinarily the sight of Frank without his shirt on would excite Joey but something made him hesitate. A harsh red scar ripped down Frank’s chest and when Frank noticed Joey's reaction he held out his left arm for the other to inspect. Another red wound ran across the forearm. There was no mistaking it now. It was their trademark kill, a stab at the left arm followed by the grabbing of the left ankle then finished with the brutal gutting from the collar bone all the way down to the hip. “We watched it appear.” Julie’s voice wavered with concern. “We watched it appear on him as if...” She broke off ‘as if Joey himself did it to him.’. Joey approached Frank. Through the pinpricks of his mask, Joey could see Frank's eyes and he could feel his pain. Without saying much the girls made Joey take off his own shirt and directed him to stand next to Frank. When Julie stepped back to inspect both boys she raised a hand to cover the mouth of her mask and Susie audibly gasped. They were identical, both bore the exact same scars of the exact same knife.

To be honest, the boys would never have figured out the source of their shared pain. Combined the two barely make up a single brain cell so it was by the grace of God or something else that allowed the truth to finally be exposed. It was in a trial between you and Frank. The killer had been run around for the past ten minutes and with no sign of catching his elusive prey. You were impressed by your capable teammate and when they went down just outside the opened exit gate you leapt into action to save the wounded hero. You ended up sacrificing yourself for them, a worthy trade, everyone else got out except you. And, to you, that was okay. You were okay with this. Frank, however, was not. He was beyond furious at being denied his prey and when he trudged back to your collapsed form he felt his rage overflow him. He stood over you and you smugly returned his glare. That was it. In a swift motion, he punched you in the face. Your nose broke and blood gushed out and into your mouth. You screamed out but your cries, however, were mixed in with the killers. Frank recoiled, clutching at his mask where his nose would be. You watched in shock as he spilt swear words and stomped around you.

Curiously you reached up for your busted face and using your thumb and forefinger you squeezed the throbbing nose. Frank’s cries intensified and he clawed desperately at his mask. Through the haze he caught you staring at him in shocked amusement, which he mistook for condescending judgment. He growled and stormed over to you determined to make you regret everything. Panicking you grabbed your nose again and Frank jumped back. And then all the pieces fell into place. Frank could feel your pain. His eyes widened on your collapsed body and it felt as if his world was imploding. Oh shit.

It took some convincing but eventually, you agreed to meet Frank back at the Resort. He told you there was someone else, another ‘soulmate’ in this trifecta of fucked-up bullshit. You used the term ‘soulmate’ loosely. You had heard the stories about soulmates, people destined to be together would share such a special bond that they would even share pain. But never in a million years would you have guessed that your soulmate (or soulmateS) was, a serial killer. You really wanted it to not be real, you wanted this to be some kind of dream, a sick nightmare you were experiencing while laying on your deathbed somewhere far away. But there Frank was before you at the boundary between snow and forest, like he promised you, with his partner Joey. You walked up to them and stopped at a safe distance away. Joey seemed to bloat his chest as if to say not to try anything. Frank looked at you and you knew you had to show him. Reaching up you grabbed at your nose which was starting to feel better but was still puffy and red. You put pressure on it and Frank began to shake with the pain. Frank moaned and clenched his fists in an effort to ride out the pain like Joey was but after a moment he relented and shouted at you to stop. Frank turned and muttered something to Joey who never took his gaze off you. You could have sworn that he was a stone-statue because he never moved and showed no sign that what you did had affected him in any way. But then you noticed his slight leg twitch and the irregular heaving of his chest. He did feel it. Frank returned his attention back to you and in the cold silence of realization, you said, “Well? What do we do now?”

You could have forgotten everything, walked away from the nonsensical situation that had been presented before you and continued on living a simple life devoid of drama and tension. But that life would also lack depth, something to make it special and worthwhile. You were presented with your soulmates, a rarity in this hellhole and something about the wonder of what made the universe decide to bring you all together surpassed your urge to stay away. Slowly but surely you introduced yourself into their lives. Your interactions at first were stiff and hollow, fear and uncertainty making you doubt if the boys would respect the bound of soulmates enough to not kill you or at least hurt you.

But time wore on and you became braver. They were gentle, well... they tried to be. And when you spoke with them as people do you realized that you had a lot in common with them both. And eventually, you were confident enough to laugh and joke with them.

Joey was the one who needed the most time to accept that you and he were soulmates. He eyed you suspiciously as you would talk with Frank, feeling some kind of jealousy build up in his chest. He hated how you could get Frank to react in ways he had never seen before. He hated how easy it was for you. One day when he had you alone to himself, he finally broke that long silence between you two. But where he expected a change in personality, a two-face switch, Joey only found genuineness. You were as kind and playful with him as you were with Frank, unfazed by your burden of the circumstance and not worried by his own mistakes and misfortunes. You were strong and he admired you for that. “How do you do it?” Joey softly asked clutching his hand which now held a new red welt. The mood quietened down and you turned to look at him. “How do you handle all this pain each and every day?” You reached out and gently took his hand in yours. Suddenly all his pain vanished at the contact and he slightly gasped at the shock. You were warm and comforting, like the wind of a summer’s afternoon, constant and welcoming. He raised his eyes to yours and you gave him your best smile. He melted. “One day at a time.” You replied squeezing his hand for emphasis. You relaxed and began to pull away only to stop as he held you firm, determined to not let your warmth go.

Frank always had a problem when it came to hurting you in trials. While Joey could suck it up and deal with the pain, Frank could not bear the thought of having a hook run through your shoulder and subsequently his. It was you who finally convinced him that his job was more important than your fleeting health. You took Frank's hand in yours, engulfing him in your comfort and reassurance. “We can get through this. I will get better.” He breathed out and admitted, albeit to himself, that you were right. This was a momentary instance, a speck of nothing when compared to the kind of torture the Entity would inflict on him. And it wasn’t just himself he had to look out for, it was everyone. He had you and Joey he had to look out for. With a look apologetic regret Frank would mercilessly hunt you down and when he would lift you up and onto the meat hook he could hear you at the back of his mind saying, “Suck it up, Princess.”

They would always feel awful if you had a particularly bad day. You would trudge back to the Resort trying your best to hide from their concerned eyes your bruised limb or uneven walk but of course, they already knew what had happened. Joey would sweep you effortlessly off your feet and he would not let you walk around without his assistance. Frank, although less forward than the other, would follow behind and would pester you with questions, ‘Are you okay now?’ ‘Are you comfortable?’ ‘Anyway that he could help ease the hurt?’ They both were like oversized puppies yapping at your ankles because they heard you make a noise. You’d reassure them that you were fine and after exchanging doubtful looks between each other they would give in and give you some air.

They would listen to your stories. It's one thing to experience the pain and another thing to watch it happen. You’d tell them about how you got your injuries and more often than not you would end up a broken-down and crying mess. The image of looming figures silhouetted against an endless black sky haunts your mind. Although you all share the physical scars, the mental ones stay trapped inside you. When you would become an inconsolable disaster the boys would be by your side in an instant. By the time you regained control over your anxiety, you would find yourself buried in the arms of either Joey or Frank. You face pushed deep into their bodies as if they were trying to shield you from the monster that was yourself. It was scary, they could tell. But you weren’t alone. Not anymore.

After a long day's work of causing and enduring pain, when your bodies would ache with collective suffering the 3 of you would find a quiet cove to all lie it. The boys would sleep on either side of you, draping their limps over you and almost drowning you in their weight. It felt good to be lost at sea with them, so far away from the pain of the day and from the pain tomorrow will bring. If for a moment, you all were at peace, happy and content in the embrace of your soulmates.

#dbd imagines #dbd x reader #dbd frank morrison x reader #dbd frank morrison #dbd joey #dbd headcannons #dbd soulmate au

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bocceclub · 4 years

Text

Ariahd backstory part 1

First we need a lexicon because hooo boy I did not realize how many made up words there are in this thing. Also before that I should probably explain that Ariahd is a character from my Mediterranean-analog high fantasy setting. He’s one of my oldest ocs (and probably the one I’m most attached to), having come into being when I was going through my Earthsea/Dragonriders of Pern/Inkheart Trilogy phase in middle school. Wow I just dated myself. Anyway here’s the lexicon.

Issadai: The planet where all this shit takes place. Its name means “everything that is”

Mysska: Largest continent on Issadai, has a large sea in the middle of it called the Mysskaean Sea.

Mysskaean: Region of Mysska surrounding the Mysskaean Sea. Roughly equivalent to earth’s Mediterranean region in regards to climate and cultures that inhabit it.

Dymaexei: A large, mountainous peninsula that juts out into the Mysskaean Sea. Home to a dozen or more city-states, split into east and west by the Razka Mountains.

Dymae: The people of Dymaexei, also used as an adjective to describe anything originating in Dymaexei

Yianlai Empire: A vast empire that encompasses most of the Mysskaean. It was founded by the Yianlai, a culture of horsemen from the deserts of southeastern Mysska.

Eshtar-Neph: A loose alliance of maritime cities along the eastern coast of the Mysskaean Sea, all that remains of the late Eshtari Empire. Made up of three distinct cultural groups: the Eshtari, the Nephiri, and the Ossuans

Mages: Magic-users who draw power only from their own life-force. Most people of Issadai can work magecraft to some degree.

Sorcerers: Magic-users who draw power from their surroundings. It takes training and dedication to become an accomplished sorcerer. The Yianlai consider sorcery blasphemous, as it is believed to invite possession by evil spirits.

Warlocks: A culturally specific type of sorcerer; they served as priests and mystics in the ancient religion of the north, which incorporated dragon-worship.

Walking One: A chimera produced by the fusion of a human and dragon soul--essentially a dragon in a human body. Revered as living gods in the ancient northern cultures.

Okay now that you’re up to speed here’s Ariahd’s backstory

The Yianlai believe dragons are the offspring of the god of choas, their goddess Valena's greatest enemy. When the Yianlai Empire invaded and conquered the north, their dragon-hunters began killing off the high dragons, until there was only one small population left in the Razka Mountains of Dymaexei. A warlock from the city-state of Leknos stumbled upon an orphaned clutch of high dragon eggs in the high mountains. The mother had been killed by dragon-hunters while defending her nest. Although luckily the eggs had remained hidden from the hunters, they had gone without being warmed by the mother for so long that, despite the warlocks’ attempts to save them, all but one of the developing dragonets died in their eggs. Ariahd, the only one of his broodmates to survive, was carefully nurtured to hatching by the warlocks. He formed a fast connection with Enos, the young daughter of the head warlock, who helped her father care for him after he hatched. As he grew they became close friends, communicating by writing, since as a dragon Ariahd had no ability to form human-like speech. He and Enos altered the Dymae alphabet into cruder forms that would be easier for him to scratch into the dirt with his claws, and even invented pictograms, creating their own shorthand script.

The imperial occupation of Dymaexei meant that Ariahd’s existence had to be kept a secret. Because of this, he grew up very sheltered, unable to venture beyond the high walls of the monastery, his only knowledge of the outside world coming from stories told by the warlocks, and the travelers’ accounts that Enos found in the library and read aloud to him. The two would occasionally sneak out to fly in the mountains surrounding the city, careful to stay under cover of darkness.

While his earlier years were happy enough, as he grew older he began to become aware of the fact that he was likely one of the last of his kind, which effected him deeply. Over the years, as Enos joined the order’s ranks as a novitiate and then as a fully fledged warlock, Ariahd also came to envy her freedom and the ease with which her human form allowed her to move through the world. The warlocks began teaching her how to create the intricate murals they used as meditation guides, and she often practiced drawing the forms when she and Ariahd were together. Whenever she wasn’t around he would try over and over to draw like she did, but no matter how much he practiced, with his beast’s forelegs he could only manage crude scratches. As she grew older and learned magic of increasing difficulty and complexity, her formidable skill with sorcery was also a source of jealousy for him. He knew he had it in him to be just as powerful, but his dragon’s form was ill-suited to working the complex rituals of human sorcery.

Years passed, and as Ariahd neared thirty years old--still a child in dragon years--he became increasingly restless; as Enos’ duties within the order kept her occupied, he took to wandering the mountains alone, straying further and further from the monastery each time. On one such flight, unbeknownst to him he was spotted by imperial troops. Soon imperial inquisitors were dispatched to Leknos, with orders to dispose of Ariahd and execute the warlocks both for practicing sorcery, a heresy, and for sheltering a dragon. The monastery was attacked, and in an act of rash bravery Ariahd flew out to try to confront the attackers directly. He managed to kill a number of imperial troops but was mortally wounded himself; the distraction he provided allowed a large number of the order, including Enos, to escape into the mountains with the preserved dragon souls.

The remaining warlocks dragged the dying Ariahd back behind the safety of the monastery walls. Desperate, in agony, and afraid, he begged them to preserve his soul in a vessel to keep him from truly dying. The warlocks agreed. After performing the ritual, they hid Ariahd’s soul vessel in the relic vault, which was located deep in the maze of catacombs carved into the massive rock bluff the monastery sat on. They resealed the relic vault, then committed ritual suicide rather than be tortured and executed by the inquisitors.

Ariahd's soul laid dormant, trapped in its vessel in the vault as the years went by. Fifty years later, it was discovered by a Nephiri sorcerer, Yupal. On the run from inquisitors, she had fled across the Mysskaean Sea to Dymaexei and settled in Leknos thirteen years before, where she took up a new identity, married a Leknosian man, and had a daughter, Lys. When Lys was thirteen, the Great Plague struck the Mysskaean. After ravaging coastal Dymaexei, it reached Leknos, carried by those fleeing the ports, whose streets were littered with the dead and dying. In no time it began running its way through the city; Yupal and her family fell ill, and her husband succumbed to the Plague, leaving her and their daughter alone and close to death. Desperate to save Lys’ life, she broke into the relic vault in the monastery, hoping she'd be able to find something there to heal her. She sensed the strong magic emanating from Ariahd's soul vessel, and stole it. By the time she had returned home, Lys had died. In desperation she attempted to use necromancy to channel Ariahd's life force to resurrect her child, but accidentally opened a conduit that allowed his soul to enter the girl’s body and fuse with her soul, creating the last Walking One.

Ariahd was taken to the monastery’s infirmary, where the monks were doing their best to heal the gravely ill. For days he lay in a deep sleep, as the two souls within his body fused into one, and the monks caring for him feared he would die. Finally, he awoke. Unable to speak or write with his new hands, he had no way of telling the monks who he was or what had happened. At a loss, the monks asked Phare, a senior monk and accomplished healer, to attend to him. She had been a novitiate before the inquisitors’ attack on the monastery and the warlocks’ extermination, and when she used magic to examine Ariahd’s soul she realized immediately what he was. Phare informed the monks, and they made the decision to take him in (along with countless other children orphaned by the Plague), and began teaching him to be human.

#issadai #ariahd #worldbuilding #writing fantasy #enjoy my horrible multiple clause sentences

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iron-fam · 5 years

Text

"My Son Isn't Dying Yet,"

Prompt from @slytheringirl1307

Prompt: Peter staggers into Avengers Tower, mortally wounded. Tony pays for several professional doctors to keep him alive. The news reporters ask him why he did it, and he always brushes them off. Finally, one day, he turns straight to a reporter and says, "my son isn't dying yet."

Social media goes crazy.

TW: graphic descriptions of injuries, blood

*****

Surprisingly, Tony is asleep when it happens.

He is blissfully floating in a dreamless sleep, with Pepper curled up beside him.

His head immediately splits when F.R.I.D.A.Y. wakes him.

"Boss,"

"What!?" Tony snaps impatiently. The first night in weeks that he was able to fall asleep peacefully.

I never get what I want, do I?

"Peter Parker has entered through the west balcony. His injuries are rather strange and appear to be life threatening. I have already contacted emergency services."

Tony's body goes cold.

"Oh, fuck." He whispers.

Pepper is barely stirring as Tony launches himself out of the bed.

The corners of his vision are turning black. His heart is a frigid steel ball sinking down, down, down until it reaches the pit of his stomach.

He's running. Still running. Peter could be dead before Tony even makes it to the west balcony.

Just a little more.

West balcony.

Just around the corner.

He'll be okay.

He turns the corner too sharp. His shoulder slams into the wall and Tony tumbles to the floor.

Shit.

Shakily, he pushes himself back on his feet.

West balcony.

...

There.

...

Oh, God.

...

The barely recognizable form of a teenage boy lays crumpled in a heap. Red and blue spandex. Matted brown hair. Deep maroon blood.

Tony's legs fail him the moment he reaches the boy's side.

"What-what are," Tony tries to speak, but short and sharp breaths interrupt him. "Are yo-?"

Tony puts his hands on both sides of the boy's face, trying to keep him conscious and focused.

His mask is gone, making this so much fucking worse. Tony needs stay focused. He can't stay calm, collected, and contributive with the kid's terrified eyes boring into his.

Peter's breaths are deep and laborious. He's trying so hard to breathe.

"Tonytonytonytony I can't," Peter sputters. "Didn't kn-kn-know where else-" he swallows hard. "-to go."

"Oh no, it's fine." Tony grumbles sarcastically, scanning Peter's torso for injuries. "This is a great time, really. I was so bored. This is great. Shit."

Peter's entire body is soaked in blood. His bones are crushed. His stomach is littered with gashes and tears. His chest looks like an animal tried to burrow through him.

"Th-th-they weren't human." Peter whispers. "C-couldn't beat them." His eyes squeeze shut, and he groans in agony. "Ran."

"It's okay," Tony gulps. This is bad. This is really fucking bad. How is the kid even talking? "Can't win ev-everytime."

"F-" Peter's breath staggers, like a sputtering engine. "Fell."

"F.R.I.D.A.Y.?" Tony growls with appetent irritation.

"Emergency services arriving in three minutes."

Peter shrieks. His eyes are shut tight again, as if he's trying to wake himself up. His lips are parted, showing his teeth gritted together.

"I'm going to die!!" Peter wheezes, voice breaking. Tears begin freely racing down his cheeks, washing away some of the blood splattered on his face.

"No. No, no, no, you're not!" Tony laughs. "I've seen worse." Lies. "It'll be fine."

Peter is crying. That's bad. He needs to stay still. He needs to save his breath. He needs to..

He needs to stay with him.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey." Tony soothes. He tries to ignore the rivers of panic and utter terror that pervade his bloodstream.

Peter's gasping breaths grow shallower. "Going to die. Going to die. G'ng t' die." His words meld together and his words are barely understandable.

As Peter's inhales and exhales weaken, Tony's seem to grow faster and stronger.

"Kid, please."

Black spots bloom across his field of vision. God, he can't feel his hands.

The boy's chest is lurching now. His breaths go back to resembling a sputtering car engine; quick, forced, weak, spastic.

"PETER, STOP!" Tony's hands are still holding the boy's head. "STOP IT! FUCK-"

Peter's eyes cant focus. They dance around, never landing on the older man. His irises are frantically bouncing back and forth.

Then, suddenly, they stop.

His eyelids fall.

And his muscles relax.

Tony pulls Peter into his lap.

"No." Shaking. "No, no, no, no, no, no. Peter." He combs the boy's sticky hair back. "Bud, wake up. Please. I need you to wake up. I-I-I can't-"

"Boss, emergency services are here."

*****

"He's sustained injuries far worse than anything we've ever handled."

"There's only so much we can do."

"Our knowledge of these kind of injuries is limited."

"Our technology is limited."

*****

"Mr. Stark, we're doing all we can."

"Do more." The billionaire grumbles hoarsely. "Or I'll find someone else."

"He's been in a comatose state for nine days. We barely have any information about the incident and his injuries are unlike anything we've ever seen."

"And?"

The doctor bites her lip. She's nervous. "We don't know what to do, sir."

Tony laughs. "Well, I dont know what I expected. Community hospital. You're practically a kid and hardly capable of being a doctor."

The woman shrinks, her gaze falling to her shoes. Tony would almost feel bad if he had the will to feel anything.

Tony leaves her and crouches in front of a messy brunette woman sitting with her face in her hands.

"May," Tony hums. "Let me. This place is a shithole. These doctors don't know shit and they can't help him."

May stays silent.

Tony is persistent. "I doubt blondie back there could even put a bandaid on a papercut. Please. I'm hiring professionals. Specialists. The best of the best. I won't let him die here... Fuck, I won't let him die, period. I can save him."

May sniffs, and lifts her head to look at Tony.

"Let me." He whispers.

The heartbroken woman nods.

*****

Bright flashes.

Camera shutters.

Microphones.

The same old shit. He's used to it by now.

Swarms of people and flashing lights, suffocating him.

"Stark! Over here!"

A microphone is shoved into his face.

Happy silently shoves the reporter away from Tony. However, the douchebag is persistent.

"Stark! Is it true you spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on medical personnel to help one of your interns?"

This shit again.

For weeks now, that's all anyone can ever seem to ask him about.

Another dick with a microphone pipes up, "Why would you spend so much money on a kid that only has a minimal professional relationship to you?"

"What is the boy's name?"

"Is there any personal relation between you and this intern?"

Ignore. Just ignore them.

Over the years, Tony got pretty good at ignoring shitheads who can't mind their own business.

"Rumor has it that the boy's condition continues to worsen!"

"Do you truly believe he will live?"

"Considering your financial history and what you usually spend your money on, don't you think you're wasting your money?"

Someone shouts. "Have you considered pulling the plug, Stark?"

Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.

God, just ignore it.

"The kid's dying," the man continues. "Is there any use in continuing to fund his care?"

Tony whips around, finding the man the voice belongs to.

He takes a fistful of the mans shirt and pulls him close.

The crowd goes silent. Someone should intervene. Tony can feel Happy's hand gently placed on his back, trying to ease him away.

Tony's grip on the man's shirt remains firm.

He remembers that he's surrounded. Surrounded by hundreds of cameras, microphones, and pairs of ears. Listening.

He growls, "My son isn't dying yet,"

And with that, he releases the man, who is gasping and brushing off his panic.

The billionaire briskly walks to his car, and Happy drives him away.

They leave a hoarde of stunned paparazzi behind.

*****

@ironfan_12

IRON MAN HAS A SON!

@newyork_dawG

wow stark has a kid?? pretty shitty life that kid has. i feel bad for him.

@superheroconspiracies

Does Tony stark really have a biological teenage son? Michael and I explore this intriguing story on today's episode of Superhero Conspiracies!

@nytimes

Superhero billionaire Tony Stark (Iron Man) accidentally reveals to press that the injured boy he's been paying for treatment for is actually his son.

@spidey_gal_numba1

@Real_TonyStark sending all of my thoughts and prayers to you and your son!! He'll pull through!

*****

@Real_TonyStark

Very relieved to say that my intern is going to pull through

@cl_barton

Man, cut the bullshit. We know he ain't no "intern."

#peter parker #spiderman #irondad fic #fanfiction #mcu #ironman #prompts #writing prompt #send me prompts #tony stark #tony stark and peter parker #tw: violence #marvel fic

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kennysatyr · 4 years

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Doubt (Part 1 Jasper Chronicles)

(Authors note: Sorry this took so long to post) 4/8/2018 7:49 PM “Wait Wait Wait! What are you doing? “What I need to heat up the potion,” Said Sammy “NOT IN THE MICROWAVE!” yelled Joan it was rare that Joan and Samhain spend time together and sometimes it sparked conversations like that “Why are you making a potion anyway?” “I think it’ll help me and Raffy’s ghost mission” Joan rolled her eyes “We are going to the Goatman bridge that’s 5 hours away in about 2 weeks” “What now?” “Wait does he work this weekend?” “Yup and me” “But aren’t you the manager of the job?” “Oh yeah” suddenly Rafael walked in leaving the door open saying “Just come in dude!” both Joan and Sam were curious now “hey guys” “Who were you talking to?” Joan asked as she took a sip of coffee “oh we have a new roommate” Sam and Joan got more curious suddenly a man with a hood walked in “jasper you can take it off they won’t get scared” “Of what?” Sam asked Jasper then said “if you say so…” he lifted his hood to show his black hair with red and white streaks, grey skin, one eye a normal icy blue the other bleeding and red he attempted to smile and Sam hopped over the counter and said “HOLY SHIT HE IS AWESOME” and ran up to him and Raffy caught them and said “dude chill my mom just rescued him” “Oh so he is traumatized,” said Joan Sam walked up to Jasper and said “hey I’m Sammy” and shook this hand Jasper was a bit uncomfortable and said “h-hey nice to meet you” Raffy went outside and grabbed Jaspers bag and Jasper said “You don’t need to take my bag I’ll probably be in a hotel” “Unacceptable,” Rafael said “You can room with Sammy” he continues to carry Jaspers bag into Sams room Jasper followed “Make yourself cozy dinner will be here in a few” jasper sat on the floor across from Sam’s bed and said “thank you for your hospitality” “No problem dude by the way” Jasper looked up “If you don’t come to eat I’ll drag you” “Good to know” Rafael left the room and shut the door Joan was on the couch with Sam “I swear to god if you out on that stupid sow again!” they noticed Rafael walk in Sam immediately says “What’s the T on the cute new dude” “You find him cute?” Joan questioned “Um yeah” “Sam your taste is weird” Rafael chuckled “I know but still what do you know?” Rafael sighed and said “Well I kinda want him to tell you guys all I know is that my mom wants us to put him back on track in life he is three years behind of everything because he isolated himself” Rafael knew the truth the full truth, but he didn’t want to reveal too much he wanted Jasper to trust him he knew that’d take time “So he is gonna room with us for how long?” Joan asked “As long as needed” “Well does he have a job or..” “Not at all and I’m kinda scared he won’t because of the -” he started pointing at his eye “Well we could probably get him working at the coffee shop but I don’t know how people would respond” “Yeah we all saw how an old lady reacted to your scars” “Ok, THAT WOMAN!-” “Maybe can work with me at the emo store” Sam suggested Rafael thought “that could work” “It would fucking work he already looks like a hardcore metalhead” suddenly the doorbell rang “Shit it’s the pizza” Sam ran on over to the door “Dude does your ADHD ever turn off?” “Nope” they opened the door and grabs the pizza and sodas “34$ will be your total with the coupon” Sam paid the delivery guy with a tip closed the door took all the food to the coffee table “JASPER PIZZA” Jasper came out of the room pulled his hood down and sighed Rafael said “come grab a slice” jasper grabs a slice and says “is it bad this is the first time I’ve had pizza?” Sam looked at him in surprise “bro really!?” “Y-yeah” “How old are you?” “24” “And this is the first time?” “Well my mom never allowed me and my siblings to eat pizza” “Why?” “Welllll my dad left us a long time ago and he uses to work at a pizza place” “That sounds stupid” “She also blamed me for him leaving but she was an alcoholic bitch” “Sounds like Rafael’s bio-dad” “What-” Rafael said as he bit into his pizza Sam was disgusted “Dude I will always say your pizza is disgusting” “Come on!” “Even Joan is grossed out by it” Joan smiled a bit Rafael exclaimed “come on Anchovie, pineapple and pepperoni are good” Sam stuck his tongue out in disgust “I’ll try it,” Jasper said “Bro no it’s gross,” Sam said and grabbed a slice took a cautious bite of it Jaspers face squinted for a bit “it’s not bad” “OH COME ON!”

4/22/2018 10:49 PM “EXCUSE ME, I AM A DEMON” “Well Demon or not I can’t take you seriously with a fedora on,” Sam said “It’s a good hat” the demon kept trying to leave the salt circle but kept failing “Good try that is holy water, salt and sage-infused and we have a witch vampire who has more than enough experience” he pointed to Joan chanting Latin “Why do you mortals make this so difficult?” “Excuse me, sir, I am a half-elf” the demon scoffed “Human but more bitchy” “I mean true” Jasper and Rafael walked into the cabin with silver knives, salt, and holy water Rafael saw the fedora “Woah you caught the hipster goat man” the demon sighed burned his own hat then he started to sniff around and saw Jasper “Woah Woah Woah who is that guy” and pointed at him Jasper was confused and didn’t say anything “He has a familiar scent” “Hey stop smelling him he is a good guy” “I can smell her from here” “Sir I am a boy-” “No, I can smell Mary” Jasper froze in his place Sam said “Well no one here is named Mary and none of us will give our names” Joan kept chanting Latin “Now tell us why you are here?” “I mostly want to know if the bloody eye was involved with Bloody Mary” Jasper starting to get scared Rafael knew something was up Rafael then said, “hey whatever you know about him is-” “How do you know Mary?” Jasper asked the demon smiled “I knew her when we were both humans she is a sadist it’s very rare that she let you go free” “Alright that is enough,” Rafael said “What do you mean rare?” “Usually she takes your soul and kills you, but you must be her puppet” “She already took my soul I-” “Was desperate? Tell me who screwed you over so bad you wanted to summon her jealous ex? Abusive parent? Or maybe it was someone you loved died” ”Shut up!” “Oh so it’s the last part” “JOAN BANISH THE DEMON FASTER,” Sam said “YOU CANNOT BANISH ME I WILL JUST COME BACK” suddenly a knife is thrown at the demon a silver one the demon cried in agony everyone looked Rafael threw it and said, “Stop trying to torment my friend!” “Boy let me go and I will tell you everything you need to know about Mary” Jasper felt intrigued and took a step further the demon smiled Rafael grabbed Jasper and said, “NO he is trying to get you to break the circle!” “Bu-” “Chances are he doesn’t even know who this Mary is!” Suddenly someone burst down the door with a man with round glasses and dyed grey tips “ELLIOT?” “Joan called me 30 minutes ago I’m here to help” he suddenly throws an herb at the demon it screams “What are you doing boy!” “Joan try a different scripture!” Rafael grabbed Jasper and pulled him outside “Jasper what the hell?” “W-what?” “Don’t play dumb dude were you actually going to help the demon out? “M-maybe” “BRO you don’t do that! Dealing with a demon is dangerous!” “YOU DON’T THINK I KNOW THAT!” “That is what is bothering me is that you know but you almost did!” Jasper went silent “I think it was a mistake to bring you with us here, especially knowing you are still recovering” “From what?” “Being tormented by a demon, starving yourself and letting yourself deteriorate over this selling your soul to a demon!” “H-h-” “Mom told me she tells me everything” “Do the others know?” “No, I figured you’d tell them yourself at one point” Jasper looked down “I’m sorry I have been an inconvenience” “You haven’t dude we just need to figure something out”

4/24/2018 3:32 AM She pulled the knife from her chest “was that supposed to hurt?” Jasper was shocked “boy you really have no clue who you are dealing with here” he keeps stepping back “you are a pathetic worm” “B-but” the demon chuckled “I’m not just any demon boy I am, I have spread terror, killed world leaders, I’m only summoned by the desperate…. And the bored” she stepped closer and closer, her chest wound started healing on its own as Jasper was stepping away he backed himself into a wall, the demon smiled and raised her hand suddenly bloody hands come out of the wall forcing him to be still he struggles “You summoned me out of desperation to avenge someone who doesn’t love you” “I SWORE TO PROTECT HER” she places her clawed hand on his throat “When you were a young child making that promise did you really think she’d remember that” “YOU ARE A LIAR” She tightened her grip on his throat and laughs “You really are stupid” Jasper looks down her other hand has a syringe “You expected a blood demon to bring someone back from the dead” a hand covers his mouth so his screams for help are muffled she stabs the syringe into his left eye and draws his blood he is trying to scream, but the hands have completely covered his mouth she took it out his eye starts bleeding the hands release him he falls onto the ground “Type O blood the best” she licks the tip “I might just let you live you were so fun to play with” he starts crying she forces him to look at her “You really are pathetic you know what else WAKE UP!!!” Jasper springs back up out of bed in a pool of sweat “Jasper!” he is no longer being shaken he looks it’s Samhain he starts breathing rapidly “you’re okay you’re okay” Sam hugs Jasper and rubs his back after a few minutes in silence Sam broke it “are you alright?” Jasper didn’t say a word “you were shaking and screaming in your sleep and sweating a lot” “.. I’m fine” “Jasper look at me” Sam takes their gloved hand and puts it on his face moves so they can have eye contact with him, “say that again look into my eyes” Jaspers eyes looked drained “Jasper I know you are not okay” “I am fine” “No, you are not!” Jasper was too exhausted to argue with them. Sam took their glove off “give me your hand” “W-what why?” “Just do it” He hesitantly places his cold hand in Sam’s, Sam’s eyes all of the sudden turn white jaw hangs low “Sam?” they don’t move jasper tries to unleash his hand from theirs, however, it seems stuck in its place “SAM!” Sam comes to eyes back to their hazel color they look at Jasper and hug again “I am so sorry” “What are you sorry for?” “You have sacrificed so much” Jasper pulls away “H-how?” “I have the ability to see someone’s whole life story just by touching them” “For real?” “Yes the only way I can manage it is with the gloves I constantly have on” “So you saw… everything?” They nodded Jasper looks down “I’m pathetic aren’t I?” “No, if anything you are the fifth most badass person I know” “Fifth?” “Well next to my godparents, my stepbrother, Khady, then you” “Wow you put me next to a dangerous assassin whose glare could cut my head off” “Yes, but like you, she’s a good person and the mom of Raffy” ¨I mean you are not wrong she somehow thought I was worth her time ̈ Jasper looked down again Sam hugged him again and said “Nothing was your fault” “I don’t even know what to do” “Well I don’t really know either, but we need to find a way to break you free of mary I’m pretty sure in all the books Elliot has he can find something about her” “We?” “Yeah you can’t do this alone dude and we should get you a therapist” Jasper shook his head “I still don’t know why you want to help” “Because you are now apart of Rafael’s fam and a roomie in the Phantom Crew also you are kinda cute” Jasper blushed he hasn’t been complimented for a while “See you blushing is cute” Jasper covered his face Sam smiled and said “How about we make you some tea and watch TV and talk or don’t” Jasper smiled “that sounds great” “Call it a date” Sam winked jokingly. 5/2/18 5:57 PM “BRO, WHAT THE FUCK?” Jasper and Samhain heard from the living room “Dammit Cody is starting shit again” “What is happening in there?” “Band practice most of the time it turns into Rafael babysitting now keep your hands still” Sam was painting Jasper’s nails “CODY I AM DONE WITH YOUR SHIT” “HEY JOAN WAS TRYING TO PULL A MOVE ON ME” “NO THE FUCK I WASN’T” Joan yelled “Aw fuck Cody is at it again,” Sam said “Wh-” “Cody is jealous Rafael is with Joan so he tries to break them up but this time he is bullshitting and done” Sam put down the nail polish Jasper looked at his nails and smiled they were his favorite color Sage Green “You like them?” “Yes I do” suddenly a crash happened “GET THE FUCK OUT YOU ARE OUT OF THIS BAND” Jasper got up to go to the living room a vase was broken Cody grabbed his drumsticks and stomped out and said “good luck finding another drummer” and slammed the door Rafael just sat on the couch and sighed saw Jasper and said “Sorry if you had to see that” “It’s fine” Rafael began to rub the sides of his head Joan sighed “hun this could be an opportunity to find a new drummer” “Yeah I guess just sucks we have a show tomorrow” Jasper walked over to the drum set and felt the densely beat up tops and found another pair of drumsticks he sat down on the stool behind it Rafael looked at him and said “yeah you can mess around for a bit on it” at first started tapping the skins then tried to drum a song he knew a long time ago for a good minute or two he was lost in the music it felt natural to him Rafael was intrigued by this then Jasper put down the sticks and said “Sorry it felt good” “You are in the band now” “What?” “You are a really good drummer dude!” “R-really?” “Who taught you to play like that?” “I use to be in marching band in high school” “Also it just looked like you were meant to have a pair of drumsticks” “DESTINY!” Sam shouted Jasper was genuinely surprised about everyone’s reaction he kinda blushed at it “Dude we can add you in you just have to learn the songs” Rafael said Jasper thought for a second “I can do that” “So you will join?” “Y-yeah” everyone in the room cheered suddenly the ceiling thumped and someone yelled “KEEP IT DOWN” Sam looked up and said “SORRY MS.HENDERSON” “YOU BETTER BE YALL LUCKY IM LEAVING IN AN HOUR FOR A DATE” “GET IT MS H” “I AM SAMMY” they all giggled then Sam said, “Hey could I take Jasper out for a bit?” Rafael looked at them skeptically “For what? “Shopping we can give him a nice look for tomorrow” “Hmm” “Come on!” “Hmmm” “I’m down,” Jasper said Rafael then said “Sure just be back in an hour so we can practice” “Definitely” Sam grabbed Jasper’s hand and ran off Joan looked at Rafael and asked, “Why were you skeptical about that?” “What do you mean?�� “As if you didn’t trust Sam with Jasper” “I trust Sam” “But with Jasper?” “What if I don’t?” “You need to stop coddling Jasper he has made good progress” “Yeah but the mission we went on-” “So he made a mistake so what we all make mistakes recovering!” “Yeah bu-” “Remember when we were first dating and you found out how I fed” “Yes how can I forget you kept vomiting” “I made mistakes while you were trying to help me” “I guess that true” “Then why are you scared?” “I guess because I have a feeling” “You always do” “No like Sam likes Jasper” Joan raised an eyebrow “We all do” “No like the like you and me like” “Oh that’s obvious” “Yeah it is Sam told me when we all went out drinking at the Irish place” “What?” “Yeah so what if they like jasper” “I’m just scared they will both get hurt”

6:15 PM Sam was headbanging in the car jasper was laughing “Yo we are here!” Jasper looked out it was a store a skull and crossbones was on the sign that said “Cold Case” Jasper looked at Sam “Where are we?” “Oh this is where I work we can get an employee discount here” Sam and Jasper both left the car and jasper asked, “Didn’t this use to be in malls?” “Well yeah, but then the owners of the venue said fuck it and made it a regular store” they walked in loud music was put on blast “This is a good song!” Sam said the cahier person said “HEY SAMMY” “SUP BUTTPLUG” Sam grabbed Jaspers hand and lead him to the cashier and said “Hey I have someone for you to meet” Jasper looked at the cash register person they were wearing a crop top that looked like a pentagram, facial piercings all over the face, and a pink and green mohawk “Jasper this is Luna she got me hired here” Jasper felt a bit intimidated by her appearance “Hey dude your makeup is killer” “Hehe yeah makeup,” said nervously “Sam it’s your day off what are you doing here?” “ Well Jasper here needs a new look” Luna looks jasper up and down Jasper was still intimidated Luna smiles and says “Sam I think we can work with him” “Yay” Sam went off in the racks to find something Luna turned to Jasper “But what look do you want to go?” Jasper was confused “You know like emo, punk grunge, goth, etc. or do you want to be a mix like Sam” “I haven’t thought of one” “Hmm well at the moment you are looking like Kurt Cobain” “Who?” Luna tried to conceal her disappointment then Sam came back with a bunch of clothing and said “I got some for him to try on”

10 Minutes later… Sam was patiently sitting outside the dressing room “hey sam I think these pants are too tight!” “Skinny jeans are a good look” Jasper opened the curtain he was wearing black skinny jeans with chains hanging off, a shirt where the sides were cut, and elevated boots “h-Hot” “What?” “Umm uh, Nothing take a look at yourself dude” Sam grabbed his hand and lead him to a mirror Jasper looked at himself he was somewhat stunned at his appearance he usually wears anything to cover up his body seeing himself dressed like this made him feel confident in a sense Sam liked seeing Jasper feel this way it just fueled their feelings for him they had been holding them back for while because they know Jasper needs to heal.

30 Minutes later….

Sam was driving back to the apartment their chest felt really heavy they kept looking over at Jasper looking at the CD’s in the car “What is Your Synthetic Affair?” “Oh that’s an emo band it’s basically the starter pack to being emo” “There are so many labels..” “Yeah it can be overwhelming at times” “I’ll put Synthetic Affair on” “Go for it my l-guy” Sam mentally slapped themselves for that Jasper put in the CD the Album was on shuffle and their song “I constraint your love” Sam then thought “fuck you universe” they let the song play any way they looked over to see jasper looking out the windshield window enjoying the song they felt themselves falling more they pulled up to the apartment complex the song is almost to an end Same was about to turn off the car “Can we stay in here for the rest of the song?” Sam swallowed “S-sure” they sat in silence Sams heart clenched they didn’t know how much longer they could hold it in, suddenly they looked at Jasper and said “Can I do something really quick?” he was skeptical for a second then said “Sure?” Sam leaned in grabbed Jasper’s face and gave him a nice kiss on the lips Jasper was confused at first then accepted it then Sam went back to the driver side and said “We should go inside”

9:55 PM The band was setting up in the club they were performing in Jasper was still processing what Sam did hours before, but after Sam was awkward around him which was unusual he didn’t know why “Hey bud you okay?” Rafael asked “Yeah I am” “You are staring off into space again” “Oh yeah?” “Nervous for the show?” “Y-yeah” He lied he knew how persistent Rafael had been on his recovery he didn’t want to upset him by telling him the moment he and Sam shared Rafael was critical of this, but brushed it off and said, “How good are you at playing the drums with your eyes closed?” “Decent why?” Rafael pulled out a blindfold and said “I know it can be nerve-racking to look at the audience so use this” Jasper took it “thanks” “No problem dude lets knock them dead” Jasper wrapped the wrap over his eyes everything was pitch balck he sat on his drummer stool “NOW LADIES GENTLEMEN AND THOSE WHO CANNOT MAKE UP THEIR MINDS GET READY FOR SMILE TILL IT HURTS!!!!” said the announcer Jasper breathed in and out slowly whispered to himself “let’s do this” he heard the curtain open the audience was cheering “THAT IS MY BOYFRIENDS BAND!” he heard Joan shout Rafael shouted back “I LOVE YOU BABY” they started their set everything was going so smoothly despite Jasper not being able to see suddenly he felt a chill up his a spine a strangely familiar one a sinister laugh rang in his ears he knew then a scream comes from the bathroom behind them Jasper took off his blindfold jumped up and ran towards the scream Rafael stopped as well and said “What’s going on?” he opened the door and saw her a woman with extremly pale skin with bleeding black eyes, antelope horns and long straight black hair holding a woman by the throat Mary smiled and said “nice to see you again Jasper” she dug her claw into the woman’s throat Rafeal came in saw the demon and was shocked the demon smiled and said “Never thougth I’d see the Jade child in person” Jasper suddenly ran towards the mirror and punched it screaming “Ad quos eieci te Speculum Speculum!!!” the demon screamed and dissapeared the woman dropped to the floor coughing Jasper looked at the woman kneeled down grabbed her face she was in shock of what happened and asked “ma’am are you okay?” she nodded he looked at her neck and said “Good thing she did not draw blood” the rest of the band looked at the scene and Rodney asked “What the fuck happened?” Jasper looked at him and said “Bloody Mary is back”

#somberoutcast #RafealGhali #Samhainlovecraft #originalcontent #originalstory #original universe #originalseries #joan #jasperlyel

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minaminokyoko · 6 years

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Favourite avengers movies scenes?

How on earth do you expect me to ever narrow down enough to not list the entire trilogy in general? Holy hell. I am a big fat Marvel fangirl and I could write a fucking dissertation on scenes complete with charts and graphs. For the sake of argument, let me see if I can at the very least just highlight the tippy top favorite moments from the first three Avengers films. Keep in mind, I fucking love all three of them to death and could rave about them for days at a time.

The Avengers

-Loki’s confrontation with Nick Fury. This scene sets the tone for the rest of the film so fucking well, man. It’s just brilliantly done to see that whatever humanity that we saw in Loki in Thor has pretty much flown out the window and he’s here to wreak havoc and start a war, and he doesn’t care how many people he destroys in the process. I also like that it shows the vast gap in power and experience between the SHIELD agents and an Asgardian. Loki all but flattens everyone in a matter of seconds. Seeing him among other Asgardians can kind of make you forget he’s literally a thousand year old god and is tough as nails. He’s also low down and ruthless and that’s the kind of thing that is scary as hell when you realize that’s what they’re all up against.

-Nat’s “interrogation” with the Russians. I actually love every single Avenger’s introduction scene, but this one is so delightful in that Nat shows us just why she is an Avenger even though she has no enhanced abilities: deception, manipulation, and just being an incredibly agile combat expert. I am most delighted with her scene because before Avengers, I had no regard for Nat at all and thought she was just fanservice, but here, she completely proved her worth as a character and to the team, and I got on board as a fan of her just from her opening scene wiping the floor with these idiot Russian dudes.

-Tony and Bruce getting to know each other in the lab. From a character standpoint, this is an outstanding scene. Tony is trying to draw Bruce out of his shell, and the sympathy and empathy he has for him is so palpable that it’s why we all dubbed them the Science Bros and why it’s one of the best friendships in the Avengers. Tony is so awesome for joking with Bruce and treating him like a normal person and reminding him that there is at least one person aboard that helicarrier who doesn’t see him as some terrifying monster and knows just from reading up on him that he’s not a bad person. It’s so charming and wonderful.

-Stuttgart. Man. Man, oh man, this is a well done scene. The build up to Loki’s horrifying actions is so great and so is this freaking diva’s grandstanding once he demands the poor, confused Germans kneel before him. It’s fascinating to me because Loki has an almost childlike need for attention, as if his frustrations with his failure to take over Asgard as king has manifested itself into this very basic need to be acknowledged as being a powerful threat. Loki could kill an average human being with a flick of his wrist. His comparison of “an ant has no quarrel with a boot” while cruel is accurate, but here’s the thing, Loki: if you fuck with enough fucking ants, you can get your ass into a lot of trouble, and we’re fireants, not sugar ants, buddy. And ants who band together get shit done. The old man who stood up to him, in my book, is a fucking hero all on his own and I think it’s one of the most well crafted pieces of dialogue in the entire MCU. “There are no men like me.” “There are always men like you.” Oh, standing ovation for that piece of dialogue. Give it an Oscar. Then Cap swinging in to kick ass and Tony swooping in beside him with an equally over the top entrance to Loki’s was the icing on the fucking cake.

-Thor retrieving Loki. Hnnnnnnngh, okay, so here’s the thing: I fucking love Thor and Loki’s relationship even before Ragnarok came out and upgraded it. Thor is and always has been since his first movie a man with very deep emotions who loves and loves deeply with all his heart, and his confrontation with Loki just wounds me so much. How Thor throws Loki to the ground and yet yanks him to his feet and just holds him there, his hand on his face, looking so torn between agony and relief that his brother is alive. “I thought you dead.” “Did you mourn?” Fuck me, this scene is absolutely brutal to my feels. Thor and Loki’s debate was nothing short of excellent as Thor tries to bring Loki around, and the thing is, he means it. He means every fucking word, that he would take the Tesseract and bring his brother home, and he doesn’t care about facing the music, he just wants his goddamn brother back even after all Loki has done so far in the story. Y’all better stop sleeping on Thor, man. His heart is by far the best thing about him, forget all the delicious muscles and that perfect teddy bear smile. Thor has miles and miles of heart, and that’s why I love this scene so much.

-Nat tricking Loki into revealing his plan. This scene is so good I based an entire goddamn fanfic around its premise. Dude. Nat fucking Romanov, y’all. I love how this scene is staged and executed. I love Loki starting out almost gentle and conversational, as if for once he’s going to just be an actual person and not a monster, and then he slips back into that nasty egotistical megalomaniac when he thinks he has one over on Nat. And then Nat fucking schools him. It’s why I have a personal headcanon that he developed a hatecrush on her after she, a mere mortal, tricked the goddamn God of Mischief. It solidified Nat as one of my favorite female heroes forever. I loved seeing her use that feminine “weakness” to let him run his mouth. I also love that his cruel words did in fact affect her and motivated her even more to both save Clint and to go to war with Loki at the end.

-The whole ass helicarrier attack sequence. I mean, I don’t even need to go into detail. You already know.

-Tony confronting Loki. This is the scene that assured us that what followed would be one of the greatest fight sequences in cinematic history. I pretty much have most of Tony’s dialogue memorized because it had such an effective impact on me from a storytelling standpoint. Tony standing up to Loki as a mortal man with no suit, candidly threatening him with barely suppressed rage that Loki murdered Coulson, a comrade, in cold blood, is downright amazing.

-The battle of New York. Boom. Again, no words necessary. Perfect fucking sequence from start to finish.

-Thor trying one last damn time to bring Loki around. Oh, my heart. My poor fucking heart. Thor really loves his brother and he would do anything to have him back. Is it naive? Yes. But it’s also a beautiful statement of what family truly means to Thor and it breaks my heart. The fact that a tear slides down Loki’s face when he stabs Thor and mutters, “Sentiment” is so not cool. As much as Loki pretends to be the Big Bad Wolf, there is something still young and human inside of him even though he pretends it isn’t there. All my creys.

-Hulk trouncing Loki. I went and saw The Avengers three times in theaters, and two out of the three times, everyone cheered so loud I didn’t hear the Hulk say “puny god” over all the noise. It was that satisfying a scene.

Age of Ultron

-The entire beginning sequence. Fucking loved it. What masterful ass-kicking and showcasing of the team dynamic. It made me want a longer lead in to how they all got reunited because it was so enjoyable. “Language!” Oh, Cap.

-Jarvis and Ultron’s first scene together. Dude. James fuckin’ Spader, man. I never knew I could be so intimidated by a man’s voice. It was so unsettling for so many reasons, the resentment, irrationality, and anger from his unusual birth and creation. It was all the more frightening when he turned on Jarvis, and at the time, we didn’t know he hadn’t killed our beloved butler.

-Picking up Mjolnir. This scene needs no elaboration. It’s just perfection. Even people who complain about Age of Ultron admit this scene is just flawless.

-The team confronting Tony over creating Ultron. Cap’s line, which we now know goes even further after the events of Infinity War, just make me want to die. “We’ll lose.” “Then we’ll do that together, too.” Tony’s face, realizing that Cap doesn’t care that he fucked up–he cares that Tony couldn’t trust the team enough to let them in on what he was dealing with–is soul-crushing. Tony realizes he was wrong to assume instead of being honest with them.

-The confrontation in Wakanda. Everything about it was badass and it hits you right where you live seeing the Avengers having to face their biggest regrets and most painful moments of their pasts. Especially Steve’s. The image of him and Peggy finally getting their dance was so not okay. Special props to Tony in the Hulkbuster armor. That was one hell of a fucking brawl.

-The Sokovia final battle. There are just so many awesome points in the final battle sequence, man. Everyone is out there just kicking ass and doing what they do best. Special props to Hawkeye getting through to Wanda, and Hawkeye’s “nobody would know…nobody” moment with Pietro.

Infinity War

Disclaimer: I have no idea how to isolate moments in a movie that is by far one of the most well written comic book movies since The Dark Knight, but I guess since you asked, I have to try anyway. Hoo boy. Strap in.

-Loki’s death. Let me explain something to you: I went entire years without caring about Loki, and then around the time The Dark World came out, I slowly became converted to both a Tom Hiddleston and a Loki fan, and then after Ragnarok, he finally just seduced me completely to being smitten with his stupid trashy self. It is important that you realize that I recognize that Loki is a selfish, inferiority complex-having, murdering bastard and I do not excuse a goddamn thing he does because of his fucking Daddy issues. That being said, in spite of how much of a flaming trashbag he is, I love him anyway, and I tried for months to tell myself that I knew as a fellow writer that Loki was going to die in Infinity War. It was assured not only from the trailer, but from me knowing that his character arc was always going to end with his death. What hurt most of all is that, as I predicted, Loki died trying to save Thor. I cried my eyes out. Hell, once Thanos closed his hand around Loki’s neck, I covered my eyes because I just didn’t have it in me to see it end this way for him and for Thor. Thor being helpless to stop it is truly what made it worse. There is nothing on heaven or earth Thor wouldn’t do for Loki, even knowing how wicked Loki is. And the fact that Loki couldn’t let Thanos kill Thor after all these two have been through was like an icepick through my heart. Loki wouldn’t have died protecting Thor if Thor had not loved him unconditionally this entire time we’ve watched their story. Thor’s love did have an effect on Loki throughout these films, and that’s why I literally burst into sobs and couldn’t bear to see him die that way. It is one of the most gut wrenching things ever put to film, and certainly in the MCU. I’ve only had the stomach to watch that scene twice because it hurts me so much, and neither time was I strong enough to actually watch Loki’s final moments. Goddamn, it’s just so painful. Capped off with Thor slowly crawling over to his brother to be with him one last time before the ship explodes and just laying his head on his chest in the kind of grief that honestly should get Hemsworth a fucking Oscar. Bravo.

-Cap, Widow, and Falcon reuniting with Vision and Wanda. Holy shit, yes. This fight was gorgeous, gripping, and fucking awesome. Special props to Cap and Widow being the ride or die Avengers Mom and Dad team. We can infer from their actions that the two of them have been together since the end of Civil War possibly, so you can not tell me Cap and Widow are not a thing on some level. Captasha all day, err day. They perfectly compliment each other and I headcanon that they’re together and no one will convince me otherwise.

-”We’ll fight you too.”/”We don’t trade lives.” That sound you hear is me screeching. Some people have said Cap wasn’t given a ton to do this time around, and I emphatically protest it simply because, yes, he has less screentime, but man, he does so much work in this role that reminds us of why we all love Captain America. His values mean so much. Cap will lay down his life in the blink of an eye for someone who needs it. He cares so deeply. He is the pinnacle of selflessness and it’s so important to see in this film.

-Thor meeting the Guardians. Perfection. Just…perfection.

-Irondad and Spiderson aboard the Space Donut. Jesus fucking Christ, I am so on board for Irondad and Spiderson that it’s insane. I love that entire fucking interaction from start to finish. I love Tony’s strict, fatherly anger and exasperation because he just wants his baby boy to be safe on earth while he’s on another suicide mission, but the baby boy wants to help his dad out and baby boy also doesn’t quite realize the consequences because he’s too young. Extra points for Tony’s death-glare after Parker says, “It’s kind of your fault I’m here” and the fact that even the fucking cloak did a double take at Parker when he said it. Oh, it’s so perfect.

-Gamora making Peter promise to kill her if Thanos gets to her. I just…I want to die. This was so beautifully done, and so in character for both of them, and Peter and Gamora are just so soft and sweet and in love that it’s so overwhelming. At the very least, I take a small comfort in knowing that they were a happy family for four years before this shit happened to them.

-Gamora “killing” Thanos. Again, can we just award Oscars to like half the fucking cast in this movie? Jesus Christ, I cried at this scene too because the fact that she’s just completely unraveled as she finally thinks she’s killed her goddamn abuser is so deeply tragic. Gamora is my favorite Guardian. Hands down. She is so three dimensional. She tries so hard and she is so much more than the deadliest woman in the galaxy. She is so complex and it is the worst pain ever to know that Peter actually kept his promise and tried to kill her to prevent her from being in the hands of her abuser again and Thanos foiled their plan, and had the fucking nerve to say, “I like him” before he took her again.

-”It’ll kill you.” “Only if I die.” “…yes, that’s what killing you means.”

-The battle of Wakanda. Motherfucker. This is some A+++ motherfucking good shit hurr. What always gets me hype as hell is Cap and T’Challa sprinting down the goddamn hill at 80 mph and I just can’t even handle that shit because it was so good and satisfying. Everything about this battle was incredible.

-The battle on Titan. Same thing. It’s so creative and well crafted and amazing. You feel every blow. You flinch. You want them to beat that son of a bitch but he’s just so fucking strong. It is an incredibly engaging fight, man. Hoo boy.

-Thor’s entrance to the battle of Wakanda. I distinctly remember the entire audience going absolutely apeshit during this scene the night Infinity War premiered. Like the first Avengers, I saw it three times in theaters, and two out of the three times, the crowd went fucking wild. That was so fucking satisfying, man, as are the neat little scenes of levity with Cap introducing himself to Groot and Cap and Thor remarking on each other’s changes in appearance. It was so pure and good and perfect.

-Cap squaring up with Thanos. I. Can’t. Breathe. It was so powerful. Like the above scene of “we don’t trade lives,” this is why we love Captain America. Why we love Steve Rogers. This man, this mortal human man, took one goddamn fucking look at that twelve foot all powerful alien giant and said, “Not today, bitch.” Steve fucking Rogers stood there and took it. He put his life on the goddamn line for Wanda, and for Vision, and for the rest of the universe, and he actually held that goddamn line for a moment. The incredulous look on Thanos’ face is what seals it. He is utterly confused that this little man is actually holding him back, that this mere mortal doesn’t give a fuck that he can’t overpower him, but he is giving it his all because that is who he is. Steve will not quit. Steve will not falter. Steve will die doing what’s right and that is one of the most moving things in the whole MCU, imo. He just planted his feet and said, “No, you move.” I know we saw that scene in the trailer, but it was so unbelievable to see it in context that Cap gave it everything he had trying to protect Wanda and the rest of the universe, and I still get choked up just thinking about that shit.

Welp, you asked for it and now you have it. I told you I was gonna rave, man. God bless anyone who actually read this nonsense. Marvel had me at hello with these characters and they have way too much sway over my emotions, as you can see above. Ten years, man. Ten years.

#The Avengers #Avengers #Avengers Age of Ultron #Infinity War

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warriorqueen1991 · 6 years

Text

Monster (pt.11)

Characters: Werewolf Negan x Melissa (oc)

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Violence, Blood and Gore

Notes: let me know if you wanna be tagged :)

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Melissa woke to the sound of Negan’s soft growls against her neck, his arms wrapped around her tightly as he nuzzled against her.

He was so warm.

Being wrapped up in his embrace made her feel completely safe, like nothing could touch her.

Lifting his large hand up to examine his long fingers she smiled, being with Negan had been the most beautiful thing she had ever experienced.

He was so wild but tentative, the build up alone had set her body on fire.

It was a completely new way to make love, it was so primal yet a hundred times more intimate than anything she had ever done.

Kissing his fingers softly she giggled as he nipped at her exposed skin, his scruff scratching against her teasingly as he burrowed his face into her hair.

Moving to roll over, she gasped with a breathy laugh as he pinned her chest to the mattress. His body pressing in over her back as he bit ahold of her shoulder gently, closing her eyes she hummed in approval as he mouthed at her heated flesh.

Smirking as he ran his nose down her spine, Melissa bit her lip before quickly rolling over to pin him beneath her with a wicked grin.

He let out a choked laugh as his hands ran up her sides “You still happy?”

She shook her head in disbelief before cupping his face “why wouldn’t I be?”

He chuckled “fuckin morning after nerves I guess…didn’t want this to turn into a fuckin coyote ugly situation”. She giggled caressing his face as he looked up at her with hooded eyes “hmm more like a handsome wolf situation…” she bit her lip as she kissed him slowly “coyotes are a bit…small for me”.

He smiled with a growling laugh “that so?”

He closed his eyes as she ran her nose against his face, her smooth fingers tracing his lips as she whispered in his ear.

“mmh hmm I wouldn’t trade my big. Strong. Alpha for anything”

Turning his face to rub against hers, Negan smiled breathing in her scent with a soft growl. “Fuck you know just what to fuckin say don'tcha darlin?” she bit at his neck with a light laugh “it’s the truth”.

Snuggling in close to her, he rolled them over so he was hovering over her bright smile. Rubbing his face against her cheek lovingly, he smiled pressing his lips to her cheek with a deep purr.

“will you… stay, with me?”

The question made her eyes dart to his worried expression, she knew he wasn’t asking to stay with her. He had his pack to take care of, he was asking her to leave her life behind.

To run off into the forest with him.

“Negan I…”

The sudden knock on her front door made them flinch, Negan’s eyes instantly burning yellow as he quickly got off the bed.

Melissa grabbed her clothes as he bounced into his pants. He shook his head as he noticed her avoid his eyes, he had been stupid to ask her to run off with him. Fuck they had just slept together, what if she didn’t feel the same way after a few days? Humans were different than werewolves, she had his heart in the palm of her hand and she didn’t even realize it.

Fuck.

What if she didn’t care?

What if everything was simply a result of all the chaos?

Blinking as she quickly moved from the room he growled, he shouldn’t jump to fucking conclusions.

She said she wanted him.

That he was her alpha…

Fuck he needed to get his shit together and start acting like it.

Sprinting from the room he quickly jumped down the stairs as she moved to open the door, his chest heaving.

“Melissa wait!”

Opening the door she furrowed her brow in confusion, the man standing before her was a stranger. His dirty blonde hair hanging around his face, partially hiding a horrible scar over his right side.

The clothes he wore were covered in blood, sagging against his skin as he leaned against the porch “evening ma'am”.

Melissa gaped at him in confusion, he didn’t seem frazzled or out of sorts.

His whole presence was making her uneasy.

“C-can I help you?”

The loud thunderous roar from behind her made her scream, Negan’s hand pulling her from the door as he slammed it shut.

The sound of the man trying to bust in rocking the wood as Negan pressed his back against it, his eyes wide and full of fright.

But not for him.

“MELISSA RUN!!”

Gasping in terror she quickly scrambled to her feet as Negan shoved the table in front of the door.

Running after her, he snagged ahold of her hand as they took off down the hall. Passing by the pantry he jerked her to a halt before quickly shoving her into the nearby closet.

Stumbling into the wall she grabbed his hand with a frantic gasp “N-Negan wait…I d-don't…”

Cupping her face he grimaced “listen to me!…whatever you hear….don’t come out until it’s quiet…”

Melissa shook her head as the sound of the door busting in made her flinch, grasping his wrist as tears fell down her cheeks. She had just gotten him back, she couldn’t bare the thought of him getting hurt again.

“P-please don't…”

He pressed his head against hers closing his eyes “stay quiet…i’ll come back…I promise”.

Melissa gasped as he pulled away from her, slamming the door shut. The loud growl emitting from him rumbled through the door as she rested her head against it “be careful…please”.

Negan heard her desperate plea but chose to remain silent, his hand coming up to rest against the wood with a deep frown.

Hearing the deep growl of one of his own, he slowly turned his head to take in the blood drenched body of Dwight in his scrawny human form. The man was more fitting of a rat than a damn wolf…or maybe even a wretched coyote.

“You’re still alive?”

Negan cocked his head as he slid his hand down the door, taking slow steps into the living room where the traitor stood. Rage was building up within him at the sight of one of his closest friends, this pup. This coward had made him feel weak and useless, his heart pounding as the sound of Melissa’s heart beat echoed in his head.

Growling low in his throat, his eyes blazed yellow as he shook his head “did you really think you could fucking kill me…I am your Alpha Dwight!!!”

The scraggly man chuckled “your no Alpha of mine”. Negan curled his lip in disgust “what happened to you…?”

Dwight growled “Sherry…you let those monsters kill her…”.

Negan took pause, swallowing slowly he moved around the edge of the room. His eyes darting to the ceiling with a heavy sigh “Dwight, Sherry attacked those people…she..?”

“NO!!…” Dwight snarled, his eyes glowing like embers as he bared his fangs “SHE WAS PROTECTING US!!”

Negan frowned “She killed innocent children!”

“HUMAN CHILDREN!!” Dwight hissed “She was my mate Negan…she…she was it for me” he growled through his teeth.

“I-Its like my hearts been ripped out of my chest…I…I can't…”

Negan bared his fangs “we don’t fucking slaughter innocents Dwight…we protect the weak…not kill them!!”.

“And what about us Negan huh?…what about our families” he gestured toward the door “these people don’t give a shit about us…SO WHY SHOULD WE??”

“What did the others fuckin think, huh?…or did you just make the decision yourself?”

Dwight dropped his gaze making Negan smile “ahhh so they didn’t share in your genocidal tendencies?”

Dwight growled taking a threatening step forward “they don’t understand…”

Negan raised his finger with a soft growl “ya see that’s the fuckin difference between you and me Dwighty boy, as an Alpha…” he paused stepping closer to the younger man “a true Alpha…I make decisions that keep the entire pack safe, but I never…” he towered over him “ever…made a decision without their full support”.

Dwight wrinkled his lip glaring up at him “you never had mine, or Sherry’s!!”

Negan snarled pressing his head against his threateningly “then you should of had the fucking balls to fuckin say something, instead of attacking me while I was injured like a goddamn coward!!”

Dwight snarled shoving him back before tearing his clothes from his shoulders as Negan did the same, their faces quickly morphing. The sounds of their bones shifting like the sound of someone walking on eggshells.

Dropping to all fours as his body fully transformed, Negan roared at Dwight as the smaller wolf stood up on his hind legs. His long claws held out to his sides as he took a step forward.

Negan snorted baring his fangs as he stood up as well, his giant form taking up the room.

Flinging the couch out of the way so it smashed against the wall, Dwight sprinted toward Negan.

Catching the young wolf by his throat Negan snarled digging his claws into him, Dwight howling in pain snapped his jaws at the older wolf’s snout.

Tensing his muscles, Negan shoved him backwards swiping his ink black claws across the pups face.

Dropping his front claws to the floor, Dwight snarled standing back up on his hind legs as Negan tackled him to the floor. His large body pinning him to the wood as the smaller wolf clawed at his sides, his jaws snapping ahold of Negan’s arm with a vicious snarl.

Tearing into Dwight’s shoulder, Negan dug his claws into the wood as he let out a pained growl.

Kicking him from his body, Dwight rolled over before lunging at him once more. Negan roared as his back smashed into the nearby window, the thick glass cracking but remaining firm.

Jerking forward he sank his fangs into Dwight’s neck yanking on the flesh with a loud growl, the red wolf screamed out in agony as the flesh gave way. Blood poured out around them as Dwight slashed at Negan’s stomach as he twisted him around so his back was against the glass.

Dwight was snapping his jaws at Negan as the older wolf gripped his gushing throat, the pup was dying.

If anything, Negan admired his fighting spirit.

His focus was broken by the sudden slapping of hands against the glass.

Jerking away from the mortally wounded Dwight, he snarled as several hands broke through the window snagging ahold of his red fur.

Negan’s eyes widened as several of the undead began yanking the weakened Dwight through the window, his claws slashing at several as they began tearing away at his flesh.

Yelping and roaring out in pain and agony, Negan closed his yellow eyes as Dwight was torn asunder. The masses of the undead pulling his shredded remains through the broken window with loud growls.

Backing up as several of the decomposing creatures began tumbling in through the window, Negan growled pulling his lips back before darting down the hall.

Melissa was sitting in the far corner, her arms wrapped around her legs as she kept her eyes clamped shut.

She could hear the sounds of battle in the next room, the sickening sound of flesh tearing and werewolves in pain made her fight back tears.

She couldn’t tell which ones were Negan’s.

Moving her hands to cover her ears she bit her lip in frustration, she should be out there helping him.

A loud crash made her flinch, the ruckus echoing from the living room became almost thunderous.

What the hell was going on?

Screaming as the pantry door was suddenly ripped from its hinges, she jerked away as a large beast darkened the doorway.

Recognizing his golden eyes and silver fur, she quickly got to her feet. He was covered in wounds and his hair was matted with blood, but he was alive.

Throwing her arms around him, she ran her hands up his long pointed ears as she pressed her head against his large forehead.

He growled softly as she slid her hands down his snout, dropping to all fours he jerked his head to his back.

They couldn’t stay here.

Climbing onto his back, Melissa gripped fistfulls off his hair as he took off down the hall. She gasped as he jerked away from the searching hands of the dead crowding into her living room, the tattered remains of Dwight hanging halfway out the window.

Bursting through the front door, Negan panted heavily as he jerked his head trying to decide the best direction to flee.

A steady rain was falling against his heated skin as Melissa held into him tightly, he had to keep her safe.

Shaking his head with a deep growl he tore off in the direction of the nearby road, Melissa needed supplies.

Willows Creek was their only hope.

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lepus-the-bun · 6 years

Text

Scorched Earth

Aedwen could feel the pitch of the airship as she sat upon the benches lining the interior of the ship, packed in shoulder to shoulder with the other members of her cohort as they passed through the occupied Ala Mhigan Airspace. The XIVth uniforms adorning the men and women were fresh and clean, save for the Optio standing at the front of the airship, a single worn veteran saddled with a can full of fresh volunteers and conscripts. Not a word was spoken among the group as the anxiety over their pending mission, their first taste of the conflict held in Ala Mhigo. Slowly, the Optio raised a hand to his helmet, activating the cohort’s radio as he spoke with a slow, and cracking voice filled with static.

“Listen up you shits. The Frumentari have discovered a rebel hub masquerading as a village just north of our gate. They’ve been using this to keep watch on our convoys, so that they can plan their raids at the best time for them. We suspect them the cause of at least fifty casualties, and plenty of stolen materials. The third cohort is already holding the perimeter to keep them from abandoning the village, we, are going to land in the center and take them out. We suspect them to be using children as human shields, and possibly the elderly.”

There was a dead silence as the Optio paused, faces turning to look at each other in confusion, before a low murmer began to rise as various individuals began to speculate how they could handle such a situation. Aedwen merely gripped her staff tighter, and tried to keep her restless stomach under control, lest she lose her lunch upon the airship’s floor, and the shoes of many.

“In the event they are using people as shields, you are to neutralize the threat at any cost. These rats will survive if we show mercy, and they will strike again. If you allow any to get away, the next raid and dead group of imperials is upon your shoulders.”

The Optio then clicked off his radio, as the pilot called out that their landing approach was beginning... It took all Aedwen had to not have a panic attack where she sat, instead she slowly work to focus her feelings down... She was only nineteen summers old, to be brought to this place seemed like chaos. She had seen what the Rebels did to those they captured, how the men had been killed, and the women suffered worse before their fate.

Her thoughts were soon interrupted however, as the airship lurched forward, before coming to a sudden halt with the sound of grinding dirt below them. This was it... And certainly enough, the ramp at the rear of the craft lowered down, allowing the painfully bright light to flood the confines of the ship, as the cohort rushed outside. Aedwen fumbled with her belt for but a moment, before following out after the group, at the Optio’s side as he smacked the button near the ramp. A simple signal for the shuttle to lift off and provide support for those on the ground, and to make it less easy a target.

She was almost shocked at the village, it was smaller than she had been led to believe with only roughly twelve homes nestled together, and a larger tent in the middle of them. All around the cohort, she saw Ala Mhigan women and children, with the occasional elderly face poking out to stare at this sudden display of power at their doorstep. Slowly her Optio walked forward, scanning his gaze over the group as he raised his voice.

“Listen well! We know you have been aiding the resistance, and have been harboring their members. The Empire is not without mercy however. If you surrender yourselves over peacefully, you will be pardoned of your crimes, and relocated to a more prosperous settlement to restart your lives. If you have information, then you will further be rewarded for such. Those who resist, will be treated as enemies of the state... So please, raise your hands and step forward if you surrender.”

She watched the people look among each other, panicked whispering following before a mother and her two children stepped forward, holding their hands up as she moved to her knees to hold their arms up easier. Next, came an elderly couple, then what looked like a woman dressed in blacksmiths garb, then another, and soon enough over half of the village were kneeling before the cohort in surrender... The few that seemed inclined to resist, had snuck or ran back to their homes instead.

“Medicus. How many can we fit in the hold do you think?”

The Optio’s question was quiet to Aedwen, his gaze held over the large group surrendering before them. Aedwen could not help but blink as she looked from the civilians to her Optio in confusion, her mind racing to remember the size of the hold for their smaller airship.

“Maybe... Five?”

Her Optio gave a small nod, before he motioned to a large portion of the cohort.

“You six. Go chase down the resistors. Burn them in their homes if they are hiding. If they run the third cohort will catch them. Medicus, evaluate them, and select five for us to take with us. I want the healthy ones.”

Aedwen gave a crisp salute to her Optio, before she walked forward to the kneeling group... Passing through as not one lifted their gaze to her, though soft prayers could be heard from the mother and her children. It took a small bit, but soon she looked back to her Optio.

“They have three healthy children, the blacksmith, and this one here.” Her hand lifted as she pointed to the five, before she gave a tired smile. “The rest will have to be taken when the shuttle returns.”

Her Optio gave a nod, motioning those selected along. The two children separated from their parents, with pleas to be reunited as they were carried into the airship. Aedwen herself making her way back to her optio with a smile. “Quite lucky sir. May take a few trips, but we managed to avoid a big battle.” A single nod came from her Optio to acknowledge her, before he pressed his hand over his radio.

“Exectute the remaining prisoners.”

Aedwen froze as she heard the command, her eyes turning wide with horror as she heard the guns upon the airship begin to fire, and then the screams filling the air. She wanted to scream out, to call for it to stop, but her lungs wouldn’t take in air... Just as her legs would not move, and she watched as the airship, and her cohort fired into those that had surrendered.

“S-Sir... They had... Surrendered...”

Her voice was meek, and filled with fear as she spoke to her Optio. The only acknowledgement he gave was a warning glare in her direction. She wished, she could say it had been a fight, but unfortunately, only a handful of seconds after it began it came to a close. The bodies laid out on the ground, some clearly dead and others mortally or merely severely wounded as they moaned in agony. Her Optio motioned her forward once more to the group.

“Check for survivors. Call them out, and we’ll handle them.”

She felt the lump in her throat as she saluted her Optio in acknowledgement before turning and walking amidst the carnage with shaking legs. Her eyes rapt upon the horror that laid around her, as she fought to keep the contents of her stomach down yet again. Slowly, methodically, she’d point her finger to a quivering or moaning body upon the ground... And like clockwork, a member of her cohort would walk forward, and spear the body until it’s infraction of living had been corrected.

She passed by the mother, the elderly couple, a child she had turned away due to his limp... Each one she saw, each one that survived, she pointed to. When the duty was complete, the cohort began to drag the bodies to the town square... Not a word was spoken to her from the Optio, but still, she followed obediently. Still, she stood and watched as the bodies were piled under the tent. Still she watched as ceruleum was poured at the base of the pile, and dried sticks tossed upon it. She stared, as the fires came next, and the smell of cooking flesh filled her senses... She could swear it smelled like they had skewered a bit of pork over the fire.

Her scream filled the air of the mostly empty cargo ship as she came to, the smell of exhaust replacing what had once been a pork like smell. Her body was coated in sweat, and her blanket tossed aside the hull... Her uniform disheveled from her tossing and turning in her sleep. The imperial pilot turned his head from the cockpit ahead of her, raising his voice.

“Bit of a start eh?”

She frowned and wiped her good eye, before picking up her eye patch.

“Aye. A bit of a start.”

#ff14 #aedwen #balmung #rp #garlean

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grim-faux · 3 years

Text

16 - The Ghost

I guess I was following Martin Archimbaud. My efforts to locate a means of escape had presented no progress of what I could see. I was on the ground floor once more but two fingers short. I gave a sharp shudder recalling the memories. I was still dripping cold water but the draft for the moment didn’t bother too much, this would change as the barrier of water drained from my clothes

Sooner or later I would find the exit, if I kept after Martin I might have an easier time with this. But I had doubts, the previous message “…every man needs another to help drive the nails in,” lingered in my thoughts. He was bat shit crazy and if he intended to let me wander around learning my sins before killing me, I was at a sever disadvantage. I needed to constantly remind myself Martin had no problem navigating the Asylum’s twisted halls, and could surprise me at any turn. He wouldn’t catch me off guard again. Never.

If I kept him in front of me, if I kept him in sight then he couldn’t surprise me. He might lead me to the exit after all, but I would exercise caution. He was up to something and I couldn’t understand his plans. Not yet. There had to be a stairway or someway to climb onto the second floor, from there ‘Farther’ Martin would guide me to the next location. A little sense of direction would clear my head, it ached from the cold and getting dragged through the storm. Or I was coming down with something at long last. Just had to hold together till I got far away from here, far down the road. I could reach the nearest town, call the authorities and get some protection. I had no idea if any of Murkoff brass survived, I wasn’t taking any chances. The floor boards creaked as I stepped to the left, away from the comforting pattern of light hitting the murky windows. My last battery was at half power but it’d hold. I tried not to recall navigating the sewers void of the capacity to see. I needed batteries but I had no idea where I was going or where going would take me. A large ornate archway into a hall, for starters. I could feel a faint draft over my brow as the water dried, hairs on my scalp prickled and stuck up. I rubbed my sleeve over my forehead as I tilt around the corner and checked. No hostile sounds, but there was the ever present distant howl of someone in agony. Outdated hall, large, antique in structure from a distant past when places fitted style. They must’ve been nice in the summer while the rooms lacked desirable airflow.

Light filtered through the windows to the halls right, it was another dead end if the door there was indeed boarded up as tightly as it looked. I tried the double doors I passed on the way, barely beating an eyelash that they were locked. My focus was already on the shape slumped against the plaster wall, a dark puddle dried under the body. Just another patient, throat torn open, and holding a walkie-talkie. I lowered the camera and stared at the corpse. A number of documents already had shed light over the concept of taking staff, and processing them as patients. As of yet, the few people that had expressed some remnants of sanity remained identical to the scarred variants roaming the Asylum. Broken people. No different than the countless loonies lost in the dark. But… had some of them found each other and taken walkie-talkies to keep in contact, in the hope of locating a way out together? The idea spurred some small flame in my chest, but that was snuffed out instantly. I had seen no living person utilizing a communicator. They were dead like everyone else, or getting there.

I lowered my eyes as I knelt to pry the walkie-talkie from the stiff fingers and checked the batteries. Just the one. It wasn’t worth the discovery.

I touched the handles of the two doors as I passed on my return. I needed just the minute distraction though I kept my eyes locked on my path. A cart and a crushed door lay in the hall, a small crisis to avoid. I avoided the small puddle of water in the beneath, or was it blood? It was difficult to tell and I didn’t really want to know. Out of the left side of my vision I thought something flittered, out the gate door. I hovered beside the corner on the right, certain I had seen movement, at the same time hoping there was nothing just around the corner at my back. The distant pat pat of blood dripped somewhere, but no sounds to indicate a living person. I strained to see through the gate into the room I had previously gone through, still empty from what I could make with the light. It could be following me, whatever my brain insisted was there, but I didn’t want that paranoia in my head. I had established long ago I was losing it. The steady lull was peculiar after the hour I spent racing through the storm, to return to the quiet, dry space of the asylums cradle. It felt unsettling, though I couldn’t understand why. I was aware at any turn a man with a club might be posed in wait, or some other indescribable horror squatting and ready to spring out at me. What did I fear most in this place? Not my own death, though I was disturbed by my waning mortality. I dismissed my doubts and edged around the wall, eased enough to resume. I set my feet carefully on the loose floorboards, it felt like my feet were perched on a thin layer of air. As I progressed deeper into the shadows, the door at my left thudded and crackled. I took a few steps back and knelt, only able to watch and wait. The door looked about ready to snap at the moment, but it held. I did scoot back some distance for good measure. Eventually, it did cease and the air settled, but I was still sliding behind the corner, leery if whoever was there might give one last hooray and succeed. It’d be my luck. I took a few breaths to settle my rapid heart and shuffled forward, on my hand and knees. At the edge of the NV there was something and gone, I was sure. A face, a fading image in bright static, but no sound. Just the impression of a shape in my mind. My breath quivered as I exhaled, I needed to calm down, I didn’t need to be seeing things that weren’t there. Another boarded up set of duo doors on my right. I began to wonder what Murkoff had been trying to lock up. Groups of patients all together, or had they been trying to quarantine the Walrider before it was apparent how impossible that was? What would I find in these rooms if I got one open? Something in my gut told me I didn’t want to know. The same reverberation I heard in the laundry room, when the cafeteria was burning. I tried not to think back on such things, especially now that my head had such an ache from the stress. The rattle sound of pellets, or marbles, spills down a chute. I followed the sound, every time I turn the camera there are dark shapes. Patients in the distance, sometimes the camera caught movement but when I looked I saw only shadows retreating. I paused on my knees briefly to evaluate my surroundings. The hall extended further to another boarded up door, and a broken chair. I wouldn’t bother with the trip. Overhead and just beyond the doorframe on my left, a loud thud shook the floorboards, I looked up as soot drifted down from the masonry. After a short quiet, the muffled howl of someone rolled out before a sudden bang. I imagine the receiver was either hurt or dead, or worse. Somewhere, the rattle persisted, the clatter and reverberations of metal clacking rhythmically. Dust was heavy around my head, drying out my eyes but I fought not to blink. Things there I didn’t want to see. I got on my feet but stayed by the wall as I moved, the familiar sound was coming through the walls, muffled, but clearer than I had heard it earlier. I pushed a small cart out of the way and tensed as the wheels gave a high squeak. After a brief pause I continued, always checking over my shoulder with every step. The hall was nearly silent, and the boards groaned out every other sound, it would be difficult for someone to rush up on me. But they might catch me off guard if I was lost in my concentration. Shelves and desks had been crammed into the corridor, a few of the cracked chairs I was able to pull out to allow easy passage. The cut in my back still seeped blood, but with my jacket drying it and shrinking it would seal the wounded tissue up. It was going to be fun getting my shirt off later, if it wasn’t imbedded with the skin and blood. Ugh. At the far end of hall on my right, in the cracked windows of the wall I caught movement of a figure as it walked by. It looked shirtless, couldn’t tell if it was the big fucker or his sick twin. Before the night was over I’d probably figure it out. The grating pellets were getting louder, my anxiousness to discover the source aggravated me. I felt some great urgency to press on, as though discovering its origins may clear some mystery that clung to this place. Or maybe I was done with it all. Broken glass was scattered on the floor and over the table. I didn’t bother with the door further down on the right, instead I hastened to climb onto the table and perched in the shattered window. This was where the sound was, the source of the trickle rattles. I slipped down into the room, careful as I set my wounded hand down on the glittering shards. The air was sour, a touch of outdated chemicals prevailed despite the years. Another laundry room with shelves and supplies lining the walls. I climbed off the next table and slipped between chairs lined up along it. So many chairs collected along the walls, for the staff to sit as they worked folding tunics at the tables. Large washing vats were stationed at the wall across from me. I walked over to them and watched a strange obstruction churn in the nearest one. I watched and listened to the odd sound as it clicked and sputtered, the vibrations causing a dull throb to move from my forehead to the back of my neck, somewhere above my spine. My scalp tingled and I felt, it felt like I was seeing some sort of pattern in the dust kicked up. A shape that felt stamped in the back of my skull. The veins in my eyes pulsed causing colors to wash over my sight, and a surge of vertigo weighted my stomach down. I couldn’t bear it anymore and whirled away, to sit at a table and let my senses clear. It took precious time but I was too nauseous to risk standing. “The sound in the machine, like the sound in my head when the Walrider appeared. I blink and I see static, something else. Something oily and dark descending behind my eyelids. Watching me with organs I can’t imagine. But the sound is coming from the machine, too. From inside the walls. I know that sound….” Sleep deprived, scared out of my mind, body mutilated — I was losing my wits. What had the Father said, they all must endure this? I was almost done, what did that mean? How much trauma did they want me to suffer before I could escape? Felt truly like I was at the mercy of psychos, moving around me just out of sight, watching my every action with some sick pleasure. Controlling my progress and where I was to go, my life was out of my hands. I’ve never felt so powerless in my whole life, not ever. A fuckin toy for lunatics, infatuated with their fairytale monster that murders at its whim. But I had see it, hadn’t I? I was aware of what they were telling me. Couldn’t get around it. No. No…I wasn’t certain what I had seen. Shadows. They creep along my peripheral, I turn but nothing’s there. Could be people, hopefully nothing but my fractured mind spilling paranoia. Light gushed in from the doorway, I peered around the frame almost expecting a line of blood filled tubes and a man bathing a corpse. The hair prickled along my collar at the memory. Thank god there was nothing but laundry baskets and filthy linen to frown upon my presence. I slid along the wall towards what must have been another closet toward the left side of the room. I smacked the door open, probably not the smartest move, but I was not having any of this shit. Shelves had been pinned in the corners, and a wheelchair crammed beside a space in the wall. A battery sat placid on the seat, which I took. I had this off feeling I’d need them soon. As I passed through the room, I made note of the small access elevator in the wall. It reminded me of the dumbwaiter, which did not bring good memories to my head. Just made it pulse more. The exit was already open, I held the edge as I peered around the frame on either side scanning for the usual shadows. I found a plaque that read Stairs with an arrow indicating to the left. A light source awaited in that direction. Stairs would lead to ‘Father’ Martin, and more cryptic riddles. I tried to fit together the pieces I already had, the parts I had witnessed firsthand, had I actually witnessed them and my report could be credible. The documents I recorded, the reports made, what the patients stated they had witnessed. All of it swirled in my head. The belief and the theories, and what Murkoff must have been trying to achieve before it turned on them. What the patients came to believe, and that not being Murkoff’s intentions, only the aftermath of the process. Too many holes yet left in the story, burned out by corporate cigars as the larger business fed on their staff. The pyramid topples if the underlings can’t support the stress. I ventured to the right first, the area was visible from where I stood and a bright light shown on the black and white tiled floor. As I approached the doorway, a loud crash came from the upper floors followed by rapid footfalls. The resulting collision caused the light to dim and flash out, plunging the corridor I was in, into darkness. I was not assured by the amount of batteries I was carrying but bottom line, I was safe in the dark. I listened for a moment, confirming I wouldn’t bump into anyone that might be in the next room startled by the sudden dark. Beyond the doorframe was a smaller room, with a hall extending around boxing the area in. Desks and chalkboards were set up inside the windowed walls, suggesting a sort of school for the patients. I could almost see them at the edges of my vision, still in the chairs listening to the instructor. I shook my head, and continued to the other side of the room. I thought I heard voices, not rightly there in my presence but soft murmurs as someone explained simplistic reasoning. I felt a dull pulse behind my eyes as I tried to focus, struggled to define if I was hearing a patient or imaging this. The hall curled around, one end leading to a dead end blocked with lockers with metal doors torn off and blood splattered on the floor. No body, just the indication of foul play. I followed the hall back around to the opposite side and found stairs beyond an open gate. The stairs led up a few feet but the fire had destroyed most the upper portion, making it impossible to leap across. The air higher up was heavy with the overpowering charcoal and chemicals that had burned out of the room, it was thick enough to irritate my eyes before I returned to the lower level. A few desks and a broken wheelchair had been left beside the steps, I climbed to the other side and located some scorched files. What was illegible described patient status and hypnotic (H) progress with individuals. The only file pertaining to the Walrider, was an excerpt in German religion. Brief introduction to WALRIDER mythology for M.R.D. Support Staff The Murkoff Corp. NOTE - this is for support/notational purposes only, engage in NO direct contact with patients during or after therapy. the WALRIDER, also known as an “alp,” or “mara,” or “schrat,” is a demonic creature of German origin that torments sleepers. They crouch on a sleeper’s chest and crush the breath from him. The sleeper wakes terrified, paralyzed, and asphyxiating. The name “mara” gives us the word “nightmare.” Sexual assaults by the demon are rare, but it has been known to drink the milk from breasts of sleeping women, and blood from the nipples of sleeping men. That was interesting to note, the similarities of America folklore to the crouching devil. This tide the name of Walrider into the realism of the experiments, possibly many of the patients experienced paralysis and other similar side effects of the sort during treatment. It was also attributed to PTSD, when chemicals in the brain had been wrecked enough anyone could have a hard time getting to sleep or waking up. It was an intense condition, and some cases I’ve read where people slept walk into dangerous areas, or choked before they could awaken fully. I went ahead and recorded the file, and a few of the patient reports for reference later. I returned to the former hall, with the plaque indicating the stairs. An open gate on my right was accessible, but only one room available to explore. Another bathroom typical in design, aside from the massive damage to the walls, possibly caused by the grout cracking under the strain of heat and if not from the years of neglect. I shut the door behind me and went through the stalls, I didn’t feel at ease despite the complete absence of anything remotely living. The air was heavy with the scorched wood and tile, I began to attribute this as the primary culprit behind my headache. The pressure from the tap was low but it tasted clean. I’d be able to wash some of the ash off from my hands that I was picking up, but still I couldn’t risk tampering with the damaged edges of my fingers. I noted the thick coating of black dust but it didn’t bother too much, there was enough flesh still covering the ring finger. I exchanged the camera between my hands, finding my right hand holding its shape. The wound was not as filthy which was good. I didn’t have the stomach to look directly into the top of my index finger, I wasn’t sure how much I’d be able to make out in the NV, I didn’t want to know.. I noted the thick coating of black dust but it didn’t bother too much, there was enough flesh still covering the ring finger. I exchanged the camera between my hands, finding my right hand holding its shape. The wound was not as filthy which was good. I didn’t have the stomach to look directly into the top of my index finger, I wasn’t sure how much I’d be able to make out in the NV, I didn’t want to know. I fixed the camera back to my right hand and flushed my eyes out. I was immediately concerned when my hand came away slick and coated with dirt, only to recall my earlier fall and hunting for the camera in the garden. I cleaned off what I could then spun the visor around so I could view my face. I looked god awful, the ghost of shade under my eyes and a dark blot on the side of my brow. The nightvision wasn’t really credible for making people look wonderful, but I looked pretty horrendous despite everything. As I turned the camera, something flashed in the wall behind me. I jerked around aiming the camera, but the visor was still facing forward. That humming was back, like when it shrieked in my face. I had to put my palm to my eyes and give pause, ease my thudding heartbeat. No one was in here with me, I was alone. The trickling sound came from above, pellets tinkling in a pipe. I crouched down and listened, watching for any sign of attack, or form. Nothing showed itself and the room turned silent as before. I shut the water off and confirmed nothing was in the room, had ever been present in the lavatory with me by checking the stalls. Absolutely empty and unchanged. My ears were ringing. The hall was silent, I waited a few seconds before moving along the decrepit wall. I ventured to the very end and checked the gate there, locked of course but it somehow had the capacity to set some of my nerves to ease if I knew some doors at my back were inaccessible. I left the hall and headed to the unexplored corridor, where the stairs had been indicated by the plate. As I shuffled around the corner, a patient approached with a club fitted in his hands. I backed away raising an arm to block the inevitable blow. “Not my babies. Oh god….” He/she? stopped some distance from me and palmed the weapon, glaring. I stared back. A female patient? I doubt it really mattered, if (s)he really wanted to they could hunt me down and beat my brains out. The voice sounded feminine but (s)he was muscular and bald, it could’ve been for the procedures that all patients were shaved. But (s)he had that female gait. Maybe transgender. Why was I debating this? I didn’t think this person was quite all there, frightening (s)he was, but (s)he wasn’t chasing me screaming. I wouldn’t push it. Carefully, I maneuvered around the clothed figure giving him/her plenty of space and kept facing him/her, as I glanced over my shoulder, the way I was going. For the entire time (s)he followed my progress with his/her eye, but refused to pursue. This reprieve wouldn’t last long. The doorway lacked a door in which to shut. One lunatic to keep on mind, but every corner had someone that was ready slaughter me in some way. Safety was an illusion. The room had entered was well lit by a lamp hanging from the ceilings center. Large pillars held the upper floors up, as decorated the room. The elevator was still out of order, and two gated doors sat on either side, both open, one of the gates lay on the floor near the doorframe. A wheelchair was on its side in the middle of the eroded tile, alone and forgotten as the patients of the asylum. I walked by it towards the large doors at the front, a greasy large rug lay before the doors, decaying beneath the body of a broken Murkoff doctor. He had nothing useful on him. The other side of the room was windowed, I recognized it as where I had entered from the storm. Ash was still settling of the gleaming metal of the hospital chair, but scattered and clung to my damp legs as I walked the perimeter. I stifled a sneeze as I turned my head up, admiring the worn panels nailed in place to comprise the floor above. Chances were high that I’d find ‘Father’ Martin upstairs, and he’d give me further guidance or more blood trails to follow. I preferred talking to the man face to face, or with a twenty foot gap between us. I took the stairs that went down, deep into the dark lower floors of this section of the asylum, the musty grime of soil crept up as I descended. To the left some wash basins nested against the stone wall and a mop bucket, old janitorial tools and a radiator. This place was full of them, along most walls, it was a trial to keep all the large rooms warm in the winter time I’m sure, way up in the mountains. An additional section of the basement was gated off, I turned and entered through a metal doorframe into the main section. A few more wash basins and some large bed frames, left over from storage or just dragged down here by the patients. I moved around the room examining the various pieces of hospital equipment forgotten, as I explored I felt an ominous pressure behind my eyes like the headache that plagued me. I tried not to blink my eyes, they felt wounded from the dust I was stirring up and my nose was getting stuffy. Off to the side, a flash, I spun raising the camera but didn’t catch a glimpse of what I saw. It felt like every time I moved there was something there, someone watching. A desk had been left in the middle of the basement, as I approached a shape emerged from the darkest corner through the NV I relied on. He was clothed, facing the corner not doing much. I watched for a moment but he seemed oblivious to my presence. I moved forward checking a file set on the desk, and flipped the pages over as my eyes darted up to the man. PROJECT PAPERCLIP, Joint Intelligence Objectives Agency (JIOA) document number 8 of 186, location 230/86/46/5 <excerpt> REF: Nazi War Crimes Disclosure Act. a. The First, PAPERCLIP, provides a means of obtaining services of foreign specialists for specific assignments within the technical services of the Departments of Army, Navy, and Air Force. b. PROJECT 63 is primarily a denial program with utilization as a desirable feature. The aim of this program is to secure employment in the United States of certain preeminent GERMAN and AUSTRIAN SPECIALISTS, thus denying their services to potential enemies.“ I decided to take this file with me and get proper images of it in the light. I gave the man one last glance, before I moved sideways out of this place. On my way out I noted a hard cot with fresh blood glittering on it, and a bucket splattered with dark blots, set on the ground near it. It all looked fresh There was no door to shut on the basement, no surprise. Doubt it hold him there anyway. I reached the top floor and sat on the steps in the light, I went ahead and changed out the battery before I recorded images from Project paperclip. Bygones be bygones in America, they were still assholes in my book. The stairs leading to the upper floors wound around the backside of the elevator. I secured the camera in its hoister before leaping over the large gap in the stairs, made from rot and the years of out commission this side of the hospital had obviously been on. I wondered if many of the patients had come to this side when Murkoff lost control, or had some been kept in this section during experimentation. It was obvious they migrated between the two sections at whim, and some may have found trails not as perilous as the one I undertook to reach this side. Or this was the result of my stubbornness? The outdated side of the Asylum had been operational during Murkoffs function, but that didn’t confirm if patients were kept here or what exactly they used this section for. Experimentation was a high possibility. I surrendered to the theory that I would never learn the truth unless I picked up a document that specifically mapped out the entire Asylum and labeled which buildings were in use and for what. I grunted and hissed as the ruined edges of my fingers brushed the rough floor boards, I could keep most my index finger from rubbing if I had the chance, but the awkward ring finger was impossible to keep out of the way. Blood started pouring down my hands as I hauled myself up and went for the camera. I was certain I could pose as a corpse if I was desperate enough. As I walked up the steps, I heard footsteps and the sound of something crashing. The ash in the air lifted and swirled as the light overhead snapped from its tether and swung, but the illumination refused to diminish. Instead, it sent odd vapor trails of buttery gold along the walls as I carried up the last steps. The handle turned as I pushed the door, I paused to scan the visible area before stepping around the gate. The floor wasn’t very large, a bed lay near the back wall and to the right door gates to other areas. Behind one was a dark hall with burnt wood and candles at the very back, I tried the door but it was locked. The door beside it to upper floors was as well, locked. My only access was to the other side, where a light was cut through the black corridor. I think I knew who that was. “Nearly here.” His voice echoed over the distance as I approached. “You can cross from the upper floors.” I walked to the end of the corridor as he pivoted from the ledge and departed. A gate stood between us, but it was locked and there were few options to get to the other side unless I had a vine stashed somewhere. The fires from the kitchen had consumed the floor between us, apparently there was more damage than what I had initially seen. I turned back, idly trying another door pinned by a bloody bed, but the lock was jammed. Near the entrance of the hall awaited another set of double doors, only one left open inviting me to enter. I jerked my elbow up using it to brush at my head as water dripped from the ceiling above, to a puddle just in the doorway. Instead of filling buckets with blood, they needed them to catch this water mess. As I crept along the hall I could easily discern where the water had come from, I looked up at the ceiling to see holes where rain trickled down. Damage caused by the fire. The hall as well scorched black with broken timber, cold and wet lying in every direction. I hopped over a section of the fallen roof and came to path a little ways to my left, light spilled over the counter from the other side. Another section of this floor, I tried to picture what might be in that area. Not likely a way to the upper floors. At my right and across from me, more double doors barricaded shut. I blinked and shook my head, in the glass of the door…never mind. I thought I heard something humming, or maybe it was my own thoughts clouding my senses. Needed to focus, find a way to the upper floors. The light illuminated the inner room on my left, I peered around the corner. I put down the NV and examined a little more clearly what I was present. Open door on the right of a windowed in hall, across from it a nearby desk on my left, another countertop divided the hall and room. On the wall beneath the light was a small laundry chute, inside something gleamed in the angle of the light. I slipped over the counter and made my way towards the little slot, gently closing the door on my right before leaving it. The grate was shut on the chute, and the key was too large to maneuver out. It was also attached to a dead man’s finger, via the small loop on the keys end. It looked as though the guard had been folded up and crammed into the tiny chute, bone stuck out of his torn skin and a foul reek drifted from a draft in the small compartment. To the left was an open panel with three fuse slots. Each one was empty. I sighed and coughed a bit as my ribs troubled me. My job now was self-explanatory if I wanted to get out of here. There were two ‘options’ available to me. One way might lead to the items I needed to find, the other could be my certain death – or worse. Or, both could lead to a fate worse than death and there were no fuses, one of the patients might’ve stolen them and tossed them out a window. I couldn’t be sure the fuses actually existed. I was beginning to question my own reasoning, if I was actually standing here studying a laundry chute full of dead man and a key jammed on his finger. Curiously, I pressed the switch but nothing happened, aside from startling the insects that had settled on his clothing. I shielded my face with an arm as they took off. Maybe I could find a clothes hangar or something to fish the key out. I decided to start in the area at the rooms back, over another countertop that segregated from a passage. The NV had some difficulty piercing the lingering steam from the fire, the hall itself suffered massive damage and the wood felt cold while heavy with the burning scent. The wood all around was black and twisted, I had to crawl over a few fallen chunks from the roof before the worst of the damage was behind me. It puzzled and irritated me, why would anyone hide the key in the chute then steal the fuses. I might be wasting my time with a wild goose chase, when I should be hunting for an alternate climb to the upper floors. Around the corner I recognized the setup of candles in the gloomy distance of the nightvision. Behind me was the gate that I had examined, I went in a complete circle. Why couldn’t this door have been unlocked? Waste of time, all of this was. I didn’t recall the door at the end of the hall being open when I saw it last. I paused to listen. Silence. No resonance to indicate I was not alone. Muffled steps did pace light and tentative from somewhere above, as though someone were sneaking around. I echoed the movement without really meaning to. Candles had been set on a gurney at the halls end, and a plank of wood behind them with the blood scrawled phrase Drive in the Nails A few other candles had been lit and set on either side of the door, but I wasn’t focused on them. My eyes had set on what was beyond the door hanging before a cackling fireplace. An upside down crucifix with a man nailed to it. Had he been dead prior to his crucifixion? It might not be difficult to determine, but I didn’t have the nerve. That ringing and the pain in my head, I didn’t want to push it here and now. I didn’t want to enter the room but I felt compiled to. Not even as my duty as an investigator to gather evidence, it was nearly null at this point. I was almost fascinated, aside from gripping terror I felt from this display. That same sensation came over me, the way I felt when I was curled up in that room shaken, not helplessness but I couldn’t call it numb either. It was the sense that something was ill in me, or strange. I didn’t feel right. I tried to shake the odd tingle in my skin by stepping further into the room, trying to focus on the man and the flickering fire, the occasional fly zipping about in black tendrils. A few beds sat scattered around the room’s perimeter, and more gatherings of candles huddled on the floor dripping wax in liquid rivers, the soft flicker and the warmth of the fire almost put my nerves to ease. If only there wasn’t a man crucified before the fireplace, the heat on his dead skin filled the room with a thick oily smell, like burnt leather. I watched the body as I scouted the room, until something in the light caught my eye. On a nightstand near the body, sat a clean metal plate mirrored against the warm flames. On it sat what looked like a fuse. The steady pad of footfalls reached my ears, and I abandoned the item to occupy the space under the nearest bed. Too close to the flames, I couldn’t be sure. I didn’t need my camera to view the shirtless figure that strolled in. He walked straight to the small table and gave it a look, with the pipe he carried he tapped the side as though confirming its solid presence. Once he was satisfied all was as he left it, he made a turn and passed right by the bed I was under on his way to the door. I held my breath as my nose tingled, all this dust kicked up was getting to me, I had to sneeze so bad it hurt. Just as he was stepping out the door, I snorted into my collar. The soft steps stopped, and I could hear the floor creak as he shifted. I held perfectly still, even as my nose itched once more with another sneeze. “What’s there?” His steps reentered the room, and I watched from the corner of my eye as he stooped to check under the bed nearest to the door. Quietly, I slid out from under my bed and slunk towards the corner of the room, avoiding the bright luminous of the windows draped over the floor. I curled up as the patient went to the next bed and stuck his weapon under searching the dark space. He might’ve been half blind, his only advantage the all-consuming dark of the asylum he had adapted to. This became a solid theory of mine when he began scouting the perimeter of the room swiping the pipe low searching for a form that wasn’t there. I stretched out on my side, melting into the shadow. He came close, no more than five feet from me as skipped the pipe along. I held my breath and stared as he completed his patrol, then returned to the door. “No ghost. No shadow.” I focused on the soft rustle of the flames, biding time before I gathered the nerve to move. It felt ‘safe’ enough to roll over and get back to my feet. And sneezed. Three times, it felt so good. But each convulsion in my body brought that sharp pain in my side, and the pounding in my head felt worse. I needed some aspirin, or some strong ibuprofen. Some real sleep would do wonders. Drive in the Nails This mans fate did not set me to ease, so long as Martin Archimbaud was out there somewhere there was no telling what fate he had in store for me. This was a precursor to my fate. I took up the fuse and considered the meaning of the crucifixion. This Walrider demon mythology, or did it delve deeper? It was common mistake of anti-Christians that the upside down cross was in reference for its denial, or acceptance of the anti-Christ – which pissed off the religious flock to no end. This wasn’t the case, here. If ‘Father’ Martin was as much of a Priest as he believed, then this was in reference to Saint Peter. I’ve researched enough fanatical religious groups. Saint Peter was crucified upside down to denote unworthiness. Then, this mans fate wasn’t in any form of league with a demon, it simply implied he was not worthy of crucifixion. It was almost scary how hinged ‘Father’ Martin could be. This was well planned out, and its intentions clear cut. Though I was already recording everything through the NV, I switched it off to film the cross against the natural light of the room. I returned to the mid room with the laundry chute eluding incident. However, the door previously shut when I passed through was now open. I knew where the half blind patient had gone. Rather carry the heavy fuse around, I stuffed it into one of the slots and took the unexplored corridor. Two were left, but I doubt I’d have as easy of a time locating them let alone returning with them. I leaned through the doorframe checking to my right then the left. The left side was a dead end, a boarded up wall that might have been an entrance to another room. Lockers glittered in the NV, abandoned at the wall with a broken door stuffed into the corner. As I turned to the right, I ran through my mind the occurrence with the fuse and wondered - had there been a fuse at all? The nature of my own self-doubt frightened me. I was questioning whether or not I had lifted the heavy item and brought it back to a fuse box, and found I couldn’t really prove the event. I jumped back when something flashed in my camera. Briefly, directly in the lens, but there was nothing there. With a groan I got myself under control, breathed deep the soggy charcoal. I was almost certain I’d seen something, and there was this odd taste on the back of my tongue. There was nothing, but I couldn’t discredit my jumpiness. There was someone here, just not the thing I kept imagining. Once I quieted my murmurs I resumed, fully anticipating another stutter in the visor to send me into another panic. I was fed up with it. Broken glass lined the floor beside the cracked windows of the upper wall. The window looked as though someone had attempted to tear through it, a few metal carts and a dismantled wheelchair lay at the base. The Plexiglas had refused to submit to brute force, only one layer had been shed in the ferocity of the attack. They might’ve had more luck carving out the wood beneath, but I recalled the plating set between the wood panels as well. I swear this entire building was alive. A ways down the hall I found double doors, one was left open and inviting as the usual case, while the other was shut. I tried to pry it free but the latch in the doorframe was jammed, I didn’t fight it loose. The hall was littered with lost items, broken bed pieces discarded along the walls, papers and patient folders. A few doors taken from somewhere, maybe brought by the workers to block rooms with. I did my best to avoid each while keeping track of noises echoing from the walls, and my own paranoia that I was hearing people running back and forth. I calmed my breathing down a bit as I turned a corner viewing much of the same, hall and gloom, but this was good. I crouched down when in the darkness emerged a shape, but when a minute passed and it did not move I shuffled forward. When the NV outlined the form more, I was leery but not alarmed. It was a man sitting in a wheelchair, but so far my experience with men in wheelchairs had not gone over well. He looked dead. And pants less. I slipped along the doorframe to the right, trying to keep as much space between him and I as possible. He looked cold and dead, water dripping from the ceiling gathered in a puddle under him. I refused to let my guard down, even when my hand brushed filthy cloth rotting into the wood. When I felt secure enough by the distance, I slowly rose to my feet I ventured deeper into the hall. It felt silent all at once, and I envisioned somewhere far away children sleeping in their warm, safe beds. Never dreaming such a place like this existed. Then I crashed back into the reality of my situation, and recalled dreams I had as a kid, nightmares. Running through the woods near my home, from something huge and nameless with no description, just horrible and scary because of the fact it was chasing me. Then the paralysis that would follow when I was caught, and the only way my brain could cope with the trauma was to evict my mind from my body. And I’d lay awake in my warm bed, stunned and trembling terrified I’d shift an inch, and that thing would crash into my room to eviscerate my body. Why couldn’t I be dreaming now? Why did I have to wake up this morning and undertake this horror? Why couldn’t I have stayed in bed? I was edging towards an overturned bed when the sharp slap of feet on floorboards came. I stepped back as the nightvision revealed the shirtless figure racing forward, pausing just o the other side of the bedframe. “I hear you.” I fought off my flight instinct and waited, before I gave him something to chase down. He was bluffing, I had been silent. Except for my breathing. As quietly as I could, I crouched low and inched back on my foot and knee, wincing as a board creaked under my weight. Blind. He was half blind. But he wasn’t stupid. The patient hopped over the bed and approached. I was trying to get on my feet to run, when my ankle wrenched awkwardly under my weight and my body sort of melted to the ground. He paused to listen as I dragged myself towards the wall and lay there, camera shoved into my coat to prevent him from seeing the light. Wasn’t he blind? He set the pipe on the floor and ran it gently along the surface, bouncing over uneven floorboards, a wheelchair wheel near me, and the furnace on the other side of the wall. When he returned to my side the pipe made a dull thump when it ran into my hip. Silence followed, I couldn’t see a thing he was doing, I only knew that the pipe had departed for some time and the floor boards groaned uncomfortably close to me. I lunged to my feet diving into the direction I had been headed. My ears nearly missed the sharp crack in drywall, the instant before I went tumbling over the bedframe I had completely forgotten about. Somehow I somersaulted over and landed on my butt, feet sprawled before me. The patient shrieked over me, wild with the excitement and exasperation that I had vanished suddenly. I pulled the camera out and crawled to my feet, racing to the end of the hall where the soft glow of candles awaited. I pivoted on my heel and threw the door shut on the patient. A few seconds later the door shuddered with his weight, but I knew he had not run into it. Another thud, and the wood cracked along the hinges. Had to hide. I whirled around, stunned instantly by what was left. To the side of the left wall was a gurney splattered with blood, the violence of it spread in a thick stain up the cracked plaster. It looked fresh. The same words that were scrawled beside the door, reaffirmed the message outside Invite the Walrider Beneath the blood spray lay a body on the gurney, coated head to toe in blood. Candles had been set around the corpse and on the floor beside it, and on a desk near the cot was a pristine metal plate with a fuse on it. The door shattered and broke in. I snatched up the fuse and darted to the darkest corner of the room, pressing my face into my shoulder and watching through the nightvision as the patient entered. He crossed the room directly towards the nightstand and tapped the side with the pipe. A pause followed. “Gone. Gone.” He began to work his way around the room, touching the weapon into the dark seeking. The nightvision on my camera started to dim. I kept low as I fumbled to take the old battery out set a fresh one in. As I checked through the visor, the patient had cut the distance between us as though he knew exactly where I was. I got up and ran for the door, he lunged after me yelling. He swung the pipe, it caught my back low not hurting me but upset my balance. I stumbled out the door gaining speed before I hurdled over the bed frame, in the edge of the NV I spied beds stacked in an alcove on my left, with space enough for me under them. I skidded down to my backside and shoved myself under them as the patient cleared the obstruction and kept going. “Hide and seek! I like games!” His steps continued until I could no longer hear them, and still I kept hidden. A warm spot began to grow on my back, and I cursed to myself. He hadn’t wounded me, but he must’ve reopened the cut. I waited a bit longer, listening to the muffled sounds behind walls, and thought I heard the creeping rustle of pellets. I attributed this to my overstrung psyche. I didn’t wait long before I dragged my body out and stood, keeping my sense raw to whatever I wasn’t yet aware of. I had one fuse, that was two for the slots, but I needed a third. Yes, I admit, the fuses did exist and I wasn’t completely nuts. Maybe I just wanted to believe I was loosing it. Keep me from being responsible for what I thought I was seeing at the edge of the visor, I didn’t want to look. I was trying to keep my focus solid in the bright gleam in the little windows center, and move not too quickly if I needed to check some sound. Further down the hall I picked up the loud glow of candles, another offering I surmised. I crept along the wall, opting to give the wheelchair corpse less room but I was wary should he suddenly spring back to life. He was less alive than the guy with the pipe though. The door at the end was shut. I doubted the blind patient would shut a door if he entered a room, he hadn’t seemed keen on it thus far. Pray for Revelation I’d pray for something. But not your revelation. I moved to the door and listened, hearing nothing. I turned the handle and stepped inside. I froze when my eyes feel on the outline of a figure standing over a corpse, bloodied and surrounded by candles, his hands clasped together as though in prayer. I took a step back but the patient hadn’t moved, he just stood watching the body and the candles. Behind me the rapid approach of feet echoed in my ears, so I took a gamble in entering and slamming the door behind me. The other man hadn’t moved, but he did look over at me. I moved to the left side of wall, away from the door as the wood cracked and thudded. I wasn’t thinking when I THREW the door shut. Halfway around the room I stumbled into a cold fireplace, the brick felt damp on my hands as I slipped into the hearth and knelt. The patient that had been watching me, now turned his attention to the door as it crumbled inward. I watched as the shirtless man entered and began scouting around the room, avoiding the center section where the other man stood. Either he decided I wasn’t here, or couldn’t be here due to the other patient, the half blind figure dashed out the broken door and was lost from sight. I didn’t wait long before I crawled out and went to view the body once more. This time the man didn’t acknowledge my presence, but I did take into account the large butcher knife he held. Beside the body was a table, with a pristine plate atop the blood stain. And there was the last fuse. I snatched it up and stuffed it into a pocket. “No more!” howled the man, he clutched his face with his palms outraged before stalking towards me at a slow pace. I backed away. He gained no speed and he said nothing more. When my back was to the shattered door I ducked out, wishing I had not slammed it on the other man in the first place. As I turned the corner into the next corridor, I had to duck sideways to avoid running into the blind patient. Meanwhile, he tried to get his pipe up to bring it down as I pushed off the wall to keep from crashing into it. The open double door was now in my path, I brushed by the patient as he stumbled from the unaccounted force of missing his target. I stumbled through the open door and took the edge and tossed it behind me, but he had already twisted to chase. As result the door bounced off his weapon as he swung it, and snapped back open and he came through, eyes on me. I thought he was blind! I didn’t try and figure out which, I sprint the length of the corridor, turning the corner back into the laundry chute room. I dug in my pockets, hissing at the fibers getting caught on the gooey tips of my fingers. Had to get the fuses in, had to get that door open. I jammed one in, dropped the other on the floor in my haste. Rather fix this error I jumped back at the still open door and slammed it on the patient when he reached it. As he went for the handle, I gave it a Sparta style kick tearing the mechanism off. The patient pulled free the broken half the knob on his side and gave it a befuddled stare as I spun away to get the fuse. I stuffed it back into the slot and punched the panel. Power restored to the gate, the door began to open and the guard caught on the edge dropped. I lowered the camera as I looked down the chute. Fuck! The patient threw his body against the door with a crash. I watched his actions for a moment as my mind blanked out. Laundry chute leads to the laundry. Would the body be there? Better than hanging around here. I shot towards the counter and leapt it, stumbling over scorched wood and broken lumber from the room. I think the patient screamed after me, or that was the sound in my head. Shaking myself, I continued to the end of the hall. The floor gave out under my foot when I reached the soaked wood, causing me to fall forward and nearly break my ankle. Instead, I caught myself on one hand and clutched the camera to my stomach as I groaned. My finger had jammed into the floorboard and before I had my foot free I was on my side, lying in the puddle trying to get out a sound. Something to rekindle my broken senses. My entire hand had gone numb.

Miles! Up! Get your ass up and MOVE!

I ground my teeth together hard enough to crack a molar. With some effort I finally unsnagged my foot and pushed myself to my feet, one shaky step after the next as I continued to the main room of this floor.

Walk it off Miles. You can do this. I remembered where the laundry room was. The key would be there, it must be.

I blinked against the harsh light, opting to use it as some meager form of distraction from my hand. I moved across the door less segregation gate that led to the lower basement, and considered the man I had seen down there studying the corner. Wasn’t there a horror movie where someone was made to face a corner? My mind couldn’t recall. I paused beside the inactive elevator and pressed my hands into the hard plastic of the camera, concentrating on the worn casing stained with a rosy hue. It wouldn’t matter what polish or cleaner I used on it, it was perpetually dyed through its abuse. As long as it was still filming, that was all I was thinking. The footage, the evidence. Everything I had gathered. I drew in a deep breath and let out a long sigh. This was good, I was calming down and the feeling had returned to my hand, in that reminiscent throbbing when your hand falls asleep. It tingled, almost tickled.

I adjusted my footing, ready to climb back to my feet, until I took note of the contents of the elevator. That’s right, I was in another section of the Asylum. Female Ward. Rick Trager died in the Male Ward. I fumbled with the camera, still unable to detect sensation between my fingers as well as I would like to.

“A dead body at the bottom of the elevator shaft, surrounded by food. He barricaded himself in someplace safe, someplace nobody could reach him. It didn’t work.”

There was even a filthy, stained mattress right before his scared and broken feet. I could detect the fetid sour rising from the dank walls of the lifts cradle. I recalled my short stop in the kitchen and the canned goods, how bland the contents had tasted despite my hunger. This person had obviously not considered the time limit and the inevitable outcome of eating through ones provisions, unless he had died of dehydration first. He had been ludic enough to realize what was happening and had tried to elude the horror and death that had swamped the Asylum. He could’ve been my hero.

I pulled myself up the linked segments of the lift and turned away, I stumbled a bit with my first steps as the kinks worked out of my legs. I entered through the segregation gate and walked down the dark hall. A plate on the wall reminded me the Laundry room was to the right.

When I moved around the corner, I was startled and backed away from the patient standing there. Fuck, I’d forgotten about that one. I took a few breaths and put myself beside the wall as I walked past him(her? I don’t fucking care).

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

Shut up. I kept that person in my sight as I limped, the one good eye gleamed in the NV as (s)he watched me. The laundry room wasn’t far from here, I was having trouble focusing on where I was going and why exactly I needed to find the laundry room. Key. The key fell down here. I entered the room and shut the door behind me. The churning rattle seemed distant now, and I felt this inexplicable wave of sorrow or regret. It was just bizarre, and I hated how insignificant I felt to these emotions. Shrugging it off, I approached the chute with the dead guard inside. And the key. I punched the panel and snatched the key the moment those doors had open, though the body could fall nowhere else. The key was still lopped on his swollen finger, and I had this gruesome task of massaging it off his finger. The way I did this…I picked up a piece of tile on the floor and crushed his finger to a pulp. By the end of it, I was ready to throw up again. Somehow I kept it together. That and I was soon distracted by yelling on the other side of the closed door. “Not alone! No more! Please!” I stood across from the door listening as the screams grew louder. Then the door rattled, as someone tried to beat their way in. I immediately ducked down behind the laundry baskets and pulled the camera up, I had one route to follow and didn’t need to slip up. I cringed into the sour smelling basket as the door creaked opened. “He’s one of Wernicke’s! Don’t let him hurt us!” I crawled on my hand and knees around the other side as the bare feet worked around the other direction. When I was by the door I slipped out, while the man still hunted for me. There was precious little time to waste. I saw no one else as I raced back to the stairs and leapt across the rotted wood to the next floor. I nearly dropped my camera, in my haste I forgot to secure it in the pack before I jumped. No harm was done, but it was a careless mistake I chided myself for. When I died, this camera was going into a museum. I didn’t plan to die for a very long, long time. I sped through the smaller floor, to the locked gate on the right side. When I fished out the key from my pocket, I paused and took note of the blood collecting at the edge of my sleeve after I had fallen on my hand again. I whimpered to myself as I opened the door, and shut it behind me. I rethought over wrapping my hands in sheets or cloth that I had found, or something. It had to be better than sticking them in the places that I had and butchering the ends further. I looked away when I noticed a little scrap of flesh dangling at the end of my ring finger. But I reminded myself using my hands in their current state was a hazard. A thin layer of sheets would only get soaked in filth and blood, and make it harder to get around. My fingers were a lost cause, I accepted this. But I could not afford to lose anything else. My life. I needed a real doctor, to give me shots of antibiotics, and put me back together. I didn’t want to think of the dangers of seeking medical treatment, if Murkoffs presence still existed after everything that had happened. I needed that drive to keep me running, to keep me going when my body felt like it had nothing else to give. I would get help and rest, and some goddamn good food, but I first had to survive, no matter what it took. No matter how mangled and wounded I became, I was not dying inside this horrible place. I promised myself that.

#outlast #outlast fanfiction #outlast novelized #miles upshure

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likelovelikesuicide · 7 years

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Malec final 5 episodes - timeline

Okay, so in order to properly wrap my head around what happened in the final Malec arc of s2, I wrote a timeline and thought I’d share - feel free to make additions or comments if I missed anything…

2.16

Alec is trying to maintain his position as head of the institute following Valentine’s escape

Magnus is attending downworld meetings off-screen

Alec tells his father that Magnus isn’t an affair and refuses to promise to keep anything from him

Robert, Alec’s father, helps him keep his position as head of the institute and informs him that the Clave lied about the whereabouts of the Soul Sword

2.17

Together, they enjoy a nice dinner in Alec’s office because he was distracted by work and missed their date - he just learned about Valentine having the soul sword and the Clave’s lie - Magnus came from the downworlders meeting where he defended the Shadowhunters and insisted that Alec, as head of the institute, was the start of change. Honesty. Transparency. A new world where they can work with the Shadowhunters, instead of fearing them.

Magnus returns home to find Luke waiting to inform the High Warlock of Brooklyn that Valentine has the soul sword

Magnus rushes off to tell Alec but Luke suspects he already knows as head of the institute.

Magnus returns to Alec’s office, realizes quickly that Alec does know and kept it from him. They fight - Alec thought he was preventing a downworld panic and he didn’t want to ask Magnus to keep a secret from his people - Magnus feels lied to by Alec, his lover, whom he trusts… Magnus peace’s out in slow mo with a sexy coat #walkwalkfashionbaby

Magnus returns home to Luke, very upset. He knows they can’t trust the Clave and his people are in immediate danger. He wants to speak to the seelie queen again, Luke is weary.

2.18

The seelie queen demands a choice of the other downworlder leaders. Choose my side and I will offer your people protection or side with the Shadowhunters and watch as your people die by their hands

Luke isn’t interested in breaking the accord’s and risking a war with the Shadowhunters but Magnus is unsure… he is given a rose, a time limit, and a threat that if he goes against the queen, his people will be on the losing side.

Magnus returns home where he thinks of Alec and what siding with the seelie queen would mean for them. In flashbacks, it is clearly illustrated that Magnus is deeply in love with Alec.

Alec’s baby brother, Max, has been attacked and is critically injured. He seeks out Magnus’ help, though he knows he has no right to ask for it.

Magnus goes to the institute but Max’s injuries are beyond magical help - which they had been told already, but Alec trusted Magnus over the silent brothers (his people) - Alec and Magnus avoid eye contact. This is not the time.

Alec is clearly in agony until Max wakes up… Magnus stays in support but Alec’s family needs him.

After Max wakes up, Magnus bids them farewell, politely excusing himself (though he hangs around outside the room, hoping and dreading Alec will follow him) - Alec goes to him - they talk. Magnus is convinced he can’t be with Alec and protect his people - Alec insists that they can figure this out, they can have both. He loves Magnus (and Magnus loves Alec) but Magnus leaves

Jonathan is discovered by Clary and though wounded, he escapes

Offscreen, Magnus sides with the Seelie Queen

2.19

Alec calls an emergency meeting of the Downworld council to ask for help in the search for Valentine and Jonathan

Luke knows Magnus can’t face Alec sober - Magnus insists that the Seelie Queen wants to help protect the downworlders but Luke and Raphael aren’t convinced. #fadetoblack

Magnus allows the Seelie Queen to speak for him/his people in the meeting. The Seelie Queen refuses to help the Shadowhunters, but Luke’s wolves will search the city.

Magnus has warlocks at his home again - Catarina and Madzie + others - They go against the accords, creating impregnable wards around the city to keep Valentine/Jonathan in and protect their people

Magnus misses Alec (photobooth pictures)

Alec is on the front lines again with Jace and Izzy as Valentine and Jonathan terrorize the city - Jace is taken by Jonathan while they fight off a horde of forsaken. Jonathan is “killed”

The Seelie Queen makes a deal with Valentine - Kidnaps Maia

2.20

Luke and Simon go to Magnus for help in getting Maia back from the Seelie Queen

Magnus isn’t convinced the Queen took her and he needs to help his warlocks on the roof as they maintain the portal wards to keep Valentine in the city (so Valley Boy can’t get to Idris and use the mortal instruments to kill all demon blooded creatures)

Alec, Izzy, Clary and Jace defeat one of Lilith’s dragon demon’s on the streets of “NYC” but more demons emerge

Alec goes to Magnus - against his better judgement because Magnus made it clear that he doesn’t want to help the Shadowhunters - but they need him to close the rift from Edom.

Alec warns Magnus about the Seelie Queen’s deal with Valentine (but Magnus already knows and he’s clearly annoyed - he’s been spending time and energy along with his people trying to keep Valentine in the city and the Seelie Queen just fucking LET HIM THROUGH THE WARDS, so of course he’s short with Alec - O! You need a Warlock, everyone needs a warlock but fuck all he can trust anyone )

Honestly, Magnus’ attitude makes sense when you realize that he was just manipulated into cutting off ties with the Shadowhunters and breaking up with his boyfriend only to turn around and find out The bitch he’s supporting HELPED FUCKING VALENTINE escape the warlocks wards! … anyway….

Magnus agrees to close the rift to save lives.

When Alec and Magnus return to the institute, Izzy informs them both that Council Malachi is a suspected trader and there was no army sent to Idris to protect the mortal mirror - thus Jace and Clary are walking into a trap set by Circle members who’ve been hiding in the Clave.

Magnus identifies the Demons as Edomani (spelling?) from Edom - Izzy has found the location of the breach - none of them understand the demons odd behavior because they are not attacking…

Alec, Izzy and Magnus go to the beach where Jonathan opened the rift and as Magnus begins to close the breach another demon comes through - hits Izzy - Alec goes to kill it, misses - Magnus has to do all the heavy lifting here but Alec and Izzy take care of the demon spawn.

Magnus is drained of his magic - falls. Alec rushes to his side - “you can’t get rid of me that easily”

Back at the institute, Alec, Magnus and Izzy are hoping for word from Jace and Clary while trying to locate the rest of the demons that escaped from Edom, but all sensors are clear…

Alec feels Jace get stabbed in the heart by Valentine - Magnus’ rushes to his side, unable to help - Alec feels the rune fade, he feels Jace die

Magnus portals with Alec and Izzy to Idris and they see that Valentine raised the angel

Alec tells Magnus to get to safety but he insists they find Jace and Clary

They find Jace very much alive and making out with Clary #cockblockreturned

Clary has killed Valentine #littlemsstabstab - used the Angel’s wish to bring Jace back - they don’t tell the others

Luke throws a party to celebrate - the world is free of Valentine

Alec approaches Magnus - asks to talk - they are both clearly nervous - they establish their mutual desire to be together, in a relationship, again and leave arm in arm.

So the whole thing takes place over like 2-3 days as shit hits the fan around them and Magnus and Alec are pulled apart… but they find their way back together.

#magnus bane #alec lightwood #malec #otp: angelic warrior & prince of hell #shadowhunters 2b #shadowhunters #sh text #sh rant #rant

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setaripendragon · 7 years

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Eviscerated

This was a request from @furisca, for the first time Hidan and Itachi noticed each other, and the first time they kissed. This is... kind of a prequel to Burnt Sugar and Blood, you might notice how it fits with the first scene of that, if you’ve read it, but you don’t need to read that to understand this, or vice versa. I should probably warn for Hidan’s sadomasochism, and Itachi’s depression. And... canon-typical levels of violence? At least I think it’s pretty canon-typical. But yeah, if fairly vivid descriptions of sadomasochism or depression upset you, this is not the fic for you. Please take care of yourselves.

The Akatsuki were not a very tight-knit group. Hidan was self-aware enough to know that was probably a good thing, because if he was forced to interact with the bunch of stupid heathens more often, he’d kill the lot of them and be done with it. The only reason Kakuzu had survived as his partner for so long was not for lack of trying on Hidan’s part.

Still, it meant that Hidan could go more than a year without seeing anyone of the group besides Kakuzu, Pein and Konan. He knew Kakuzu kept up-to-date on the comings and goings of the top S-rank missing nin, but Hidan really couldn’t be bothered with that shit. He didn’t give a damn who he was working with, so long as he got to kill heathens and spread the word of god. Kakuzu could take his stupid fucking bounties and shove them up his ass.

Every now and then, though, Pein called them all back to Amegakure for update meetings, when big changes were happening or Pein wanted them to lie low for a while. The meeting room was large, but surprisingly comfortable, with ten chairs around an unnecessarily huge table. Hidan glanced around with disinterest. Pein and Konan were there, of course, and so was Akasuna and the Beast of Kiri. And the weird plant man was lurking in the corner, but that was it. Hidan had been sure they’d had more members than that… He squinted at the table and tried to remember.

“Who’s missing?” He asked, when his memory failed to give him more than a vague idea of dark hair and pale skin.

“Sorry I’m late.” A soft monotone announced from right behind him. Hidan turned, a little tempted to attack just on principle, and, yeah, dark hair and pale skin, and an expression so blank it was actually sickening.

“Right, the walking corpse.” Hidan remembered, his fingers twitching around the handle of his scythe. There was a muted screaming ringing in Hidan’s ears, and he wondered if he could put this heathen down before Pein or Konan stopped him.

The other man’s eyes focused on him, black bleeding into red, tomoe spinning to life lazily. “Excuse me?” He asked politely.

“Don’t threaten the other members, Hidan.” Pein interjected.

Hidan scoffed. “That wasn’t a fucking threat. You’d know if I was fucking threatening people because there’d be blood on your fancy fucking table. Just stating a fucking fact. There were two of the weird pale ones, and this one’s the heathen that’s dead inside. Where’s the other one?”

“He left. Two years ago.” The walking corpse informed him, still so soft-spoken and polite. It was making Hidan’s skin itch.

“Don’t you pay attention to anything? Useless idiot.” Kakuzu complained. “He tried to steal Uchiha’s body for his soul-transfer jutsu.” He reminded Hidan, jerking a thumb at the walking corpse. “When that didn’t work out, he left.”

“Knew he was a fucking heathen coward.” Hidan griped.

“You say he left, like he just wandered off in a disappointed huff.” The Beast of Kiri interjected, with the beginnings of an unkind grin on his face. “Like Itachi didn’t send him running with his tail between his legs and missing half an arm.”

“Didn’t stop him from going after the next best thing, did it?” Akasuna interjected grumpily.

The hair on the nape of Hidan’s neck stood on end. Every animal instinct in him was suddenly screaming that there was something very dangerous far too close. The adrenaline-fuelled lust tap-danced down his spine and settled low in his gut as he turned.

Outwardly, the Uchiha – Itachi, Hidan’s memory supplies dizzily – appeared no different. Perhaps a little more tense, but he’d barely even blinked. The only difference was in his eyes, and in the killing intent whipping around him like a storm. Just for a moment, he looked… furious, anguished, agonised, desperate, despairing, wrathful, broken.

And then it was gone. The walking corpse was back, and no one else seemed to have even noticed that moment of… breathtaking beauty. Blind heathen idiots. “Please do not speak of matters that don’t concern you.” The walking corpse requested.

“Fine.” Sasori grumbled. “Can we get on with this?”

“What next best thing?” Hidan asked, ignoring the bastard, and keeping his eyes fixed on the walking corpse, searching for some hint of life in those red red eyes. Red eyes… “Wait, didn’t that coward have a weird obsession with that one clan with the red eyes?” He wondered.

Oh, there it was. Hidan’s breath caught as the sheer agony was suddenly beating off the man in waves. His expression tightened, his eyes blazed, and Hidan… Hidan had never wanted someone so much in his life.

There was very little in the world that Itachi could genuinely say he cared about. He had principles, certainly, but it had been a long time since that had been anything more than a vague concept, and even longer since he’d been able to follow them. There were things he enjoyed, like fresh dango, and Kisame’s company, and clear nights, but it wasn’t as though his life would be significantly worse if they were gone, which made it hard to care about their being there in the first place.

He cared about Sasuke. He cared about his penance.

He had his mission, and whatever else he was, he was a shinobi, and a shinobi always completed their mission. Make Sasuke strong, and see Madara dead. There wasn’t any point to getting invested in anything else. His mission required him to work with Akatsuki until he could uncover more about their shadowy leader, so that was what he did, regardless of his personal feelings on the matter.

It had been so long since he’d felt strongly about anything other than Sasuke that he didn’t think he could anymore. It was almost a relief.

“Pein wants us to rendezvous with the Zombie Duo at the next village.” Kisame informed him, as he shook himself out of the meditative trance that enabled their projection-like communication. Itachi packed away his own maudlin musings, and rose to his feet. “Something about collecting some information to bring back to Ame so that those two freaks can get on with their next mission.”

“Mm.” Itachi replied to confirm he’d heard and understood.

“Reduced to glorified messenger boys…” Kisame grumbled.

Itachi had nothing to say to that, so he didn’t. They reached the next village in good time, and followed the sounds of a commotion to the centre of the small collection of houses. Itachi was not in the least bit surprised to see Hidan and Kakuzu there. Kakuzu was hanging back, but Hidan had one of the villages by the collar, holding him aloft, and shouting something about heathens.

“Typical.” Kisame muttered, sounding almost amused.

Itachi activated his sharingan to watch with detached interest – it was always good to have intel on your enemies, after all – as Hidan pressed the edge of his scythe to the terrified village’s throat. Blood beaded up around the blade, and Hidan laughed.

Itachi wandered closer, stepping up beside Kakuzu, who glanced over and grunted a greeting. Itachi replied politely, because his mother had always insisted on manners, but his attention had been caught by the colour spreading over Hidan’s skin as he licked the man’s blood off his scythe. He’d heard, of course, about Hidan’s ability, but it was always good to get first-hand information when possible.

The villager swore, and then muttered a prayer, and Hidan laughed.

“You think your false god gives a damn about a sinner like you?!” Hidan cackled, tossing the man away casually. He tumbled into the dirt, while Hidan drew something under his feet in his own blood. “Heathens! Jashin-sama gave us this life to suffer in gratitude, not to cower away from his glory like worms! You think I’m going to let you hide from him?” Hidan crooned. And promptly drove his scythe into his own leg. The man on the ground howled as blood bloomed and spilled from a matching wound on his own leg. The other villagers screamed and some fled. “Ah! Doesn’t that feel so pure? Jashin-sama is with us now. Can you feel him? The pain drives away the cold, and you can feel his blessing in your every nerve.”

Itachi tilted his head. He’d heard about Hidan’s habit of evangelising to all and sundry, particularly when he was riding a pain high, but he’d never before been present for it, and it was… almost intriguing. There was something about the happy contradiction that Itachi wanted to pick at, like a crow with a fresh corpse. Hidan drew his scythe out with a wet squelch and swung it into the meat of his shoulder, drawing fresh wails from the man bleeding on the dirt in front of him.

“Suffering is the greatest gift, Jashin-sama’s blessing on our pathetic mortal lives, waking us from the endless sleep to bask in his brilliance. It’s the only truth, the only reality, the way our bodies bleed and our souls burn. Have you ever felt more alive?” He asked gleefully, and drove his scythe right through his sternum and into his own heart with a scream that was, frankly, indecent. He then collapsed onto the ground, staying sort of upright only because the handle of his scythe got lodged in the dirt and propped him up. His victim convulsed once or twice, and then lay still.

Itachi stepped forwards, ignoring Kakuzu’s muttered warning. It was strangely hard to breathe in that moment, like there was an invisible hook under his ribs, embedded in his lungs, dragging him closer to the unmoving body in the centre of that strange sigil.

And then his sharingan eyes caught the jump-flutter of a pulse in the bared neck, and the impaled chest heaved, shuddering in the aftermath of death. Itachi watched Hidan’s eyes flutter open halfway, a lazy smile curling his lips. There was something crawling under Itachi’s skin, something that was desperate to get out, but he was frightened that if he let it, it would abandon him, leave him hollow and bereft.

Hidan’s eyes finally focused on Itachi, and he gasped, then groaned, letting his head loll back as his eyes were suddenly all Itachi could look at. “You want a turn, Uchiha?” He asked.

Something deep in Itachi’s core screamed yes.

“Get the fuck up, Hidan, we don’t have time for your histrionics.” Kakuzu interjected, marching over and aiming a kick at Hidan’s ribs. Hidan let the blow connected, and it jostled the scythe still buried in his ribcage. Fresh blood oozed from the wound. Itachi had long been inured to the sight of blood, but there was something about this that… shook him. He tried to pull himself together, unsettled by how… affected he had been by something so… inconsequential.

“Fuck you, Kakuzu.” Hidan drawled, too lazy to put much effort into it. He tugged his scythe loose, and rolled to his feet, stumbling only a little. “Fuck, I feel good.” Hidan said to himself.

“He wasn’t even worth anything.” Kakuzu complained, kicking the actually dead corpse in the road. “If you’re going to waste time with your stupid ritual, you could at least make it worth our while.” He spat on the corpse, then turned, ignoring Hidan’s growled threats, to hold a scroll out to Itachi. “Here’s the information, Uchiha. Sorry about the spectacle.”

Itachi took the scroll, and nodded. It was all he could manage at the moment. If he opened his mouth, he was afraid of what might come out. Kakuzu looked as though he was about to say something, but he was distracted by Hidan attacking him, demanding he pay attention when Hidan lectured him about the sanctity of pain and suffering. A large, cool hand landed on his shoulder, and he allowed it, because Kisame was inoffensive, as false allies went. “Hey, everything alright?” Kisame asked, more wary than concerned, like he thought Itachi might, oh, snap, and kill everybody.

“Fine.” Itachi murmured, unable to take his eyes off Hidan as the man screamed profanities at Kakuzu and attempted to take the man’s head off. “We have our mission. That’s all that matters.”

Apparently, the first phase of their mission was complete. Hidan didn’t really know or care what that meant, he only cared that until phase two started, most of the Akatsuki had been told to lie low. A couple of days of lying low was no problem. Hidan could pretend he was just waiting for the next sacrifice. He’d gone weeks between rituals before, after all, but as a week ticked by, and he was still seeing the same rooms and corridors of the same stupid hide out, he began to get… twitchy.

He baited Kakuzu into a fight, but after a while, the man stopped letting him taunt him. He tried to go out to find somebody to kill, but Konan was a damn psychic, and Hidan had too much respect for the quiet aura of pain that shadowed her to think he needed to teach her the meaning of suffering. So he let her force him back inside with only a lot of grumbling.

He retreated to the training rooms, because there, at least, no one would yell – too much – if he got blood everywhere while praying. Except… the training room was occupied. He stopped in the doorway, watching as Uchiha Itachi played with sharp pointy objects. Kunai and shuriken and senbon flew through the air in a deadly hail, and every single one hit the bullseye of one of the multitude of targets set up around the room.

Most ninja would probably be distracted by that display of skill, but Hidan wasn’t most ninja. He was a Jashinist, and he couldn’t help but stare at the open and bitter misery etched into the lines of Itachi’s face as he moved. It looked so at home there, in the set of his brows and lines on his face and the deep wells of his eyes that Hidan was completely captivated.

Itachi stopped moving, and the last handful of shuriken found their marks in the vitals of a training dummy, neatly embedded in eye, neck and groin. Hidan didn’t spare them a glance. Just watched the heavy rise and fall of Itachi’s chest with covetous desire. “See, you look like that, and I start thinking you’re less of a fucking corpse than you seem most days.” He remarked.

Itachi turned, sharp, eyes wild and vicious. Hidan grinned in the face of it, blood thrumming with the anticipation. “Excuse me?” Itachi asked, but it sounded less polite than he usually managed.

“Fixing for a fight, Uchiha?” Hidan asked, half taunting, half hopeful as he prowled closer. “Want to bleed, or make someone else bleed?” He wondered.

Itachi frowned, something almost alarmed flickering through his eyes, and no. No, Hidan wasn’t having that. Fear had no place in those eyes. Such a sin did not belong on a face that could show so such suffering. “What, not enough nerve to face me, Uchiha?” He snarled, vicious now. “Not enough nerve to face yourself?”

It had the desired effect, but in a way Hidan honestly hadn’t expected. He’d expected anger, violence, but what he got was a shattering. Something broke behind those blood-red eyes. Something dark and twisted spilled out to replace that repulsive fear, and Hidan trembled at the sight of it. He could see his god reflected in those eyes, and there was just no possible way for him to keep his hands to himself for even a moment longer.

He closed the distance in a heartbeat, and he was actually surprised when he managed to get a hand in that dark hair. Pain exploded through him, enough to make his hand spasm in Itachi’s hair and to stick his breath to the back of his throat, but not enough to make him stop. He closed the distance, teeth biting at pale, soft lips in time with the throbbing agony beating along with his heartbeat. Under his mouth, Itachi gasped a hitching, fragile breath, lips parting tantalisingly.

Dizziness swept over Hidan, and he lost his grip on Itachi’s hair. His legs buckled, and he collapsed to his knees as he finally realised that there was a great gaping hole in his gut, and a bloody kunai in Itachi’s hand. Blood gushed over his lap and the floor, which explained the sudden light-headedness. He grinned up at the stunned expression on Itachi’s face. “Nng, should’ve known you’d want to get straight to the fun part.” Hidan groaned happily. “You gonna come down here and finish the job, or are you waiting for me to heal so I can fuck you up right back?” He snarled.

Itachi breathed in, slow and shaky. Carefully, he knelt, and ran light fingers over the edge of the wound he’d put in Hidan’s gut. White-hot agony trailed in his wake, and Hidan moaned, writhing under his touch. “Don’t be a pansy-ass. Use your fucking- nails or some shit.”

Molten heat spilled over Itachi’s face, and Hidan could only stare, enraptured. “I think…” Itachi began slowly, obeying Hidan’s suggestion to the letter. “I would like it very much if you could teach me to hurt the way you hurt, Hidan.” He decided.

Hidan grinned, bloody and breathless. “My fucking pleasure.”

#Naruto #Hidan #Uchiha Itachi #Hidachi #Hidan/Itachi #TW: depression #TW: sadism #TW: masochism #this came out a lot less dark than I was expecting #first kiss

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