#two whole years ago! goddam! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

questforgalas · 5 months

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Tags/Warnings: none

Masterlist

WC: 2.2K

Flower symbolism: Ghost's bouquet: Orange lily (hatred), thyme (courage), dark crimson rose (mourning) Soap's Bouquet: Heliotrope (devotion), marjoram (joy), sunflower (adoration)

This fic is rated Mature

For those who prefer Ao3

Back in a town referred to as “the town ya pass just before ya exit to Manchester”, it was common amongst the townsfolk to spot a scrawny lad with a mop of blonde hair running down the lane, sprinting on legs that could snap in half at the crack of a twig, willing them to carry him as far as they could. Run, run, run past old Ms. Withers sweeping her step, calling after the lad to slow down. Past Mr. Hiddles putting fresh produce in his shop’s baskets. Past the children playing on the playground, trying to slay a dragon barricaded at the top of the slide. The dragon rising to make its last stand, roaring down at the tiny soldiers clambering up to meet it. The lad scoffed, not missing a step. A real dragon doesn’t roar, he thought. A real dragon yells until it's blue in the face, spit flying from its mouth.

Further he’d run, past the crumbling town wall from a time long remembered in a history book never opened, into the fields buffering the tiny town from smog-covered Manchester in the distance. A sturdy oak stood tall atop a lone hill, blanketing it in shadow no matter where the sun lay, and there, nestled in the gnarly roots, the boy’s legs would collapse. With his back to the place he was told to call home, he’d gaze at the horizon until well past when the sun said goodnight and dream of a little boy slaying a dragon.

17 years ago, Simon traded his dragon for terrorist cells.

Right now, he’d rather face either instead of the mohawk looking up at him.

That’s right. A goddam mohawk.

The ramp of the cargo plane touched down in Lithuania at exactly 2200, revealing a small base and tarmac that wasn’t much to look at - covert and all that - which made it easy to spot the idling armored Jeep and the lone soldier leaning against it.

While Simon marched across the tarmac, he noticed two things.

First, the soldier stood a whole head shorter than him, even as they straightened themselves to full height standing at attention.

Second, a mohawk sat atop their head like some punk teenager trying to give their parents a migraine.

Strike #1, non-regulation haircut.

“Relax,” Simon commanded when he stood in front of the soldier and offered his hand. “Lieutenant Riley. Call sign ‘Ghost’.”

“Sergeant John MacTavish,” the man answered, taking Simon’s hand with an impressive grip. “But ye can call me ‘Soap’.”

“Soap, huh? Must be a story there.”

“Aye, but I usually save tha’ for the second mission, sir,” Soap winked. “Besides,” he continued, “I’m sure it’s nothin’ compared tae yers.”

“Sorry, Sergeant.” Simon kept his tone dry. “That’s a tenth mission story.”

“Guess we’ll just have tae make sure we get there, huh, sir?”

The lieutenant offered a noncommittal hum and abruptly made his way to the driver's side door, aware of the gauche end to their conversation, but Simon couldn’t find it in him to care.

He couldn’t care.

“Get in, Sergeant,” he instructed. “Got a long drive ahead of us. We’ll brief on the way.”

“Aye.” Soap remained planted for another moment then shook out of his stupor. “Aye. Aye, sir.”

They situated themselves in the car and were out of the base before the lock on Soap’s belt clicked. Country roads threaded through flat farmland, the last crops hanging onto the temperate summer before the Baltic frosts settled in, blurring the lines between Autumn and Winter. The drive out to the eastern highlands takes near 2 hours, but the late hour ensured the traffic would be light, and Simon’s lead foot ensured time shed off of that estimate.

“Give me that brief,” the lieutenant prompted when they turned onto a small highway.

“Ghorbrani. Commander of the Quds. Been not so quiet about his support of the Russians,” Soap rattled off. “Been even less quiet about his dislike fer Western ideologies.” He paused, continuing when Simon gave him a nod. “Intel picked up some chatter about meetings along the Baltic-Russian borders. Might be our ticket to linking Ghorbrani with Russian arms dealings.” Soap flashed a smirk. “How’m I doin’, sir?”

Cheeky bastard Simon thought. “Congratulations, Sergeant. Ya’ve proven ya can read,” he said instead.

“Mission is tae stakeout a warehouse located on the Latvian border and rumored to be where Quds are storing arms. Gather intel and make a positive ID if possible,” Soap flashed a smile and a wink. “Oh, and how could I forget the most important part. Bond with ma new favorite lieutenant.”

That earned an eye roll. “Don’t remember that part in the mission brief.”

Farmlands flashed by, the full moon casting the sleepy countryside in a silver shimmer, and the winding highway eventually smoothed out to a straight strip disappearing into the small, rolling hills far, far in the distance. Soap shifted in his seat, leaning his shoulder blade into the gap between the car door and the seatback, angling his torso and knees towards the driver. Simon prayed to whatever force was out there that he wasn’t about to …

“So, Lieutenant, where are ye from?”

Strike #2, nosy. “That’s classified,” Simon answered.

“Ok,” Soap drew out. “How old are ye?”

“Classified.”

“How long ye been in the military?”

“Classified.”

“Something easy. Favorite color?”

“Classfied.”

“Oi! Is yer whole heid classified?”

Simon kept his eyes deadpan as he met the sergeant’s gaze. “That’s classified.”

Soap thumped his head against the headrest, groaning. “Not gonna make this easy, are ye?”

“Not sure what you’re on about, Sergeant.”

“About tae spend a week holed up in a safehouse together,” Soap said as if that explained everything.

“And?”

“Might sleep easier knowin’ ma superior officer is actually human.”

“Hmm,” Simon hummed. “Guess you'll just have to wait and find out.”

“Fine, have it yer way.” Soap slumped further. “Wake me when we get there. Or do ye want tae test ma literacy some more?”

A right cheeky little shite. “Get some rest, Soap.”

Giving a casual salute, Soap burrowed as far as he could, crossing his arms against his chest, settling his head against the car door and his shoulder, and in near seconds, soft snores drifted over to Simon’s ears.

And if Simon noticed how the smile hid under his balaclava since Soap’s wink on the tarmac didn’t budge, well…

That was classified.

Located approximately 3 kliks from the Lithuanian-Latvian border, nestled in the sparse forests dusting the hills characteristic of the Lithuanian eastern highlands, sat an abandoned hunting shack sporting a “For Sale” sign that hasn’t moved in 20 years. The front boasted a porch that offered high splinter rates and stairs that Simon was fairly sure they should never step in the middle of, and the inside of the house only seemed intact more than likely thanks to the US and British forces needing their operatives to not get injured on the job via their lodgings instead of the enemy, but it offered a decent living room, a working kitchen, and a comfortable, albeit dusty-looking, queen-sized bed.

Simon’s favorite feature, though, was the direct line of sight to the warehouse over the hills. No laying in grass for hours. No ants crawling all over him. No peeing in a bottle and handling waste. A roof over his head and working plumbing.

Pure paradise this safe house.

“Mornin’, Lieutenant,” Soap muttered through a yawn, stretching his arms above his head, dusting of dark hair along his waistband peeping out from beneath the hem.

“Mornin’,” the lieutenant muttered back from the slab of wood called a kitchen table, eyes trained on the laptop in front of him.

“Coffee?” Soap asked.

“Kettle on.”

“Tha’s not coffee.”

“Make yarself a cuppa.”

“Tha’s still not coffee.”

“Better for ya.”

“Says who?”

“The experts.”

“Och, I’ll be talkin’ to these experts directly then.” The sergeant took to rummaging through the cupboards, digging high and low until a “whoop!” bounced off the creaking wood and he waved his prize in hand like he’d just found the buried treasure. A triumphant smile flashed in Simon’s direction before the sergeant went about creating his liquid gold. “Probably know tha answer tae this already, but what’ve we got tae eat?”

“Been awhile since anyone else’s been here from the looks of it. Bare to the bones,” Simon supplied. “Canned beans and jam in the cupboard next to the sink.”

“Canned beans and jam. Breakfast of champions. Heard Rinaldo eats it e’ry mornin’.” Soap rambled while he peered into the cupboard.

The lieutenant huffed. “Whoever’s not on first watch will pop into the town for supplies.”

“How far’s that?”

“‘Bout 10 kliks.”

“Not bad,” Soap mused around a spoonful of jam.

“The jam or the distance?”

“Both.”

That earned a chuckle from behind the balaclava.

“Aha, so there are human reactions behind there.”

That earned a blank glare.

“I’m assuming the whole,” The spoon acted as a pointer towards Simon and made a circle in the direction of the lieutenant’s face, “is classified as well?”

“Levels ya can’t even imagine,” Simon muttered.

“Alright, fine. Lieutenant Riley is off limits.” Soap plopped down in the chair across the table, coffee and jam now in hand. “What’dya want tae know about me?”

“Absolutely nothin’,” was the instant, and honest, answer.

“Don’t know if I should take offense or not.”

“Take it however ya want.”

A heavy, tense silence settled over the two of them. Simon pretending that what was on the laptop required his undivided attention, and Soap sipping on the precious caffeinated bean water. Predictably, one of them couldn’t stay quiet for long.

“Speaking freely, sir…”

“Not exactly how that wor…”

“I know what Captain Price is up to.”

Does he now? Simon lifted his gaze and decided to take pity on his lower back, unfurling himself with a groan as his spine popped back into place. Brown eyes met crystal blue over a lip of chipped porcelain. “Do ya now?”

“I know he’s been recruitin’ for that task force of yers, and I know no one's been tapped to do a mission with any of ye before.” Soap kept Simon’s gaze. “Given yer tenure, I’m assumin’ yer the final test, aye?”

Simon remained silent.

“And, given ye 141 types aren’t known for wastin’ time, I’m also assumin’ a certain lieutenant has a partner slot open.”

Well, shit. “Got all that from one flimsy brief, huh?”

“Not exactly,” the sergeant shrugged. “Did some pokin’ of ma own. Not tha’ hard to put two-and-two together.” A smirk peaked over the cup. “Besides, tha’ Sergeant Garrick is a talker after some pints.”

“Fuckin’ Kyle,” Simon groaned at the ceiling. “Alright, what’s your point?”

“Ma point is,” Soap gently placed the cup down, “I’m good, sir. Really fuckin’ good. Unless ye have a prejudice against Scots - though given the northern accent I doubt tha’s the case - there’s no reason for ye to go back tae the captain and say no, which means, ye and I will be spendin’ some more time together.”

“Cocky little shite, aren’t ya?”

Soap grinned. “Just honest, sir. I dinnae work as hard as I have tae not be the best. So, figurin’ we’ll be partners and all, might want tae get tae know each other.”

“Who says I want a partner?”

The sergeant tilted his head. “Don’t ‘ave much say in the matter, do ye?” Simon gave nothing, so Soap continued. “From the rumors I heard about what ye all do, havin’ a partner ain’t so bad. Why’re ye so against it?”

“That’s clas…”

“Oi!” The spoon jabbed at Simon. “If ye so much as think the word ‘classified’ one more time, I’m throwin’ the kettle out the windoo!”

“Ya wouldn’t dare.”

Blue eyes steeled. “Try me.”

And damn him if an annoying thrum didn’t appear in Simon’s pulse.

“Fine,” he said. “Where are ya from?”

“Glasgow,” the Scot answered, smile fully unleashed.

“Age?”

The smile faltered. “28.”

“Skills?”

“Demolitions and sniper, but ye already knew that, along with…” Brows crinkled. “From ma file…” Blue eyes snapped to Simon’s. “Noo jist haud on! That’s cheatin’!”

“And that wasn’t English.”

“Askin’ me questions ye already know from ma file doesnna count, sir.”

It was Simon’s turn to shrug. “Seems fair to me. Askin’ questions, aren't I?”

The Scot rolled his eyes. “Not fair when I’m the only one with a file worth readin’.”

“Been doin’ more diggin’, Sergeant?”

“Not much tae dig. Though I’m guessin’ the whole ‘deceased’ is…?”

“Classified.”

The thunk of Soap’s forehead on the table bounced off the creaking walls. Precious cup of coffee still grasped in his hands, a groan left his lips. “Yer fuckin’ impossible, aren’t ye?”

“Nah, Sergeant.” Simon’s smirk carried his tone. “I’m just really fuckin’ good.”

The Scot stared, stunned, until a rough laugh barked out of his mouth. “Holy shit,” he leaned back, wrapping an arm around his stomach. “Alright. Ye got me there, sir. I surrender this round,” Soap gave a mock bow.

“Ya ready to hear some intel, or still need my ID tag too?” Simon asked.

“Hmm, that’s a twelfth mission move, sir,” Soap muttered into his coffee. And Simon really needed his pulse to stop thrumming.

#edited with new design #tay writes #call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghostsoap #soapghost #soap x ghost #ghost x soap #goap

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pandorafallz · 11 months

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Overseer AU | Final Warnings

“It’s not my fault, Okay!” Parker’s voice was the usual insufferable whine as Quaritch topped up his own glass with water as the man continued over the screen to his superior about the sudden loss of the department head of the Avatar Program given the death of Dr Rene Harper a month ago which Dr Augustine had inherited as the next best candidate

Quaritch wasn’t against the program as a whole; the notion of humans living in alien bodies creeped him out a little but he hadn’t seem much use but gas bagging to the natives. Grace was annoying as fuck but… there were far more results gained made her more bearable. Unlike Selfridge, he could be patient….mostly. In two years’ time, they’d get Sully on Pandora; an ex-marine that presented a good opportunity to get to the blue monkeys to move with less bloodshed as possible quicker than Augustine had in the last thirty.

He could wait two more years.

Sully probably was their next best option given Augustine was… well otherwise dead to the service for the next foreseeable future. The lack of Augustine mostly would seed a gap between the RDA and the natives that he’d need Sully to finish soon enough as well. He could assume the school mess, not just the death of the Avatar certainly didn’t help; not that he overly cared what the natives thought.

It just made things harder.

Still, the effect of what could happen to the avatar driver was….surprising and unsettling. The fact there were many scientists documenting Augustine’s condition meant it was not only a new condition but also, unforeseen. He didn’t think anything could knock someone as hardass and annoying as Augustine on her ass. Here he had thought the avatar body was just an easy way to escape danger when in fact, they were Trojan horses to their own actions if something went wrong out there.

At least he could enjoy the peace and quiet for the next few years until either the new avatar wakes her up or until the coma breaks. Still, as head of security, he had to make sure it didn’t happen again. Avatar drivers would probably need more security.

He’d have to ask his soldiers why they targeted one of their own avatars than the perpetrators that had damaged their equipment; he was not looking forwards to those reports…. And they’d need the avatar’s body back for an autopsy soon enough to see what bullet had struck her no doubt. He’d get an avatar group to do that; the blue faces would be better received than human ones right now.

Parker swore as the line closed off and he slumped into his seat. “Ugh.”

“It’s probably a good thing Augustine’s in a coma. She’d probably personally smash your face in with that bow for what you did to her avatar.” Quaritch nodded to the decorative piece behind Selfridge’s desk that was hung up.

“Not you too,” Selfridge pulled a face. “Look, you know why our soldiers went to the school. It’s not like we started it. Those savages have no idea how hard it is to get our equipment here and functional. Burning it…. god, it makes things so much harder!”

Quaritch raised his eyebrow in little concern for the man’s problem. “You gonna authorize the new avatar for her?”

“I don’t know. It’s goddam expensive to make and it’s not like I can order one on the next resupply fully grown in time. Given the loss was… apparently our fault given the security footage clearly showed Augustine sticking out like a sore thumb when the shots were fired…it’s a free of charge avatar body if I let her have one.”

The note of disgust was not unmissed but the comment surprised Quaritch a little. Those bodies were 5 million for a successful avatar. Another one was a dent in their recourses and no doubt in Selfridge’s books as well; it was a huge loss of investment to lose one and make a new.

Again, Quaritch didn’t care.

“So, options are Augustine remains comatose for the next few years until the new avatar is ready, or you never give her an avatar and she remains comatose until….death and you have to find a new department head.” There was no way she could leave in a shuttle in her state. It was probably more humane to check her records on NDR or if she had a euthanasia consented in the event of an irreversible condition.

“Max Patel is filling her role for now. No new avatar scientists or drivers for another two years. Either way, I’m waiting a few years that I don’t have. We need those blue bodies to work and get the ingenious to trust us.”

Clearly, Parker didn’t see the same flaw in the plan that he did with that. But he needed the program to keep going as well, so Quaritch didn’t argue against him, just took a steady sip of his drink.

“Authorise the body and give better care for Augustine while she’s in a coma.” Quaritch spoke, “It’ll look good on you like you care, the new body will show that it wasn’t purposeful and was simply an accident. Last thing you want is a bad rumor going around the base. It’ll damage morale and it’ll make you look like you don’t know what you’re fucking doing.”

“They were your soldiers. I didn’t shoot her.”

“I know. I’ll give a nice, warm talking to when I get out of here.” Quaritch spoke, “But it all reflects on you, at the end of the day, not just me” He added, “You might as well have had that gun in your hands after all.”

“Okay, fine. She’ll get the blue body. Go discipline whoever did it and just…leave me alone. I have so much more work to do now.”

“Aw, it’s so small.”

Dr Kim Greene couldn’t help herself at the coo she gave as the xenobioengineers finished with the final setup of the incubating tank where inside, the fetus of Grace’s new avatar was growing inside a makeshift organic transparent sac within the tank for better monitoring of it until it outgrew the membrane sack and absorbed it.; after that, it’d grow into the rest of the tank. The artificial umbilical cord was long but the sac helped keep it centered in the tank and not pulled when the avatar fetus moved.

The heart was beating now and rapidly through the near translucent blue skin that show the developing ribs, the fingers and toes flexed ever so often though the nubs of the tail was easy to see just as much as the na’vi queue at the base of its neck; it’s tendrils already growing out. The eyeballs were sealed behind skin though, like a human fetus, it was dark (but would lighten to yellow as the eyes developed) so relatively easy to see through the skin

“Look, tiny fingers and toes!” Kim cooed again, “Oh, I forgot how fascinating these things were.”

“You have an avatar as well, Dr Greene.” Dr Patel pointed out with a warm, amused smile.

“I only saw it when it was smaller than this and then when it was fully grown. I didn’t get to see the near entirety of its development.” Kim spoke fondly, her hands touching the glass. “Speaking of my Avatar, I need to go. Quaritch wants me and a few others to go to the school for a sweep for Grace’s dead avatar before animals eat it.”

Max sighed deeply, “You do realize the Na’vi probably buried it. It’s been a day since the attack.”

“No harm in checking. I may be in combat but I’m still a field medic.” Kim gave him a soft look though she hoped they’d bring something back for the logs. They really needed to know the cause of death. As a driver herself, she knew she didn’t want to wind up as a vegetable if her avatar died. She had almost lost her avatar once due to sickness and she had no intention of letting that happen again.

She bid a farewell to Dr Patel first then to the fetus then headed off for her assignment.

Kim pulled Dr Madaki and Dr Masterson with her for this mission, xenozoologist and a research doctor should look harmless if they come across any pissed off natives. Given the RDA had killed a few children; she didn’t expect less but she knew she had to tread a fine line with navigating with them to get what was left of the dead avatar. The school was the first place they needed to be.

Getting linked up, Kim met the two at the Samson as they were loading up.

“Side arms? Really?” Masterson was less than impressed as she handed him a holster. “Isn’t a weapon gonna trigger them into attacking us?”

“A precaution for all avatar drivers.” Kim sighed, “Quaritch’s orders.”

“The Na’vi will be bows out before we reach for them!”

“Then don’t be stupid.” Kim spoke, “we all know what’ll happen if we die in these bodies so be sensible. The guns aren’t for the natives.” The wildlife was another story; that couldn’t be reasoned with. “So don’t freak out if you see one; they can be reasoned with. Shooting at them while we’re out there puts us in the same boat of Dr Augustine.”

“Why did you have to pick us?” Madaki huffed, tightening the holder around his slim waist, making sure his tail wasn’t caught up.

“The Na’vi have seen you before. You both worked with Dr Augustine and visited the school at some point. They should know your face far better than mine. ”

“Ugh, sound logic.” Masterson groaned, “I hate that.”

Kim laughed softly, double-checking they had an avatar body bag and tools before loading into the jet.

The trip was not overly long, though Kim ordered the guard to remain with the pilot while they went ahead toward the wooden school building.

The air smelt…almost normal for Pandora but there was a lingering hint of AMP fuel. Na’vi arrows were embedded into a few near trees which felt like a warning though her steps paused at the sight of the school itself.

It was designed with lightly thatched walls of wooden beams, reclining blind windows to allow air in and out, and the roof was thatched with dried grass. A combination of humans and Na’vi work to make it but now… bullet holes seemed to have struck straight through the woven walls, even the door which was barely a door, was broken down.

Getting closer, Kim realized now that blood now adorned the wooden surface of the frame and floor but there was enough that clearly splatted inwards.

“Take….take scans of the building. We need to document this. Augustine’s going to want to know when she wakes up.” She ordered. Kim carefully stepped around the blood stains, though inside, it wasn’t any better; bullets had clearly rained through the other side as well; one window was missing it’s entire blind so it was likely this was the escape for the children and Dr Augustine. She stepped over another blood stain, probably from someone caught by a stray bullet, carefully looking through the damaged window.

Outside, there were clear indentation marks of impacts on the grad underneath. Curiously, Kim went back out than jump out and knelt close to the markings though her eyes roamed the foliage around; blooded wooden shards did little comfort and—

Kim paused as she noticed the familiar lanyard string. From her waist bag, she pulled on a set of gloves and a clear bag before pulling on the string. To her surprise, the lanyard wasn’t whole, it had a clear bullet hole running through its bottom right corner with blood staining the plastic.

Augustine’s lanyard wasn’t just a lanyard; it was her security card inside the plastic pocket that allowed her access to doors, second to that, there was a memory chip from her work as well she had for her assignments. Good thing the natives didn’t know what it was, even if it was damaged.

Dr Masterson continued collecting the 3D scans of the area, taking scans of the window and the ground markings though as Kim started to follow, towards the treeline, the sight of an arrow tip pointing directly as she pulled her mind away from the path, her hands rose up to a surrender.

“Guy, hands away from weapons.” She called back.

“Kim, what—oh.”

Kim stepped back further, her tail swishing anxiously though it was a single warrior woman, her face was serious and the grip on her bow was not relaxed; ready to fire.

“We’re not here to cause harm.” Her Na’vi was not perfect but she didn’t learn it to be perfect; just enough to carry a conversation…or beg for her life. “We’re here documenting the senseless attack to for accountability of the RDA’s crimes and to collect the body of Dr Grace Augustine.”

The woman was not alone, four other warriors seemed to step out from the treeline.

“you are not welcome here.”

“We’re not here to impose, we need to collect our dead for our cultural burials,” Kim spoke again. “We don’t seek to cause harm.” She repeated, “I offer my deepest and sincere condolences to anyone hurt and killed in this attack.”

“We should kill them.” Another warrior spoke. “The risks… we cannot take it. Not again.”

“Yu’gal, send word to the Olo'eyktan of Dreamwalkers at the school.”

One warrior nodded, and she disappeared off. Kim didn’t risk breaking her stare at the arrow to see where she went. With an arrow this size, it’d do a lot of damage. A neurotoxin wasn’t as harmful to Na’vi or the avatars; it’d certainly suck for sure if they were nicked a little with it but with where that was aimed; it’d kill her for sure.

Still, it had to be a quicker death than what Augustin had if she made it deeper into Omatikaya territory under her own steam.

Kim took the hint to move, her colleagues doing the same until they were huddled together. They waited perhaps ten minutes— though Kim lied through a check-in that everything was alright—before anyone else came to them.

She recognized the tall, decorative frame of the Omatikaya’s Olo'eyktan quickly as he rode upon the back of the Direhorses, a strong bow in hand but thankfully, nothing notched. Kim was more surprised to see the Tsahìk as well.

This was not a good sign if both of them were here.

Eytukan jumped from his Direhorse with practised ease, his head held strong and eyes unforgiving. Broadcasting strength and weight of leadership that… make Selfridge look like a toddler eating glitter glue and Quaritch like a juvenile with fake tats and piped up on his own conference. In a heartbeat, she felt well and truly intimated by his presence. Her ears lowered back, not meeting his hash gaze.

A flurry of new warriors also seemed to line the trees as well; running would see the deaths of their avatars. She had to hope she could talk this out.

“What are you called, Dreamwalker?” Eytukan’s hard words were spoken in English.

“Doctor Kimberly Greene. My colleagues are Doctors Zane Madaki and Doctor Ryder Masterson. I’m a medic while the other two are research scientists of plants and animals.” Kim spoke, glad for once her voice didn’t waver, “We’ve been sent to collect Dr Augustine’s body and to collect evidence of the attack that occurred here.” To cover their basis of why they were here again.

The Tsahìk moved this time, her eyes narrow and careful. “What happened to Graceaugustine’s sky person’s body at her death?”

That was a very specific question, referring to the avatar no doubt.

“She…went into a state of shock and had a grand mal seizure in her link bed. From what I was told, she experienced a cardiac arrest event whilst in treatment.” It was probably why Augustine was still on life-support but she doubted they’d understand that aspect so, Kim didn’t mention it.

The Tsahìk’s head tilted, though seemed to nod with some sort of agreement. “I see.” She straightened up with an edge of discontent. “Her body was returned to the ground in a sacred place so you will not be taking her body. Her…belonging she had upon her, we will return.”

Kim spared a look to Madaki though returned her gaze to the Tsahìk as she collected something from a large pouch looped around the direhorse’s behind.

From it, familiar shorts were neatly folded and bound with twine, and it was clearly the rest of Dr Augustine’s personal belongings. Kim opened her arms and accepted them but the Tsahìk’s hand lingered on top for a moment longer before she pulled away the headband with some reservation from the pile and nearly kept it; neatly coiling it in her palm and tucking it away out of sight.

Kim opted not to argue with that. Maybe the Tsahìk and Dr Augustine had been friends; another personal loss for her as well

Though it seemed Eytukan even gave her a lingering look but chose now was not the time for a discussion about it.

“You will go now. Know this, five children were killed by your people’s hands. My eldest daughter included. Any Dreamwalker or sky person found wandering unaccompanied and damaging our jungle will be met with a swift and sudden death.” Eytukan spoke, “Your kind is too dangerous.”

“Sa'nok, come help!” Grace’s head turned from her work with a warm smile as Neytep held out a series of beads and woven twine out to her.

Her form shifted from human to her avatar with ease as she abandoned her work to sit down beside the young girl as she set the beads back into the little dish at the foot of the Hometree roots.

“What are we making today?” Grace was no expert in weaving or… crafts but clearly, the girl was excited to show her.

“Well, a loin cloth! See these seeds are dried out. My sister used to make mine and now, I want to show you how to make it! Weaving is a very important skill, Sa'nok ”

“Well, I’m sure whatever you’ll make will be beautiful but… as a sky person, loin cloths aren’t something I wear.” She pulled lightly on her cream outer shirt. Neytep eyed it, her fingers coming to touch along it then began to fiddle with the beads that hung down in her hair.

“You could try it? Don’t you always ask us to try something before we decide not to like it?”

Grace couldn’t help the soft laugh, of course, the little one would use her own logic against her. Still, she could humor the child.

“I suppose so.”

“Maybe next we can talk about song cords..”

Grace’s head turned to see Sylwanin crouched on the end of the Hometree spiral. In her hands, she hands a cord of beads and knotted twine, her fingers touching over them with reverence.

“I suppose. We have all the time in the world, after all.” Grace figured; no one was disturbing them and the children were happy. She was fine with that.

#avatar #avatar au #avatar james cameron #avatar the way of water #avatar rda #parker selfridge #miles quaritch #grace augustine #overseer grace #overseer au #neytiri #eytukan

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dorminchu · 4 months

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Between Heaven and Earth: Chapter Two

Another morning, another day spent in enemy territory. The date in the ledgers and newspapers and Grice's letters was always the same. One thousand and sixty four years away from home. Six into her term. Seven left for a civilian life back in Marley. If the situation didn't improve, her father's request might be his last.

A few days ago, she'd been training as usual, with Jaeger. On the way to the mess hall, the ring wasn't in her pocket. Carolina asked why she was so distressed, and Leonhardt said she was fine. She'd just forgotten something.

Keepsakes be damned, Instructor Brecken said, she had kitchen duty this afternoon. If it was that important, she could check the grounds after she was done. First thing tomorrow, the 104th Training Corps had mandatory service with the Garrison. No doubt, he was only saying it because of her reputation as a truant.

Leonhardt, Kirschtein and Blaus ended up together. Blaus was better with the knife, so Leonhardt ended up fetching the water with Kirschtein. The worst he could do was call her moodier than usual.

"I was thinking about something I have to do tomorrow," Leonhardt said. "And if I have to talk, I can't focus on carrying the water, nor can you."

Kirschtein scoffed. "How are you not freezing?"

"Maybe I've just got better genes."

He laughed, which wasn't what she intended. "You're all right," he said. "You and Reiner."

Leonhardt held her tongue.

Back inside, she got to setting a fire whilst Kirschtein brought more water.

"You figured where you want to go, once you graduate?" Blaus asked. "'Cause I've been doing a little thinking about it myself. I hear the Scouting Legion has undergone a lot of changes from within. The Garrison's always overcrowded and the MPs, well," she snorted, "a fat lot of good they've done for humanity. They're not the real problem. Life ain't that much better if you live closer to the cities than not. Sure, it's not regulated, but no one's going to offer you a hand when the Walls come down."

Great. Now they were having a conversation. "Where'd you grow up?"

"Pardon?"

"Your accent," Leonhardt said. "You don't sound like anyone else here."

Blaus cleared her throat. "I try to speak properly, you know. The attitude around here is that folk from the country a-aren't of much use, save menial labor." She looked Leonhardt up and down. "I've been meaning to ask, uh. You know Reiner, don't you?" Leonhardt gave a slight nod. "Well, last night at the bonfire we were all swapping stories. He says he's from Ragako. But Springer grew up there. He's lived there his whole life before the Titans broke through Wall Maria. He'd have seen 'im, but he told me Reiner was never there. You and Bertholdt neither." She gave a little shrug. "I reckoned that Reiner was really sloshed and meant a different town, but he and Fritz went off to get more beer and I never got to ask 'im. And he wouldn't recall even if I asked him now, I reckon."

Private Ackermann shouldered the door open and let it fall shut behind her. Blaus looked over.

"Mikasa. Are you on kitchen duty?"

Ackermann didn't answer. She nodded to Leonhardt. "Eren was looking for you."

"Tell him I'm busy," Leonhardt said. "He shouldn't have you delivering messages for him."

If Ackermann felt any particular way about the slight, she didn't show it. "He didn't ask me to." She walked over until she was behind Leonhardt's shoulder. She was about the same height as her brother. She reached into her own breast pocket and took out something small. "He found this on the training grounds," she said. "Is it yours?"

Leonhardt glanced at the ring. "Yes," she said. "I must have dropped it." She took the ring, placed it back in her pocket, no emotion.

Ackermann's expression did not change. "You should be more careful," she said.

Blaus chimed in, "I didn't know you wore rings, Annie."

Goddam it all. "It's just a keepsake, Blaus."

…

Despite Grice's presence in the Garrison, they'd yet to actually meet in-person as Paradisian soldiers. The most overt action he'd taken was to provide a disguise for her infiltration into the interior. After it went south, he stopped sending letters for a month. In Marley, he'd probably be promoted to Vice-Commander when all was said and done. She'd be lucky to be a Captain, if she continued to drop the ball during critical moments. Grice's letter didn't cast any blame, just assured her that they'd talk more about her career once she was in Stohess.

Hoover and Braun didn't seem too upset either. They could just be playing along, dedicating their hearts to humanity with all the rest of these devils. When the only real difference boiled down to a coat of arms and culture, what was the sense in buying into someone else's war?

If Finger and Galliard were alive, they'd be ushered on the front lines. Whether you were in the Warrior Unit or a lowly ground soldier, you were still pawns in Marley's proxy battles. Even if she could write to them, there wasn't any guarantee they'd see the letters. Liberio's postal service was heavily scrutinized by Marleyan secret police. Even if you were clever enough to couch everything in entendre, if it was sent from within the internment zone, you'd be better off throwing it out.

It wasn't like they were close to begin with. What would she even say? We're six years deep into this mission, and we've made no meaningful progress. Tell Gabi she shouldn't wait up for her cousin. And tell Galliard I'm sorry about his brother.

None of this was particularly constructive, but the instructor was droning on about ODM gear maintenance and gears while Leonhardt took notes without thinking too deeply. The best weapon to kill a Titan were their blades, or a lucky cannon shot, which was so inaccurate you might as well hope for Wall Maria to magically seal itself, too.

Pure Titans usually wouldn't stay still and let you at their napes. So the exercises with the dummies were more of a means to build muscle memory on the theoretical battlefield. Aberrant Titans were notorious for baiting out a soldier from his horse, or catching him on the wires of his ODM gear, and that would be the end of it. It was customary to take out the heels—as Titans were still formed in the image of Man, according to their textbooks—and dispatch them face-down if it were not possible to slice the nape directly. Many of these Titans might have been sent to Heaven. If one of these subjects were to return to their original form, how much would they remember?

Old friends abandoned or sacrificed in the name of a war inherited. Nothing on the island was hers to keep. Not even her old life.

After the lecture was over, Fritz got up and started talking to Lenz as usual. Lenz went on by herself. Fritz hung back, started walking down the row towards Leonhardt's desk.

"Hey," she said. Fritz had spoken maybe a couple sentences to her in three years of service. She was usually busy sucking up to Lenz, who was either too polite to refuse or had some undisclosed motive. She was the only one Leonhardt hadn't figured out. "Heard that it was your birthday a few days ago." Fritz cracked a sly smile. "Thought I'd congratulate you on staying alive one more year."

"Thanks."

"I would've wished you a happy birthday then, but you were slacking off, as usual. I guess I just forgot." Leonhardt's stomach tensed. She stood up to leave with the other cadets, and Fritz followed her. "With your score, I guess you can afford to be a little lax." This wasn't just about swapping chore duty. "Those MP Brigade men aren't like the lazy idiots you hear about in Wall Sina, are they?"

"What do you want?" Leonhardt said coolly.

"To put in the bare minimum when it comes to civil service. Same as you." Fritz glanced meaningfully at Leonhardt. "I'd rather the two of us stayed friendly."

"Did Instructor Brecken put you on latrine duty again?"

Fritz blinked twice. A short burst of laughter. "Nah, not this time." She was looking at Leonhardt in a way she never had before. "Who's Marcel Galliard?"

An instant, where there was no other recourse but to kill Fritz. Facilitating a training accident by herself would be next to impossible with all these other cadets around. Fritz could just as well be lying about Hoover's involvement, or Braun's. She was imposing her way into Leonhardt's mission, like Carolina and Jaeger.

Fritz shrugged. "Reiner mentioned that you grew up in the same hometown. He was pretty sozzed when he said it though."

The Warriors were loyal to Marley and only Marley. It stood to reason that Paradis and the interior would have their own methods of dealing with abberations in this "last of mankind" farce. Was it possible that Paradis had its own branch of Titan Shifters?

"You've never asked me about my home before," Leonhardt said.

Fritz's expression was difficult to read. "We're going to be stuck together for another year. Why not get to know each other a little?"

"I'm not interested in making friends."

Fritz straightened up. "Ditto."

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

…

Before ODM inspection, Leonhardt passed by Braun's seat and said, "Hey. Did you see Fritz at the bonfire, last night?"

Braun went still. "Only for a bit. I got pretty drunk. So I don't remember much of what we talked about. It probably wasn't that important." His smiles didn't tend to reach his eyes.

If he had said anything, he'd sooner die than admit to it. "Annie," Hoover said, catching her eye, "I was just thinking we should review our notes. After practise?"

"Sure," she muttered.

"Yeah," Braun said with a snort, "that's likely."

Hoover stiffened. As Leonhardt kept walking she heard him say, "Shut up, Reiner."

…

Privates Jaeger, Arlert, Lenz and Blaus, wished her a happy birthday. Evidently, Carolina wasn't the type to keep a secret well. But they were bunkmates, and it was easier to let Carolina remain friendly than not. In return for her tolerance, Carolina did not ask anything in return than Leonhardt's occasional time and attention. She'd probably have a standard, unobtrusive existence pushing papers in the Garrison or the Scouting Legion.

The ring, she'd keep in the breast pocket of her uniform jacket. No use flashing it around unless she had any real need. Each Warrior had a preferred method of activation. Braun used a knife. Hoover, too.

…

"It's your birthday?" asked Carolina out of nowhere during lunch.

Leonhardt glanced over. "Who told you?"

"Bertholdt."

That figured. Hoover and Braun had different ideas of what constituted as "justifiable" information to volunteer to the enemy. The last time anyone had asked Leonhardt, it was to confirm her birth records and blood type.

"Hannah was thinking about going into town, the next time we have a day off. We could pool our allowances. Is there anything you wanted?"

Leonhardt had been wearing the same jacket since she was fourteen. She took pretty good care of it, so it wasn't threadbare, but it was getting a little dingy. Easier to manage than their uniforms. Whoever decided white chinos were suitable should've been put on latrine duty. Or thrown over the Wall and fed to his Eldian brethren.

The next time they had voluntary service in Trost, she couldn't talk her way out of accepting a new hoodie. She made a mental note to ask Carolina when her birthday was.

…

Last night, they'd had the first bonfire in a while. The weather was damp, but permitting.

Hoover and Jaeger sat by the waning embers. Braun, Fritz and a handful of cadets took turns swapping beers, trusting the inebriation to keep them warm until they wandered back to the barracks. The more sensible ones had already retired an hour ago.

"Can't sleep?"

Jaeger didn't answer. "Do you dream about it?"

The back of Hoover's neck prickled. "About what?"

"Life before." Jaeger wouldn't look at him. His jaw set. "I used to. It was worse when we were living in poorhouses. I'd wake up and forget where I was. Scared the hell out of Armin." He stole a glance at his nails. "Everything after that day feels like a nightmare."

Hoover said nothing.

Jaeger rolled his shoulders. "My dad and mom, they weren't close. He was always working, he wouldn't come home for months sometimes. And she never talked about it in front of me but she'd talk to Mikasa, when she thought I was asleep. We both remember that." He stole a glance at a discarded flask. "I keep having this dream. Not about Shiganshina. I'm in a room I don't recognize. My father is there, too. I ask him where Armin and Mikasa are. He's ignoring my questions. I try and tell him that mom's dead, and he goes berserk. He tells me that—" a short, sharp intake of breath "—it's my fault. Everything that happened, it's my fault. And if I try to desert the mission, the MPs won't have a body to identify. But that's bullshit, because if he knew something why'd he leave us to—" His eyes glistened in the light. He took a swig of ale, wincing. "It's fucking crazy." He took another swig and coughed, wiping his mouth. "Dad never spoke to me or my mom like that. It has to be a dream. But it doesn't feel like one."

"Do you blame yourself for what happened?" Jaeger's hackles raised. He didn't answer. "What happened in Shiganshina wasn't your fault," Hoover said quietly. "There was nothing you, or I, or anyone could have done differently."

Jaeger's face was blotchy in the flickering light. He scowled. "They should've been destroyed a long time ago," he spat, his voice thicker. "Fucking pestilence on our country is what they are." He blinked rapidly and turned, as if Hoover would pretend not to see. "I mean, an animal, even one that's dangerous to a human, has something to offer from being killed. Titans don't have any use."

Hoover nodded. "You've made up your mind about joining the Scouts."

"Why wouldn't I?" Eren poked at the fire, drawing sparks. "The bitch ate my mother."

Hoover paused. "The bitch?"

"The fucking Titan." He seemed to sway in-place, his expression hitching. "They're parasites."

…

The snow was spread thin across the grounds, retreating with the promise of warmer weather. The sun hadn't set, but it was getting closer to lights-out. Hoover stood alone on the porch overlooking the boy's barracks.

The seasons in Paradis were easier to bear now they weren't living on the streets. When Leonhardt was twelve, she woke up feverish in the almshouse. She was weak enough that she couldn't get out of bed, so Reiner had to go into town and see a doctor. They sat there for hours, while Hoover picked and did his best not to fret, and by the end of the day Reiner was back with Annie in tow. He'd said the doctor chalked it up to heatstroke, rather than consumption.

Pieck's parents would have called it anhidrosis. For a Subject of Ymir, it was natural.

Hoover perspired less after the injection. He was better at hiding a flush than either of them. He didn't sweat so much as glisten. The spells used to be a lot worse, especially right after their deployment. Reiner was flushed like a lobster. Their bodies simply needed time to adjust to the effects of the serum. It would be uncomfortable for a while, but eventually they'd get used to it. As if it was that simple.

He leant into the banister just to feel the grain against his wrists. He'd taken a book with him, on the pretence of reading, but he couldn't settle down. He could see his breath, but wasn't even shivering.

Last mock-expedition, when Blaus commented that Reiner was physically steaming in the cold, he chuckled and said, "Guess I've got good genes."

He was charismatic enough to brush off discrepancies like that. No surprise that he'd fit in and let Hoover fall into step beside him. The two of them had garnered plenty of admiration from a bunch of impressionable, shellshocked Paradisians desperate for a hero. Easy to drag others into a lie when you were so good at fooling yourself. Deep down, Reiner would always be the terrified boy, begging for mercy under the beech tree.

Bertholdt wasn't as confident, but he'd always been an excellent marksman. His quiet nature was mistaken by others for passivity. Reiner's other half, the boys would call him, and Bertholdt would offer a tight-lipped smile and let Reiner clap him on the back like they were kids again.

When they asked, why do you want to become a solider, his mind would conjure the kindly man who'd taken them in after Shiganshina fell. His death, whatever led him to it, was a more useful gift to the Warriors than the scant amount of money left in his pockets, or the clothes they took. With a few changed words, Bertholdt had a ready alibi. The Titans had ravaged a small village south of Wall Rose. He and Reiner and Annie were the only survivors, and they'd been struggling to get by ever since.

No one ever thought twice. This penal colony was their birthplace, and the King's iron grip on education and history limited their imaginations to the span of each gleaming Wall, hitherto impenetrable. So they let their military fall by the wayside whilst the government grew more corrupt and the divide between economical classes widened. It was a miracle anyone from Shiganshina was permitted past Wall Rose—but of course, the interior still needed able-hands to do the farming and fishing, ready to give up their lives for Paradis. All Bertholdt cared about was finding the Progenitor and going home, and looking after his comrades in Marcel's stead.

"Where've you been?"

Leonhardt said nothing, just wandered to the other side of the banister. "Did Doctor Jaeger ever mention having a son?"

Hoover paused. "Not that I recall."

"Fritz said she talked to Reiner. About Marcel." Hoover wouldn't look at her. "Did she, or not?"

"I don't remember," Hoover admitted, heat creeping through his skin. "He and Ymir and a couple of the cadets were off by themselves. I was talking to Eren."

"About what?" She sneered. "What, it's OK for you and Reiner to lie right to his face?"

"That's not the point. What you're suggesting would be impossible. Dr. Jaeger would have to live many miles away from our hometown in order to cross the ocean. He couldn't return to Shiganshina without raising questions."

"What if he wasn't even Paradisian to begin with?"

Hoover shook his head. "You're scared. You're looking for the simplest explanation. We have to stick with what we know to be true, and Eren doesn't factor into the plan after we graduate."

She glared at a point above his right shoulder. At times like these, she still looked like a kid, hungry to prove herself. Bertholdt was better at disguising his feelings as indifference. Annie always had to insist hers into being, and Reiner had to make himself useful off the goodwill of others. Marcel, if he'd lived, would no doubt suffer from his own hamartia—a word that Armin had taught him from one of his battered notebooks. From the old world, though Arlert had only the breadth of his own imagination.

"I really hope you're right," she whispered. "Because I don't know what we're going to tell Reiner otherwise."

Bertholdt shrugged. "Whatever we have to."

She pulled her hood back up. "How much does he remember?"

Hoover stiffened. "Just his hometown."

Leonhardt turned, her heel leaving a slight divot in the earth. "Do you miss it?"

Most days, it would be easier to wake up in Paradis as a sentient udometer. Hoover looked at his hands. He'd forgotten what it was like, to have callouses and bruises that yellowed on his skin. "Of course."

He was used to being alone, but he had parents awaiting his return, whose love for him wasn't conditional or frayed, or so they always told him. Harbouring empathy for these cadets would only make it difficult to do what was necessary when the time came. Just look at Reiner, split between his feelings and his duty to Marley. And unlike Pieck and Porco, Bertholdt couldn't afford to get his feelings mixed up with duty, even for duty's sake. It was just as likely one of them would be coming home in a box, or not at all.

Thirteen years of uninterrupted service was difficult to fathom at twelve years old.

She said, "I'm going to clear my head. We'll talk about it later."

…

On the way to the training field, she caught sight of Jaeger by himself. He was approximating a kick. He wasn't close to perfect, but he seemed to understand the point of grounding himself. Too perceptive for his own good, in spite of all of his idealistic, pigheaded talk. He wasn't putting on airs, like Braun and Kirschtein.

He turned, back to attention, and waved.

That wasn't an invitation, Jaeger.

"You're still out?" he called. He didn't flinch, like she was expecting. He started jogging towards her.

"I just wanted to go for a walk by myself," she said, once he was in earshot. "Evidently that's not going to happen now."

"It's still dark this time of year," Jaeger said. "I'll walk back with you."

Leonhardt let him trod along in polite silence.

"Thanks," she said. "For finding the ring."

"It's no problem."

She'd done him a favour, keeping him at arm's length. It was the only way she could protect him without lying through her teeth. He'd wind up in the Scouting Legion, and she'd stay on course, wasting away behind a desk in Stohess, and never have to worry about his bright eyes again.

"Are you cold?" he asked, suddenly wary.

She was trembling a little. Hands drawn to fists at her sides. She didn't turn away or knock him to the half-thawed earth. She glanced down at where his heart should be. He wasn't particularly aware, regardless of whether he was underfoot.

She said, "Want to spar?"

…

By the last couple of spars, Jaeger started opening up. He wasn't above deceit—he'd kick up dirt or try to fake her out, but never cheap tricks. His chivalry was holding him back. "In a fight," he panted, "your opponent isn't going to be sporting. It's your life against his."

Leonhardt nodded. "You're smarter than I took you for."

He scoffed. "C'mon, it's just common sense."

He wasn't laughing when she flipped him over. "Now I don't have to go easy on you."

Jaeger groaned. "Are you serious?"

"You were serious," she said, "a second ago." This close, her bangs fell across his face. His eyes were green. His pulse fluttered under the skin of his throat. "I told you not to let your guard down."

Jaeger, breathing hard, struggled against the cold dirt. Bravado shifting into awareness of their proximity. He managed to get his legs up. The ground knocked out from under her. Ankles pinned. The exaltation of his success was all over his face—his eyes shining in the lamp-light, his grip clammy. Close enough to bump noses.

"I did it!" he exclaimed, the same tone as when she flipped him on his ass the first time. Up close, he was awfully loud.

She drawled, "Don't let it go to your head." As they got back to their feet, she was staring at his face, under his eyelids. The skin there smooth and flawless. Each day brought them closer to the inevitable. She couldn't look him in the eyes and play along forever. Not in any good conscience.

She moved closer, reached up to frame his jaw in her fingers without thinking about the consequences until he croaked, "Is this part of the lesson?"

Leonhardt pressed the pads of her fingers in, slightly. Hand on the back of his neck. His skin was feverish. She tipped her head up, so her lips barely touched his jugular. She could bite down, now, and draw the steam into her lungs like air. The same phantom taste of iron. Spinal fluid. A moment of ambiguity, full of potential, and she could serve the remainder of her term twice over and still flounder for an explanation when it came to him.

"Uh," he said.

"Stop talking," she said, her voice small and halting in a way she could not disguise. He lowered his head. Their mouths met, teeth clicking together. His hands groped for purchase, settling on the back of her head and her waist.

On the way back to the barracks, her skin still tingled.

…

Braun and Hoover were mistaken. So was Carolina, and her light teasing about how often Jaeger asked to partner up. It had nothing to do with Jaeger as a person but his existence, itself an enigma. The only one who hadn't caught on was Jaeger himself.

Each time he sat beside her, or agreed to train with her, asking innocuous, unimportant questions about her false life on Paradis and sharing bits of his childhood in return, she became less of a Warrior and closer to this façade. An ordinary girl he would not outlive by twenty three. After graduation, perhaps he'd come to visit her during leave, and let him say a lot of sappy, stupid things that usually made her itch to hit something solid.

The summer before graduation, she cornered him after ODM practice. She fed him some half-hearted lie about Bodt catching her slacking off, which he never stopped to question. He saw her cool veneer and the truth beneath it, close enough to grasp at her ennui but not its cause. Like a kick he couldn't master, only block, he'd push for her to stop bullshitting and say whatever she meant.

It had been about sparring, at first, but he wasn't clever enough to pick up on her ulterior motives. He didn't seem to dwell upon Ackermann, no matter how desperately she clung to him or that scarf.

She'd never snuck anyone into the barracks, and she didn't plan on starting now. It seemed like an obvious way to get caught. Nothing could deter him from signing his life away to an underfunded military regime. But he ought to learn how to treat a girl.

…

In a couple weeks, she woke up in the girl's barracks without an appetite. Carolina insisted she mull over the porridge anyway, and Leonhardt went along with it. It didn't get any better. She couldn't manage a full lap around the field without falling over.

She vomited before she could help it, and Carolina volunteered to take her to the infirmary. Everyone was speculating about her and Jaeger and all those late training sessions. None of it had ever amounted to much.

At twelve years old, the medical staff in Marley didn't really talk specifics beyond venereal disease. Warriors were not encouraged to make families of their own—defying the odds, it would be an Eldian bastard. A Warrior's internal temperature was elevated a few degrees, thanks to the serum, and it would be impossible for anything to survive.

Back then, it ultimately meant nothing. Civilian life was never in her future. As if Marley needed anymore half-Titans running around, the doctor might say to his assistant, just loud enough to be overheard.

At sixteen, she had to go to the infirmary like any ordinary girl. The doctor didn't seem to think anything of it and chalked it up to food poisoning, because she hadn't eaten. He was only saving face, not for her sake but for the military's reputation.

In Paradis, pregnancies were a faster path back to the fields, in wedlock or disgrace, usually in the same tone as bastard or whoreson. Incidents were more common before the decree to lower the age for the draft.

An honorable soldier, he said, would dedicate oneself for the good of humanity. It was the right thing to do. Leonhardt was looking out the window, the bright lights beyond, anywhere but his face. The same old diatribe about dedication to the fatherland with a few changed words.

Carolina would be inconsolable, in her place. Not everyone could be a Warrior.

After the scare, even when Leonhardt was cleared for training, Carolina would sulk at the table during mealtime, while Diamant and a couple of the obsequious cadets expressed sympathies and surprise about Leonhardt's speedy recovery. Leonhardt never made it a point to converse with anyone, and she wasn't going to start now. These bad moods always cleared up.

Carolina wasn't talking to her before lights-out either. She barely would look at Leonhardt as she took her spot in the top bunk. Leonhardt stared at the wooden slat separating them. She wasn't going to beg Carolina to reveal her feelings. Ingratiating oneself with other people just implied weakness. Even the nicer ones couldn't really help but push their luck.

That night, they had a short, awkward heart-to-heart where Carolina got a little emotional as she expressed her concern for her comrade's well-being, and Leonhardt did her best to afford her some dignity.

…

The next time they'd speak to each other, it was in Trost.

A mess of viscera already going cold and sickly-sweet smell of rot. Clump of black hair saturated with blood and brain matter. The ODM gear, torn from the wires when the Titan ripped its prey from the wall, was found battered but intact not too far from the body. If she didn't check the canister, she wouldn't ever have to know for sure who it had belonged to. For her own sake, she did not look.

When the woman from the Garrison asked for a name, Leonhardt's eyes caught on the discarded gear. The woman went over to it. Five syllables, and Leonhardt didn't weep. That luxury had been stamped out of her long ago.

As long as the spine and brain remained intact, a Warrior could survive just like any Pure Titan. She'd never given a thought to trade her powers for mortality, with the bruises and weariness, just for a concrete end to her guilt and false promises of going home. Marley did not reward failure or half-measures.

After graduation, life didn't come to a screeching halt. The Garrison could always use some extra hands, despite the lack of a foreseeable threat. Better, to not be caught unawares. So the graduates were carted off to Trost to attend to Wall Rose.

The rest of the 104th didn't notice a missing cadet. When the flash of lightning struck, a shockwave so intense, the survivors said, it rattled the cannons and shook the Wall itself. Jaeger and the survivors formed an impromtu squad to combat the Colossus Titan, but the damage was already done.

The captains were lining up the survivors into groups, establishing a chain of command that quickly broke down under the stress of the Titans' onslaught. Hoover melted easily into the panicked throng of civilians and reappeared just in time for deployment.

Next visitation day, Diamant caught on. "Ever had one, Annie?" Leonhardt caught herself staring. She shoved her hands in her pockets. "No." "My grandmother used to make them," Diamant said. "But the ones here are about as good as hers."

Hours before, she'd found Arlert curled up in the shadow of a second-storey's eaves, unharmed, out of gas. It would be Ackermann who went over to him, who touched his arm. It was Leonhardt who posed the question that had been eating away at her since that morning.

Eyes on his knuckles, curling into the fabric of his ragged chinos, he would not look at any of them. His shoulders shook. In a stumbling voice that no one could understand very well, he began to rattle off names. Zeramuski, Wagner, Carolina. They'd called out to each other, if they weren't immediately killed. Carolina managed to seclude herself between one of the narrower alleys. Eventually she'd stopped screaming.

Jaeger, he said, had given his life to save him.

Such should have been the tragic, but conclusive end to the 104th Trainee Corps' suicidal bastard.

…

"He's one of us," Leonhardt said afterwards. "He has to be."

The three of them were hunkered down in the shell of a building that used to be a tenement. Hoover was crouched down next to her, which he hadn't done since they were kids. Braun kept pacing.

"I knew something was wrong with him," she said, her voice small. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around herself. "I should have said something."

"The interior mission was a wash. We can't afford to be sidetracked." Hoover forced a little smile. "We have to stick to the plan. You've got the grades to make it into Stohess. That's more important."

Leonhardt's shoulders stiffened. "We've been looking at this from the wrong perspective," she snapped. "The King doesn't have any real influence. The MP Brigade and their sponsors in Mitras are the ones who'll have answers about Dr. Jaeger."

"What's Eren's father have to do with this?"

Hoover's terrified expression mirrored how she felt. "Eren's father has been missing for a while. We thought, if anyone might know why Eren did what he did-"

Braun looked from one to the other. "D'you hear yourself? It would be a blow against humanity, to admit to knowing what we do now. Nothing we say or do would excuse Eren's actions in the eyes of the military, much less these people we swore to protect. They all want him killed." He shook his head. "I just can't believe it. He seemed like a normal kid to me." He really didn't remember anything, did he? She didn't look at Hoover for confirmation. Braun exhaled. "Look, I understand what you're going through is difficult. It's difficult for me, as well. You've got to get your act togeth―"

Leonhardt wheeled around, grabbed him by the front of the shirt and slammed him with all her might into the nearest wall. Hoover's cry of alarm did nothing to dissuade her.

"We can't keep avoiding this forever," she spat, meeting Braun's eyes from below. "Right now we're going to allow humanity to deal with the fallout. But it's going to catch up to you soon, and it's not going to just be you that's made a pariah." Braun grunted, seemingly unaffected by the blow. "Don't lose sight of the mission," she said. "For humanity's sake as much as ours."

She let him drop. Turned away, refusing to look at Hoover. The only difference between them was how thoroughly the lie had seeped into his consciousness.

…

Waking up to sunlight. Feverish, the taste of salt and iron in the back of her throat. Her new dorm had curtains. Life in Stohess's Military Police HQ meant little beyond a change in scenery. Ennui settling in with the lack of any meaningful progress or purpose. The sound of crickets replaced by horse-drawn carriages and conversations from passersby. Maybe the occasional drunken brawl outside during the evenings. Those were pretty easy to break up. Leonhardt didn't usually get patrol duty. It would seem putting a stop to fights, with or without resorting to force, was directly antithetical to the MP MO. Lately they had her pushing papers.

Days turning cyclical and uneventful. The hollow in her chest made for a better companion than her new roommate.

"You can't lay there like a dead fish," Dreyse said, already half-dressed. "We need to be downstairs in ten."

Leonhardt got up. She walked over and pulled her hair into a bun. "Why aren't you downstairs already?"

Dreyse sniffed. "Freudenberg's a stickler for protocol. He's a pain in the ass. I get why he's so serious, but he's the only one who cares."

Anything to get away from her faster. "Eren Jaeger's supposed to be going on trial soon. The Scouts have got him locked up." Leonhardt hummed noncommitally. "He was in your division, wasn't he? What was he like?"

Leonhardt shrugged. "He seemed like he'd make a good captain one day, if he didn't get himself killed first." Dreyse looked a little underwhelmed. "What were you expecting?"

"I dunno." She shuddered. "It's a horrible idea, isn't it? A human turning into one of those things."

#fanfiction #fanfic #snk #aot #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #annie leonhardt #reiner braun #bertholdt hoover #mina carolina #canon divergent #slow burn #ao3 #ffnet #eren jaeger #hitch dreyse

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e-the-village-cryptid · 2 years

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Hey I’m also queer and I use it as an identity label. I don’t agree with people excessively trigger tagging it when it’s not necessary, but I’d really suggest you educate yourself on its history as a slur. I am a gay trans man, so this is absolutely not terf rhetoric from me. But I was called queer in a derogatory way my entire life because I lived in a rural area where it was absolutely used as a slur. Maybe consider that ppl asking for trigger tags are also LGBT and not your enemy lol

Like go ahead and isolate yourself from other queer ppl all you want but just bc some ppl are genuinely triggered by the term doesn’t mean they’re attacking you for using it, lmfao

I know you probably mean well by this ask, and I see where you're coming from. I disagree, but I will give a good faith answer in return.

To understand where I'm coming from, let's compare the words queer and gay. Both words originally referred to general sexual deviancy in a pejorative sense, only later being reclaimed as proudly worn identities. Both words have been used as slurs for a long time afterwards, queer being more popular in the mid 20th century and gay gaining popularity as a slur in the later 20th into the 21st century.

I know way more queer people in real life who have a complicated relationship with the word gay than the word queer because gay was the word that was slung at them as an insult and a weapon their entire childhood. Gay was The insult of the 80s, 90s, and 00s. Anything bad, or weak, or stupid was "gay". There were whole campaigns to try to stop the use of gay as an insult, that's how bad it got. It's given a lot of people a lot of pain connected with the word.

But I have never, ever, seen someone tag a post "g slur". Why? Two words, both initially pejorative, both reclaimed, both continuously used liberally by those who hate us as a slur and an insult. Isn't it interesting how the more inclusive of those two words was targeted in a concentrated effort that started just a few years ago in terf communities? Isn't it interesting how the more narrow, less inclusive word, despite being the one more recently used as a slur and insult, despite the people in the community who still flinch when they hear it, was simply left alone?

To be clear, I don't think that we should be trigger tagging gay, or starting some "gay is a slur!" movement. I'm just pointing out parallels and questioning why the attitude towards two words with similar histories are so vastly different.

Educate myself on its history? I know it was used as a slur. So was gay, so was lesbian, so was every goddam word we have ever used to describe ourselves because it is not the words they find disgusting, it is us. Queer has been reclaimed and used in a neutral or positive way for decades and decades.

Context matters. "you dirty queer" = slur "I went to the queer student group meeting last week" = not a slur "ew that's so gay" = slur "I came out as gay when I was 16" = not a slur

No one is denying that queer has been and can still be used as a slur. But this specific "queer is a slur in any context!" movement legitimately did come out of terf communities in the last few years. I'm not accusing you of being associated with terfs. But "queer is a slur and triggering no matter how it's used" is terf rhetoric, and they've managed to spread it beyond their community. To claim that a word that has been reclaimed for decades and used in a neutral-to-positive context is a slur is disingenuous, and they know it, but they've successfully gotten other people to parrot it by hiding it under a layer of false concern.

One final thought: I have literally never seen anyone ask for queer to be tagged because they personally are triggered by the word. It's always people speaking on behalf of some hypothetical person who can't stand to even see my identity written out in a neutral-to-positive context. And if anyone really is so genuinely triggered by the term that they can't even stand to read it, they can just filter the post content, tumblr lets you do that.

#also i don't see people who tag my posts with 'q slur' as my enemy i just silently block them and i've said that #because it upsets me and i don't want to deal with that #if people can be upset by the word queer and not want to deal with that #then i can be upset by them saying my identity is a slur and not want to deal with that #do i think they're attacking me for calling myself queer? no #do i want to deal with people parroting regressive terf rhetoric that only emerged recently? also no #i just block and move on. i've made that boundary clear and i've never been mean to anyone about it #ask tag #queer #an e original

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slyvieselkie · 21 days

Text

It Was Him

Warning: phrogging, violence, minor deaths, stalking, harassment, home invasion

It felt like the opening of some kind of movie, you noted standing before the house.

Well, house was a humble word. Your residence towered over you at two stories, sandwiched in between round towers with turrets, and a large porch wrapping around the manor. It was decorated with oriel windows and columns which had some of fancy pattern carved into. To be honest you were glad that the house was painted white and sky blue, otherwise this would have been the beginning of a horror movie.

"Woah, she's rich?!", you turn back to see the young part timer get smacked by his supervisor.

Ah, the shipping people were here.

Unlocking the door, you pushed the double doors open and fell speechless. Before you was a broad lounge space, to the left was a winding staircase made of cherry wood and polished to the moon. You heard the sounds of awe behind you, and now you're wondering if that part timer was right.

As boxes and furniture were moved inside with your direction, your trembling hands opened the will your grandfather had left you. A year ago after his heart beat for the last time, his lawyer announced to the family that you will inherit their estate and a small sum of money. No one really cared since it was quite far from the city, everyone thought it was some old barn house. You were just the same, having planned to sell it cheap when the lawyer came with the blueprint. The goddam thing clearly failed to show just how grandiose the place was.

And so you stood there wondering just what kind of people your grandparents truly were. To you, they were just a sweet elderly couple that always took you to the park and went to every choir performance of yours. They comforted you after your parents yelled at you, and always praised you for just doing your best. Your eyes glistened with tears as you remembered them. Who the hell cares, they're your precious grandparents. You marched on determined to take care of their final gift to you.

....

It took a whole week for you to finish putting everything in its place, because the damn place was just way too big. And empty. And silent. And creepy.

Unlike the exterior, there was no blue paint covering the deep cherry wood that would slightly creak with every step you took. Furthermore there were barely any installed lights, only oil lamps that you had to light up every night. Sunset in this place felt like your worst nightmare was arriving. It felt childish but you would pray everyday that the sun would never fall.

But soon enough, you kind of got used to the place. By the second week you felt confident enough to go down the hallway for a sleepy wee. At the end of that week, you were shamelessly roaming the whole house in a towel after bathing. The trick, to ignore everything. A small creak that didn't come from your movement? It's an old house. Some strange hush? Just the wind. Something weird in the corner of your eye? Bad brain.

It was a random evening on your fourth week when you heard the doorbell chime. In the middle of making dinner, you quickly rushed out to greet the person that was not someone you recognised from your neighbourhood.

"Evening, how's your day been?!", the suited young man chirped and you smiled back, "Uh it's been quite good, thanks. How can I help you?".

He beamed brightly, "Well I live on the next street over and heard that someone finally bought this spectacular house, so I had to check it out!", you laughed softly, "Yeah, it's quite amazing..."

His eyes then traveled past you and you blinked, "Sorry, is there something wrong?", showing another charming smile the man answered, "Sorry, I just noticed that you seem to live alone?"

You nodded slightly uncomfortable, "Yes, is there something wrong?", the man laughed, "I was just wondering if it had been a family that bought it, but I guess not. I would've never expected a single person to buy this giant house. Must be a pain to clean up!"

Clicking your fingers you agreed, "That was a worry of mine, so I just decided to lock up the spare rooms. I can worry about those when I have thirty guests over, safe to say that's not happening."

Noticing that the man didn't seem to be leaving, you felt amazed by this guy's ability to chat up a storm after getting of work. You would've been exhausted, only having enough energy to microwave some takeout from another day. Speaking of takeout, you were hungry.

"Well thanks for coming over today! I better get back to my dinner!", you chirped and wished him a good night before shutting the door.

Back in the kitchen, you turned the stove back on and praised your past self for being smart.

....

"Morning Eloise!", you waved to the elderly woman also taking her trash out.

She grinned and slowly made her way over, "Morning my dear!", you met her in the middle and began a small conversation, "You've been settling in well, love?", "Yeah! Work's going well, I'm still keeping in touch with everyone back in the city, and everyone here is amazing! Especially you!"

The two of you giggle before you exclaim, "Speaking of which, I recently met this incredible guy! So friendly and polite, quite handsome as well~", you winked playfully.

Unfortunately, she didn't smile, "Are you talking about Spencer?", you beamed, "Yeah, you know him too?", Eloise scowled, "You mean that damn real estate agent?!"

You raised an eyebrow, "What?", she hissed gripping your arm tightly, "That man's been bothering your grandparents for years now to sell that place! At one point he visited them for a whole month straight! And when that didn't work, had a car drive past at night to intimidate them, and even people stand outside!"

A shiver went down your spine and you stuttered, "S-So what do I do?", even glancing back to make sure he wasn't on your porch like usual, "Don't open the door for him! Don't even answer him!", she stated sternly, "He'll only try to scare you from afar. He can't just up close without getting the police involved, so stand your ground. After a while, he'll give up when there's clearly no chance."

So that night, you stood in the kitchen glancing at the clock and watching the second hand tick. Any time soon, any second now, any moment-DING DONG. You jumped, right on the dot. Holy shit this was terrifying now.

Letting out a deep breath, you started playing a video on your phone and continued making dinner. He rung once, twice, thrice, before knocking loudly. You reassured yourself that you were inside the house, that man couldn't get inside.

Then Spencer began calling out to you and singing your name, "I know you're in there~ Why aren't you coming out like usual? Did you already hear from Eloise?", your blood went cold.

You pursed your lips and began plating your food, he'll leave soon enough.

"Haha, you're just like your grandparents", the spoon slipped from your hand and the metal sound rung loudly.

With a wince, you picked it up only to hear a clonk from the window above the sink. Confused you turned around and screamed seeing Spencer wave at you, like he hadn't jumped your fence to get there. Instantly you were reaching for your phone, more than relieved that the window couldn't be opened.

From the other side, the man sighed and shook his head before disappearing. You froze, heart beating faster than faster because what the fuck was going on? Suddenly you felt the urge to make sure every door and window were fully locked.

....

Everything Eloise said was coming true. Your second month at your new home was filled with fear and exhaustion. Spencer would be at your door every evening, then around 10pm a black car would drive past every ten minutes for an hour. Finishing it off, a dark figure would stand outside and even wave up at you.

However, a delivery would relieve you of your problems. A set of security cameras that would catch those bastards in their act and provide enough evidence for the police. With the help of a handyman in the neighbourhood, you were able to install a few around the perimeter, one at the front door, and another on in your lounge room just to be safe.

That evening, you watched from your phone as Spencer arrived, wondering what he'd do. It was the first thing he noticed, the man stared at it for a moment and you felt like you had won. That was until he gave a wide smile, horrifyingly happy.

Do you think this will stop me?

He mouthed and you clenched the knife in your hand, because what could he possibly do?

You opened the door the next day to find all of your camera at your front door, crushed into small pieces. With shaking hands, you closed your door and looked for your phone. Surely that was enough for the police?

With the evidence and Eloise's statement, the police found it probable enough to place a patrol car outside your house. You were able to sleep peacefully for a week before they deemed there was no danger. No pleading or begging would make them reconsider, the only suggestion they had was for you to gather more evidence and apply for a restraining order.

....

Soaking your body in the bathtub, you leaned back and sighed. What the hell were you suppose to do? Buy more cameras for him to break again? Confront the car, the man outside your house, and fight him?

"Grandpa, grandma", you whispered, "I don't know how you did it, but I'm not as strong as you guys were. I might just have to give him the house", and sniffled.

Slipping into a silk nightie, you walked down the hallway back to your room. A flash went by the corner of your eye and you froze. If it wasn't Spencer, it was paranoia that would be the cause of your death. Blinking for a few seconds, you began to walk normally as if you weren't desperate to flee. Inside your room, you closed the door normally and locked it with wide eyes. You might've just been making it up, but it felt like there was someone right behind you the whole time.

In the bed, you couldn't close your eyes for more than a few seconds. That night, the most you got was an hour of sleep.

Slumped on your couch, you held a mug of coffee tightly and pursed your lips, "I can't do it anymore...I'm gonna sell him the house", you spoke aloud as if their ghosts were listening.

Then you wiped a tear, because it was so frustrating. This was their parting gift to you, they trusted you to care for it and turn it into your family home. It wasn't fair that someone else was going to take it away.

"But what else can I do?"

You decided that you would call Spencer the next day, he'd left enough business cards that you've already memorised the number. With no appetite, you skipped out on dinner and sulked in your bed. And despite your resistance, your eyes slowly dropped.

CRASH

Gasping, you shot up and looked around. It was nighttime. Then you began to hear more thuds and silently sobbed, because they've finally had enough of waiting.

Exhausted, you slipped out of bed and turned to the doorknob but it wouldn't open. Confused you looked down and noticed you had locked the door, out of habit clearly. Unlocking it, you opened the door and stepped out wondering what was going to happen now. Maybe they wouldn't even accept your offer, too pissed off to think about making a deal with you.

Finally at the top of the staircase, you looked at Spencer. And blinked because why was he lying on your staircase with a dark wet puddle around him? Looking down to the first floor, only a small gasp left you. Your door had been flung wide open, your grandparents' precious vase shattered on the floor, and more bodies sprawled around the place.

You zoned in on the only man standing, nothing more than a looming black figure. He turned around and you jolted, that was your cue to run. But your feet were planted to the floor. It wasn't until he moved that you did, sprinting as thundering footsteps chased after you.

Slamming your bedroom door closed, you instantly locked the door and stepped back frightened. There was nothing else you could do except pray that the door was strong enough to endure the force of his body. Your breath hitched seeing the shadow of his footsteps.

Silence fell between the two of you for a few seconds before a deep voice spoke, "I'm going to clean up downstairs...sleep well."

....

You were unsure of what to do now. It's been two days since the attack...and since you've left the house.

After making sure the intruder had truly left, you instantly ran away. Definitely not to Eloise's because that would only put her in danger. So you made your way to Stephanie's house, a hairdresser that you had befriended ages ago. Her house was a ten minute walk and her husband was a policeman.

Seeing the state you were in, she immediately ushered you inside and sat you down on the couch. Unsure of what to tell her, the only surviving camera clicked in your mind. The three of you played back the moment at 9:45pm that the door opened, Spencer and a group of guys walked in like they owned the place. That was until a dark figure rolled in, a familiar figure. He struck them down with swiftness precision, hunting them one by one like a shadow. All of them went down with barely any fight. It was Spencer who had smashed your vase over the man's body, but that barely did anything. Then he ran up the stairs which was where he met his fate, multiple slashes and stabs through the torso. He was starting his clean up when you entered the picture.

While Stephanie's husband immediately alerted the station, you were ordered to stay at their house until the intruder was tracked down. Intruder, you thought hugging yourself, was he really one?

Now you sat in a small booth of a diner, drinking coke and munching on some fries. Hearing a jingle, you turned to the new customer. He was a tall man, with messy ebony hair and caramel eyes. He also caught everyone's attention with his sharp features and toned muscles visible through the fitted maroon shirt he wore. However, you had caught his attention. And you knew why.

The man smirked waving off the waitress and making his way to you, strolling over and sitting across like you were close. As if you weren't pale as a ghost and trembling right now.

"Why haven't you come home yet?", it was the same deep voice, "I didn't expect you to run away."

You could only whisper back, "You were in my house this whole time. It was you that turned of my stove, you that locked the doors before me, you that followed me back to my room", and his smirked widened.

It had been him all along, every little creak, the so called wind, just your imagination...it was him.

With a hum he reached out and held your hand, thumb rubbing your fingers gently, "And it was me who protected you, defended our house from those bastards."

"The bodies of Spencer Green and four other men were found at the bottom of the lake with heavy rocks tied to their ankles", your head whipped to the television, "An autopsy revealed they had all been slashed to death. Now police are looking for the man that murdered them."

The hand on yours then migrated to cup your cheek, "See? You're free from that man, he'll never haunt you again...So come home."

In a blink of an eye you found yourself entering the house, spotless of the horror a few days ago.

You squeaked feeling his body against your back, hands helping you to take your coat off. His lips pressed against your forehead, telling you to go rest upstairs while he made dinner this time. Walking off you wondered how oblivious you had been, to not even notice that.

Entering your room, you saw your bed had been done neatly and an item left on the top. It was one of your nightgowns, deep red with white lace along the bottom and slits on the sides.

"Go on, wear for me. Don't you think I deserve a reward?"

God Lovelies, what the hell did I just create?

The amount of fear and exhaustion I felt was fucking crazy. At some point I got so scared, I had to watch some dumb animal clips. Then I was trying to find some images for this - never search up dark figure or dark silhouette on Pinterest because that shit is scary. Anyways, I might to a second part just to flesh out whatever this guy is. Maybe write some smut as well because clearly he's a pervert. Stay tuned! (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡

#reader insert #long reads #spooky #there's someone else in the house #Simon Riley inspired

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itwas50yearsagotoday · 9 months

Text

7/27/23: It was 50 years ago today, July 27th, 1973, the New York Dolls would release their eponymous first album. There's not a whole lot I can say about the importance of this record that's already been said hundreds of times. So can we just enjoy it as a trashy, wonderful Rock 'n' Roll record? Like in the spirit of Little Richard when he wasn't being religious? 'Personality Crisis' opens the floodgates and it is just the rawest R&R you've ever heard... David Johansen (a.k.a. Buster Poindexter for all you '80s SNL lovers) does probably the best Mick Jagger impression, but then takes it up a thousand notches. And then Johnny Thunders on guitar... it's all smashing, I tell ya. Song two is just about as good, but almost a bit more sinister 'Looking For a Kiss'... Johansen says flatly at the beginning "When I say I'm in love you best believe I'm in love L.U.V."... and then it's like Alice Cooper takes over... I mean they got some mean melodies. Like I'm serious if the Rolling Stones went 'Punk' (and no not like Some Girls... not at allll) this is what I'd imagine them be like... even the slower songs have this kind of... I dunno... 'looseness' about them, like their going to fall apart at any minute, but they don't (stole that from a YT comment)... take the saxophone-heavy 'Lonely Planet Boy'... I mean this could be on Exile, and I'm not at all kidding. It's beautiful. Gotta like 'Trash'... 'gonn' pick it up!'... it's just fun to sing... in your face, this is totally THEE Proto-Punk record... like the direct line to the Ramones, which would make sense being all NYC and all. Like 'Subway Train' too... and 'Jet Boy', wow that one's a stomper... perfect ending tune. Great, just great tunes on this record. Ahead of their time... legends. Go listen to this goddam record right now, will ya?!

#Spotify

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soyouthinkucanwrite · 3 years

Text

July 2nd - Daniel Ricciardo

Based on New Year's Day by Taylor Swift and this request by @spikejonzed

Fluffly, mentions of sex, banter, nothing graphic.

BTW, I don't know how I've never paid attention to this song, it's so so beautiful and honest. I've thought about this concept before though: the "Sunday afternoon effect", when all the excitement of the weekend wears off and you're just hanging out with your friends, laughing about silly stuff, or cleaning up the house after the party. The thing is, the friends that stay till then are the ones you wanna hold on to, and the same goes for lovers. I feel kind of bad... well not BAD but you know, must be hard... when you're famous and rich, to recognize the good ones from the beginning before you give yourself too much away and it's too late.

To be honest with you guys, I think Daniel must feel a bit lonely sometimes. We all do, but to think that people are only interested in you for your fame and money must be tough... something you worked so hard, that you keep dedicating your life to, to think that that thing is the reason for your heartbreak, to your loneliness... It's a two-edged sword, isn't it? Anyway, I wrote this little something with Daniel in mind, hope you guys like it. Hope he finds someone to be like this someday. Hell, hope I find someone to be like this someday. I think everyone deserves that.

Daniel woke up in his bed, no shoes, but jeans and party shirt still on. The light coming through the windows, shining directly on his face, threatening to make his headache even worse. He let out a groan and turned to the side. There's someone on his bed with him. Shit. He just remembered. Last night was the first time he was introducing (y/n) to his friends. His birthday "small get together" (or at least that's what it was supposed to be) was the perfect opportunity for testing the waters and giving the "next step" without making too much fuss about it, after all, they've only been going out for a couple months and with his tight schedule it meant a lot of facetime calls and weekends, but almost no weekdays and routine stuff.

Yet, he was absolutely smitten with her, she was fun and easygoing, passionate about her own work and friends, but still caring and interested in him. They had amazing chemistry, mind-blowing even. But Daniel had lived enough to know that hanging out with someone on the weekends and knowing their best side was one thing, living through daily and mundane stuff was a completely different thing. Where this could go was still a mystery to him and he didn't want to raise too many expectations before he was sure. Still, she looked so beautiful sleeping, a true vision. He tried to remember if something had happened last night, but judging by his clothes still on, and hers as well, he guessed not. As if on cue, she smiled, with her eyes still closed.

"Stop being creepy" she said smiling. "I can feel you watching me sleep"

"You're not even asleep anymore" he smiled and she opened her eyes. He was taken back by her eyes staring directly into his.

"Still creepy though" she laughed, getting closer to him. He held her and they stayed like that for a while.

"Are you ok?" he asked her.

"What do you mean?

"Aren't you hungover, or sick?" he asked again and she laughed.

"Not at all. I have this really weird superpower, you know, I don't get hungover. Ever, actually" she laughed.

"I don't believe you. I have the headache"

"No, it's true. We did drink a lot yesterday, though" she commented.

"Yeah, well, welcome to having Australian friends. No such thing as light drinking with those guys" he laughed but grimaced at the pain in his brain.

"I'll get you something"

"Huh?"

"For the pain" she explained getting up from the bed.

After a while she returned with a pill and a glass of water, passing them to him.

"Thank you, baby" he took the glass, finishing it. "Come back to bed now"

"Your house... like, I'm not even sure if I should tell you to take a look or just pack your essentials and abandon it" she smiled.

"Uhh" he groaned. "I'll call someone later"

"Like a constructor with a wrecking ball?" she laughed.

"It can't be that bad"

"It's bad" she started. "But we can manage it" He looked at her intrigued. "After a shower" she pulled his hand. "Join me?"

"If I ever say no to that question, just put me in an asylum" he said. "I need a kiss though, as motivation" he smirked.

"Noo... I have morning breath"

"What? Me too" he said pulling her down and kissing her anyway. "Uh, no. You're right. Yours is worst" he said laughing while getting up and walking into the bathroom.

"Asshole!" she laughed following him.

They stripped and got into the shower, taking turns in letting the water run through their bodies.

"Come here" Daniel said, putting some body wash in his hands and spreading them over (y/n) body.

"Hum... this feels nice" she said.

"You're so beautiful" he said kissing her shoulder.

"You're so wasted" she laughed lightly.

"Hey! I'm sober. I'm just too tired. Give me a couple hours to recover, and I'll claim my birthday privileges"

"Birthday privileges? It's not even your birthday anymore" she laughed.

"Okay, but first, it's the weekend of, and second, I didn't get any time alone with you yesterday"

"Fair. And what will be your requests, may I ask?" she asked teasingly.

"Humm... you're so creative" he said kissing her. "I'm sure we'll think of something"

They finished the shower after a while, enjoying each other's company and the comfortable silence.

"Did anyone crashed here?" (y/n) asked when they were stepping out of the shower.

"I have no idea" Daniel answered. "I just remembered going to take a nap and waking up this morning. Shit, we didn't... did we?" (y/n) laughed out loud at that.

"Wow! Really, Dan?"

"We did not. I would've remembered"

"Good save. Such a gentleman" she laughed.

"I drank way too much. Sorry. Don't be mad"

"It's fine. I'm messing with you, I don't remember anything either. To be honest, I don't even remember joining you on your 'nap'" she said making air quotes.

"We're the worst hosts" he said getting out of the bathroom and going into the closet to get some clothes.

(y/n)'s heart swelled at the thought of hosting a party with Daniel. There was something so intimate about that statement, so homey.

"You want a shirt?" Daniel asked from the other room, waking her up from her daydream.

"Yeah, sure" she took the shirt, some underwear, and some sweats. Then brushed her wet hair and looked in the mirror. Not a trace of makeup left. She sighed thinking about how falling into a routine with Daniel meant letting the barriers down.

"Alright, snap out of it" she said to herself, getting out of the bathroom and walking outside, to the living room where Daniel was standing rubbing his neck and looking around.

"This is bad" he said when he saw her joining him. There were empty beer bottles and cups all around the living room and balcony, pizza boxes (with half-eaten slices left behind) in the coffee table, party decorations hanging from the ceiling, and the kitchen was even worse, with liquid spilled on the ground and bottles everywhere. There was glitter all over the floor and the couch - someone had brought some of those party poppers, which looked so much fun yesterday, but no so much now. But the best part was the polaroids, left all over the house with the craziest poses.

"Pack your stuff, we're deserting this goddam hellhole" he said and she knew he was joking, he said that about everywhere, but she still shook her head and rolled her eyes, picking a polaroid photo from the ground.

"Everyone had so much fun" she showed it to him. "I loved meeting your friends"

He took the photo from her hand, it was one where (y/n) was sitting on the couch with two of his buddies from Australia, making funny faces while holding cups. He remembered the moment because he was the one who took the photo.

"How's the headache?" she asked him.

"Almost gone"

"Good. So you don't have an excuse. Move your ass, where are the trash bags?" she laughed going into the kitchen.

"Hey! That was very sneak of you" he laughed but followed her anyway.

They spent the next hour collecting bottles, vacuuming glitter, and just cleaning the whole house. Daniel complained the whole time, but in truth, he was very glad to have her there. Sure, he could just ignore the whole mess and hire someone on Monday to clean everything (he probably would still do that anyway, for the heavy cleaning like bathrooms), but it was really nice of her to just stick around, seeming unbothered by the housework. When she finished tying the last trash bag and putting it on the entry hallway she flopped on the couch besides Daniel, who had called it a day some good 10 minutes ago.

"Done?" he asked her.

"I feel like punching you for asking me that" she answered playing annoyed. He lifted his hand in defense.

"What? I did my part!"

"Men" she shook her head. "I'm surprised you haven't complained about being hungry yet"

"Well, I'm starving! Was just waiting to suggest going out, or ordering in"

"Ordering in, please. I don't want to get off this couch any time soon"

Daniel got his phone out to order some food. It was almost noon, so he thought about something like pasta, some carbs would be nice right now. Then he felt (y/n)'s head drop on his shoulder, her hand caressing his arm. It was such a sweet gesture, so understated, he just stopped what he was doing and looked at her.

"What?" she looked at him.

"I'm really glad you're here. Thank you"

"It's nothing" she smiled.

"I don't mean the cleaning. Well, that too. But just, thank you for being you and wanting to hang out with me, you know, after the party"

"I'll always wanna hang out with you, partying or cleaning bottles" she said and leaned in to kiss him. "Happy birthday old man" this made him smile through the kiss.

"Thank you, young lady" he said still smiling. "Let's feed you now, yeah?"

"Please! Let's get some carbs on this house!" she smile.

"Hey, guys!" (y/n) and Daniel looked up to see Luke, one of Daniel's buddies walking out of the guest bedroom.

"Dude! I didn't know you were here" Daniel laughed.

"Yeah, just woke up. Definitely wasn't hiding in the bedroom waiting for the cleaning end to get out" he grinned making (y/n) and Daniel laugh.

"You know what? Just for that, you're going downstairs to pick up the food when it gets here, and taking out the trash!" (y/n) teased him, tossing a pillow from the couch at him.

Daniel just observed while his friend and his girlfriend joked and laughed. He thought about how right now he was enjoying a feeling of contempt that wasn't really natural or much appreciated by professional athletes, but this time felt right to indulge in it. He felt safe like someone's got him, finally. He took (y/n) hand on his and squeezed it three times, he knew this was already a good thing, something to last. She looked at him, she knew exactly what he meant.

#Daniel Ricciardo #Daniel Ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #daniel ricciardo oneshot

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chuckbass-love · 3 years

Note

20,39,42 with Andy Barber?

Hey, lovely anon. First of all i hope you’re doing well and second of all, i thoroughly enjoyed writing this and i hope y’all have a lot of fun reading it. It’s been a hot minute since i last wrote for Andy.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

Prompts Used:

20) “You’d better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are”

39) “I’m so sick of your voice. Why don’t you come over here and put your mouth to better use?”

42) “I guess i’ll just get off all by myself”

Warnings: Smut. Sexual intercourse, vaginal sex, spanking, daddy kink, love making (kinda), arguing, swearing, angst and a sprinkle of fluff for good measure. That’s right, used all 3. 18+ you know the drill.

Word Count: 6,796

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @cassercole go check them out💕

Do You Feel What I Feel?

After a long and interesting weekend, you’re a lot less eager to get back behind your desk to work for Andy Barber than you usually are. One reason in particular being that you’ve been dating other people behind his back. See the thing with you and Andy is that you’ve known him for 2 whole years, worked for him for 1 year and been fucking him since the evening of your very first day. He got you the job to work with him after you got laid off.

You met him after he showed up for one of your seminars at college and he gave a presentation on what it’s like to be a lawyer and you just clicked. But it was strictly platonic...until you showed up on that first day dressed in a knee length skirt, a semi sheer polka dot blouse with stockings and heels. He was shocked to say the least. You looked entirely different and he’d never seen you this way before. It turned him on and he let you know it.

As you were packing your things away and bidding him goodbye for the day, he called you back into his office and instructed you to lock the door behind you before he began to inform you of the effect you had on him. Starting slowly by telling you how he was taken aback by your ability to think on your feet, use your initiative and then just like that, it all came out and he couldn’t control his hunger much longer.

He kissed you so hard that night that the breath was knocked from your lungs but you loved it, you yearned for more of that feeling and he fucked you so good that you made it a regular thing, without even realising it was becoming one until it was too late. You’d just show up at each others places without a warning and before you knew it, he was fucking you into the mattress and making you cum with a cry of his name.

Now back to the present... you like Andy, in fact if you’re being truthful with yourself, you’ve fallen so madly in love with him that you know it’s time to quit him. He’s like a drug, an addiction and you need to stop going back for more. Hence why you decided that enough was enough.

You met a guy online, his name is Ashley and he was more than keen to take you out so you happily obliged and sure you had a nice time but there’s just one issue lying in your way. Andy is unsuspecting of your little date and it’s been eating away at you since said date walked you back to your apartment. You know that you need to tell him but you fear that it’ll cost you your job, he did hire you to help you out after all.

Before you can wallow more in your choice to keep things from him, he calls you into his office and you haven’t even gotten any work done yet, you only sat down 5 minutes ago.

What could he possibly want so early on?

“Yes, Mr Barber?” you ask flirtatiously, making him glare up at you before gesturing for you to take a seat opposite him. Which you do.

“So today i’m gonna need you to file this paper work into the data base for me” he starts, lifting up a pile taller than the length of your forearm and now you’re annoyed for real this time. He knows full well that you’re still finishing off the stack from Friday and yet here he is presenting more work for you to do “get it done by the end of the day” he finishes, flashing you another stone cold glare as he looks back down at the paper on his desk, not even bothering to acknowledge your presence for a second longer.

Until you speak up “Andy, you know i’m still finishing off Frid....”

“That’s Mr Barber to you and you can leave now” his rude and snappy interruption makes you scoff as you shake your head at the tone in his voice, he’s not in any mood today to help you out or make exceptions. So you do as you’re told, hauling the heavy pile into your arms and lugging it back to your desk outside. Once it’s on your desk, you walk back to shut his door before he asks, making sure to slam it harder than needed to make it known that you’re angry with him.

He doesn’t seem to notice or care though.

Now to get started on all of this work that’ll probably mean you staying later tonight, just brilliant. Guess your second date with Ashley will have to be rescheduled.

------------------------

You finish off half of the pile by the time it gets to 1:30pm and you’re due a lunch break round about now so seeing as though Andy hasn’t left his office all day, you decide to pop out for some food with one of the other assistants, Stacey. Thank God you don’t have to face him since you have absolutely no clue what could have possibly rattled his cage this morning to make him snap at you like that. The two of you have always had this ongoing joke of you calling him Mr Barber and he usually allows you to call him by his first name until today when that alone was enough to anger him.

It’s obvious that you’ll have to put off telling him about your date until he’s in a better place to receive the news. You’re hoping that since he’s always been opposed to commitment that he’ll take it well but the halt in your fooling around might annoy him a little. It’s not your problem though, he always knew you were planning to eventually settle down.

Upon your return to your desk you find Andy sat in your chair, looking through your work “where the hell have you been?” he mutters as he avoids your eyes “you know what, don’t even bother making excuses, my office, NOW” you jump out of fear as he raises his voice slightly at you for the first time in the whole 2 years you’ve known him. Your anxious body shuffles into his office, scared of what’s about to happen.

“Was i not clear enough earlier Y/N? Hm? Because i specifically remember asking you to have this work done by the end of the day. You get off at half 4, it’s now half 2 and you’ve only done half. Do i pay you to galavant around town with Stacey or do i pay you to do your goddam job?”

In the 2 years that you’ve known Andy, he’s also never made you cry, yet here you are trying your absolute hardest not to let these tears fall in front of him.

“You pay me to do my job and i’ve tried my best to get it done. I-I’m sorry” you stand there awkwardly, picking at the torn skin around your fingernails as you stare hopelessly at your stilettos. “Well your best isn’t fucking good enough Y/N, try harder. You can stay here until all of the paperwork is done and that includes Friday’s load too now close the door on your way out”

Is he actually serious? He can’t be, surely. What is wrong with him?

“No” you stand tall, hands on your hips as you talk back and if he was angry before then now he’s livid with you “What do you mean no?” he questions, stepping towards you, hands in his pockets as he awaits your answer.

“I said, no. Just because you’re in a bad mood for whatever reason does NOT mean that you get to stand here and humiliate me. I said no and that’s final. I’ll do my best to get today’s work done before i leave but Friday’s work can wait and i don’t care what nasty comment you have in store to throw back at me”

His face screws up as he clenches his jaw again, you should feel really scared right about now, that comment might have just cost you this job but you don’t care. If that’s the case then you’ll walk out of here proud of yourself along with one less so called friend in your life.

“Bad mood? I’m furious and you don’t even know the half of it” he picks his phone up, tapping a couple times before handing it to you and walking back to his desk to sit down. You watch the clip in his camera roll, squinting as you try to make out the faces in it and then you realise that it’s you and Ashley. Fuck. He was there that night at your apartment, he was obviously coming to see you and you didn’t even know it. He must have seen you with another man and changed his mind. You feel awful as you look back at him, he just sighs once you place the phone onto his desk.

“Andy, i-i”

“Save it. If you wanted to cut our little deal off then you shoulda just said. I don’t appreciate being lied to Y/N and i don’t fancy talking about it with you for a minute longer so just do as your fucking told and get back to work”

All you can do is turn around and walk away since you’ve done enough damage already. But all you can think about is the look on his face after you watched the incriminating clip. He looked sad, broken even and it’s replaying in your brain over and over. Torturing you.

This is why he’s been so nasty today, so demanding and harsh. He’s hurt that you lied to him, hurt that you were with someone else, even if it was just dinner. You still arranged a date with another man and went and what Andy has never wanted to admit before, not even to himself is that he really likes you. In fact no, he’s fallen madly in love with you.

Every waking moment of his life is spent with you on his mind. You even corrupt his dream world too and it’s gotten out of control. Saturday he decided it was time to cut your little deal off and start over. He was going to do it right, confess his feelings, ask you on a date and then take you out and treat you like a princess.

Ever since he laid his blue eyes on you that first time when he was doing the presentation in your class at college, he liked you. You asked so many questions, engaged a lot in the debates and he knew then that you were going to play an important role in his life. And you have. You became close friends, going out regularly and doing things like bowling and eating dinner together more than a handful of times. He enjoyed your company and you enjoyed his but there was this unspoken rule that you had to remain just friends. He wasn’t ready for anything serious and you were still not over your ex.

But then when you walked through his office door on your first day dressed in that skirt, those heels and stockings and lets not forget about that blouse. He was trying his hardest not to drool. One things for sure though, he was painfully hard for you.

When he came to your apartment Saturday and saw you outside your door with some preppy douchebag who was around your age, he felt this lump in his throat form as his heart ached. Sure he expected you to get a man eventually after all you are 24 and he’s in his 30’s. But he didn’t expect it to happen so soon. He also didn’t expect you to have such an effect on him the way you have but here he is, angry at you for moving on without telling him and angry that you aren’t his anymore.

He feels bad for shouting at you today, for being so harsh with his words. He could see the tears pooling in your eyes right away but he was too pissed off to stop and now he’s almost certain that any friendship the two of you had is gone for good thanks to his vile actions.

Another 2 hours tick by and you’re still working at your pile, you’ve still got a lot left being that he’s included Friday’s in your load too. It’s going to be a long night so you pick your phone up and call Ashley.

“Ashley hey, it’s uh, it’s Y/N. Listen, i have to work late today so i won’t be able to make it” you announce and as he responds, Andy opens his door but you don’t notice.

“Rain check? Uh...” you trail off, trying your hardest to decide if you even want to see him again. It’s like you’re torn. On one hand you have Andy, your dream man. A man who knows your body like the back of his hands and a man who can more than likely take care of you if you just took a leap and told him about your feelings but then on the other hand you have Ashley. A guy who is your age and who makes you laugh a hell of a lot. Before you can even decide though, you hear a cough behind you. It’s Andy.

“Ashley can i call you back? It’s just now’s not really a good time, i have a lot of work to get done”

You hang up the phone as your eyes are locked onto Andy’s and the moment your phone is placed back onto your desk he wraps his large hand around your wrist, lifting you up off your chair and tugging you into his office. You watch as he locks the door behind him before going back to sitting behind his desk.

“You gonna see him again?” he asks, jaw clenched.

“I-I uh, i don’t know. I’m a little torn right now” your eyes settle on his plump pink lips, wanting nothing more than to bite down on his bottom one as you sink down onto his cock but you’re dirty thoughts come to a staggering halt as he speaks. “Torn with what? You like him right?” why is he asking you these things? Is he trying to torture himself with the details.

“Yes i mean no i mean I don’t know. I like him but i don’t think i can date him”

“How come?”

“Because i like someone else, in fact i love someone else”

Andy feels his heart sink further as more cracks appear threatening to shatter it completely. You love someone else and now he’s truly out of the game.

Rage works it’s way back into his body and he can’t help but take it out on you “did you sleep with him? Huh? Did the douche bag get to fuck that tight cunt of yours?”

At first you find him funny, laughing as you look around the room, anywhere but his eyes but then your own rage sets in.

“Not that it’s any of your business but no, he didn’t. We had dinner and that’s it” you state, matter of factly as you place your hands back onto your hips..

“Bullshit”

“Is that what you really think of me Andy? You think i’d just give it up to any guy that even looked my way. Wow, i knew you were a lot of things but vicious was definitely not one of them and what’s that i smell? Is it jealousy? Surely not.” you tut, shaking your head “I don’t think i even know you at all by the looks of things if you thought lying to me was better than being honest and trust me, i’m not jealous in the slightest, in fact i pity you. It’s your sex life that will suffer” he doesn’t falter for even a second as he stares you down and just as he anticipated, you’re the first one to break, looking away from him. You can’t help the way your heart starts to race from all of the fury filling up your body. How dare he.

“I was only keeping it from you until i found the right time to tell you. And don’t you dare think for one second that just because we’ve slept together that you have any right to comment on my sex life. You made it perfectly clear that monogamy wasn’t your thing so don’t be mad when i finally want to move on from being someone’s fuck buddy” you spit, heat rising to your cheeks as you realise what you just said. Fuck.

“I’ll comment on whatever i fucking want to so quit the bitching and yeah, i don’t do commitment but i sure as hell wouldn’t be with you even if i did”

You don’t respond to him this time, there’s no quick comeback to fire his way, no insult that could mean you having the upper hand again. Nothing is left but shock and disappointment. He really said that, he really played on your biggest insecurity. He played on it and used it to his advantage, to get the upper hand and win the argument.

“What? Got nothing to say?” he snorts, smug grin on his face. Watch his smile disappear now...

“I love you, Andy” you finally get the words out and you feel as if you’re going to choke on them and die right here in his office. Cause of death, unrequited love.

“W-what?” he’s practically speechless, his words barely audible.

“I’m so madly in love with you and i have been for a while now. But i continued to shut my feelings out and reject other guys because i came to the realisation that having you in any way that i could would be enough for me even if it meant that i couldn’t have you in the way that i’ve always wanted. But none of this matters now, right? Because you’ve made it pretty clear how you feel and where you stand. You wouldn’t date me even you did date and that’s fine but at least now both our cards are on the table”

He looks up at you, using his index finger to force you to look back at him and when you do, he looks so deep into your eyes almost as if he’s attempting to see into your soul. Like he’s trying to search for any signs of dishonesty.

“Why didn’t you just tell me? Instead of going out with other guys you shoulda told me and been honest about it?” is all he can say and that’s the last response you expected but what catches you off guard the most is how he said it, almost like he was hurt and relieved simultaneously.

“Andy, you’re my boss and you made it clear that you didn’t want a relationship” he has absolutely no right to lecture you about honesty when he’s spent the entire time he’s known you blabbering on about how the single life is better for him and how he’d hate to be tied down again. You roll your eyes as you move away from him when he attempts to move closer.

Silence falls upon the two of you and it seems never ending, leaving you no choice but to leave. The moment you turn around to walk away he’s on his feet too “where are you going?” the tone his voice makes it sound as though he’s pleading for you to stay without actually saying the words.

“I’m going back to my desk to do my fucking job, just like you told me to do earlier” you turn back around but just as you expected, he stops you “look. I’m sorry, okay. I was just mad that you”

“Mad about what? That i went out on a date? I’m a single woman Andy and despite our little deal, i don’t belong to you so you have no right to be mad at me for doing what any other single person does”

He bites down on his bottom lip as he runs his fingers through his perfectly styled locks, messing them up instantly “God, you’re so fucking infuriating”

“I’m infuriating? You really are clueless to your own behaviour aren’t you? I just told you that i love you and you still haven’t told me if you feel the same. So i think that says it all, don’t you?” you stop yourself before continuing your rant, trying your hardest to prevent something worse slipping out. Right now in your state, you’re bound to say things that you don’t mean and will later regret. “you know what, i think i’m gonna take the work load home and complete it there. I’ll see you tomorrow, if i still have a job that is” you raise your brows at him, praying he doesn’t fire you for your attitude alone. But to your surprise he doesn’t.

“You really think that low of me? That i’d ever fire you because of what’s going on between us outside of this office? Wow” he leans back on his desk and his shoulders drop as he slumps over, looking down at his large calloused hands.

“It’s what i assumed would happen. You’re really gonna pretend like you don’t want me gone after today?”

“I don’t, believe it or not. But i have no time to deal with this discussion any longer, i have to leave early today” he says as he goes back to sitting behind his desk again and turning his computer back on “i don’t expect you to stay any longer, you can take that work home and finish it after your date” he mutters the last few words, pulling a face as if they make him sick.

“Really? We’re back to that again. God i’ve had it with you” you spit, biting down on the inside of your cheek before strutting over to the door but his hand stops you before you even get yours on the lock.

“Let me go Andy. I don’t even want to look at you, let alone be stuck in a room with you” harsh, but in this moment it’s true. He’s done nothing but upset you all day long and even after your stupid decision to confess your love for him, he’s still doing it. You feel so defeated right now that you can’t take another second of his shit.

“Just one more thing and then you’re free to go and fuck whoever you want, whenever you want. How many guys have you been on dates with since we started hooking up?” the desperation is evident in his eyes as they pierce into yours, searching again but this time for the answers before you can even open your mouth to give them to him “one. It was only one date on Saturday night with Ashley” and that’s the truth. You would never repeatedly date behind his back, this was a one off. A one off you’re regretting more as the seconds tick by.

An awkward silence falls upon the two of you once more as he walks back over to his desk, pacing next to it and creating a draft. “Are you planning to see him again?” and he’s back with more questions. Why does he care so much?

He clearly doesn’t love you too otherwise he’d have said it once you confessed your feelings for him. Instead he left you looking like the biggest joke ever, the clown. And you feel so mortified for even believing he’d say it back.

Silly little Y/N, always catching feelings for men who don’t feel the same way back. You’re starting to feel as though you’ll never find someone.

But still his behaviour has you second guessing him. Maybe he does like you and that’s why he’s acting so hurt.

“Maybe i will, after all i am single. That shouldn’t be a problem, should it Andy?” you know full well that you’re pushing down hard on his buttons and you can see his cheeks turn red as his knuckles turn white from his tight grip on the side of the table.

“What you don’t like that? You don’t like the thought of me on top of Ashley, sinking down onto his cock as he touches my body and kis -”

Out of nowhere he interrupts you, slamming his fist down onto his desk “dammit, Y/N, what is it with you? Trying to make me jealous? Because i’ve had just about enough of you running your mouth” he pulls one of the chairs out, falling into it and spreading his legs “In fact. I’m so sick of your voice. Why don’t you come over here and put your mouth to better use? Huh? Maybe then you’ll shut up about that fucking douche bag” he is jealous, it’s so obvious to you now. He’s jealous of Ashley, jealous of the possibility of him spending time with you and he hates the thought of someone stealing you away from his tight grasp.

You can’t quite believe your ears or your eyes as he spreads his legs further, grazing his hand over the tent in his dress trousers and you can’t help the gulp that follows.

“Andy”

“Shhh, enough talking. I don’t have it in me anymore to argue with you, just come here” he insists but you stand your ground “no. i can’t keep going round and round in circles with you with absolutely no end in sight and with no hope for you to reciprocate how i feel. I’m sorry but i’m leaving”

Yet again, as expected, he clears his throat “fine. I guess i’ll just get off all by myself”

Like they always do around Andy, your legs turn to jelly and your eyes glaze over along with your better judgement being clouded by x rated thoughts of him railing you. The idea of him touching himself, working his hand expertly around his girthy cock causes arousal to flood your panties. How dare your body betray you like this. How dare your mind do the same. It’s not fair that every time you think you have the upper hand and the dominance, he comes along, snatching it away from you and proving you wrong.

You have absolutely no idea why you’re about to do what you’re about to do other than the fact that your body gravitates toward him like a magnet and it’s out of your control.

So without a second longer to fester or overthink, you spin around on your heels, charging towards him. Andy watches in awe as you drop to your knees and make quick work of his belt. Once you free his cock from the confines of his black Calvin Kleins and into your small hand you spot the droplets of precum oozing out of the slit on his red bulbous head. You look up at him through your eyelashes, batting them as you give the tip a couple of kitten licks before spitting all over his shaft and pumping him agonisingly slow.

“Fuck” he groans, rolling his eyes back as he grips the arm rests on the chair when you take him into your mouth “attagirl, sucking daddy’s cock like a fucking pro” his hands grip your face as he continues to watch you go to work, making a mess of yourself as you gag around him,

You don’t bother to issue a warning before taking all of him in your mouth, all the way down to his balls over and over. Making sure to hollow out your cheeks as you bob your head up and down, your tongue licking the underside of him as your hands grasp his balls. He starts bucking his hips up, attempting to fuck your mouth but you push him back down as a whole batch of unholy sounds that only you can elicit from him fall from his perfect lips, the sounds that are so loud and downright filthy that he has no option but to cover his mouth with his hand, biting down one of his thick digits to keep from exposing himself to his unsuspecting colleagues outside.

He soon pulls you off and you do so with a pop. He forces you to look up at him, his hand grabbing your cheeks and squeezing aggressively “no matter what undeserving boys you go out on a date with, no matter who flirts with you. You’re mine, always have been and always will be” he moves you to straddle his lap before he stands up to move the two of you to the couch.

“So no more dates princess, no more other guys. Because i’m the only one who gets to have you. Is that clear?” he cocks his brow up at you and you nod in response before mumbling a quick “yes” to satisfy his need for confirmation and assurance.

He lifts your knee length dress up to your stomach before he gets to touching you, squeezing at your ass cheeks a little too hard for your liking but you secretly love the way he gets so rough with your body, the way he smacks both ass cheeks repeatedly until you wince from how sore he’s made you.

“God, these clothes drive me crazy. Ever since that first day i met you, i’ve wanted you and when you started working here, i was so desperate to fuck you as you wore these stockings and these heels. You’re so fucking hot, princess and you have no idea how crazy you drive me when you bend over, shoving this ass in my face”

He starts to kiss your neck, sloppy open mouthed kisses on the spot that has your back arching as you grip onto the back of his neck to steady yourself. He’s working you up all the more, turning the pool in your panties into a river. You’re dripping wet for him, desperate for him to just fuck your greedy pussy, desperate to clench down around his cock as he pounds into you.

“You’ve done it before Andy. Many times in fact”

His kisses halt as he smirks at you, that devilish look in his eyes. It always drives you wild “do it again, please, i need it” you beg pathetically and much to your surprise, he does exactly that. He takes your panties, tugging them to the side and playing with your soaked core a little as well as touching your bundle of nerves. You whine into the crook of his neck as you urge him to hurry before he eventually pulls his pants further down his legs to position himself at your entrance better. You don’t even have time to breathe before he’s knocking the air from your lungs as he fucks himself to the hilt inside of you.

The way his pace continues to pick up until it’s rendering on animalistic is causing you to let out the loudest and sexiest sounds, it’s like music to his ears but he can’t have anyone hearing this. He flips the two of you over so that you’re below him, your legs pushed back to your head and you hold them in place. His hand covers your mouth as he slides himself back in, not making any effort to start slow “you’d better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are” he continues with rough snaps of his hips as he fucks into you with reckless abandon and causing the sweet music you make to vibrate onto his hand.

“Yeah, like this? Like the way i fuck this pretty little cunt?”

Thrust

“Bet his cock couldn’t even touch what mine does to you, the way you cry out for more and scream my name every time. The way i can make you cum with just my words and my fingers. God, such a dirty little girl for me, ain’t that right, princess?”

Satisfied hums follow his questions along with a frantic nod as you feel the coil tightening in your stomach, like a knot twisting and pulling, you’re so unbelievably close that you can almost taste the impending orgasm. “Don’t make a fucking sound when i move my hand, okay?” again you nod in response and he moves his hand, smiling down at you with adoration in his eyes before moving his hand to your aching sex. His fingers pressing down onto your bundle of nerves, rubbing firm circles on it and as soon as your walls flutter around him, he knows your close.

“Gonna cum, huh? Gonna make a mess all over my cock? My filthy girl, go on baby, cream all over me”

Just like that, along with his permission you let everything go, allowing yourself to really feel the pleasure. Your walls flutter around him again and again and each time he pulls out of you he spots your juices as they cover his cock beautifully. The sight alone has his hips snapping harder, the sound of his skin slapping against yours bounces off of the walls in his office and you accidentally let out a lewd moan that he swallows with his kiss as you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer “cum for me daddy” your encouragement sends his entire world spinning as his thrusts stagger.

His cock jolts inside of you, twitching like crazy before his cream fills you up deliciously, painting your walls in thick ropes. You arch your back as your arms wrap around his neck. You need to feel his lips on yours.

He kisses you so hard that your teeth clash, making the two of you chuckle into each others mouths before attempting again. This time his tongue forces it’s way past your lips, battling with yours as he rides the two of you through your dramatic and intense highs.

Once his hips still and he pulls out, he flops down next to you. The two of you are nothing but a panting mess. Chests rising and falling along with your erratic heart beats.

“I love you too” he confesses, making you gasp as you turn your head to look at his spent body, the way his eyes meet yours and tears pool in them has your eyes doing the same.

“Andy”

“I’m not finished. I’ve felt this connection with you since the day i first met you, it caught me completely off guard. When we made the deal for it to be just friends, i was upset. I wanted a lot more but i know i wasn’t ready just yet. But the way you’d draw out laughter from me that no one else has ever been able to and the way you’d boss me around only made my feelings grow. Then we fucked and it was like confirmation to me that i was well and truly screwed. But i kept coming back for more because it was like an addiction, i had to have you in any way that was possible and if sex was the only way then i’d have stayed single forever just to keep you close. I’d have done anything to be able to hold your body and kiss your neck and make you feel good. If doing that as just your fuck buddy was the only way then so be it. But i got to a point where just fucking you wasn’t enough. I wanted something real with you. So on Saturday-” before he can even finish you sigh, sitting up.

“You came to tell me how you felt? Andy, why didn’t you just say that earlier?” you don’t know how to feel right now. You’re so consumed by emotions that your head is spinning. One one hand you’re angry, annoyed and upset that he kept this from you and didn’t just tell you he felt the same when you confessed how you felt. But then on the other hand you’re relieved and happy that he does feel the same. This was never some unrequited love, it’s always been reciprocated and real.

All the lingering stares you’d catch, all of the compliments thrown your way and the insults hurled at random guys who’d ogle you whenever you were out in public with him or whenever another guy at work would take an interest.

“I saw you with that guy Y/N and i broke down. Then today, i expected you to come in and talk to me about it but instead you sat down at your desk, acted normal and didn’t say a word. I was hurt that you’d keep this from me. I know we both felt these things and i know both of us were unaware of the feelings being reciprocated but you still didn’t tell me you’d even thought about seeing other people and i guess i just expected more from you, more honesty”

He’s right. You don’t have it in you to argue because he’s right. He might have had his reasons for hiding his true feelings but you hid your date from him and that’s a lot worse. How was he supposed to just come out with it when all he could think of was you with Ashley.

“You’re right. I was wrong, i didn’t even think about the effect it would have and i was selfish. To tell you the truth i only went out with that guy because i was trying to move on from you, i didn’t want to keep feeling this strongly with no possibility of you feeling the same so i did the first thing i knew to do, date some other guy”

Andy can’t say he isn’t relieved to hear you admit that preppy college boy means nothing to you but it’s bitter sweet, you saying that you thought your feelings were one sided so you wanted to move on to avoid getting hurt further makes him hurt too. You’ve always meant more to him than just some friendship or some steamy sex. You’re the first woman he’s even looked twice at since Laurie and that means a whole lot more than you’ll ever know or understand.

“So what now?” you ask, puppy dog eyes showing as you await his response.

“I know it’s a bit backwards but how about a date tomorrow?”

God, he really is so handsome, so sweet. His deep and raspy chuckles make you giggle along with him as you straddle him once again, crashing your lips to his, his beard scratching at your face just the way you like.

He pulls away for a second “is that a yes?” once more you shake your head, tutting at him “a thousand times yes, Mr Barber. Yes i’ll go out with you” he wraps his arms around you as he pulls you flush against his suit clad torso, kissing you eagerly and smiling into it. He finally got the girl.

---------------------------------

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withoneheadlight · 3 years

Text

ok i saw this cap of zoë kravitz in hf and she's got such a dreamy expression, she looks so deeply self-absorbed and infatuated by whatever she's imagining and those lines. and i couldn't stop picturing billy exactly like that for days so,

There’s a pretty unusual sound coming off the house when Max comes back home, that summer afternoon.

Full volume. Walls shaking. And she quietly walks to the source of the sound, holding back her breath right in front of Billy's room because, there's this second sound? Stranger and way more unsettling and Max's not sure-sure at first but then Steve Perry’s voice takes off and Billy’s follows it and then he's like, singing along and. Well. Max did know Billy liked Journey but not like, their 'stuff for pussies' but uhm, he does, apparently. Rasps his voice all the way through ‘Faithfully’. Kind of, sighs. Longingly? When it ends? But pfff, ok, big brothers are weird. Definitely weirder after being possessed and then kind of resurrected. Even if it's in a good-weird way but, whatever. So Max's just about to sneak to her room, dutifully rolling her eyes, steps muffled by the first chords of 'Edge of the blade' when―

Click. Click. Billy stops the tape. Click. Takes it out. Tap. Tap. Click. Puts on― Billy puts. On,

Heaven.

Bryan Adams’ Heaven.

And Max―

Being a younger sister is a meticulous kind of full-time, private detective job. You gotta learn how the person you’ve been watching so carefully for years and years works. Hafta develop some sort of―sense about your target. And Billy’s been—un-Billy-like? These past two months. Smiling more. Telling more jokes. Playing ‘You shook me all night long’ in a loop on their drive to school and back, not complaining at all but even joining when’s Max who can’t help but sing along so.

So. She retraces her steps. Knocks. Takes the distracted grunt she gets as a ‘Yeahyeah, c’mon in c’mon in’ and,

Creak. Creak. ‘―baby you’re all that I want’

“Billy?”

Billy’s sitting cross-legged on the floor. Radio close to his knees. Cassettes scattered everywhere. Piles and piles of breakwater surrounding Billy’s old, rusty beacon of sound. He’s reading through the song-list of one of the tapes, a smoke locked on the corner of his mouth, bouncing up and down with every little, absent suck he takes, and he looks. He looks―

Self-absorbed and even. Relaxed. Happy. Like whatever he’s thinking about right now is actually carrying his thoughts away to fucking heaven.

“Ehh”

“Uh-hu?”

‘When you’re lying here in my arms!’

“Billy are you. What―” ‘I'm findin' it hard to believe. We're in heaven’ “What are you doing?”

But there’s this orbit around the sun and then there’s whatever one Billy's been spinning along with the last couple of months so he completely ignores her question. Shakes the tape on his left hand. Picks another one from the pile on his right. Asks her.

“Is Billy Ocean too much? ‘Cause I think it’s too much. But it kind of fits into what I'm trying to say so” he says, shrugs, looking up at Max and waiting for the answer of what she realizes was not really a question. Not at all. So she does her little sister job and just, nods “Right. That’s good. I think it’ll slide just nicely into Bruce Springsteen and―”

“Billy” Max insists, waiting for the charm of the third time to work. It doesn’t. Not really. But keeps Billy's eyes on her long enough to squeeze an “A mixtape?” And, uh. That’s what gets it on. The charm “Are you making a mixtape?”

“Uh?”

And it’s like Max just shook Billy out of a daydream. Ash plopping down from his cigarette as his lips try but can’t purse and Max― she’s good. She’s stellar at this detective thing. Recognizes an opening the moment she sees it, right there in front of her, frozen in the middle of shaking Billy Ocean and Bruce Springsteen in the air right before cocktailing them together. Shaken, not stirred, please. Max’s upgraded to James Bond-level just right now.

“You’re making a mixtape for someone”

“Oh-nonoMaxi―”

“But you didn’t have those tapes before. Not even in your secret stash”

“How do yo―?”

“Holy. ShIT. You’ve been listening to somebody else’s music” This is. Oh, God. This. Is. GOLD. Max gotta take a moment. Blink. Breathe. Process. Her hands move by themselves, palms spread toward Billy in a wait-a-minute kind of gesture except. Max’s gonna need way more than a minute for this “You’ve accepted a music recommendation”

“Maaaaax”

“Gosh, you’ve even listened to the tapes enough to. Make―”

“Max!”

“I just can’t believe it”

And Max was glad. Well. As glad as one can be. Bunch weeks ago. Her mom and Neil out for the day. Coming back home a little earlier than she usually does to hear those ugh. Those other noises. Happy screams. Again. After months and months of Billy being basically alone except for her and the party and Steve. And Max’s so glad, of course she is. But she’s also a little sister. And all this investigation work has a high, rightful purpose.

Make her big brother’s life a living. Hell.

“Oh my god, you must be so gone!” Max brings her hands to her mouth. Takes a deep, deep breath that’s more a poorly restrained giggle. Shoots her index at him “Is it Bon Jovi? What I’m seeing right there? Goddam, Billy are you in lo―”

Bam.

Bam. Bam!

The front door.

What a way to spoil the fun. Max doesn’t have time for this. She’s working.

“BILLY?” comes a voice from the other side “Billy are you in there?”

Steve.

Oh.

What a way to make the fun a hundred times better.

Bam.Bam.Bam!

She’s starting to move to get to the door, sinsonging “Well, I guess Steve’s gonna find out you’re so stupid in love you’re willingly listening to―” when she realizes Billy’s eyes have widened and he’s jerkingly trying to unfreeze, he’s mumbling something in around his already extinguished cigarette in the ways of “Can’t” and “Find out” and “Surprise” and “Fucking help me!” While literally trying to shove the huge mass of tapes under his bed, his tone like hurryhurryhurry!, like he would start gagging and throwing his lungs out at any given minute, so nervous he looks.

So Max doesn’t go for the door. Yet. She basks in the enjoyment.

“Oh, is it a secret romance or something?” She sighs happily, leaning against the doorframe instead. “‘Cause you look pretty worried”

Steve’s banging the door now, voice wavering a little as he asks-shouts “Billy? Billy answer me! Hey, bab―Are you ok?”

“Max, please” Billy begs. Begs. Crawling over to where a Madonna’s Like a virgin is laying with the tape looping slightly out “He really can’t find out”

“What? That you’re in lo-o-oh-oh-OH―”

Billy stops at the tone, right there on his knees. Spits his forgotten cig to the side. And in the instant it seems to take him to make up his mind they both can hear Steve shout “Ok. I know you’re in there!. I’m coming in now!!”

“Fuck! Yeah. I am. Ok?” he looks like he just realized he’s tripped. Blushes. “Making it, I mean”

BAM!

And Ohhhhhhh.

Zero-fucking-zero-fucking-seven.

“Steve,” Max gasps. Because. Hear it makes it like. Easier. To process “You. And Steve”

B A M!

“Yeah, Max, Yeah. And this is a fucking surprise and he’s gonna―”

‘I've been waitin' for so long. For somethin' to arrive. For love to come along’

Ok. Oh. Okok.

“Door!” Max hastens him.

“What?”

“You. Door. Run!” She commands, and Billy― sometimes Max can’t honestly understand how he's got the grades he's got, because Billy blinks, looks clueless “C’mon slow ass. Hurry! I’ll hide all this shit”

And Billy finally gets it. Nods. Slow. Then fast. Stumbles up. Literally runs, to get to the door.

Max still gets to hear his labored “Fuck, pretty boy. “That was really hardcore of you. That's how bad you wanted to see me?” And Steve's own breathless “Really?” Before pushing Billy's room door close with her back, and kneeling on the floor to check for stray, incriminating cassettes.

Pretty boy. Maybe Max isn't as clever as she thought she is. Or hasn’t been doing her job right, clearly.

It's when she’s making ‘It’s a kind of magic’ disappear into the rest of the pile that she lays eyes on it. The case. The J-card written almost all the way down to the B-side already. A mixture of songs Billy's heard so many times there are parts where his tapes screech, and others she'd bet her life he wouldn’t have deigned to listen to. Not ever. Definitely not because―no, for, somebody. Bowie and Cher and Cindy Lauper and Bob Seger right next to Metallica and Guns n' Roses and Meatloaf and― there. There. Almost hidden in the back of the spine. A note. A tiny, thin-lettered thing Max really, really shouldn't be reading but―

‘Thanks for driving me back.

Love. Billy’

But. That's what little sisters do too, she guesses. Intrude. Annoy. Snoop. Feel this sudden rush of relief. Of happiness. When Billy laughs softly, on the other side of the door. When Steve laughs back. Maybe a tear. Or two. But just maybe. She’s really good at this little sister thing, after all.

Hopes for stellar.

or: that post s3 where steve lets a camaro-less billy drive him around in his own car "really? again, hargrove?" almost every single day, for months, after he comes back, because "you’re gonna perpetually stick yourself to my ass at least let me do the one thing that frikin’ calms me down" which results in steve resigning himself to deejaying in the shotgun even if "jesus, what's that shit, harrington?" "my car, my rules, sweetheart" which results in billy developing a ‘songs steve harrington is in love with’ mental playlist, realizing he’s probably a little bit in love with the way he loves them and, possibly, a little much love with steve and then stealing steve's tapes one day and,

making a mixtape about it.

(the first of a whole lot, of love letters)

#harringrove #d+mb sh+t i write #but #i had fun!#writing max bc she's my fav <3<3<#and also #dumbstrucklovestruck billy? MY FAV TKVM #also #mixtaping IS an art #xharringrove

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only-johnny-deppp · 3 years

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“Whatever I’ve gone through, I’ve gone through. But, ultimately, this particular arena of my life has been so absurd...”

Johnny Depp’s NEW INTERVIEW!

Last saturday, August 14, The UK Times, released a new interview with Johnny for the Sunday Times section. It was realized sometime earlier this month, in London, probably on the same day he and Andrew Levitas were recording for the Q&A for the “Minamata” release in UK. This is Johnny’s first interview since the UK trials in London last year, and released three years after Johnny’s major interview for the British GQ Magazine. Here Johnny and Andrew Levitas speaks about “Minamata”, his future as actor and a thing or two about his personal life, although he cannot talk about the court case.

For those who couldn’t read yet, here is the FULL interview: Enjoy.

***

“I’M BEING BOYCOTTED BY HOLLYWOOD”

Johnny Depp has a new film out this week. In the opening scene his character, the real-life photographer W Eugene Smith, says, “I’m done. I’m tired. My body is older than I am. I’m always in goddam pain. I can’t trust my f***ing dick any more. Constantly in a foul mood. Even the drugs bore me.”

I ask Depp if Smith’s despair resonated with him. Depp stops. Rocks back and forth. “That’s interesting,” he replies with painful hesitation.

“I didn’t approach playing Smith in that way… Although you bring your toolbox to work and use what is available. Having experienced...” He stops again. Depp takes any questions that might refer to his calamitous libel case last year slowly, in a mumbly, croaking drawl. “A surreal five years…”

In the film Smith needs to revive his reputation. In real life Depp’s task is even more daunting. Thanks to the judgment, everyone can call him a “wife-beater”. Now he must convince a Hollywood still convulsed by #MeToo that he’s not toxic — and that any attempt to rebuild his career is a risk worth taking. This is Depp’s first interview since the case.

We are speaking over Zoom, Depp in his London home, in front of a gold-framed painting. The 58-year-old is wearing a lot of clothes. Earrings. Floppy hat. Sunglasses. Bandana. Scarf. Checked shirt over a T-shirt with an indiscernible slogan. If you saw him on the Tube*, you might think he was off to work at the London Dungeon*, to play most of the characters.

PS. For those who are not familiar with British words: * Tube = British slang for London Underground, the subway trains. * London Dungeon = is a walk-through experience that recreates scenes from London's scary history in a mixture of live actors, special effects and rides.

Depp resumes, talking in broken sentences about the new film, Minamata, in which Smith, via Life magazine, exposes the brutal mercury poisoning of Japanese villagers in the early 1970s.

“How do we do this?” he asks rhetorically, meaning how to speak about the elephant in the Zoom. “Well, there’s no way one can’t recognise the absurdity of the mathematics.” He grins. “If you know what I mean?” No. “Absurdity of media mathematics.” He talks in riddles. “Whatever I’ve gone through, I’ve gone through. But, ultimately, this particular arena of my life has been so absurd...”

He trails off again. He is holding a big brown roll-up of some sort. “What the people in Minamata dealt with? People who suffered with Covid? A lot of people lost lives. Children sick...Ill. Ultimately, in answer to your question? Yeah, you use what you’ve got. But what I’ve been through? That’s like getting scratched by a kitten. Comparatively.”

Last July, I went to the High Court in London to watch Depp on another screen — a video from the socially distanced court where the Hollywood star was losing a libel action against The Sun after it called him a “wife-beater”. It was the grottiest showbiz trial of the century. There were photos of the actor passed out in a foetal slump, socks on show. One lengthy exchange involved faeces. Another urination, inside or outside a house, after a violent night with his ex-wife Amber Heard.

This had all been going on for a while. In 2016 Heard applied for a temporary restraining order against him. The couple had long endured a narcotic, booze-filled, childish relationship, but that does not matter — 12 incidents levelled against Depp were proved, said the judge, and abuse is abuse, regardless of how badly they both behaved. Depp wanted to appeal, but the court said no. Next April in the US he has a $50 million defamation case against Heard relating to an opinion piece she wrote about being the victim of domestic abuse. It may be his last roll of the dice.

In the 1990s Depp was a sensitive heart-throb. Cooler than DiCaprio, edgier than Pitt. In this past year he has been stripped of his status and dignity. On day three of the trial Sasha Wass QC, representing The Sun, asked Depp about daubing a penis on a painting. He could not remember. “That would be quite a big thing, painting a penis on a picture?” Wass asked. “Quite a big thing?” Depp asked.

It was a well-delivered line, but Depp was on show. Performing. Now he is more timid, less lucid. His people say he cannot talk about the court case given the looming US trial, yet it hangs over everything. The director of Minamata, Andrew Levitas, is also on our call — as a pub trivia aside, Levitas is married to the Welsh singer Katherine Jenkins.

The two men clearly get on. “With regards to journalism, it was important for us to put across in the film the power of truth,” Levitas says. Depp nods. “The responsibility of journalists to look after citizens of the world. [Our film] coincided with the moment important publications had to put Raquel Welch on a cover to get enough eyeballs to sell enough ads in order to put something meaningful inside. A result of that is clickbait — it’s destroying the purpose of journalism,” Levitas continues.

“You said it beautifully,” says Depp, one of the world’s most pinned-up men, who built a career on magazine covers. “I couldn’t say it better than that.”

Last month Levitas wrote to MGM, which bought Minamata for the US market but decided not to release it. He accused MGM of being concerned that “the personal issues of an actor in the film could reflect negatively upon them”. Then the letter got really strong. Levitas accused MGM of failing in its “moral obligation” to release the film and said it needed to explain to the victims “why you think an actor’s personal life is more important than their dead children”. He then attached Smith’s photos of ghastly deformities that shocked the world 50 years ago.

“It’s important that the movie gets seen and supported,” Levitas says. “And if I get an inkling it’s not going to be, it’s my responsibility to say so. Where it goes from there? I don’t know. But we have responsibility to these victims . . .”

You can see why he’s passionate. The film is good. MGM bought the film because it is good. Depp is good too. He disappears into the role, far from his more recent pantomime parts. It’s being released worldwide, just not in the actor’s homeland.

Depp, who also produced the film, interrupts. “We looked these people in the eyeballs and promised we would not be exploitative. That the film would be respectful. I believe that we’ve kept our end of the bargain, but those who came in later should also maintain theirs.”

“Some films touch people,” he adds. “And this affects those in Minamata and people who experience similar things. And for anything…” He pauses, as he does. “For Hollywood’s boycott of, erm, me? One man, one actor in an unpleasant and messy situation, over the last number of years?” He trails off. “But, you know, I’m moving towards where I need to go to make all that…” Again, he trails off. “To bring things to light.”

The fact, as I think Depp knows, is that for his career, the court that matters is not one of law, but public opinion. On social media, where a lot of minds are made up, Depp’s good reputation will always outweigh the bad, thanks to his frequently blinkered fans.

Outside the High Court, as Heard arrived, I saw Natasha, 30, yell: “Get hit by a truck, Amber!” She is extreme, but the persistent way his fans demand that others think their idol is a saint shows a career revival will happen. After all, most filmgoers do not follow his private life at all. To them, he is Jack Sparrow, Edward Scissorhands. To them, he is a star — and a star can take an awful lot of heat before it burns out.

“They have always been my employers,” Depp says of his fans. “They are all our employers. They buy tickets, merchandise. They made all of those studios rich, but they forgot that a long time ago. I certainly haven’t. I’m proud of these people, because of what they are trying to say, which is the truth. The truth they’re trying to get out since it doesn’t in more mainstream publications. It’s a long road that sometimes gets clunky. Sometimes just plain stupid. But they stayed on the ride with me and it’s for them I will fight. Always, to the end. Whatever it may be.”

Depp will talk like this for ever — about his “truth”. Minamata is the last film Depp has listed on the industry site IMDb, where actors usually have half a dozen in development. So, yes, fans of the actor can see Depp in a new role now — it is a return, but is it a relaunch? The film was finished in 2019, way before last year’s court case. Is that it? His last film? He thinks and looks off to his bookshelves, at biographies of Betjeman and Olivier.

“Er...no,” he says, eventually. “No. No. Actually, I look forward to the next few films I make to be my first films, in a way. Because once you’ve...Well, look. The way they wrote it in The Wizard of Oz is that when you see behind the curtain, it’s not him. When you see behind the curtain, there’s a whole lot of motherf***ers squished into one spot. All praying that you don’t look at them. And notice them.”

I would ask him to explain, but I am not sure he is an explainer. Watch this space, I guess, but he is already taking a first step back. After we speak, it is announced Depp is getting the coveted Donostia award at the San Sebastian Film Festival next month. Some people are just too famous to fail.

~ Interview by Jonathan Dean, in London, for The Times UK (released on August 14, 2021)

#Johnny Depp #New Interview #Interview #Minamata #Justice For Johnny Depp #I Believe Him #Johnny Depp is Innocent #The Times UK

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jiskblr · 3 years

Text

Doylist History of the Chainsword

[credit]

What is a chainsword? It’s a chainsaw used as a weapon. Sometimes literally just a chainsaw used as a weapon, sometimes reshaped into a sword as above (or if you want to be extra, and brütal, an axe). This Is Awesome. However, it’s also extremely stupid. A chainsaw rebounds when you cut with it wrong, and it’s very easy to jam with impact against the flat side. It’s a terrible fucking weapon.

However, from the post-apocalypse wasteland to Warhammer 40,000 to S-Mart and back, people keep saying “Fuck that, I want to slice open villains with a goddamn chainsaw and I do not care about this being ‘stupid’ or ‘ineffective’.” Which, to be fair, is an entirely legitimate point.

But how did we arrive at this state of affairs?

I’ll be honest, I thought that Warhammer invented the chainsword and everyone else copied them. They certainly are the ones who made it the biggest part of their brand, to the point where the biggest fan community is named after it. (Bolter & Chainsword - the other part being their most iconic gun. Which is, if anything, even more idiotic than a chainsword. That’s a story for a different time.)

But! They did not. The very first 40k book, Warhammer 40,000: Rogue Trader, in 1987, contained the chainsword both by name and in illustrated form - look at this dwarf space pirate and try to say it’s not Rad As Hell:

However, it was not the first one! The franchise which made chainsaw weaponry the second biggest part of their brand was also a going concern. While Army of Darkness and it’s tagline “Trapped in time. Surrounded by evil. Low on gas.” didn’t show up until ‘92, Evil Dead 2, in which The Guy With the Gun first affixes a chainsaw to his stump wrist as a weapon, also came out in 1987.

And by April of 1988, Dragon Magazine had gotten in on the fun:

Now, Dragon probably didn’t have a ton of lead time, especially for its April Fool’s issue, so it could totally have been copying off Warhammer, Evil Dead, or both. But Games Workshop and Sam Raimi needed more advance planning. They clearly didn’t copy off each other. So, either there was a big damn coincidence, or they got the idea somewhere else, decided that it was Awesome, and ran away cackling with it. What could that be?

(Hint: I gave it away back in paragraph two.)

That’s right! The kingpin of post-apocalyptic fiction: Mad Max. Specifically, Beyond Thunderdome: released in 1985.

That was nearly forty years ago, so I hadn’t actually watched Mad Max when I stumbled on this whole thing, except Fury Road. Chances are decent neither have you. Should get around to that some time, though I may skip the first one where the apocalypse is still in-progress, it’s not quite the same.

But in any event, a chainsaw does get used as a weapon. In a pretty iconic scene, namely the duel in the Thunderdome. Two Men Enter, One Man Leaves. And one of the means by which you may prevent One other Man from Leaving is a chainsaw. (Also, the duel is fought while bungee jumping from the dome. What? Stupid, but, again, This Is Awesome.) Max does in fact take the chainsaw and wield it as a weapon against Blaster.

So: This is the lineage of the chainsaw sword.

‘85: Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome: Provides a chainsaw among a selection of weapons in the iconic fight in the Thunderdome.

‘87: Evil Dead 2, at the climax of the movie when Ash has to cut off his hand, replaces it with a chainsaw and declares it Groovy. This is a pretty ridiculous thing to do, but it’s a horror-comedy, not straight horror.

‘87: Warhammer 40,000, which debuted as a very silly setting, simultaneously borrows the chainsaw-as-weapon for their rustpunk grim darkness of the future, which isn’t strictly post-apocalyptic but borrows a lot thematically. They give it the name “chainsword”.

‘88: Dragon Magazine, copying at least Warhammer and probably also Evil Dead and Mad Max, includes a ”chainsword” as a magic item.

‘92: Army of Darkness: Good. Bad. He’s the Guy With the Goddamn Chainsaw Hand. Solidifying its place in the pantheon of Awesome Stupid Hilarious Bullshit weapons.

And the rest is history.

Or at least, that’s what I thought last week when I first wrote this. But my mistake was corrected: A New Challenger Approaches.

When the going gets absurd, the absurd gets revving. The Rule of Cool cannot be beaten by ordinary effectiveness. You need something even Cooler. And if the Cool threat is also completely ridiculous, you need something even more ridiculous.

The only solution to a tornado full of sharks is to whip out a chainsaw.

Or a double-bladed parallel chainsaw.

Or a chainsaw prosthesis which can also plug into your real hand prosthesis.

Or a laser chainsaw. (Substantially less stupid than a normal chainsword TBF.)

I don’t know for sure, but I think that the Sharknado franchise - six movies but they put The Last in the last one so probably no more - will have less lasting impact than Warhammer or Mad Max. It’s probably a bigger cultural phenomenon at the moment than Evil Dead, and it’s an entirely respectable inheritor to the comic-horror chainsaw-hand crown. Give it another twenty years and we’ll probably see a new chainsword in town.

Or, hell, a crossover.

#when the chainsaw-axe debuted I don't know #I think that's purely a 40k thing but I thought that before #mad max #warhammer 40k #evil dead #sharknado

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pandorafallz · 11 months

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Overseer AU | Final Warnings (rewritten)

He could wait two more years.

It just made things harder.

Parker swore as the line closed off and he slumped into his seat. “Ugh.”

Quaritch raised his eyebrow in little concern for the man’s problem. “You gonna authorize the new avatar for her?”

Again, Quaritch didn’t care.

“So, options are Augustine remains comatose for the next few years until the new avatar is ready, or you never give her an avatar and she remains comatose until…death and you have to find a new department head.” There was no way she could leave in a shuttle in her state. It was probably more humane to check her records on NDR or if she had euthanasia consented in the event of an irreversible condition.

“Authorise the body and give better care for Augustine while she’s in a coma.” Quaritch spoke, “It’ll look good on you like you care, the new body will show that it wasn’t purposeful and was simply an accident. The last thing you want is a bad rumor going around the base. It’ll damage morale and it’ll make you look like you don’t know what you’re fucking doing.”

“They were your soldiers. I didn’t shoot her.”

“I know. I’ll give a nice, warm talking to them I get out of here.” Quaritch spoke, “But it all reflects on you, at the end of the day, not just me” He added, “You might as well have had that gun in your hands after all.”

“Okay, fine. She’ll get the blue body. Go discipline whoever did it and just…leave me alone. I have so much more work to do now.”

“Aw, it’s so small.”

Dr Kim Greene couldn’t help herself at the coo she gave as the xenobioengineers finished with the final setup of the incubating tank where inside the fetus of Grace’s new avatar was growing inside a makeshift organic transparent ammonitic sac within the tank. Of course, the amniotic sac was only there to aid in its smaller development in an overly sized tank; too much moving or a change in water movement would be dangerous and the artificial cord was fragile this small so, the sac helped keep it localized within the tank until it outgrew the membrane and the avatar absorbed the membrane into it’s body.

The heart was beating now and rapidly through the near translucent blue skin that show the developing ribs, the fingers and toes flexed ever so often though the elongated nubs of the tail was easy to see just as much as the na’vi queue at the base of its neck; it’s tendrils already growing out like fine hairs. The eyeballs were sealed behind skin though, like a human fetus, it was dark (but would lighten to yellow as the eyes developed) so relatively easy to see through the skin.

“Look, tiny fingers and toes!” Kim cooed again, “Oh, I forgot how fascinating these things were.”

“You have an avatar as well, Dr Greene.” Dr Patel pointed out with a warm, amused smile.

Max sighed deeply, “You do realize the Na’vi probably buried it. It’s been a day since the attack.”

She bid a farewell to Dr Patel first then to the fetus then headed off for her assignment.

Kim pulled Dr Madaki and Dr Masterson with her for this assignment, xenozoologist and a research doctor should look harmless if they come across any pissed off natives. Given the RDA had killed a few children; she didn’t expect less but she knew she had to tread a fine line with navigating with them to get what was left of the dead avatar. The school was the first place they needed to be. One that she had a hunch would be watched but they still had to go.

Getting linked up, Kim met the two at the Samson as they were loading up.

“Sidearms? Really?” Masterson was less than impressed as she handed him a holster. “Isn’t a weapon gonna trigger them into attacking us?”

“A precaution for all avatar drivers.” Kim sighed, though glad he took it and set it onto his leg. “Quaritch’s orders.” The new brief was long and tedious but she had skim read enough to get the idea of it. All the Avatar drivers would be learning in the coming weeks how to operate guns and thankfully, she already knew so she’d be tapping out for better things to do.

“The Na’vi will be bows out before we reach for them!”

“Then don’t be stupid.” Kim spoke, “we all know what’ll happen if we die in these bodies so be sensible. The guns aren’t for the Na’vi.” The wildlife was another story; that couldn’t be reasoned with. “So don’t freak out if you see one; they can be reasoned with. Shooting at them while we’re out there puts us in the same boat of Dr Augustine.”

“Why did you have to pick us?” Madaki huffed, tightening the holder around his slim waist, making sure his tail wasn’t caught up.

“The Na’vi have seen you before. You both worked with Dr Augustine and visited the school at some point. They should know your face far better than mine. ”

“Ugh, sound logic.” Masterson groaned, “I hate that.”

Kim laughed softly, double-checking they had an avatar body bag and tools before loading them into the jet.

The trip was not overly long, though Kim ordered the human guard to remain with the pilot while they went ahead toward the wooden school building. There was protest but the guy shut up quickly after Masterson pointed out if shots were fired, he’d be the first dead as he was the human.

Getting closer, Kim realized now that blood now adorned the wooden surface of the frame and floor but there was enough that clearly splatted inwards.

Someone had died at the doorway. They had to be careful; if they were being watched then they’d need to tread with respect.

“Take….take scans of the building. We need to document this. Augustine’s going to want to know when she wakes up.” Kim ordered, stepping around the blood stains, though inside, it wasn’t any better; bullets had clearly rained through the other side as well; one window was missing it’s entire blind so it was likely this was the escape for the children, and Dr Augustine. She stepped over another blood stain, probably from someone caught by a stray bullet, carefully looking through the damaged window.

Outside, there were clear indentation marks of impacts on the grass underneath. Curiously, Kim went back out the door and around than jump out and knelt close to the markings though her eyes roamed the foliage around; blooded wooden shards did little comfort and—

Kim paused as she noticed the familiar lanyard string. From her waist bag, she pulled on a set of gloves and a clear bag before pulling on the string. To her surprise as she pulled it from the foliage, the lanyard wasn’t whole, it had a clear bullet hole running through its bottom right corner with blood staining the plastic.

Dr Augustine’s lanyard wasn’t just a lanyard; like all of theirs, it was her security card inside the plastic pocket that allowed her access to doors, second to that, there was a memory chip from her work as well she had for her assignments and personal logs back-ups. Good thing the natives didn’t know what it was, even if it was damaged.

“Guy, hands away from weapons.” She called back.

“Kim, what—oh.”

Kim stepped back further, her tail swishing anxiously though it was a single warrior woman as she was followed by the warrior, her face was serious and the grip on her bow was not relaxed; ready to fire.

“<We’re not here to cause harm>.” Her Na’vi was not perfect but she didn’t learn it to be perfect; just enough to carry a conversation…or beg for her life. “<We’re here documenting the attack and to collect the body of Dr Grace Augustine.>”

The woman was not alone, four other warriors seemed to step out from the treeline; armed and loaded toward her colleagues

“You not welcome here.” The woman’s English wasn’t good either but, Kim was relieved they stood on the same level of foreign languages.

“<We’re not here to impose, we need to collect our dead for our cultural burials,” Kim spoke again. “We don’t seek to cause harm>.” She repeated, “<I offer my deepest and sincere condolences to anyone hurt and killed in this attack.>”

“<We should kill them.>” Another warrior spoke. “<The risks… we cannot take it. Not again.>”

“Yu’gal, send word to the Olo'eyktan of Dreamwalkers at the school.”

Still, it had to be a quicker death than what Dr Augustin had if she made it deeper into Omatikaya territory under her own steam.

Kim took the hint to move with the gesture of the bow, her colleagues doing the same until they were huddled together. They waited perhaps ten minutes— though Kim lied through a check-in that everything was alright—before anyone else came to them.

She recognized the tall, decorative frame of the Omatikaya’s Olo'eyktan quickly as he rode upon the back of the Direhorse, a strong bow in hand but thankfully, nothing notched. Kim was more surprised to see the Tsahìk as well.

This was not a good sign if both of them were here.

Eytukan jumped from his Direhorse with practiced ease, his head held strong and eyes unforgiving. Broadcasting strength and weight of leadership that… make Selfridge look like a toddler eating glitter glue and Quaritch like a juvenile with fake tats and piped up on his own confidence. In a heartbeat, she felt well and truly intimated by his presence. Her ears lowered back, not meeting his hash gaze.

A flurry of new warriors also seemed to line the trees as well; running would see the deaths of their avatars. She had to hope she could talk their people out of this.

“What are you called, Dreamwalker?” Eytukan’s hard words were spoken in English.

The Tsahìk moved this time, her eyes narrow and careful. “What happened to Graceaugustine’s sky person’s body at her death? I expected her to be here.”

That was a very specific question, referring to the avatar no doubt.

“Cardiac arrest?”

“In a simple explanation…the heart stops pumping.” Kim clarified though it pained her to say it like that but… she had no other way to elaborate in a way they could understand; she didn’t know their language well enough and she doubted the Na’vi knew more technical terms for that if the Tsahìk was asking for clarification.

Grace would have been able to explain if she was here.

The Tsahìk’s head tilted, though seemed to nod with some sort of agreement. “I see.” She straightened up with an edge of discontent. “Grace’s dreamwalker body was returned to the ground in a sacred place so you will not be taking her body. Her…belonging she had upon her, we will return.”

Kim spared a look to Madaki though returned her gaze to the Tsahìk as she collected something from a large pouch looped around the direhorse’s side.

From it, familiar shorts were neatly folded and bound with twine, and it was clearly the rest of Dr Augustine’s personal belongings but what stood out was the amount of blood upon them. Nothing looked untouched with red. If she wasn’t already a medic, Kim would have felt queasy.

Kim opened her arms and accepted them with a nod, “Thank you.”

“You will go now, Kimgreene. Know this, five children were killed by your people’s hands. My eldest daughter included. Any Dreamwalker or sky person found wandering unaccompanied and damaging our jungle will be met with a swift and sudden death.” Eytukan spoke, “Your kind is too dangerous.”

The notion of Graceasgustine probably death had lingered in the back of her mind as they buried and prayed for their dead. Songs echoed and the morning continued. A new bead to their songcords marked the passing of those departed but a new day meant a new start.

Living with the loss was hard but Mo’at had only to come to a level of peace in regards to her eldest; she knew her soul was with the Great Mother. It would take time for her to stop calling for Sylwanin or to seek her daughter out. Habit would soothe away once the path of healing was smoother. She would have to be mindful for Neytiri’s sake.

Confirmation of Graceaugustine’s death was…not as easy to hear. Mo’at knew her mistake was hoping but the uncertainty was natural for hope. Her instinct had been right, Graceaugustine would have made an effort to try and come on the day to them and the fact nothing had happened… it was an indicator.

Graceaugustine was with the Great Mother.

“Must we inform Neytiri?” Her mate asked, disturbing her quiet reflection as she held the one item she did not hand over; Grace’s headband. It was not asked for, so it was not missed.

Sky-people fabric differed a little from their own; the material was clearly a good quality; finely crafted with a multitude of colors. A decorative piece of material. There was only a small area of blood on its end but she didn’t keep it without reason.

She knew Graceaugustine had been on their world for a long time, just a few seasons shy of thirty seasons and while she had known of her for that amount of time from scouts spotting her study plants in the forest, she hadn’t gotten to know the woman for ten seasons later until she had a Dreamwalker, fifteen seasons ago.

Since then, they had— by sky-people standards—become friends despite their loyalties. A mutual interest. Graceaugustine was an opening or her to try and understand these aliens and it was likewise. Grace had mentioned only once she planned to die here. It was soothing to know at least she had that wish. But the fabric in her hands was a reminder for herself how far these aliens would go for even those sky people who Saw their world and stood in their way of interests.

They would kill their own kind if it came down to it, or in the heat of the moment; it didn’t matter who was in their way. Graceaugustine was not a warrior or a hunter. Unarmed and surrounded by children.

They still killed her.

“Yes, as much as she grieves for her sister, we cannot withhold the truth. She had been asking if Grace has come; she’ll expect answers when she returns and hears word of Dreamwalkers.” Mo’at explained. “I will take her to the Vitraya Ramunong when she returns to inform her. She hadn’t yet made Tsaheylu with the tree since her communion with Eywa.”

The Vitraya Ramunong was a sacred space but she had made the effort to laid Graceaugustine to rest there than a random spot in the forests. She hoped it’d ease the transition to…compensate for her sky-person origins to the Great Mother’s arms. Mo’at never imagined she’d have buried her, but was glad that she did.

She could see to Neytiri getting the closure she’d need at such a site and to link up with the stronger connections to the Great Mother to make peace. Mo’at felt that was good. She wanted that for her daughter, even if Eytukan wasn’t happy that she had buried her there but her reason was sound and now, it was valid upon knowing her death.

“You do not agree?” Mo’at pressed, noting the look on his face and with how he looked at the fabric in her fingers.

“You should not have kept that.”

“I told you my reasons.” Mo’at turned, gently folding it up, and set it upon her personal rack for now; she’d find a purpose or a proper place for it later. “I will not discuss it much further.”

Neytiti’s steps were quiet as Mo’at led her to the Vitraya Ramunong, letting her take in the raw beauty of their Great mother’s creation as they went through she knew her daughter was nervous to be here without a full explanation but for now, the tree was still alight in the darkness of the eclipse.

“Why are we here, Mother?” Neytiri asked, “We only come here after the birth of babies, do we not?”

Mo’at inclined her head, “This is our strongest connection with Eywa, as you are now to be the new tsakarem after me, it is a good spot to aid in your training.” Sylwanin had started her training earlier so this did have more purpose, “We can transition to the Utral Aymokriyä when you’re ready.”

Neytiri nodded, her ears flicking back.

“But we are not here for that tonight.” Mo’at carried on swiftly, “I’m sure you have heard Dreamwalkers were about at the school.” At the nod, Mo’at continued, “I received news upon Graceaugustine after her first death.”

Neytiri’s eyes widened, “She did not survive?”

“No.” Mo’at reached for her arm in comfort as her daughter's tail and ears dropped, “But, I buried her here so the Great Mother would receive her soul.”

Neytiri looked up, past her shoulder to the tree. “Are you certain?”

“No, but I have faith. I brought us here to come to terms with our losses and griefs. You’re taking a heavy mantle unexpectedly but you should allow yourself to talk to Sylwanin and Grace if you so desire.”

The unease was easy to see but Mo’at led her onwards, passing the grave where the tree’s roots were already grown grasses that wrapped around the body within to absorb it. Although Neytiri hovered beside it then get any closer.

“I am not ready, Mother,” Neytiri spoke.

Mo’at sighed but nodded to respect her daughter's choices. Another time could suit better. “Then please watch over me while I connect to the Great Mother.” Mo’at gently asked, finding the end of her kuru.

“Yes, Mother.”

Closing her eyes, Mo’at allowed herself to relax as she gently bonded to the tree, the songs and echoes of their ancestors danced in her mind before she felt the sensations of the physical world become nothing but background.

Her eyes opened to see a scene unlike her forests but of a sky-person’s created world. A… laboratory if her memory serves correctly. But it was almost empty of sky-people in those white coverings, the clear screens showed many sights. One such of view of Hometree built out of light seemed to float in its center; a huge tank of water with a blue Dreamwalker floating inside was out of immediate view like an unborn child. A curious sight; she had never seen them in such a state before. Nonetheless, the whole atmosphere was calm with a light purple tinge of the Great Mother’s warmth.

Mo’at’s eyes were drawn to the familiar sky-person that sat, looking through something in one of their strange device that the Great Mother recreated to soothe the soul within her. It was no surprise her silent steps on the cool floor under her were noticed when Graceaugustine paused what she was doing and faced her with a genuine look of surprise but confusion.

“<Mo’at? What are you doing in my lab?>”

Mo’at was taken aback for a moment, fully expecting the words to be in English given the woman’s current chosen form but yet, Na’vi was effortlessly spoken from her lips.

“<I came to see you.>” Mo’at spoke, not yet willing to inform the woman of her death. This was not the time for that; many in Eywa’s arms did not remember their deaths and it was clear to see Grace did not either. She doubted the woman would….accept that yet with her stubborn beliefs. “<You always did want to show me your work space, did you not?>”

Grace nodded though, while confused, and seemed to take her reasoning well, “Sure. I just…wasn’t expecting you here, not that you’re unwelcome.” She added, rising to her feet.” I do have plans with some of the children; I’m going to teach them about Earth Bees and they’re going to show me more of your people’s things.”

That pulled Mo’at’s attention with some amusement. “They teach you?”

Grace chuckled. “I know, but Sylwanin made a convincing argument that learning should go both ways. After all, I have all the time in the world; why not learn something new.”

#avatar #avatar au #avatar rda #avatar james cameron #grace augustine #mo'at #neytiri te tskaha mo'at'ite #neytiri #tsu'tey #eytukan #jake sully #norm spellman #max patel #omatikaya

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authenticmiya · 3 years

Text

Pinky Promise - Hawk x Reader

Summary - Part 2 of Punching Bag. After all of this lost time, can the reader come to terms with the bad past she has with Hawk? Can they redeem what they had?

Words - 2k

Warnings - angst

Hawk pulled into the driveway of his house, the house you hadn’t been in for what felt like a lifetime ago. His moms car was gone, meaning it really was just the two of you.

“I bet my hair looks a mess right now.” You sighed, handing the helmet back over.

“Not as much of a mess as your knuckles, come on, let’s get you sorted.” The two of you walked towards the front door.

“Shit, I haven’t got my keys.” Hawk tapped on his pockets repeatedly, hoping they were in there.

“Under the statue of the Dalmatian.” You told him and his eyes creased together in confusion.

“Your mom always left a spare key under the Dalmatian.” Hawk was shocked that you had even remembered that.

“Don’t be surprised, the amount of times you used to lock us out, it’s hard to forget.” Hawk didn’t know how to feel. You didn’t want help, so why were you helping him?

“As much as it pains me to say, my hand is stinging like a bitch.” You admitted.

“Right, right.” He muttered, lifting the statue up and of course finding the spare keys. When he opened the door, you were hit with nostalgia.

“Nothings really changed in here.” Hawk watched as you took in everything.

“Last time I was here, you slammed the door in my face.” Hawk swallowed the lump in his throat. That night was the some what end of your friendship together. It wasn’t his transition into Hawk, it was who he became when he was Hawk.

“I shouldn’t have let you leave like that Y/N-“ He began.

“But you did and we both said some hurtful shit.” Hawk nodded and allowed you to follow him into the kitchen.

“There is no way your mom still has this on the fridge.” You gasped at the picture of you and Eli at Golf N Stuff when you were both five.

“You beat my ass at Golf every-time we went there.” He chuckled and a small smile formed on your lips. Noticing he had got the first aid kit out, you perched yourself on the counter.

“This is gonna sting like a bitch.” Hawk prepared you as he wiped away the blood and applied some anti-septic over the cuts.

“That’s the first thing you’ve been right about in months.” Your sarcastic, rude remarks were expected and Hawk took them. He couldn’t exactly say you were wrong, because the only thing coming out of your mouth, was the truth. Wrapping a small amount of bandage over the wounds, Hawk was finished being your doctor.

“Thank-you.” You said, before hopping off of the counter and heading towards the front door.

“Not so fast Y/N, I said once I finished with your knuckles, you and I were talking.” Hawk stopped you.

“I’m not gonna talk to you if you’re gonna be an asshole about it.” You snapped.

“Okay I’m sorry, please can we just talk? No arguing, no nothing, just a conversation.” You chewed the inside of your mouth and hesitantly nodded.

“What happened that night, Y/N I can never forgive myself. I have this whole badass reputation you know? It’s not an excuse, it never was and it will never be. I never should’ve let that take over what we could’ve had.” Hawk told you once the two of you had sat down on the couch.

“What we could’ve had? Are you serious? Eli, Hawk, whatever you wanna be fucking called. You and I were best friends. I mean the best of friends throughout our entire childhoods. We were each-others rocks when it came to the bullying, nah scratch that, you, me and Demetri.” He knew you were trying to pick a fight, but he wasn’t going to give a reaction. He was the one who done dirty, and now he was coming to his senses.

“I shouldn’t have let it come to any of that, we were meant to rise to the top together.” Hawk frowned, now noticing how sad you felt.

“If what you are now, is at the top, I wanna stay at rock bottom.” You told him with a sigh.

“I can’t change what I’ve done to you Y/N or Demetri, I can’t do anything about what I’ve already done. But I can try and avoid it from happening again.” Hawk tried to hold your hand but you shrugged him off.

“You know when mom left me all them years ago? I thought I felt heartbreak for the first time, but when you knew what you were doing to us.” You referred to yourself and Demetri.

“That’s when I felt heartbreak. Knowing you thought it was alright to become the bully. Them nerds? Them nerds you were once apart of. You were in their shoes, and now you’ve put them in the position that nobody should have to go through. At first you though it was badass, but now, you’re a massive dick.” You ranted.

“It’s taken you this long. It’s taken me getting a few cuts for you to realise you were in the wrong this entire time?” Hawk felt like he could cry, he done you so dirty.

“Y/N please-“ It took him every ounce not to just break down in tears in front of you.

“I had no one to go to.” A tear slipped out of your eye and Hawk felt his whole world come crashing down on him.

“I mean I had Demetri, but you know how awkward he gets. You’re the one who would sit there for hours on hours to listen to me and understand my problems, and when you left, I had no one.” You confessed.

“Sure I had Miguel but he was always busy with Karate and Sam, and yeah I guess you could say Johnny is a father figure in my life, but I wasn’t with him everyday like I was with you.” You sniffled, wiping away at the tears that kept building up.

“I have enough money in my bank account to support my bills for maybe half a month. Once my money goes, I’ve lost everything.”

“No you haven’t. Don’t ever fucking say that. You have me. Y/N, you will always have me.” Hawk couldn’t stress that enough but his actions hadn’t really made that clear in the past.

“So that’s it yeah? I let you back in my life and suddenly I have to trust you not to leave? Not to slam the door in my face? Not to drop me like a bag of potatoes again?” You questioned him.

“I needed you and you weren’t there.” You frustratedly disclosed with him.

“I wasn’t there when I had to be. I’ve got so much lost time to make up for, that’s if you’ll let me. I know I wasn’t there, and that is really suffocating me with regret. You did everything for me Y/N. You never left my side, even when all the popular girls wanted to be your friend, you shook them off and stuck by me. I treated you like shit and I’m so sorry.” Now this was the side of Eli that you hadn’t been familiar with for a very, very long time.

“I guess it’s true what they say when you don’t know what you have until it’s gone, right?” You asked him.

“That quote is gonna haunt me for the rest of my life.” From then it was silence. It didn’t feel awkward, yet it just didn’t feel peaceful either.

“I’m willing to forgive this, to try and come to terms with the new you just as long as you promise me one thing-“ Before you could finish the sentence, the front door opened and shut.

“Honey are you home?” Hawks mom called out, and your eyes widened. You hadn’t seen his mom in forever.

“Eli?” She went to call again, but stopped dead in her tracks when she realised you were sat next to him.

“Well god have mercy on me, Y/N? What are you doing here?” She excitedly rushed over and embraced you. The women who was there for every bullshit excuse your ‘parents’ had. It was your turn to feel bad now, because when you lost Eli, you hardly ever spoke to his mom.

“Hi Momma M.” You smiled as the hug lasted as long as it possibly could.

“I can’t believe you’re here! How are you? How’s your dad?” She asked and you gulped.

“I’m okay, he kinda up and left, got married to a women in Dubai.” You told her.

“He’s always been such a goddam slime ball.” She scoffed, quickly brushing that off and letting her calm demeanour take over. It seemed that everyone you knew, had the exact same opinion on your ‘dad’, even before you knew he was going to be permanently out of your life.

“Don’t worry, I beat the crap out of a punching bag.” Your comment made her chuckle, but that would never stop her from worrying about you.

“I’m not gonna ask questions as to why you two are even in the same room right now, but I’d really appreciate if you stayed long enough for us to have a chat Y/N. You’re a good kid, like the daughter I never had. I’ve missed you.” She smiled.

“Don’t worry, let’s go have a catch-up.” She brought you through to the kitchen and poured you a cold orange juice, leaving Hawk to wander about in his feelings in the living room.

“I know what happened between you two.” She began and you chuckled.

“Thought you weren’t gonna ask questions Momma M.” You took a sip of your drink with a slight smirk.

“Not in front of him, this is strictly girl talk.” She pointed out.

“Eli’s transformation was obviously a huge shock, and although I don’t agree with his actions, he’s still my baby, and I had to get used to everything he was doing. I let him do his own thing you know? Try to let him find himself. But believe me when I say he had one huge scolding when I found out about you and him.” His mom admitted to you.

“Me coming here today, was because he didn’t want me suffering through the night with sore hands.” You told her.

“And something as simple as that, means a lot to him. You trusted him enough to come back here Y/N. That’s a start.” She wasn’t on anyone’s sides, she just wanted what was best for you both.

“I suppose I didn’t really wanna go back to a dark apartment.” You laughed, forgetting that she didn’t know.

“That deadbeat isn’t helping you with the apartment anymore is he? That’s why you have no electricity.” Eli’s mom couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“I’ve never wanted sympathy, you know that. I don’t want people feeling bad for me.” You sighed.

“I don’t care Y/N, you’re gonna go pack up your stuff and you’re gonna come and stay here.” She was completely serious.

“I can’t just do that, not after everything with Eli. I can’t intrude on you, this is your home not mine.” You were so appreciative of this women, but the offering made you feel bad.

“You’ve never known how to take anything offered to you. Remember Y/N, I’ve known you since you were a little bump on your mom’s belly.” You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around her.

“That’s if it’s alright with you?” His mom said and you turned around to see Hawk watching.

“I don’t think I could want anything more.” He smiled lightly. You walked over to him, and for the first time in forever, you hugged him. He was hesitant at first, but was quick to wrap you in a tight embrace. Hawk never wanted this moment to end.

“You can have the guest bedroom, or maybe share a room with Eli when you get married one day? You can have any room you want apart from mine.” His mom said excitedly as the two of you were still hugging.

“Long shot for marriage Mom!”

“You’ve gotta promise me, that you and I won’t forget this, but we will forgive this. We got over the bullying, we can get over this. Okay?” You held up your little finger, he hooked his over yours as you two sealed the pack with a pinky promise.

“We can do this.” And you couldn’t help the chuckle that fell from your lips as his mom squealed in his excitement.

Maybe things were gonna change for the good rather than the bad this time.

#eli moskowitz imagine #cobra kai imagine #cobra Kai #eli moskowitz #hawk imagine #Hawk x reader

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benjaminthewolf · 2 years

Text

The Story Of P.O.V.: Revenge At Last? (Part 2)

I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS! Um, this doesn’t really matter, I just wanted to tell somebody that.

****

It was three days since this incident that you at last found yourself back within the endless sands of the open desert, conversing with your group on your plans for the very last time.

“...and you would not believe how hard it was to get them to approve the meeting! But after about a billion email exchanges, I finally got it, and at a good time, no less. 7:30 pm!”

“7:30!” you repeat back in response. “That’s great! It’s not too late to where anybody would be suspicious of your presence, but just late enough to where the vast majority of the employees have left! Uh, does anybody know what time it is now?”

Steve raises a finger in the air before taking a few seconds to think, until at last gathering the confidence to speak. “Yes, the last time I checked, I’m pretty sure it was, in the am/pm system, about 6:45.”

You give him a thankful nod back. “Alright everyone. You know what that means. Review the plan and your roles in it one last time, and then the plan shall commence.”

****

Cable Crow and Pumpkin Jack were well into a conversation about cameras by the time you began to get impatient for your group’s arrival to the capitol building.

“...I’m not saying that it’s impossible for you to outspeed the cameras, I’m just saying it’s unlikely!” Cable Crow reaffirmed his position as Pumpkin Jack balled up a fist.

“Yeah, and who knows more about how fast I can run and how it works, huh? You or me?”

Cable Crow was just about ready to spit back a retort, before the two of them were separated by Zardy, with you sitting comfortably on his shoulder.

“Alright guys, that is well past enough arguing, we have a heist to pull off!” you swiftly shut down the two undead creatures’ argument with a bit of hastiness in your voice.

Cable Crow and Pumpkin Jack wished to continue arguing, yet both of them knew that the more hostility there was between the group, the more likely things were to go wrong, so they just opted to keep quiet.

Upon sensing the silence from both of them, you give a satisfied nod. “Good. Now…” you run the fingers on your right hand over your glove on the left for a second. “Alright everyone! It’s time!” you call out to your group, inadvertently instructing them to all gather together.

You fidget around with your glove for a little while longer before everyone has gathered.

“Alright, I hope that everyone is more than prepared for this, because this operation might mean the difference between finding an early end to this goddam war, and having to put up with its nonsense for many more years.”

You close your eyes for one second and shake your head. “So with all of that said…” you begin to power on your glove, selecting the location for your group to be transported to with a few swift clicks.

“Let the heist begin!”

****

The Capitol building was very much considered an oddity when compared to the more general town buildings of the common people. While the employees of this capitol were mostly comprised of Tinies, the Capitol would also be a place that was to be visited by many foreign officials, and thus, had been built to match their sizes instead of the sizes of the majority working within the building day by day.

The result was a building that almost seemed, to the ones it governed at least, more like a castle than a capitol. Many, of course, pondered about possible symbolic reasons behind the decisions, but the truth was that nobody except the builders and commissioners of the building all that time ago knew the true reasons behind its relative enormity.

Nonetheless, the state of your capitol building made infiltrating it at your size, and with party members of a much larger size, a whole lot more easier, and at the moment that you and your party had teleported a safe, yet convenient distance away from the Capitol building, that was all that mattered.

You give the rest of your party members one last “good luck” nod before the different groups rushed off to take their respective positions. The three Tankmen proceeded at a normal and nonchalant pace towards the building, while Drought was intent on hovering as far as was possible over the building as he approached, using whatever the name of his eldritch powers were to carry Jeff along with him as he went.

Cable Crow, Pumpkin Jack, and Brute all lay low behind a cluster of boulders that was the closest cover there was to the gigantic building. Cable Crow and Brute would approach the building once the vast majority of the employees had left, and Pumpkin Jack was to rush in through the front doors and into the security room as soon as said doors were open.

This, of course, just left you and Zardy, who, according to the plan, were supposed to be trailing behind the Tankmen at this time, but opted to stay behind for a second if only to fully take in what was happening right now.

“Well, it looks like we’re actually going to be doing this.” you say with a sigh as Zardy picks you up off his shoulder to place you in his maw.

“Yeah. I mean, we really are. We’re about to fully go through with our plan to heist a government capitol. It’s...kind of surreal.” he does the best to respond as you begin to crawl your way through his sticky, wet maw and position yourself at the back of his throat. You still hated the pumpkin smell, but for right now, you were just going to have to suck it up.

Zardy has no issue swallowing, slowly squeezing your body down into the same exact glowing yellow organ which, just about a month earlier, could very well have been your final resting place. It was a little unnerving, but again, you had more important things to focus on right now than that. Only giving a small shudder as your body lands back in that same pool of pumpkin juices and saliva, you take a second to brush yourself off before gently squishing both your hands into the front side of the organ, signaling to Zardy that you’re ready. With that, he begins to follow behind Captain, Steve, and Skittles as they made their way towards the capitol.

****

Although he wasn't afraid of heights, Jeff was still trying his best to quell any rising panic about his current situation that may arise from deep within the fight or flight regions in his brain.

“Just please don’t drop me, please don’t drop me, please don’t drop me, PLEASE DON’T DROP ME!” he pleaded to Drought in his head, knowing full well that the sentient dust cloud could not hear him. Unless he could, who knows, Jeff had absolutely no idea what the creatures that resided within Zardy’s maze were capable of, and he was way too terrified to ask at this point.

Then at last, the elevation level of the two hovering over the capitol building gradually began decreasing, much to Jeff’s relief. After he had been set down on the cool sands below, Jeff swiftly turned around, and was faced with a, for his size, giant air vent. Drought, of course, was able to slip through no problem. Jeff quickly scampered up to the vent. Being part rat, his body was much more flexible than that of any Tiny, and as such, he, too, was soon able to slip inside the air vent, though it took a little more effort on his part than on Droughts’. Having left no traces whatsoever that they were there, the two beings then began their journey through the vents towards the security room.

It had been decided that Jeff would take the lead in front of Drought within the vents, if only so that Jeff was not accidentally suffocated by the living dust cloud’s presence. Nonetheless, the two of them were able to take the route to the security room that the instructions had laid out for them, and as such made it there relatively quickly. Peeking through the slits in the vent, Jeff was able to see that there were two larger,(relative to him), humanoids sitting attentively in chairs and staring at the cameras, their watchful eyes ensuring that nobody would make it in or out of the building unauthorized.

Jeff gave a nod to Drought to proceed as he covered his nose so that none of the dust would enter his respiratory system. Drought slipped his way through the vent, and quickly began scanning the room for something to use as a weapon. Deciding at last on a pair of spare tasers that had been left on a table in the back of the room, Jeff watched in silent sympathy as the two officers were almost instantly knocked out, having felt barely any pain, or forming any memories of what had just happened. They had passed out immediately, at the hands of their own spare tasers.

Jeff began to squeeze his way out of the vent, his front paws clinging onto the wall as his bottom half went through. At last, his entire body was free, and Jeff scampered down the wall and onto the floor, partially to check that the two security officers were still alive, but mostly to grab the key to the archive room off one of them. As soon as Jeff had scurried up to the neck of one of the security guards, he placed a paw firmly onto it to sense if there was still a pulse. To his relief, there was. Jeff then proceeded towards the keychain locked onto the side of the officer, and began to wrange the archive room key off the chain. After getting it off, he stopped to check the other officer, confirmed they were alive, and then held onto the key in his mouth as he climbed back up the wall to get to the air vent. As he went, he turned back to Drought for a second to confirm to him that he had the key. Drought let out an ethereal moan that Jeff had no idea the meaning of, so he simply continued on, so he may meet up with Zardy once he had gotten into the building.

Once Jeff was gone, Drought pushed down on one of the buttons on the control panel, causing a red light to briefly flash from the camera that was closest to Pumpkin Jack. This, of course, was to signal that the security room had been successfully secured. Drought then proceeded to watch the cameras to the front door, waiting for them to be opened so he may open the security room’s door, letting Pumpkin Jack in. Then at last, the three Tankmen who were set to enter the building so that one of them may propose a peace settlement to the president came into view, and though he was currently invisible, Drought had no doubt that Zardy was with them.

When the doors were at last pushed open by Private Steve, Drought wasted no time rushing over to the door and silently swinging it open. A few seconds later, a barely visible blur of light rushed in, signaling to Drought that the door was ready to be closed, and this time, locked.

Pumpkin Jack took in a considerable deep breath before speaking. “Phew! Man!” he then began lightly panting to catch his breath as he confirmed the door was locked and then took the USB out of his pocket.

“I still don’t think this is necessary, but whatever. No margin for error I suppose.” he murmured to himself as he inserted the USB into the designated USB slot, therefore allowing any trace of his presence in the cameras to be overridden automatically.

Ignoring the two incapacited officers on the floor, Pumpkin Jack plopped himself down onto a chair and began looking around at the cameras.

“Alright, now let’s see. So...seems like they’ve got a camera for every major publicly available room. Hmm. Of course nothing for the bathrooms...I guess they’ve probably got another set of cameras only the guards know that lets them into the private rooms. Dang, guess the archive room is considered a private room. Well, at least I’ll be able to make sure that nothing bad will happen to Zardy and the other guy. Jeff will be doing that too, of course.” he rambled to himself for a while.

“Maybe one of these buttons lets you access the private rooms.” he thought out loud, mostly to himself. Pumpkin Jack hovered a finger over the keyboard for a few times before pressing one at random. To his surprise, pressing the button pulled up another window, which had recorded footage on it from a few months ago. This wouldn’t’ve been such a big deal, had the recording not also had audio. The shock of this realization caused pumpkin Jack to slip off his chair and fall onto the floor, near to the two knocked-out officers.

“Okay, now, I’m going to preface this by saying that no matter what I think about your beliefs, I will always respect and support you, okay?” one of the voices on the recording started saying.

Pumpkin Jack immediately began freaking out. “Okay! Okay! That was the wrong button! Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all!” he began to whisper-shout to himself as he attempted to pick himself up off the floor.

Luckily for him, before he managed to get back up, Drought pressed another button for him, that which muted the audio. Pumpkin Jack let out an elongated sigh as he repositioned himself back on his chair.

“Thanks, Drought. Alright. I guess I learned my lesson. No more random button pressing.” Pumpkin Jack concluded to himself before clicking the minimize button on the computer screen to get rid of the window, and simply got back to watching the cameras like he should’ve been.

Drought and Pumpkin Jack were thus never able to hear the full conversation that was saved on that recording, but if they had, they would’ve heard something like this:

****

“Okay, now, I’m going to preface this by saying that no matter what I think about your beliefs, I will always respect and support you, okay?” Secretary of Defence Percy J. Tompson nervously began his conversation with President Jorgen P. Felix. These two had always had a tense history between them, as although they possessed differing views, at the end of the day, their true loyalties would always and forever lie with each other.

Jorgen refrains from responding at first before eventually letting out a sigh. “Look, Percy, I don’t want to cause any more arguing, especially right now, but, I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. We have run out of natural resources in our section of the desert. Taxes on those products make up a considerable amount of our income, and if we’ve run out, then we could go completely bankrupt, and then what? Either we’re going to have an economic crash, or severe social unrest!”

“Yes, I understand that you’re concerned about our funding, but I question your methodology! Your solution to stopping social unrest from a possible economic crash is to...start a war? That could very well cause an economic crash and has already caused heaping mounds of social unrest?” Percy retorts to the president, with a slight hint of annoyance in his voice.

“What other options do we have, Percy?”

“Why don’t you try the idea I proposed to you all those months ago and just try to rework the oil treaty that was made with the Tankmen? Surely that’s better for everyone, isn’t it?”

“Oh, Percy, you know how I feel about-”

“Of course I know how you feel about those kinds of treaties! I know how many times that any kind of treaty we’ve made has gotten violated, but, really, just, peacefully trying again is a much better option than all out warfare! I mean at least we’re not taking any lives in the process!” “I’ve tried solving these problems in the peaceful way, and it has never worked for me! I don’t want to stand by and waste my time and resources on promises that were destined to be broken! I’m taking matters into my own hands this time, and whether you like it or not, you’re going to have to comply with that!”

Percy opened his mouth to speak, but was swiftly cut off by the Secretary of State, who needed to speak to him on a different issue. And thus, later that day, Percy J. Tompson put together the paperwork for yet another round of conscription on an unruly desert town known only as Verminium.

****

Jeff did his best to not make any significant noise as he scampered on all fours through the vents, navigating his way towards the one just ahead of where Zardy was, so he may confirm the coast to be clear to him. Silently coming to a halt in front of the gated entrance, Jeff peered out cautiously for a few seconds, confirmed the coast to be clear, and thus simply sat there and waited.

The group could not risk sending each other any visual or auditory cues to coordinate, and as such, Jeff took a few steps back before sticking the tip of his tail out of the vent. At last, he felt a light touch to the tip, signaling that Zardy was there. Jeff gave a small nod and continued on to the next vent. There were only a few more left until the archive room.

****

You do your absolute best to keep your nerves steady as you continue to move along with Zardy through the building undetected, your presence only aware of the rest of your party members. Zardy barely made any noise with each step forward, and as such, this entire process had been eerily quiet for you, save for the ambient gurgles and occasional sound of a heartbeat that was to come with being inside another living creature, the occasional slight sloshing of the liquids inside the constantly moving organ you’ve been placed in, and of course, your own breathing and rapidly increasing heart rate.

Desperate for some sign that this operation was almost over, you gently squish the side of your head onto the stomach wall and simply listen, doing your best to concentrate through all the rest of the noises resonating within the stomach. After a few seconds of nothing at all, you are at last greeted to, not an audio cue, but something else entirely. You are forced to take your head off of the wall, and wipe off some of the slick saliva that had gotten onto your cheek before getting ready for what was coming next. The walls within the stomach had started to contract slightly, a signal letting you know that at long last, the archie room had been reached.

You are almost surprised at how easily you go back up, especially after the first time you had gotten out of Zardy’s body. But this was to be expected, as, again, your group couldn’t risk making any unnecessary noise.

Instead of being spat up into Zardy’s hand, or onto the floor, you instead simply rise back up into his maw. After a few seconds of repositioning yourself in your new area and attempting to dry yourself off, the maw opens but slightly, and a single object is slipped inside. This was, of course, the key that Jeff had stolen off of one of the incapacitaed security officers back in the security room.

You swiftly grab ahold of the key in your hand as Zardy bends down slightly and opens his maw once more. Now, right in front of you was the door handle for the archive room, and on it, the keyhole. Taking in a deep breath to sooth the rising tension in your muscles, you pick yourself up off the tongue and begin to make your way towards the front of the maw to open the door. The comfortable temperature inside contrasts greatly with the cool air of the capitol building as you shakily place the key in the key hole, turn it, and then take it back out again. Zardy then pushes the door only slightly open, just enough for someone of your size to slip through, but not enough so that anybody would take notice.

Then at last, leaving the key behind, you begin to blindly feel around the space just outside the maw to find the solid ground of Zardy’s hand. When at last you detect it, you gently maneuver yourself fully out of the maw and onto his hand. Once you are safely on his palm, Zardy quickly lets his hand down so you may jump off and make your way into the archive room. The room where, once you were inside, would hold the very remarkable, secretive information that you’ve been searching for this whole time. At last, the final step of the journey was all in your hands.

Slipping through the crack in the door, you swiftly glance up and take a look around the archie room. You shudder. At your size, it’s all extremely imposing. Giant information servers were lined up all across the walls, the constant blinking of their green and blue lights sending a bit of a shiver down your spine, as if, though you knew they couldn’t, were somehow staring you down, watching your every move, awaiting for you to make one tiny mistake, and ruin this carefully planned out, and extremely important heist for everybody involved-

“That’s enough!” you snap to yourself in your own mind, doing your best to rid yourself of this nonsensical thought so you may continue on with your mission. You have just about made it to the middle of the room, and at this point, the objects which lay on the back wall, tucked away but slightly from the constant flashing of the severs, have become a lot more clear and visible.

There was a large desk situated neatly by the back wall with a filing cabinet to its left. There was a small staircase attached to the desk’s side, so someone your size could get up it. And then, of course, lying on the desk itself was the most important piece of technology in this whole room, the main computer which controlled and regulated the activity of the servers. It would run automatically when not being used, but could be manually operated by an expert if the situation called for it.

You let out a tiny deep breath as you impatiently sprint the rest of the way to the staircase, hastily climbing up it to get to the top. At last, the main computer lay within your reach. But your destination was not the main computer. No, trying to hack into, or bypass all of the carefully and professionally implemented security measures on the computer itself, as well as the larger server system and digital cloud, would be an absolute technological nightmare, and just way too risky overall. Thus, you dash past the keyboard on your way to the filing cabinet. It was at this point that you at last took out of your pocket the copying device that Jeff made you all that time ago. It was a little rod-shaped device with a single button that, once pressed, would scan whatever area was in front of it, and store whatever words, letters, numbers, or symbols it could find. If it couldn’t find anything, it just wouldn’t work.

Device in hand, you finally find yourself standing on top of the filing cabinet. There is a little hatch on the cabinet’s roof that allows someone your size to slip through. The cabinet had two separate types of storage compartments. Larger ones for the “normal” sized documents, and smaller, more secluded rooms in the back of the cabinet that housed the mini versions of those same documents. Once you’re inside, you waste absolutely no time rummaging through the shelves to find the document you needed. Thankfully, having done your research into how your government organized these things, you are able to locate the confidential section pretty quickly, and then find the military sub-category where the war plans should be located.

Then at long last, you find it. Yoinking the file from the shelf, you open up the cover, and press the button on your copying device, and simply wait for it to take its time gazing over and studying the page, thus, storing it within its memory. With your anxiety levels at an all-time high, and your breathing rather audible, you flip to the next page after finishing the first and scan that as well. The document isn’t that long, but every single page turn you took felt like it added another minute to the amount of time you had been in here, just standing in plain sight, merely a sitting duck waiting for somebody to enter through the same hatch you had used and catch you red-handed. Perhaps even shoot you dead on the spot. And then what? What guarantee was there that your teammates weren’t next? What if-

“No! Stop that! That’s quite enough!” you cry out to yourself in your head as you near the end of the document. Your fingers shakily make the last page turn, and your rather sweaty thumb presses the button on the copying device, waiting what felt like an eternity for the device to finish scanning over the words, before you at last realize that you were finished.

“Wh-what?” you internally ask yourself in sheer disbelief as to what had just happened. “This cannot be real life right now! I did not just actually do that! I am not actually about to put the confidential secret war plans for my own government back onto its shelf after having spent months organizing the heist, gathering allies, and making detailed plans to break in! I am not really walking back to the hatch right now, this all has to be just a dream! It has to be! I’m going to wake up any second now, be in Verminium, and learn that I was in a coma for a year or something! All of this is not real! This heist is not real, this cabinet is not real, and this goddam stupid bitch-ass war isn’t real either! I swear on my fucking life it has to all be an illusion!” you shakily ramble to yourself as you climb the hatch’s ladder, still rather shocked by the situation by the time you got back up. As bewildered to reality as you were, you were quite harshly snapped right back to it as soon as the hatch door finally closed with a little: “squeeeeek”

Your heart practically skipped a beat. Your brain almost instantly kicks into fight or flight mode, choosing in that instance to take flight, causing you to dash behind the main computer, and out of sight for a second. You take a minute to take in a few of the most stifled deep breaths you have ever taken in, and were just about calm enough to come out from behind the computer, when your previous primal state of fear was instantly reinstated with a simple: “Hello?”

Your heart dropped straight down into your shoes. Luckily, whoever this was wasn’t right in front of you. Yet. Thus, your previous instinctive action of running behind the computer holds firm as you squeeze your body tight onto the side of said computer, as doing so was literally the only thing that could make you even slightly more comfortable in this situation.

“Is someone here?” After hearing this voice for the second time, you are at last able to recognise it. It was the voice of none other than Percy J. Tompson, the U.N.T.’s Secretary of Defense.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS HE DOING HERE? THIS CAN’T JUST BE COINCIDENCE, CAN IT? DOES HE KNOW ANY OF THE OTHER ARE HERE? THEY’RE NOT IN DANGER, ARE THEY? OH GOD OH FUCK WHY IS THIS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW? WHAT DO I EVEN DO?!!!!!!” you silently screech within your own mind, nearly giving yourself a headache from how much adrenaline and anxiety was pumping through your veins at this moment. Your head was dizzy and pounding, your body felt very tense and hot, and your hands were so sweaty that they left behind hand-prints when you repositioned them around the side of the computer. Not having any other options, you risk a glance around the corner. Percy is right there, standing by the edge of the desk looking out, trying to find the source of that mysterious squeaking sound the file cabinet had previously made.

It was in that moment that one desperate, insane, spur-of-the-moment idea somehow formulated itself in your mind. Having thought of absolutely zero better options, in that split second where the idea was buzzing about in your brain, you make the near-instant, petrifying decision to go through with it. Your muscles cramp up a little before you make a quivering, desperate sprint behind the back of the Secretary, fiercely shoving him off the table, and causing him to give out a deafening yelp of panic before plummeting through at least five feet of air. After a few completely blurry, heart-stopping, senseless seconds of freefall, the poor secretary crash-landed down onto the smooth, hard floor below with an echoing crack, knocking him out instantly.

Your body relaxes just slightly as you at last rid yourself of the anxiety of being caught, only for realization to set in a millisecond later, causing a whole new bout of anxiety to take the place of the old one.

“OH FUCK WHAT DID I JUST DO?!!!!!!” your mind gives a guttural cry of sheer panic and agonizing guilt for what you had just done. Now that you had done it, however, there was no way of you un-doing it. The deed had been done, leaving you doomed to suffer the inevitable consequences.

Sprinting your way down the staircase, nearly tripping over yourself in the process, you make a terror-fueled dash to the now unconscious body of the secretary, praying to any or all deities that may or may not exist out there that he hadn’t been killed by the fall.

You, in as controlled a manner as was physically possible for you in this state, feel at Percy’s wrist to check if his pulse was still going. You relax only slightly after finding out he was still alive, but as soon as you confirm that, the reality then dawned on you that you had to get yourself out of this room, and out of this building entirely as soon as you possibly could.

Not wasting any more precious time, lest risk that somebody, perhaps even a waking Percy, may see you on your way out. Making a B-line for the door, just as soon as you force yourself through the tiny crack in the still-open door, Zardy instantly takes note of you, and noticing your current state, immediately realizes that something very serious must’ve just happened, and as such, wastes absolutely no time in scooping you up off the floor, shoving you into his maw, and beginning the return trip out the door of the capitol.

Once you’re inside his maw, you instantly collapse to the floor, his soft, yellowish tongue, and the general privacy and secluded nature of the maw providing the only true comfort you have gotten since exiting that file cabinet. Your body practically convulsing from all the emotions rushing through it simultaneously, you plop your face onto the surface of the tongue and simply begin bawling, hoping that Zardy won’t be able to taste the saltiness in the tears. You even risk letting out a few agonizing cries while your face is buried into the soft muscle, desperately praying that they were too muffled for anybody on the outside to hear. Zardy’s maw was the one place of true privacy you had gotten so far, after what had just happened, and you were going to make the absolute most of it that you could. You find yourself slamming your fist down onto the tongue’s surface a few times, not bothering to worry about if Zardy could actually feel what you were doing or not.

You had absolutely no idea how long it had been before your body is suddenly shoved out of the warm confines of the maw, and onto Zardy’s hand. After having just cried so much, you are barely able to see anything anymore, especially considering the fact that it had become night at this point, and...wait, night?

Yes, that’s right. As you do your best to quell your current flow of tears and clear your vision, it becomes increasingly obvious to you that you were no longer within the capitol building, but rather, within the large, open desert surrounding it. As you attempt to calm down, you are at last able to make out fuzzy outlines of...shapes? No, people. It was then that you understood.

Tankman, Steve, Skittles, Pumpkin Jack, Cable Crow, Jeff, everyone. The entire gang had made it out unscathed. Everyone was safe, and the mission was complete. Well, everyone was safe except for Percy, that was.

Your ragged breathing is the only thing you are able to hear for a minute before at last Jeff speaks up.

“Um...are...you okay? Did something happen while you were in there?” Jeff asked in the most respectful, yet concerned tone he could manage.

Completely unable to make a coherent response, you instead opt to blurt out: “DOES IT FUCKING LOOK LIKE I’M OKAY?”

Jeff is slightly taken aback at first, but eventually manages to open his mouth to speak again. “Wh-”

“I’M NOT ANSWERING ANYTHING YOU GUYS ARE ASKING ME, OKAY? OKAY? I’M NOT...JUST LEAVE! ALL OF YOU! RIGHT FUCKING NOW!”

Nobody dared say a word as you aggressively stomped your foot down on Zardy’s palm, signaling to him that you wanted to be let down.

“JUST GO!”

As soon as you were able to leap off his hand and onto the cool desert sands, you press the power button on the glove on your left hand, choose two teleoperation locations back-to-back, take a few steps away from the group, and let the glove power up for a second, before your glove formed two portals around each of the two sub-groups within your party. The Tankmen and Jeff would return to their base camp, while Zardy and his gang would return to the maze.

“DID YOU GUYS NOT HEAR ME? WHY ARE YOU JUST STANDING THERE LIKE A BUNCH OF GODDAMN IDIOTS? I SAID GO!”

A few members of your party attempt to escape the portals last-second, or screech something out at you in a last-ditch attempt to get some answers, but they are all ultimately in vain. The two groups were successfully teleported, thus, leaving yourself completely alone in the dead middle of the cool, desert night.

“AND I MEAN IT!”

As soon as it fully settled in that you were at last alone, your body almost instantly goes right back to where it started before your crying fit was interrupted, and in just a few seconds, tears are violently flowing down both of your cheeks once more as you are at last able to let the entire world how you feel. Throwing your had back, you yowl out a tragic lament about the cruelty of what you had just done, and the overwhelming amount of torture that had been your mere existence ever since into the vast emptiness of the desert night.

Then at last, with nothing left to do, you begin to wearily sprint your way across the endless desert expanse, going nowhere in particular, and just simply wanting to find some way, any way to successfully run away from everything. Run away from your actions, run away from your feelings, run away from your life as you still knew it, yet, no matter how hard your aching feet struck the sands below you, you never really seemed to be going anywhere at all.

#monday night munchin #vore stories #vore story #vore writing #soft vore #safe vore #gt vore #g/t vore #pov vore #male pred #m/m vore #I LOVE THIS PART SO MUCH

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