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machinations-ii · 3 years

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Debut Album of The Strokes' Is This It and Interpol's Turn on the Bright Lights.

TURN ON THE BRIGHT LIGHTS

New York City was in transition in 2002, the devastation of 9/11 still lingered but a new sense of goodwill and compassion flowed through the city with dozens of bands reanimating a faded glory that had come to define the Giuliani era. Arriving after several well-regarded EPS that honed Interpol's Sonic and sartorial sense, it's possible no album captured this moment as vividly as their debut turn on the bright lights. Interpol took shape at NYU in the late 1990s where the band formed partially as a result of mutual fashion appreciation. Frontman Paul banks had come across bassist Carlos dangler in their dorm wearing skin tight black clothing and a giant crucifix. Meanwhile guitarist daniel kessler had already gotten to know Dengler in a world war 1 class after approaching him with a compliment about his shoes, and the trio eventually found replacement drummer Sam Fogerino while he was working in a used clothing store. Soon after coming together, the group started to jam at Funkadelic studios, PDA was already in embryonic form by then. After hustling in the NYC circuit and recording here and there, a chance meeting with Emma Pollock of the Delgado's led to the release of an Interpol EP in 2000 on the esteemed chemical underground label. On the heels of the EP success and in the midst of the post strokes gold rush in New York City, Interpol scored a deal with Matador Records then home to bands like Belen Sebastian, yo a tango, and pavement. Chris Lombardi of Matador claimed that he was most impressed by the business-like manner with which the band conducted themselves the suits first and foremost. Interpol decided to record turn on the bright lights at producer Peter Quedas's home studio in Bridgeport Connecticut to avoid all of the temptations New York City had to offer a hot young band while Cadis has gone on to produce the national, Frightened Rabbit, and Yan C, his most recent credit prior to turn on the bright lights was engineering the get up kids on a wire. Sessions were contentious Carlos D had wanted more keyboards, more nights on the town, and the title of the record to be celebrated baselines of the future. If banks had his way, PDA wouldn't have even made the record. However Quedas protested and told him that's their hit single, which it was. Quedas was not enthused with the new, until the final mix which had him in tears. But for all the seriousness and grandeur of turn on the bright lights moments of humor abounded. The spoken intro of Stella was a diver and she was always down; was recorded while banks was ad-libbing with ice in his mouth “this one called Stella was a diver she's always down”. Anchored by Carlos D and Fogerino’s hulking rhythm section, Banks created it in New York City recognizable to its citizens but in cryptic indelible lyrics. “The subway was a porno”, “relationships were a bracelet” and “they had 200 couches for you to sleep” when it all felt like too much. Beginning with a crowd stoking instrumental that would foreshadow runs opening for U2 and the Cure, turn on the bright lights resulted in music of unusually sweeping and grandiose gestures that felt foreign to rock music in general at the time but especially to indie rock. It's hard to imagine the transition towards the post-punk bombast of Arcade Fire, The Killers, and the National without Interpol opening the lane first. While local papers would occasionally snark at them as fashion victims and post-punk dilettante, critical acclaim for turn on the bright lights was overwhelmingly positive. The brilliance of turn on the bright lights is all the more apparent 19 years later a beacon that continues to shine radiantly during its city's darkest moments. IS THIS IT

Fueled by hype that was extraordinary even by the standards of the British press, The Strokes became instant superstars in the UK long before their fellow Americans heard “is this it” thirty-six stylish lo-Fi down-and-dirty minutes of unwholesome Downton Blues that evoke The Velvet Underground, The Ramones, television, and countless others who will firm New York City as the epicenter of punk rock cool, the strokes debut was already in stores in the UK for months before its eventual American release mere weeks after the September 11th attacks. Is this it subsequently took on an unintended resonance and became a sentimental document of a New York City that would no longer exist after Rudolph Giuliani, gentrification, and the war on terror. The Strokes may not have saved rock and roll themselves but The Libertines, Franz Ferdinand, Interpol, the killers, and the Arctic Monkeys likely wouldn't exist without “is this it”. while several members of The Strokes have been playing together since high school in a project called “just pipe” the band truly took shape after guitarist Albert Hammond jr. joined the group he and singer Julian Casablancas attended the same Swiss boarding school and reconnected after Hammond returned to New York City and serendipitously moved across the street from Elite Model Management which just so happened to be owned by Casablancas’ father. Contrary to the stereotype of The Strokes as a prefab overnight success, the group struggled throughout the late 90s playing to empty rooms before their demo got the attention of Rough Trade ANR man Jeff Travis, nor were they predator naturally cool from the start. before The Strokes first gig Hammond claims the band was so nervous they watched the Eddie Murphy movie Bowfinger to calm themselves. Preliminary sessions for is this it were recorded with Gil Norton best known for his work with the Pixies but also Foo Fighters “ultra slick the color in the shape” for the album itself The Strokes would reunite with Gordon Raphael who previously produced the modern age EP. The unorthodox production of “is this it” was the result of Raphael using a minimal number of microphones and following Casablancas says requests to have it sound like your favorite blue jeans not totally destroyed but worn in comfortable. According to Raphael an A&R guy named Steve obelisk II held is this it most unprofessional sounding music that he has never heard. The strokes declined the invitation from MTV to play alongside the vines in the hives at the 2002 Video Music Awards. The band didn't want to be lumped in to quote the new rock revolution it consisted of mostly bands with the word the and a plural noun in their names. Casablancas told MTV I'm not going to do a band off with them and strokes manager Ryan gentle said “that was pretty much the last time we were played on MTV”. The infamous bare-bottom on the international release of is this it is that of photographer Colin lanes girlfriend, however concerns about whether conservative chain stores like Target and Walmart would carry the record but The Strokes to switch to the American cover shot of a subatomic particle in a bubble chamber Casablancas is rumored to have liked it even more than the original. A more crucial alteration from the international version involves the removal of its own, New York City cops all involved agreed that a chorus of New York City cops they ain't that smart would be considered in poor taste after 9/11 even if the song was written years previous by removing the song from the US release of is this it there's not a single song in a Strokes album that has mentioned New York City by name. Well The Strokes achieved a level of popularity rivaled by few American bands in the 21st century is this it was considered a commercial disappointment in its time it peaked only at number 33 on Billboard while lead single last night topped out at number five of the modern rock chart with some day stalling at Number 17. Long story short, these two albums (and arguably two of the best rock albums of all time) had left a dent in my

life for it defined my teenage years when I had nothing, lost, and frustrated with my life. It reminded me the melancholic time that I had in the past. So I'll leave you guys with a lyrics from each album and try to find the song that corresponds to it :). "I have 7 faces, and I know which one to wear" "Soma is what they would take when hard times opened their eyes and saw pain in a new way"

#the strokes #interpol #creative-nonfiction #blog #two of my favorites

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buffyversefanfiction · 3 years

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Slayer of Slayers

Warnings:I do not own, nor do I claim to own any of the copyright or characters within the Buffyverse which includes but not limited to the television shows Buffy and Angel, as well as the Darkhorse comics series’ continuation.

15+ Strong to moderate violence, Graphic to mild descriptions of gore, and torture, sexually charged scenes, sexual innuendos, mild to strong language, and practices of witchcraft.

M/M, F/F, M/F, GEN, OTHER +

PART SEVEN LINK HERE

Part Eight - Vampire Island

Theo Frey’s life had well and truly been a series of impossible events, his birth being miraculous conception between slayer and vampire, one of whom should never be able to produce any form of life, his birth then followed by being abandoned in the past and forced to grow up in the past, only to witness the death of his adoptive parents at the hands of Drusilla, which was then followed by Theo becoming a vampire slayer, falling in love with vamp Tobias, and becoming known as the slayer of slayers. And if that was not enough impossibilities within his life, he then witnessed his love Tobias’ death at the hands of old one Illyria, only to then die himself after being shot by former watcher Rupert Giles that saw him coming back to life as the world’s first vampire to have turned without a siring. Theo’s world had continued to crash around him, repeatedly, but for once his latest surprise was one he was happy about, that being declared a king of vampires following his survival after being staked, and now he was on a mission to earn that title, by finding this infamous vampire island, home to the first-ever Hellmouth, and the only place in the world that would solidify his claim as king amongst vampires, making him the most dangerous creature on the planet as the prophecies foretold and the only thing standing in his way, was his mother, Buffy the vampire slayer…

Buffy Summers had been out of the slaying game for what felt like forever but, it had only been over a year since she disappeared to the middle of nowhere, and as she returned, following the revelation of Theo, she found herself patrolling, hunting, and researching, 24/7, as she struggled to deal with her son’s hatred towards her and his many evil deeds, which she blamed herself for. The last time she saw her son she called his bluff about being ready to kill her, luckily things went Buffy’s way, and he couldn’t kill her in the end, but still to see her child so distraught, so broken, almost broke the once preppy and feisty blonde-haired vampire slayer. However, the fact he could not bring himself to kill her gave Buffy some hope that there was something still there deep within him that she could reach and after hearing news of his plans to take out Drusilla, those hopes grew, only to be dashed after learning her son had become something of a king among vampires. Buffy and Willow had been deep in the books within Willow’s San Francisco apartment for days, as they sought out to learn all they could about Theo’s prophecy as the first vampire not to be sired by another, as they learned the unnerving news that mother would either kill a son or be killed by a son, before going on to learn about a prophecy going back many centuries which detailed a self-sired vampire reigning king of an island, vampire island, and how his blood would open the world’s first Hellmouth, as they began to realize the importance of his birth, and why he was born, with Buffy beginning to fear that not only could her son not be saved but she may have to be the one to stop him. And before long Buffy and Willow hired a boat, enlisted the help of fellow vampire slayer Faith Lehane, and Illyria, and took to the sea with ancient books, maps, and spells directly linked to this mystical island of vampires, as they hoped to find the island, and to get there and destroy the Hellmouth before Theo had a chance of opening it, claiming his undead throne, and unleashing hell unto the world. “This child of yours sure knows how to cause trouble I bet you're missing the good old days when you only had to try to keep me in line.” Faith joked with Buffy as they stood to the port of the big yacht-like boat that they had rented, both slayers looking out towards the sea. “Well, I would not go as far as saying I’m nostalgic about rogue Faith and Sunnydale High, but things were much simpler back then for sure.” Buffy laughed, appreciating Faith’s humor during a difficult time for her. “Speak for yourself B, I do not want to sound all savior-like and everything, but we are going to get through to him Buffy without having to kill him.” Faith responded as she remained determined about her believes over Theo being redeemable. “If we were certain about that, I’d have got Angel on this mission instead of his super smurf sidekick and you’d have had his witch frenemy join us,” Buffy confessed to the fellow slayer, a slayer she had once become enemies with but had over time rebuilt their friendship. “I’m the slayer no matter what, and deep down you are the same…if I have to choose between the world or my son I’ll choose the world, Angel will choose his son, I guess that makes him the better parent and me the better, killer.” “It will not come down to that Buffy, I did not come on this mission to kill your kid and neither did you, we will stop him without killing him, and then you will ground his ass for at least a decade or two and we’ll go get some drinks.” Faith told Buffy, knowing Buffy was right but also knowing she did not want to admit it to her. “Being a slayer has cost me so much, forced me to sacrifice so much, and although I hate that more than anything if it comes down to it, I will continue to make those sacrifices because that is what a slayer does,” Buffy said in a defeated sigh, knowing that this quest to find the island of vampires could end with her killing her own son.

Later that very same night Theo stood at the front of a large shipment containing ship looking at the nearby island, with blood on his mouth, the blood coming from the human passengers of the boat that he and his group of vampires fed on while hiding out in the darkest places of the ship, choosing to keep the captain alive so he could sail the boat while they hid from daylight, but chaining him to the wheel so he dared not escape. Theo couldn’t believe his eyes as he stared at the island from a distance, a hauntingly beautiful island, almost completely in darkness if it was not for the night’s moon in the sky, reflecting light off the water, he could not believe that this lost island was the home to the world’s first Hellmouth nor could he believe that this island would be his kingdom, his way to a throne he never knew even existed. As the boat sailed closer towards the island, his vampire companions appeared from out of the blind spots, with glee in their eyes, knowing they had found the only true home for their kind, completely oblivious to the fact that their king was beginning to question the path he had chosen so quickly after facing off with his nemesis Drusilla. Theo had wanted many things in his life, he wanted love which he found with Lucien Knight and then later the vampire Tobias, he wanted companionship which he once had with his bewitching best friend Ruby Moon, and he wanted a family to replace the one he lost, but he had never dreamt of being a king among monsters nor did he dream of one day becoming one of those monsters but fate had dealt their cards and Theo had no choice but to either accept or deny his destiny. Losing Tobias had awakened emotions within the vampire that he thought was long gone, human emotions, grief, sadness, and loss, and somehow through reunions with old friends, meeting his biological family, and turning against his mentor Drusilla, somewhere through all that he had felt a part of his old self slipping back through, a part he had hoped he killed a long time ago and apart if he wanted to become king, he would have to kill now. Theo’s only mission in life had been to avenge his parents and with an army, and more undead soldiers to add to that army, after opening the Hellmouth and claiming his undead kingdom, he knew with certainty he would achieve that goal, for even Drusilla herself could not outrun an entire army instructed to hunt her down at all costs, and if it meant ending the world, well that was just a sacrifice the slayer of slayers was willing to make. But as his minions anchored the boat Theo was shocked to suddenly see Sineya, the first slayer, appear standing within the sandy shores of the beach, staring right at him, as if she was staring right into his soul, and perhaps she was, as Theo suddenly felt a rush of guilt hit him hard, like a ton of bricks, causing him to gasp for a moment before like she had appeared, Sineya disappeared into the night’s air within a blink of the eyes. “We’re here boss!” One of his minions announced to him. “Time to go as far as we can before looking for coverage from the sun, then when night falls again we will get you to your throne.” “Yes,” Theo replied, as he then mumbled to himself, unimpressed by the island’s restrictions. “What kind of island meant for vampires has no way of blocking out the sun anyway?”

Buffy, Faith, Willow, and Illyria were not too far behind as the sun began to rise in the sky, the two slayers, witch, and goddess, drew closer to the infamous island of vampires, an island that Illyria herself had conquered many millenniums ago, back when bloodsuckers were nothing more than pets to her, messy pets whom she’d easily put down if they pestered her. All those years ago Illyria never really sense the true power of this island, thinking of it as nothing more than a home to bloodsuckers, but now as she grew closer to the island of vampires she began to sense its power more and more, a sense of untapped potential, the same sense she got from the slayer of slayers which only served as further evidence to the goddess that Theo Frey was indeed linked to the place, just like the prophecy foretold. As she stood behind the boat’s wheel, Willow Rosenberg, standing next to her, the two women seeing the island in their sight, Illyria knew that Willow too could feel the untapped power radiating from the island of the undead. “I know we’re going to win because we always do but what’s the odds, we win without having to kill Buffy’s son?” Willow asked Illyria, fearing her answer, but knowing Illyria would be honest about their odds. “The son of the slayer has survived far longer than I expected him to when we first met however, in this fight I believe in order to win, he must die, and I’m not one for losing,” Illyria answered honestly with a rare sign of reluctance which showed a sense of empathy towards the situation, a feeling which was rather new for the blue haired goddess. Before long Buffy, Willow, Illyria, and Faith had anchored the boats and were now on the sandy shores of the island, ready to face whatever awaited them on this prophesized island for vampire kind, but before they traveled further into the island, Buffy noticed another boat heading towards the island’s direction, instantly knowing it wasn’t Theo’s, as something in her gut told her that Angel was on that boat. “So, about not telling Angel about the mission…” Faith began to say to Buffy. “You decided to go against that I guess.” Buffy interrupted her fellow slayer, infuriated by her actions but understanding them at the same time. And so, Buffy waited for Angel’s ship to anchor itself near the island before deciding to get on the boat, going under the deck where Angel and Spike were hiding out from the sunlight, having had the help of Rupert Giles to sail the boat, and Xander Harris, because well he was Spike’s roommate, and one of Buffy’s best friends. “I told you she wouldn’t be happy with us tagging along on this one,” Spike said to Angel as the two vampires sat at a table within the kitchen room on the boat as Buffy walked in, the windows completely blacked out by carboard to protect the vampires from the sunlight. “Well, it’s a good thing I don’t give a damn about what she wants.” Angel snapped at Spike while standing up to face Buffy, furious with the slayer for once again going behind his back regarding their son. “I was just trying to save you the pain if things go bad out there!” Buffy told Angel. “Theo’s about to bring about another apocalypse and if I don’t make it in time to save him then I will have to stop him.” “I will not let you hurt our son Buffy!” Angel argued with the slayer, furious to learn that she was prepared to kill her own child. “I don’t care if he does bring about the apocalypse, there’s always some apocalypse and we always defeat it, but I will not lose him again…I will not let you take him away from me again!” “Do you think I want to kill my son? No, but he’s not leaving us much choice, and once again it falls on me to choose between someone I love and the rest of the world, you have no idea what that is like so don’t you dare stand there and judge me!” Buffy shouted at the brooding vampire, as Spike sat there having no choice but to watch the two bickerings with each other awkwardly. “I have lost people too Buffy, you’re not the only one who has had to make sacrifices, but I refuse to let you go in there ready to kill

him if you need to. What happened to the girl ready to risk the world for her sister? Why does Dawn mean more to you than your own son?” Angel continued to argue with the slayer furiously. “Dawn was an innocent, she did nothing wrong and has continued to do nothing wrong, Theo was a cold-blooded killer long before he became a vampire-like his father, Dawn never chose her fate, she fought against it like we all did but Theo is willingly choosing this and if we do not stop before he opens that Hellmouth then we have to throw his ass in there,” Buffy replied, equally as furious as Angel, not liking the position she had found herself in, willing to do anything to make this not true, but ready to accept whatever fate may fall upon her son, as she once again had to choose to be a chosen one over all else. Buffy knew she had the sun to her advantage, and she could use it along with Illyria, Giles, Willow, Xander, and Faith, to get trekking through the vampire island, and get a head start on Angel and Spike, hoping however the big battle went down that she could spare Angel the pain of seeing their son’s death even if she could not spare herself the same pain, but with only a matter of hours to go, and no clue where they were going on this island, the chances of this getting messy seemed unavoidable.

Theo, of course, was one step ahead of the others, as he and his gang of vampires sought refuge from the sunlight within one of the islands’ caves, but instead of sleeping like his minions, Theo stayed up plotting, marking out what he could see of the island and patrolling the cave for any signs of them being ambushed, knowing the champions of this world would no doubt find their way here sooner or later, however, it was when the slayer of slayers went deeper into the caves that he once again saw Sineya appear in front of his eyes. Sineya, was no stranger to Theo, for the two had met before, a very long time ago, but her presence was still a shock considering the first-ever vampire slayer was killed long before his time, and many others, but as he saw her for the second time since arriving on the vampire island, he could not help but want to know the reason behind her presence. “Do you remember me?” Theo asked the primeval slayer, who nodded in agreement before he continued to ask. “Why are you here?” “The dirt beneath you is the same dirt I once stood on, do you not recognize a place you have been before? Much has changed but it still feels the same.” Sineya replied telepathically, her voice piercing Theo’s mind without the slayer so much as moving her lips. “No…the prophecies say this is vampire island, not slayer island.” Theo denied her claims almost instantly. “As long as there are vampires there are slayers…once only one slayer but now an army.” Sineya continued to telepathically speak, accessing Theo’s mind with ease. “We did not choose this path, but you did…now you must decide if you are vampire or slayer.” “I think I made that choice long before I actually became a vampire, how are you even here?” Theo responded coldly, not knowing that the primeval slayer could sense the uncertainty within his very soul. “You already are where you are looking to be but is it where you want to be?” Sineya informed him with her cryptic words, once again choosing to speak telepathically instead of out loud. “You can do what you came here to do but the question is, do you want to do it?” Suddenly, the first slayer once again vanished within the blink of the eye, but this time Theo noticed the caveman writings in front of him, within the depths of the cave, and as he began to decrypt what the pictures meant, he realized that through that very wall, was where the Hellmouth was located, he had somehow found it instinctively without even knowing, and that’s what Sineya was pointing out to him, forcing his hand to make his choice, but as ruthless, and evil, as Theo Frey could be, was he really ready to end the world just to claim an undead kingdom?

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notgonnarememberthis · 3 years

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find your way (back to me) - chapter two

The reception for this fic was so fucking sweet, this really went beyond what I expected I honestly just thought this would be a self service fic but it hit off so well. Honestly, wrote the next chapter to cope with the anxiety of being home and general holiday stress so I hope y’all enjoy it. And thank y’all for all the sweet comments they mean the fucking world to me.

Jessica tries not to let the sigh escape her throat, she really does. But when Gil comes in arms loaded with gifts it probably took him weeks to save for she can’t help it.

She can afford literally anything he wanted to buy for her or the kids and then some, but she resisted.

If not to see the proud little grin on his face when he knows he absolutely nailed the gift that the recipient never even knew they wanted.

He’s quite good at knowing what people never knew they needed.

She invites him in, nonetheless, taking some of the load off, only with a little chiding that he still shouldn’t carry so much. It has only been a few months since his injury. He needs to give his body time to heal.

Malcolm and Ainsley would arrive soon, hopefully carrying something that wasn’t a twist-on. But for now she would enjoy Gil’s company. His warmth wards off the cold that always seemed to linger in the hollow rooms. His smile lights up even the darkest corners as she leans into his embrace. He pulls out old records that collected dust for years, grabbing her hand and swinging her around the room with more grace than anyone would expect.

They don’t even notice when the children arrive. Only when Gil spins her and she nearly runs straight into Malcolm do they realize they are no longer alone. The laughter catches the air like a flame, spreading across the room with an infectious glee that most of them had not known for far too long. Gil pulls Ainsley in next, taking her as his next partner.

She almost bursts with joy when Malcolm takes her hand to dance without hesitation. His movements are still but he is letting go, allowing himself to enjoy the small moments in life that don’t revolve around homicide.

She’s so proud that she feels tears building behind her eyes.

The music fades and the silence takes over, no longer as deafening but rather content.

Jessica startles awake to a loud crash. Immediately she regrets opening her eyes as pain rips through her head. She reaches up to feel where it hurts but something is holding her down.

It takes a few seconds for the world to come into focus, once it does she wishes desperately for the peace of the dream. Her hands are zip tied to the chair she’s sitting in, her neck and head both ache like nobody’s business. She shuffles through her mind to try to remember what the hell happened. There was a crash, then her world was spinning, she checked on Adolpho… Oh god, Adolpho.

A soft sob of realization takes over her. What happened between the crash and now? How the hell did she get here? She was on her way to a meeting for becoming the head of Eve’s charity in her honor.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” Fake sincerity drips from a figure previously hidden by the shadows. She stiffens, suddenly all too aware of her situation. She holds still, as if that would help, if she wouldn’t move they wouldn’t see her. If she closes her eyes she can open them again to the warmth and happiness radiating from her family. “Sorry for the mess, had to improvise.” The shadow gestures absentmindedly.

“Who are you?” Her voice rasps painfully. She wonders how long exactly she was out for.

“Oh, that doesn’t matter. I’m much more interested in you.” He comes closer, enough for her to recognize that he’s wearing a mask. “Jessica Whitly, my you are a sob story if there ever was one.” He walks across the room, footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. “Disgraced daughter of the Miltons, married to a serial killer, and dated another socialite exposed to be heading a dubious business,” he sighs. “Truly Shakespearian, have you thought about selling the rights to your story?”

“Are you done?” She tries not to let her voice waver, her fear shakes just beneath the surface, but she’s not running or hiding now. Malcolm and Gil will find her. She just needs to stall as long as she possibly can.

“Hardly.” The venomous glee sends a chill down her spine. He tilts his head in a way that flashes her back as if she were in Claremont all this time. “Just killing time until our guest arrives.”

“I can give you all the money you want, just let me go.” The bark of a laugh makes her jump, immediately regretting the sudden movement as pain pierces her skull yet again.

“I don’t want your money. It can all burn for all I give a shit.”

“What do you want then?” She pleads.

Even with the mask she can feel his deadly grin, like a cat taunting it’s prey just before it pounces. “You.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Gil checks his phone yet again, waiting for Malcolm’s text. He told JT to get Ainsley and get both of them back to the precinct immediately. He almost wishes he’d done it for himself, having them in his sight would be a hell of a lot more comforting right now especially as he stares at the lieu of pictures scattered across his desk.

He trusts JT, though. He’s getting them here as fast as he possibly can with two out of three of the most stubborn people he’s ever met in the back of his car. No doubt they have hundreds of questions that poor JT doesn’t even know the answer to, he’s simply following orders and right now they’re on a strict need to know basis.

Colette will lock Malcolm down as soon as he arrives. He’ll be able to loosen the reigns, but only a little. He’ll be lucky to leave without Dani or JT personally handcuffed to him. Hell, Gil will be lucky if she doesn’t choose him to be handcuffed to Malcolm.

He hears the door to his office open and he feels the lump in his throat develop once again.

“Why are the FBI here?” “Why did I just get pulled out of work and rushed here?” “Why isn’t mom answering my calls?” “Why did we get escorted here by two more cop cars?”

The two siblings speak simultaneously and he sighs raising a hand to stop them. He braces himself delivering the news as impersonally as he could to the two people he basically watched grow up. “You’re both familiar with the kidnappings and murders in Boston?” They nodded, going to talk again but he stopped them with a pointed stare. “This morning there was an accident, one of the cars matched the plates of the car Agent Swanson has been tracking for that case.”

“What does that have to do with us?” Ainsley asks, fingers playing with the hem of her sleeve, it’s a nervous tick he’s known since she was 12. Her mother tried to break the habit but was never really successful.

“The other driver was Adolpho.” Ainsley’s eyes widen, she looks to Malcolm who only nods solemnly. “He died on impact.”

“Oh my god.” Malcolm reaches over, squeezing her hand. He watches the younger man straighten, preparing himself for the next blow. He’s all too familiar with the practices and knows that Gil has more to deliver to them. He nods, silently telling him to continue.

“We found this in the backseat of the car.” He turns the photo of Jessica’s phone to them and watches as the dots connect in both of their heads. “We also found blood on the back window that we believe is your mother’s.”

“You believe?” Ainsley’s voice cracks for the first time that he’s heard in years. Even after Paul Lazar, even after Endicott Ainsley didn’t waver. “What do you mean you believe is hers? Where is she?”

“You think the killer took her.” Malcolm whispers. Almost as if he says it too loud, it will make it true. His hands fly to his eyes sucking in a breath when Gil nods in confirmation. He knows it’s his way of trying to keep tears back, just long enough to keep his head from going into full meltdown and instead switching to investigator. “Dani found CCTV footage of the wreck. The suspect’s car redlight, crashing into Adolpho without even slowing down. The man climbs out of the car and goes out of frame. A couple minutes later an ambulance shows up, another man helps your mother into the back and they drive off.”

“Shouldn’t she be fine then? We just need to find out want hospital they took her to. She’s probably logged as a Jane Doe if she doesn’t have her purse either. She probably hit her head and she’s confused or unconscious and we need to-”

“Ainsley.” Malcolm’s tone stops her. He’s already read Gil’s expression, knowing what’s coming next.

“The ambulance on the scene was reported stolen just an hour before the wreck.” He watches as Ainsley’s face crumples, despite her best attempts to hold it together. Malcolm pulls her into a loose hug, rubbing her back in comfort. He can tell only by the slightly uneven breaths that Malcolm is crying as well.

His eyes sting and every fatherly instinct wants him to go to them and hug them. Tell them everything will be fine just like he did 20 years ago. He gives them time to settle again, determination overpowering their shock and grief. “What can we do?”

“Right now, stay in sight. I’ve already got the FBI pressing hard enough on this pushing for a clean end but I don’t think that’ll be the case. Something doesn’t feel right. I’m assigning each of you an officer and if either of you tries to shake them or go off on your own I’m putting you in a holding cell.” He raises a brow at the two of them. “Understand?”

“Yes.” They answer in unison. Gil tries not to think about the two kids, hardened too young. With only each other and their mother to hold onto in the storm that raged around them. Now with one less thing anchoring them to this earth.

“Let’s get to work.” XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The clanging of metal pulls Jessica’s attention from the deep abyss she allowed herself to sink into. The man had long left with the promise of the “guest” lingering over her head. She busied herself praying to every deity that she could think of that Malcolm, Ainsley, Gil, all of them were safe. She stopped believing in God long ago but her desperation outweighs her beliefs right now.

Different, slower footsteps shamble in front of her. This man looks younger, his physique, at least. He places something down against the wall before dragging a chair in front of her. She feels bile rise in the back of her throat when the something against the wall groans in pain. The man shuffles back over to the body, lifting it with ease yet again and placing it in the chair across from her. He secures the wrists individually to the chair before standing behind it. She stares at him for a moment, she swears his movements almost seem hesitant.

The static of a radio starting up breaks the relative silence. “Take off his hood.” She recognizes the voice of the man who was taunting her earlier. The other figure does as he says, removing the bag from over the tied up man’s head. Fearful bloodshot eyes meet hers. “This is Tommy Moore. He is a resident at Montgomery and from what I hear? He will make a promising young surgeon one day.” She swallows hard trying to calm the nerves building up in her stomach. “Do you know who she is Tommy?” The poor boy can only get out a whimper. Her heart sinks when she hears the sound of a gun cocking from behind him. “Answer me!”

“Y-yes.” He chokes out. “I saw her on the news. She was looking for a missing girl o-on Christmas.”

“Do you think she would choose your life over her own?” Tommy bows his head sobbing openly. “Please don’t do this.”

“Let him go.” She begs.

“Well would you Mrs. Whitly?” The sentence cuts deep. “Would you choose your life over his?” She closes her eyes, a few tears sliding down her cheeks. She thinks of Malcolm and Ainsley, no idea of where she was. She thinks of Gil, pouring everything he has into finding her. She even thinks of Martin, the horrid man who no doubt has caused this somehow in some way.

And then she thinks of her dream. She holds onto the smell of Gil’s cologne surrounding her as they spin around her living room, the sound of Ainsley’s laugh bouncing off of the walls as Gil dips her, Malcolm’s smile brighter than she remembers it being in so very long. And she hopes they forgive her. “No.”

The silence feels as if it stretches for hours. She waits for the gunshots. She waits for the pain and then the utter nothingness of death. “Perhaps you didn’t understand my question. Would you die so that Tommy here can live?”

“Yes, I would.” The boy cries only get louder, mixed with tragedy and relief. She almost wants to cry with him.

“No!” The voice roars and they hear something from the other room crash. “You’re doing this wrong!” Another stretch of silence, this one even longer than the last. “You would rather die, so that he can live?!” Tommy looks at her, finally, and the realization strikes her. His eyes looked familiar, the same shade as Martin’s. His curly, unkempt hair even the shade so similar she’d assume he was a relative had she not known Martin had no other family. Everything was a subconscious push so that she’d choose her own life over his. This was a losing game.

“I choose his life over mine.” She says with more anger than before. She wouldn’t fall for this game. Even if it meant her own she wouldn’t put an innocent life on the line. She hopes for her children’s sake that they find her eventually. She hopes that they find peace.

“Shoot him.”

“What?” The man with a gun asks before either of them could.

“Shoot him!” The shot makes her ears pop. She never knew a gun could be that loud. Blood hits her face causing her to flinch, watching in horror as the boy slumps forwards. A cry rips through her throat as she struggles against the bonds tying her down.

“Why?!” She screams. “Why did you do that?!” She folds over on herself trying to contain the panic threatening to swallow her whole. Every fiber of her wants to fight back, to fight her way back to her family. Her head screeches in pain, spots flashing in front of her eyes. It only seems to get more intense though as her world tilts and spins with an effort to stay awake.

“You chose wrong.”

#gil arroyo x jessica whitly #jessica whitly x gil arroyo #gilssica #gil arroyo #jessica whitly #malcolm bright #Ainsley Whitly #prodigal son #prodigal son au #kidnapping au #find your way (back to me)#find your way (back to me) chapter two #fanfic #notgonnarememberthis fics

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spongeekat · 5 years

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[Rewrite] The 6 Months Peter Parker was Dead Chapter 1

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Summary; Peter is forced to fake his own death to save the lives of his fathers, as well as his boyfriend Wade and the rest of the Avengers. Now living as his secret identity of Spider-Man, he must cope with the pain he's causing his friends and family, while adjusting to the lonely life of a full-time hero. It's not easy when his decision keeps finding ways to haunt him, and it seems his identity is even harder to hide when he's 'dead.'

“Peter, please. Just look at me. You don’t want to do this. You don’t want to hurt Tony, or Steve, or anyone else that cares about you. You’re so young.”

Bruce’s pleading was wasted breath. His uncle’s voice was distant, barely audible over the pounding of blood in his ears. Peter’s mind throbbed with unease. The burning embers kissing the windows and door frame were pulsing brighter than the rest of the world, and when he tore his gaze down to his arms he saw the crimson burning his skin and up the expanse of his shoulder. Fire Trucks blared deafeningly close, yet he didn’t so much as wince. Men and women were screaming at the rescue teams to help. It all sounded so far away. When he looked up at the fire consuming the burnt mansion, dripping with hunger and malintent, the blistering heat scorched his body. Sweat gathered on the edges of his hairline, and for a moment he felt he was breathing in pure charcoal and ash. His logical mind, though hardly present, told him this was a terrible decision, and he should stay clear of the collapsing building. He felt a hand firmly grasp onto his shoulder, before it drug his limp form around to face Bruce. Peter caught sight of calm eyes staring back down at him, though the usual composure of the scientist before him had broken. Blood dripped steadily down his cheeks, and Peter was aware of wires of a bomb strapped to his uncle’s chest creeping up from under his shirt. They served as a grim reminder of the consequences of his actions, if he chose not to go through with the plan being forced onto him.

The splintering crash of another room caving in on itself pulled him from his mystified haze. His senses slowly started to return, the deluded shrieking now hitting him in stereo. Glancing back at the horrifying scene, the mansion was standing on its final legs. His window of opportunity was running short. There was a tunnel in the basement open only for so long, and Peter would lose his chance to disappear into it if he didn’t make quick decisions.

A man howled for help from the second story. Peter wasn’t sure if he was a pawn placed there by Harry, or if he was an actual tenant of the home that had been ambushed with his arson. Either way, the fire truck's ladder wasn’t operating, and the man had no method of escaping. Peter’s urge to rescue him was making his stomach churn in agony. He knew Harry was watching, and any aberration from the scheme would result in negative outcomes for everyone involved.

“Don’t think about me for a second.” Bruce’s voice was soothing, and much closer to Peter this time, his hands desperately anchoring him in place to keep him from making a move towards the flame-engulfed house. “Think about yourself. It would be better for me to die than you. Remember your fathers. Remember New York. All the people that love and depend on you. The people that would be devastated.”

Who? The thought made Peter’s throat constrict. He couldn’t deny Tony and Steve would be left in shock- and childless- but thinking logically, both of his previous sets of parents and the one girl he’d ever loved were already dead. Superheroes lost people all the time. In the overall scheme of things, did his life really matter…?

But Bruce. Uncle Bruce was someone Peter had vowed to protect. He glanced shortly up at his worn face, the abuse he’d been dealt taking form in dark bruises on his jaw and a fractured nose. The Green Goblin had been the mastermind behind this all.

Harry Osborn had made his appearance at the science convention Bruce and Peter had gone to that afternoon. Peter had originally been invited by Tony, but his Dad hadn’t been up to attending the event and sent Bruce in his place. The look of disbelief on his Uncle’s face when Peter had shot out a web to defend them was cemented in his mind. Peter fought hard. He hadn’t won. Harry had baited them out of the convention center to a parking garage rigged with electric traps, and he’d stupidly ignored his spidey-senses until it was too late. Static shot through the room, currents cutting through his body until he was debilitated and had passed out. The horror he felt waking up to Bruce, beaten, bloodied, and covered with explosives, had felt grimly similar to watching Gwen fall to her death 2 years ago. He couldn’t go through that again. He couldn’t watch another person in his life die because of his double-life.

Windows shattered behind them, glass shards dropping to the sidewalk and causing onlookers to take steps further back to avoid the spray. Peter was pushed into Bruce from the momentum of the crowd, though Bruce wound his arms tightly around him. Peter could feel his unwillingness to let go. He wished he could stay that way with him, even if just for a minute longer. He may have resolved himself to his death, but that didn’t make the fear any less harsh.

“I know you think it’s your only option. But Peter, you have so much more to live for besides just being Spider-Man. You can’t lose your family. You can’t lose Wade.”

Wade. He would be devastated. He and Peter had agreed they would end each other’s lives when it came down to it, because neither wanted to survive alone. His promise ring was heavy on his finger. Peter slowly reached down and slipped it off with trembling hands, pressing it tightly into Bruce’s palm. “Keep it for me.” Peter’s voice ruptured through his chest, searing his lungs. His body ached, like he would have a break down any moment. However, he didn’t feel the immediate need to cry. He felt... numb.

Harry hated Peter. He didn’t have to scream it at him a thousand times to get the point across. He could see it in the spiteful eyes of his ex-best friend. He could see how Peter had broken him with his refusal to be the experimental drug for Norman. He had promised to do what he could to help the man he’d grown up with, but Norman had taken matters into his own hands and was too far gone for Peter to save him in the end. And then there was the night Norman had killed himself in a horrible accident, impaling himself on his glider when he had tried to take out Spider-Man. This fueled Harry’s inexplicably strong animosity, and Peter had no way to convince him that he hadn’t caused the loss of his father. In his eyes, while he knew it was horrible mistakes leading up to this, he accepted the blame for ruining his friend.

“You don’t deserve your dads.”

Peter had been electrocuted to the point he felt the shaking wouldn’t stop, sweat dripped down his face, and burn marks charred his arms and legs. He was in no shape to attempt an escape from the Goblin, especially with Bruce covered in explosives and unable to mutate to the Hulk. He wouldn’t risk his life in a gamble.

“Little Spidey wants to take away my father, my future, and still wants to pretend he’s the good guy! All we wanted was your goddamn blood !”

“Harry, this isn’t you.” Peter had seen Harry’s darkest days - through every disagreement with his family. Yet, despite the pressure of his Dad and the fate that awaited him, his fire had never burned out. Now, it seemed only black voids filled his eyes. “Let me help you. I-I promise, I’ll do everything I can-”

“No, that offer has expired. Sadly enough for you!” Another bolt coursed through his spine and spread down to his fingertips. Peter collapsed to his side on the floor, his body spasming excruciatingly as he tried to catch his breath and his heart threatened to give out. “You’re on my terms now. And that is somewhere you don’t want to be.”

Harry had given him an ultimatum. He cackled sadistically from behind his deranged mask, hovering over Peter’s broken frame on the floor still his twitching from another round of electrocution. “I won’t kill you. I want you to kill yourself. Peter Parker will die from this world either way.”

Peter was too disoriented to respond, and trying to pick himself up off the floor only left him dazed and in a heap once more. His limbs seemed to stop obeying him entirely.

“So I have a choice for you, Spider-Man.” A single, deformed finger blinded him, his brain engorged with electric sparks and hardly able to take in the details of it wavering in his eyes. “I’ll blow Banner’s brains out like a firework , reveal your identity to the world, and just as you return to normal life with Dear old Dad’s and your family of super-freaks, I’ll come for you. You won’t know where I am. But I’ll take a person from your life one by one, rip them to shreds and send you videos to commemorate, until you end your pathetic existence yourself.”

“Don’t listen, Peter.” Bruce croaked, though his prompting didn’t eliminate the weight of the Harry’s threats.

“Two.” Another green finger dug into Peter’s forehead, pushing sharply at his temples to make his neck arched painfully back. “You will leave your life as Peter Parker, and your Dads will be childless. You are a part of the Avenger’s now, aren’t you? Do you have fun being Spider-Man? Running around pretending not to sleep under the same roof? Is it easy to lie to them? I hope so, because Spider-Man is all you’ll ever be. You’ll kill yourself- or at least, they’ll think you’re dead- on television so everyone can see just how weak and pathetic you truly are. And you’ll suffer each day watching them in pain, knowing they couldn’t save you. Your Hulk will live. So long as you trust him to keep a secret.” He paused, tauntingly, and withdrew his fingers from the teen’s forehead. Peter stared in disbelief at the floor in front of him, a shuddering taking over his form. He couldn’t do that to Steve and Tony, or the rest of his family. Either choice was a terrible punishment for them; they’d lose a friend, a team member, and suffer the publicity of Peter’s identity reveal and the murders that followed; or they’d lose their only son, while he played observer to the aftermath right under their noses.

“Don’t make me wait all day, Spider-Man, the choice is clear. Make your decision by the count of three, or I’ll set off my boom-toys and kill Banner now.”

Before Harry had even reached 2, Peter’s voice shot out in utter panic. “I’ll do the second one! I’ll pretend to die!”

Peter could see the heartbreak on Bruce’s face. He knew he was selfish. He knew he couldn’t do this to the people he held most dear, but he couldn’t risk lives that weren’t his. He couldn’t put people in danger who had never agreed to be in harm’s way in the first place.

“Be careful. Get the bombs off as soon as possible.” Peter brushed away Bruce’s arms from his body, taking a few steps backwards. Worry spiked in Bruce’s eyes, but Peter had his back facing him before he could say another word. He ducked under the police tape at the front lines. A fireman squawked to his right and made to grab him,, but Peter was quicker and evaded his grasp. He sprinted towards the home before anyone had really noticed he’d broken through, but when they had, there was an outcry of concern from the crowd. His steps tapered off at the front door and he slowed to a stop. The furniture and walls just inside the doors were blackened from the flames, sweltering smoke pouring through the frame. He could smell the petrol that had fed the fire, which was now spilling down the stairs at a rapid pace. He had a minute, maybe less, before the entire front room would be consumed by the blaze. Sweat collected on the arch of his eyebrows, and for a moment he was left petrified on the porch. There were civilians screaming at him to stop, and training his ears, Peter knew one of the first responders was dashing towards where he stood, his footsteps slamming against the asphalt. Despite the dread of entering the tomb that stretched in front of him, he couldn’t let himself get stopped. If he were interrupted by an officer he wouldn’t get a second chance to finish what he had started. His eyes locked onto the cameraman from their local news gawking at him from behind police lines, and before concerned bystanders could get in his way, he had ducked in the doorway and out of sight from the public.

Before he had even taken 5 steps away from the door, an explosion sounded behind him, nearly catapulting Peter into a half-destroyed piano from the force. Peter threw arms over his head as dust and debris sprayed his way, varnishing his face and hair with ashes. The side of the house closest to the stairs had begun collapsing, beams creaking before plunging through the weakened ceiling and splintering against the ground. He navigated his way towards the kitchen, the furthest point in the house from the source of the fire, purposefully orchestrated by Harry. He knew he was watching him, executing perfect timing as to prevent Peter’s plan from getting hindered. This also meant Peter was given no chance to go back on his word, once it was set into motion. His way out had been barraged chunks of burnt wood and drywall, and there was only one escape point remaining; the basement.

The roof groaned with strain, and the snapping of wood caught Peter’s attention. A tingle of warning ran up his spine, and his arms straightened above him on instinct to catch a burning beam that was hurtling down towards him. It easily outweighed him and was painted black with fire. The flames scorched the skin on his hands, but his adrenaline-induced high distracted him from the pain. He managed to throw it aside back towards the living room, side-stepping the cavern above him in case another piece of the frame decided to give out. He sucked in a sharp breath to look down at his palms, bits of the skin burned away to reveal pink and bloodied skin, but there wasn’t much to do about it now. The sooner he got out of this house, the less trauma he’d have to worry about later.

He trudged his way down the staircase that led to the under structure, the air growing thinner and easier to breathe. Peter hitched his backpack off his shoulders and dropped it to the floor, yanking out his suit. Despite the rush he was in, he faltered when he looked at the fabric, as if it was his first time seeing it. He didn’t feel like he was in a hurry this time to don the costume. After today, it would serve as his prison sentence. He wasn’t able to take it off and return to his life as a student, son, and Daily Bugle employee. Peter Parker, in this reality, was dead.

He tore off his current clothing, dropping it to the ground beside him. It was difficult to pull the spandex over his damp skin, but he eventually was zipping it and fixing his mask in place. Feeling his breathing obstructed by the suit was what finally made it all seem real. He wouldn’t be returning that night from his trip with Bruce to a warm bed and a kiss on the forehead from Steve. He wouldn’t spend his night listening to Tony trying to prove why it was a pointless convention made for less competent scientists to prove their theoretical intellect. There’d be no family movie night like every Saturday, and Natasha wouldn’t tease him and Wade endlessly when Wade snuck in once Tony and Steve went to bed. He wouldn’t go out for his nightly patrol, and he’d never again return at an unholy hour to rush to hide his new bruises with concealer and long-sleeve shirts.

Peter was really losing his entire life.

He twisted to locate the crudely carved tunnel leading out of the basement and up towards the back yard. Harry had told him it would be there as his means of escape, and it seemed just barely big enough for him to crawl through. With a faltering confidence he shoved his backpack in far enough to fit his body, then grabbed hold of the walls of the dirt path to pull himself in as well. His toes poked around for a growth in the dirt, and when he found it, he gave it a light tap and withdrew his foot. A weak bomb went off and the end of the tunnel collapsed, the light fading out of the space in seconds. Harry hadn’t been lying about the detonator to prevent his route from being found. He really had planned this revenge meticulously. Peter grabbed hold of his backpack and pushed it up further along the steep angle, using his feet to climb up after it.

Trapped in utter darkness in a tunnel that led Peter to god-knows-where, he crawled towards the beginning of a new kind of hell he wasn’t emotionally prepared to face.

“Now being called a Reckless Hero; How the adopted son of Tony Stark lost his life in an attempt to save politician Jamison Morre last Tuesday when he was trapped on the fourth floor of his burning home. The Manhattan Arson and Explosives team has just concluded their investigation on the case of a house-fire that left two dead earlier this week. Firefighters received the call about this massive fire at about 4:30 PM. When they arrived on the scene they discovered Morre was still inside the home, unable to escape his bedroom before the fire had caused the stairs to collapse. 20 Year old Peter Parker-Stark was spending the day with a family friend when the young man supposedly passed by the scene and heard the cries of the homeowner as he yelled for help. Despite all of the first-responders best efforts, they were not able to extend their ladder due to faulty equipment. It was then Stark decided to take matters into his own hands. He ran into the half-demolished building to try to reach him, but a gas line exploded just as he entered. Police say they found a body that was badly burned and crushed under the rubble, but it had been concluded to belong to Parker-Stark. We talked to the fire chief that was on the scene at the time.”

“It was an unfortunate incident that my men were not prepared to deal with. Our truck ladder wouldn’t extend, and we couldn’t reach the man through his window. The kid ran past us and it took too long for any of us to realize he had gotten through. It’s something sad that we have to deal with when heroes like Spider-Man and Captain America run around and try to save people all the time. Normal people want to be heroes, too. All of our trucks are being tested to be sure this won’t happen again, and the parts that failed are being looked into.”

“We’ve received no comment from Tony Stark on the incident. More details to come as they’re uncovered.”

The TV clicked off, the screen shutting down to black, and Peter was once more basked in the silence of his empty apartment. He drew his legs up to his chest, resting languidly against the arm of his couch. After a couple of nights taking refuge under the bleachers of his old high school, Bruce had gotten him settled into a rented furnished studio apartment, at least for the time being until he figured out the next steps he would take. It had been surprisingly difficult adjusting to life on his own. Despite his roots of living primarily with Aunt May and Uncle Ben in an aged, single-family home, he had grown quite accustomed to life in Stark Industries and the luxuries that came along with it. Of course he was also never completely alone in the tower. Even when his 5-or-so family members were away on a mission, he still had Jarvis, who was decent company. But now he was left isolated on the other side of town.

Bruce hadn’t come to visit Peter yet. At least not when he’d been home. He’d left a new phone, clothes from his room, his laptop, his promise ring, and cash in a box on his counter while Peter was out. He also texted him updates about upcoming Avenger’s meetings, though all official activity had been postponed until further notice. Peter hadn’t heard anything about Steve and Tony’s state yet, though he figured that was for the better.

The depression of losing his family had hit him quite hard. Rather than crying to mourn his losses, he just felt... empty. His life had been shattered apart by the man he used to consider his best friend, his relationship had been ripped prematurely away, and he was left a captive to his superhero persona. He hadn’t brought himself to move from the couch since he’d moved in, much less go out for patrols. Besides, the temptation to burst into his old home and reveal that he had never really died and beg for forgiveness for lying to them would overwhelm him. He wasn’t strong enough for it yet.

On his new phone he navigated to the social media sites his family had kept up for him, all now switched to a remembrance page. Several people from highschool and college that had barely even known his name when he was ‘alive’ had posted tribute statuses. Even his professors had reached out about the unfortunate death of their student. The name that stood out most viciously on the page was Flash. He was, according to his post, torn-up by Peter’s death, wishing he had been given the chance to apologize for his misbehavior all those years ago towards Peter. The fact that his death may have actually done good for a person made him want to laugh at the sour irony.

There was still the intrusive thought that overall this may be a benefit to those he’d left behind. After all, how many of his family members had he seen murdered, or close to it, because of his genetics and powers? It was hard to ignore the fears when they were the only thing keeping you company during the day.

Peter’s police scanner buzzed on low volume next to him on the cushions, and the words ‘Masked Red Man’ and ‘Shooting.’ immediately caught his attention. Wide-eyed, his fingers fumbled to turn it up.

“ 612 we’re requesting response cars because we have squads tied up with this shooting. Unable to move inside. 5 suspects have been spotted with firearms, and approximately 24 people are still inside the mall. Masked man is now out of sight and has appeared to have entered through the fire exit. Shots have been fired. Where did this guy go? Were those swords?”

Apparently there was a hostage situation in the mall, and Wade was getting himself involved. The fact had Peter on his feet in a second. Wade had been kill-free for a year and half since joining up with the Avenger’s alongside Spider-Man, and had been very proud of that fact. Peter was really hoping that streak hadn’t been broken. No, he had to be sure Wade wasn’t going to hurt anyone. His chest ached as he pulled himself from the couch and tumbled over to his suit that laid out on his counter, holding it up before him.

No more moping. He was going to have to face this head on. He was doing this to protect those he loved, and he couldn’t give up on saving the city and the people in it just because he was grieving. So he pulled the zipper open and ripped off his shirt, trying not to let his mind linger on the anxiety of seeing Wade again.

Spider-Man landed stealthily on the glass roof of the Manhattan mall, but he still heard an eruption in the crowd gathered to watch the scene, supposedly noticing him. He braced his fingertips against the slippery panes and crawled silently, eyes scanning inside for where the hostages were. He’d heard from the report that the shooters had been spotted near the electronics store on the second floor through a window. As promised, when he reached that area, he saw a man standing with a loaded gun in the center of a broken escalator, with a group of a dozen people kneeling behind him. There were bound to be more shooters in another section, which Peter had to be careful not to alert, as to not risk any of the individuals’ lives.

He carefully gripped onto and pulled one of the glass panels up as warm air rushed out at him, calculating his strategy. Yelling below him indicated someone was on the phone, likely with the police, in one of the hidden stores. The hostages seemed to all be alive at least, though Peter was sad to know there had already been at least one casualty. He picked the angle at which he could quickly web the gun with one hand and grab the gunner with the other, which would hopefully be silent enough that he could then land in front of the hostages and body-block them until he’d taken out the three other gunman.

Peter adjusted so that he’d have room to jump down once he’d webbed the man, extended his wrist, and braced himself to ambush his target.

“Who the fuck is that?!”

The faint sound of boots hitting tile drew his attention to a maintenance hallway. His vision locked in on a man making his way towards the gunmen with a frightening ambiance, shrouded by the crimson emergency lights flashing rhythmically. His katanas were dragging on the ground, sparks leaping off the tips , and nothing about this man seemed friendly or hopeful like Peter had come to know him. His heart swelled in his chest upon seeing the familiar suit, a sharp pain forming in the back of his throat. Wade. His presence brought in an instant happiness that threw him completely off guard, though the grief overshadowed it in a moment when he’d realized that it meant nothing. Wade had no idea who lied behind the mask. They were still stuck miles apart.

“Stop walking towards me or I’ll kill one of the kids!” Peter was torn back to the situation at hand. His eyes darted to look for the other gunmen, and he could see the barrels of their machine guns poking out of the door of one of the stores. He counted 3 present at the scene, which meant one was still missing.

Deadpool’s heavy steps didn’t falter at the threat, and Peter’s ears picked up on the clicking of a gun safety. It was time to make his move.

A child screamed when Peter descended down on them, which distracted the man aiming at Wade long enough that his blades had the chance to scrape together. Peter turned in horror, expecting a maimed body lying on the floor, though he was met with the sight of a halved gun and the man bleeding from his nose after taking a hilt to the face. Thank God. The criminal was injured, but alive.

The whizzing of a bullet entered his ears and he instinctively side-stepped it, and several other shots. His wrists darted out, web fibers solidifying and sticking onto the strap of one of the rifles. He ripped it out of the hands of the gunman, pulling the magazine out and discarding it before the body clattered to the floor. Peter shot another two webs at the man’s arms and drug him forward, digging the heel of his foot into his forehead to disorient him. Deadpool was beside him without hesitation, sliding under a bullet’s path and yanking the shooter’s feet out from under him. Peter noted that Deadpool was dully silent compared to his normal banter and… Peter would give anything to hear just a hint of laughter in his voice. Peter turned his head at the hostages, pointing towards the exits. “Go to the police. You should be safe.” He said, calmly, to keep them from panicking and trampling one another. His voice disguiser he’d invested into when he’d gotten invited to the Avenger’s buzzed softly in his mask, distorting his voice deeper and leaving it unrecognizable.

Peter cemented two of the criminals to the floor. He used his knee to anchor another, wrapping web around his wrists to subdue him, and Deadpool seemed to be taking care of the other gunmen. His heart rate had picked up to a rapid pounding due to the close proximity of Wade, and he struggled to find something to say. There was an uncomfortable tension draping them, and Peter knew he should break the silence. He straightened up ever so gradually, studying Wade’s mask, though the mercenary seemed to notice and refused to return his gaze. His body language echoed the tenseness he seemed to feel, his quivering hands using more force than necessary to rip at the shirt fabric of the knocked out man to tie his hands. Peter wanted to hug him. It hurt so terribly to be this close, to see him looking so defeated, but unable to do anything about the fact. Nothing else felt as important in that moment as comforting Wade did.“Deadpo--”

“I have to go.” Deadpool stood from his work, looking over at the computer store. Peter followed his eyes, slowly, every fiber in his being not wanting to look away from Wade, to see the last of the men cowering behind a desk. “You can take care of him, right, Spidey?”

Wade sounded drained. Peter swallowed down the remorse that took over him as he nodded. “I-Uh- Yeah” Wade braced to walk away, but panic erupted in Peter’s chest. He didn’t want him to go. “Um, We should talk!... Sometime. Like we used to.” He said awkwardly, with urgency, unsure why he had made the offer knowing that he absolutely could not risk giving his identity away.

The mercenary hesitated, his blades, still dirtied with blood and gunpowder, being shoved away into their holsters on his back. “Yeah, maybe .” Wade returned half-heartedly, and it was clear he had no intention of accepting Spider-Man’s offer. He didn’t say anything else, picking his way over the bodies and dragging his feet back towards the exit.

And all Peter could do was watch him walk away with the other half of his heart. His promise ring sat heavily on his finger, under the glove.

He was broken. There was no other way he could describe the torment that had crushed his spirit. Wade was hurting, that much was clear by his shortness, and Peter knew it was entirely his fault.

#spideypool #superfamily #spiderman #deadpool #iron man #captain america #fanfic #my fic #spongeekat

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redfoxwritesstuff · 6 years

Text

Silent Song #5

Warning: Please be aware, my little Hotaru has had a hard life. I do not shy away from her traumas. Some readers may find the contents of this chapter a bit disturbing as we revisit some of dear Hotaru’s past. It is by no means the darkest thing I have written, I don’t personally find it bad but some may.

That being said, I really really love this chapter and so while I’m not one to beg for feedback, I would love it if someone (or someones) were to talk to me about this chapter or otherwise leave feedback.

Chapters 1 2 3 4

Chapter 5

Gray eyes opened and she was surrounded by lights. Was she dead? No, she could feel the ground under her feet, cold and hard. The world around her shifted as she looked around. Her memory was foggy and she couldn't remember before.

Anything about before. Who was she? What was her name? Did it matter? Probably not. Before didn’t matter. Before was just that, before. Before wouldn’t save her. Before wouldn’t come for her. Before wouldn’t look for her. Before didn’t want her. Before didn’t matter. All that mattered was now.

Suddenly she was in the woods, wet grass and dirt pushing up between her toes. What happened to her shoes? Had she ever had shoes?

On the embankment above her she could see the car, smashed and crumpled. It was her car, in a way. She knew in the same way that one knows their reflection when they see it. She could hear the screams and she wanted to run but she couldn't. The people screaming mattered to her, they were important. Yet, she couldn't place who they were or why they mattered. Maybe they didn't matter. Maybe they were all that mattered. Soon, a man grabbed her from behind and she turned, he was in black and she couldn't see his face. Did his face matter? Probably not.

She could never see his face. This wasn't the first time. It wouldn’t be the last time. The details wouldn’t matter. It would all happen again. It always did.

The world shifted again and she was strapped down, the bright lights were back burning into her mind. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to will it to stop. Just wake up. How hard could it be? Just wake up. Maybe this time, she would never wake up. Maybe this time, it would all be over in the end. Maybe this time, she would die.

Behind her, a Doctor pushed a table with a surgical tray to her side. Just wake up. He had no face. Wake up. Maybe he did, and it just didn't matter. Just wake up. He wasn't the good Doctor, he wasn't the nice Doctor. Just wake up. He was just a Doctor. He was just a bad Doctor. He was the Doctor. Just wake up.

She couldn’t wake up. Wouldn’t wake up. Trapped again. A prisoner again. A slave again. Her captor? Her very mind. Just wake up.

“No.” She cried. Her voice soft and clear, rising in volume with each word as she begged. “Please no! No!” Tears streamed down her face as she thrashed her head back and forth. “I'll be good, I won't talk back! Please! Don't please! No!”

Men she couldn't see held her arms as she fought to break free from the straps. Men grabbed her head, holding her steady as the Doctor grabbed the knife, bringing it to the center of her throat. Maybe there were no men, maybe the straps just felt like hands. Screaming and screeching, she fought harder to break free but it was no use. Each time, the pain was the same, searing and blinding and never ending and just like always, it ended suddenly in a haze as her voice was torn from her, as it always was. .

Gray eyes snapped open as a soundless shriek tore from her lungs. Always soundless. There would never be sound again. The weight of the blankets tangled around her limbs did nothing to soothe the panic running wild through her. In a rush, she sat up fast, only to fall back onto the bed as her face connected with something solid.

“Fuck.” Loki tried to keep his voice quite as he grabbed at his nose, pulling his fingers away checking for blood, instinctually. Thankfully, he saw none. It made sense, he was a god and her just a human but the action was reflex just the same.

Below him, Hotaru silently screamed again but she could see the room around her coming into focus and along with it, the man kneeling on her bed. She could see his face, how his dark hair fell in waves around his neck. The blue of his eyes seemed to be illuminated as he watched her. It was likely just the moonlight reflecting off his otherworldly eyes.

Each time, he watched her as she screamed, knowing there should be sound yet it never came. It was intriguing. She truely could make no sound.

It was dark, the only light being from the moon and it took a moment for her mind to calm enough to process the world around her. On the ground next to her bed sat the remnants of the shattered lamp. It was that sound that had woken Loki and drew him to her room. In truth, he it was the sound of the lamp being pushed, sliding along the hard surface. He was in the room before it so much as hit the ground. Behind him, the door was closed out of habit, isolating them from the outside world. He watched her look around frantically as she calmed.

“You're okay?” The sound of his voice drew her eyes back to him as she clutched at her neck. Tears streamed down her face and she shook like a leaf. Loki watched as she pawed at her neck, checking her bandages. “You are okay.” Again, he repeated softly yet with more force. “It was a dream, not real.”

Softly, Loki rested his fingers against her neck, putting an end to her pawing. She would scratch herself with the frantic actions, if allowed to continue. Under his fingers he could feel the muscles of her throat move, working to produce the sounds he expected to hear. Yet, under his fingertips he felt no vibration in her throat for all the effort.

The sound of her door being thrown open tore another scream from her as she cringes back, clutching at her neck again, leaving Loki’s hand to hover just a short few inches in front of her. Nat and Thor poured into the room.

“Loki!” Natasha hissed, clearly not pleased with the sight she was greeted with. Loki was kneeling over the girl, the pale skin of his bare back illuminated in moonlight. Hotaru was cringing back against the soft headboard, eyes wild and full of fresh fear, much to Loki’s annoyance.

“Brother, Explain yourself!” Thor's voice boomed, it wouldn't have been surprising if it had woke the whole tower as Loki leaned back, putting more distance between him and the girl. As he moved, he lifted his hands into the air, showing clearly he was not touching her as he sat back on his haunches. Loki supported his weight with his knees, letting Hotaru pull her legs out from under him if she wished. No part of him was touching the Firefly.

Thor, wanting to give his brother then benefit of doubt, blocked Natasha's path with his arm when she moved to stalk forward. Every move Loki made was calculated to show his innocence in the moment and unless Loki made a move, Thor was content to allow him to moment to explain as he was making a show of his submission for the moment at least.

“While she is a lovely girl, I assure you that it is not as it looks. I heard the breaking of her lamp. She had a nightmare and like you, I came to wake her.” The sound of Loki's calm voice soothed Hotaru, further anchoring her in reality. As he spoke, he kept his eyes on her almost constantly, only flicking to Thor once to evaluate the possible threat looming in the doorway.

“Why should we believe you?” Hotaru watched as Natasha shoved passed Thor as he relaxed. “Did he do something to you? Did he touch you? Did he hurt you? Did he do anything to you? Anything?”

With no way to answer, no way to tell them what happened, she felt helpless. They demanded answers she had no words to give. It was always after these dreams that she felt the pain of not having a voice the most. She tried to shake her head 'no' but Natasha kept stalking past Thor, who was making an attempt to keep her at a distance. Natasha made her way into the room against Thor's reassurance that Loki probably wouldn't hurt her and that the assassin needed to calm down.

As a last ditch attempt to show that it wasn't Loki that hurt her, she pulled her knees under her and lunged forward, throwing her arms around Loki. She rested her head on his shoulder as her arms cinched around his back. Tears still fell from her eyes, smearing themselves on his shoulder. He tensed in her embrace but much to the shock of the spectators, he did not throw her off of him. For a moment, Loki kept his hands in the air, unsure as to what he should do with them before softly resting them high on her back as he felt her damp tears against his skin.

“Lady Natasha, I believe my brother speaks true. Clearly, she holds no fear of him.” Thor tried to control his volume as he approached the bed with Natasha, a bemused expression on his face. “Truly, was it just a nightmare?” He asked as she finally felt the tension in the room begin to dissipate. Hotarun nodded, her face hidden in the crook of Loki’s neck.

Slowly, she released Loki, running her hands over his skin as she pulled back. Before her hand left his chest she spelled out 'sorry' just under his collarbone, over his heart, a message just for him. She felt bad about the embrace, he hadn't relaxed until she had released him and nodded at Thor again and she hoped that she hadn't overstepped.

In the past, if she had broken something, she would have been beaten. If she had touched a captor uninvited, any number of things had happened in the past. Hotaru reminded herself that things were different here, with them. She wouldn’t find herself pinned down, used and shown exactly what she ‘had been asking for’. Loki, these men, the wouldn’t see her touch as asking to be used, would they? If they did, would she fight?

At the very least, she was able to go back to sleep fairly quickly once she put such thoughts out of her head and the rest of her night was peaceful. When morning came, Hotaru didn't know what to do with herself. No man had visited her bed, no one had come to hurt her, to punish her.

The clock on the side of her bed showed it was half past six when she woke. Initially she was scared, this place was like none she had been kept at in a very long time and to wake in such a unfamiliar place was startling, even with the comfort of the bed. Being able to see the morning light however calmed her. It was something she didn’t know she missed, something she craved now that she had access to it. With little direction, she milled about in her room and waited.

Tony found Natasha standing in the doorway of her room, holding a small folded piece of paper. “Got a love note?”

“It's from Taru, I almost didn’t see it.” Natasha slowly passed the paper to Tony. She had found it on the floor, nearly shuffled under her desk. It had probably gotten kicked to the side during the events of the night. “I think maybe we should get her a notebook?”

“The best damn notebook we can find. I'll make one myself, a tablet. It will be able to read what she writes.” Tony was off on a tangent as they started walking. In reality, he knew at least for now, a plain old notebook would do just fine until they knew why she wouldn't talk.

As they walked into the living area they found Clint already set to work on breakfast, as was typical. Why he didn't cook in the mini kitchen on his own floor was anyone's guess but Natasha suspected he was seeking out company. Thor waited nearby, eager for the meal.

The early morning was filled with idle chatter as Tony set about making himself his second cup of coffee for the day. It was odd for him to be down on this floor, he would normally be hiding in his lab already. He had slept like the dead the night prior thanks to scotch and the relief of finally having the answer to what happened to Hotaru. She was safe now, he could rest for a moment. Tony would see to it that she was never hurt again.

Hotaru hadn't left her room yet and he hoped she still slept. He could have checked before leaving his floor, thought of checking but did not. If he checked and she was gone, a figment of his imagination, a sign his mind finally gave out. No, she was real, they were talking about her. The girl deserved a good rest, she was probably still sleeping. She needed to still be sleeping. She needed to rest.

“How'd last night go?” Tony asked the room as he set his half full mug down. He could have asked Jarvis for a rundown of the readings from her room, but did not. It was a rabbit hole he knew he needed to avoid falling into. She was real, she was home, she was safe. Thor and Nat glanced at Loki who sat sipping tea with a book in hand before answering.

“It was fine, all things considered.” Nat answer diplomatically, fully aware of the strain having Loki on the team caused Tony

“What? What did he do? Do I need to kick his ass?” Tony zeroed in on Loki, easily able to to pick up on Thor’s pointed glances. A king, Thor was. A spy, he would never be.

“And how well did that workout for you the first time you tried?” Loki didn't even glance from his book as he spoke.

“Touch her and find out, Reindeer Games.” Tony's body tensed as he spoke.

“I did nothing except comfort your Dear Sister from a nightmare.” Loki hardly gave Tony his attention, remaining loose and relaxed as he sipped his tea, seemingly unconcerned with Tony’s ever tensing frame.

“Right, sure.” Tony moved to stand in front of the armchair Loki currently reclined in. “Alright, Point Break, what happened?” Tony glared at Loki as he spoke to Thor, knowing he would be more likely to get a straight answer.

“We were awoken by the sound of her lamp breaking. Loki was the first to her.” Thor spoke calmly, measuring each of his words.

“So, that's what he said, and you believe him?” Tony's voice was climbing.

“We didn't at first, but she insisted.” Natasha added, a cool level head coming to Tony's side. His reaction was disperportiant and concerning to all in the room.

It was the bickering that drew Hotaru out of her room. She could hear Tony's voice clearer as his volume increased. As she slowly made her way down the hall, she wondered why her brother held such mistrust in Loki. Again, she wondered of the man who seemed to make the least sense. As Tony began his rant anew, Loki spied her as she slowly walked up to them.

“If you hold so little trust in me, ask her yourself. Good Morning, Little Firefly. How kind of you to join us.” Loki tilted his head in her direction and was rewarded with a soft smile as she ever so softly touched Tony's arm, fingers just grazing his skin but earning her his attention just the same. Hotaru wondered at how he flinched on contact, yet tried to mask the action. Again, she was left wondering of these people who saved her, that she knew so little about.

“Hotaru?” How Tony hated hearing Loki call her by a nickname. When he spun to face her, she flinched back causing guilt to wash over him. Clutched in her hands was her pilfered notepad and pen. He recognized it from the table he kept it on. In a time long before Jarvis, Tony had gotten into a habit as he become a man himself of keeping the notepad near the kitchen, just as his mother had before, in order to write down lists. Tony had to force himself to be patient as she wrote clumsily on the little pad, hands shaking from nerves on top of nerves as she tried to hold it steady, backing it with her palm as the fimsey pad moved as she wrote.

'He helped me. Was dreaming. Accidentally headbutted him' The pad could only fit so much words while still writing large enough to effortlessly read.

“You headbutted Loki?” Tony took the sticky note when offered and she nodded at his question. His baby sister headbutted Loki and lived. It was turning out to be a strange day already.

“The only hurt I caused the Little Firefly was the top of her head colliding with my face.” Loki added before looking at her. “Would it have pained you to leave that part out?” At his light scolding she smiled. Maybe she should, but she didn't find herself scared of him. The very air around him seemed cool, calm and relaxing. He spoke to her freely. She wondered if he was what winter felt like.

Tony still looked unsure of the situation and so she wrapped his arm in hers and nuzzled his shoulder before starting another note. How she hoped she wasn’t overstepping touching him. Twice in less then half a day, she had reached out and touched another without being told to and she dearly hoped not to be punished for it.

'the lamp broke. I'm so sorry.'

“What? No, don't worry about it. I can afford a new lamp for you.” The only thing since Nat's note written in full proper English was the final part of her last note. 'I'm so sorry.' Tony feared she felt guilty about it. Scratch that, he knew she felt guilty about it, she would be scared of being punished, hurt. He had tried to read the file to understand her better. The very thought made his heart ache for her, for what she had been through and how it left her broken. She had every right to be broken.

“Probably would have replaced it anyway. We'll pick a new light later. Clint is making pancakes, do you still like pancakes?” It was better then saying what he was feeling. When in doubt, when the feelings are too strong, deflect.

Hotaru shrugged, she couldn't remember the last time she had eaten a pancake or if she had ever liked them. Regardless, she let Tony start to lead her toward the breakfast bar while she looked back at Loki. If it was time to eat, he should come eat too.

For a few moments, Loki tried to ignore her before giving up with a sigh and following. Hotaru sat perched on a stool bathing in the morning sun. The large windows let plenty of light into the space and she enjoyed it. Tony went around into the kitchen with Clint where he leaned on the counter.

Now that she was clean and rested, they could truly see her. While her hair was brown, like her brother's, it held a sheen of red in the sunlight giving a hint of fire. The sunlight added a light into her gray eyes, giving them a clear shine. It was like all the light, all the fire that should be in her soul was clinging to her surface, trying desperately to hold on to her through all the darkness she had lived in. Her skin was pale, the slight shimmer of scars were easy to miss against the white of her skin but every eye recognized them for what they were and made pained efforts to not look for too long.

“Any preference on how you want your eggs or bacon?” Clint turned to her, snagging a less crispy strip off Nat's plate, a nearly charcoal strip off of Tony's plate and a 'reasonable' middle ground off his own plate and holding the three up to Hotaru. It was the best idea he could come up with the get a quick answer from her and it worked just fine.

She snagged the middle strip and nibbled at it as an answer. “Hey!” Clint protested, “I wasn't offering you my slice. How about eggs, middle too?” She thought for a bit before nodding. Sure, why not? It's been so long she didn't know how she really liked eggs. At least with the bacon she had a visual. In the end, food was food and she wasn't going to complain. Many days in the past she had no morning meal. Many nights she passed hungry.

Clint made her eggs somewhere in the middle, guessing that it would be safest. Hotaru found that she liked the yoke runny and that information was filed away for future use. She listened and ate as the people around her chattered. Long running inside jokes and friendly jabs filled the air. It was nice and Hotaru enjoyed it, even if she felt she had no part of it. Though, she was not the only one mostly silent.

Loki would speak when spoken to, but otherwise was fairly silent. Hotaru could swear she felt the weight of his eyes on her, but every glance she took to him showed him looking over her head and out the window. Never once did she catch his eyes on her. Maybe it was all in her head.

Tony however, openly watched her, standing across the island from her. He would often reach out, graze her arm with his fingers or pat her shoulder. Sometimes he would tell stories from when they were children, things she hardly remembered. While he told his stories, she would smile at him, remembering more and more of their shared past, though each memory was fragmented and disjointed. Hotaru couldn't help but question if she was actually remembering or if she so badly wanted it to be true. It made her feel better, to remember more.

Regardless, Hotaru still felt out of place in his home, with his friends, in his life. She wondered if she truly even had a place left in his family. It had been many long years, he had moved on. Did he really need her, want her, in his life? She didn't want him to take her in out of duty but she had nowhere else to go. Maybe, when he found her to be more trouble then she was worth, he would sell her.

Clint watched as she pulled her knees up, resting her feet on the edge of the stool and wrapped her arms around her legs, it was a action that he had quickly recognized as a sign that something was off. She really was a small girl, to be able to sit on the stool in such a way.

“I'll be going out for a bit, anything you want me to pick up for you?” Clint asked, sliding her notepad and pen closer to her, making it clear that 'nothing' wasn't his desired response. She shrugged and thought, feeling eyes on her but didn't uncurl from herself.

“Cookies?” Clint suggested. “Chocolate? Strawberries? Candy? Your own shampoo? I guess that's something you should pick yourself.” His rambling stopped when he heard the sound of her pen working on the paper before passing the note to him.

'Ice Cream- Mint chocolate. Bigger notepad, maybe?' Clint read her answer aloud and smiled as she passed another note to him. 'I really don't need anything. I'm fine, really.'

“Nonsense, we need to get you feeling at home.” Natasha added. “We’ll go out tomorrow to get you settled better.”

'it's already too much' Hotaru passed forward another note, this time Tony plucked it up and read it before scoffing at her.

“I'm not even getting started Little Bit. You’ve seen nothing yet.” Tony crumpled the note and tossed it into the trash, making his thoughts on that matter clear. For a few moments it was silent before Thor spoke up from next to his brother.

“You are family to Tony, Little One. That makes you family to all of us.” He looked pointedly at his brother as he paused. “Family goes beyond blood.”

Loki offered a dramatic roll of the eyes at his brother's statement but Thor smiled at her just the same. Behind him, a slight smile graced Loki’s lips as he offered her a nod of his head, his own silent reassurance. Hotaru wondered if there was more meaning behind Thor's words than she knew but now wasn't the time to ask nor was it a conversation to have via sticky note. It was something she would likely never know so she settled for watching the brothers for a few moments longer while Tony disappeared into the hall, returning with a dusty thick catalog.

“Praise be the god of junk mail, far more useful than Loki.” he announced as he took his place in front of her across the island after refilling his mug of coffee. She wondered for a moment if he always stood before directing her attention to the book as he slid it to her. “Take a look, circle what you like and let's spruce that room of yours up.”

'It's fine, really.' Hotaru put her note on the cover and slid the book back to Tony. ‘I’ve never had a room before’ was the next note. ‘it's perfect already’ Tony reached out and stopped her from writing any more notes.

“Nonsense. Everyone's rooms are customized. Even Reindeer Games has made himself a bit at home.” Tony glanced to Loki, who seemed annoyed to be the example before sighing himself. “Just look through it, please? We don't have to redo the whole room if you don't want, we don't have to get everything you pick, just look through it, mark what you like and mark what you want. Let us get to know you.”

As he finished speaking, Tony held her hand in his for a moment longer. His grip was strong, almost painful. While he looked calm, collected even, his grip made her remember the way the other captives would grip the bars as they were dragged out of cages. How could he react so drastically to Loki before yet act so calm now?

It occurred to her that maybe he needed this from her. It wasn't wholly about what she wanted, what she needed but also what her brother needed from her. Silently, she wondered back to the brothers sitting next to her. Was Thor the elder or the younger? Did they need each other like Tony needed her? Were they how siblings should act? Rather than pick up the pen and put voice to her thoughts, she simply nodded to Tony, taking the book back and crumpling her notes, setting them aside.

Hotaru was content to look at the first few pages while her brother looked on, sipping his coffee. She glanced up as Clint said his goodbyes, waving her little shopping list in his hand while promising to be back by dinner. Hotaru gave him a parting wave and sighed when she realized one of the few people she found easy to be around was leaving. She really liked Clint, easy adjustments to communicate with her seemed to come naturally to him. It made him easy to be around.

While giving Clint a few extra items to pick up, Tony set his coffee down unattended for the first time. Tony left the kitchen, speaking with Clint as they walked. Loki smirked as he watched Hotaru snag the coffee cup, lifting it in a way as to make nearly no noise as Tony talked, back to the kitchen space, near the elevator now. She grimaced as she drained the cup, not approving of how Tony take's his coffee but she was committed to her little prank. Just as gently she placed the cup back in its original position, handle nearly in the same place as the group watched on.

As Tony returned to his perch against the kitchen island, Hotaru was adding a note in the cover of the catalog. 'W=want, L=like'. Tony smiled reading the note and grabbed the mug and tipped it to his lips. After a half a beat of confusion, he looked into the empty cup.

“Damnit Loki, My coffee is off limits!” Tony growled, slamming the mug down. Loki looked at him incredulously. Anger flared at the thought of Loki touching his coffee. Was it irrational? Maybe.

“I dare say, it wasn't me.” Loki calmly spoke, leaning back in his seat and offering a charming smile. He made a point of ignoring the out of proportion anger on Tony’s face, pretending he didn’t notice it. It was so easy to get under Tony’s skin, Loki hardly had to try.

“Who else would pull shit like this and call it a prank?” Tony snapped back, becoming aware of the snickers from the remaining occupants of the room. It had been six months now that Loki had been staying at the tower. They had all become accustomed to slight proding and explosive reactions it earned.

Hotaru however sat innocently next to Loki, enjoying the warmth of the sun and circling a table lamp that would give a warm dull light in the room, marking it with a 'W'. It was the first thing she marked with a ‘W’. Requesting something did not come easy for her.

She had to swallow back the regret, the fear, that Tony would punish her for her joke when he realized who it was. Seemingly in a different life, she had played jokes on him regardless of the sibling wrath that would often follow. Now it took all she had to brave sitting on that stool. And he was angry, so angry as he spoke to Loki.

“It actually wasn't him for once.” Nat finally added, laughing. They reactions of the others in the face of Tony’s anger soothed Hotaru some. Yet she had so many questions.

“Thank you, dear Natasha.” Loki offered a charming smile that Nat only rolled her eyes at, not wanting to give more to Loki then she already had. She was simply defusing the situation. With Tony’s attention off Loki, his anger fizzled quickly as it was just a half a cup of coffee.

“You!” Tony spoke in shock, pointing his accusation when he realized who the culprit truly was. Hotaru smiled sheepishly up at him. Fire did not light his eyes any longer. Smoke did not billow from his ears. Tony did not reach for the nearest object to smash into her. After a beat, she relaxed more, grabbing her notepad again as he started to laugh. 'A little bit of cream wouldn't kill you'

It was a perfectly natural moment. Friendly. Safe. Was this what being family means? Tony laughed freely and the people around her joked as they ate. Was this normal?

Tags: @dangertoozmanykids101 @bambamwolf87 @kristinaraven99

#loki x oc #loki x ofc #loki #loki fanfic #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki (marvel)#loki fanfiction

28 notes · View notes

i-ced · 6 years

Photo

*:・ﾟ✧ HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KAI MY LOVE!! *:・ﾟ✧ 🎉🎉🎉

( @frorewintr //@g-urei )

or, to be more precise . . . @nighteluted , @windedhaven, @iiridium &&. @vidrecat . !!

♡♡

* To my beautiful girlfriend, my better half, my ship partner, the sunshine to my rain, and partner in angst time, Kaila. ❤

⠀⠀⠀⠀

FIRST OF ALL, let me say that Meru loves you more than anything in this world? I was looking through the MILLIONS of pictures exist that I took of you, trying to find the best one to assemble your “Happy Birthday” selfies board, and I just keep thinking to myself how incredibly lucky I truly am to have someone like you in my life. I made a comment the today when I was in a stream with Dana how “Oh, that’s Kai. This is Kai.” ------And it was not just me, but sometimes Dana would be the one to say it.

And as I was about to go to our DM and tell you about it, it really hit me for a second. Kai, you’ve really become such a BIG part of my life.

Actually, not just big. You are a part of it. You exist in conversations that I have, in my friendships with others, in the thoughts that crossed my mind. You exist in my everyday life. When I look at flowers, I thought of you. When I look at pastries and cakes and macarons, I thought of you. I thought of you when I see fluffy dogs. I thought of you when I see Nintendo 3DS. I thought of you when I see cute pajamas in the store aisle; when I see someone drinking coffee; when I see couples holding hands. I even thought of you when I saw anything Texas-related, and felt my heart races a little faster ... knowing that is where someone I love resides. ;///-///;

I’ve also begun to love so many things since you came into my life, like the sunset and the snow --- and I’ve never even seen snow. But still- you know, that color in the sky when the sun dye heavens with its first orange and warm, golden rays? I’ve found color yellow to be my favorite color, because it reminds me of the color of your hair.

Kai, you really are in everything beautiful in this world.

And not just that, but I could also go on forever about all the small things that make up who you are. All these the little things about you that I have come to love ... I’m just. I always get so sappy about it djkfdfk. But I--- love how you smile at me. How you laugh at every little thing I do. I love how cute you look while you’re driving. When you are cooking. I love how your hair looks when you get out of the shower, and all the moles that decorate your skin. And I love that I could do that mawkish thing that Pinterest does, and connect them--- your little moles--- into a pattern of constellations. Like a sky that you are, to me.

I love the way you sleep, how you cuddle into your blanket so closely, so cutely. Or the gentle rise and fall of your chest. I love the tiny voice you make when you are talking to Allie. And I love the sound of your voice when you are saying my name---- I love the way you say my name, or when you call me “baby” and “dork”. I love how you smirk at me just because you know it drives me crazy, and how you tell me I’m beautiful even when I don’t feel it. I love how you get shy so easily, and I thought that was the cutest thing ever --- like the way you get flustered after you make a tiny heart out of your hands. ;-;

I also love how you remember the little things I love, and how you care about me and worry about me so much. I love how when I am upset, you can tell, and I don’t have to tell you first. I love how you know that sometimes I have to let all of my insecurities out before I can feel okay, and how you embrace every bit and piece of me.

And most of all, I love how comfortable you are with me; how sometimes you would tell me that I make you feel beautiful. And I just, hnnngh. It makes me feel so proud--- really proud, whenever I see you were really feeling yourself and took selfies to show me. Even if it is just in that very moment that you were feeling good about yourself and actually knew in your heart how cute you are. It makes you look absolutely radiant, Kai. Your confident, your smile. Those combined are exactly what makes you so beautiful.

I just ... love everything that makes up who you are as a person, and how you really bring out the best in me. In others.

And it really SHOWS, Kai--- like how it shows in the amount of people writing an appreciation messages to you on such a special day as today. It truly shows the significant effect that you have on their lives. And I can see it. I can see how much you care for others, for your friends. So, so much. You love everyone so much; so equally. We all know that. You have shown that. And it truly, genuinely shows how many people out there adore you for it. ;u;

Whenever I think of friendship now, I think of the way you are with others. And how friendship--- is the LOVE that you give them, Kai. All of those commissions and little gifts that you always got for them, sometimes even more than the things that you get yourself. Your selflessness ... is so ineffable. How you always put others first, even before yourself.

And most of all Kai, I just want to remind you that the most important gift of all--- is you talking with them every day. You checking on them when they are not okay.

You really, really care so much about others, and it truly it shows how much goodness you have in your heart ... like how I wrote that sappy thing back then. You are- literally- the kind of friend anyone could ever asked for. I also very much liked and admired that about you ... your selflessness, your genuineness, your sincerity &&. your warm heart. ;u;

And it made me realized that you have a LIFE, here. You have stories, and history, and tears and laughter and struggles and triumphs and friends.

And that’s so incredible, Kaila.

So incredible that sometimes I really get such an overwhelming surge of feelings for you about all the wonderful impact you have on others, on me. And in that moment, I felt a twinge of disconnection. And it really threw me off, because it was so small, but it’s also about you. Because I’m feeling this strong feeling &&. I’m thinking ... who am I going to talk about my overwhelming fondness for Kai with? I mean, I’m Meru– I cannot not talk about this. And as soon as I had THAT thought, everything snapped back into place. I had this “screw it” moment with myself, and “You don’t need to talk to anyone else about it, you are Meru and Kai. Just go all out sappy on her.” And that was just it.

Sometimes, I spent the rest of the night just... proud. Proud for you and the standards you hold yourself to, proud of the person you’ve become– I’ve witnessed all of your brightest and darkest moments and see grow and expand and transform into a woman with such power, such strength, such kindness… such FIGHT. At 26 years old, you’ve pushed through whatever chaos life has thrown at you and built the life you have today baby.

And so, sometimes my heart is just OVERWHELMED with love, and appreciation, and happiness, for you.

Kaila, thank you for all that you’ve done for me. I don’t know where I’d be today without you. You’ve saved me more times than I remember; you have kept me anchored through all of my winters. You’re there for the good and the bad---- and right now, there’s a whole lot of bad. Yet you are still by my side, holding me up. You loving me regardless of how utterly broken I am; you have made the choice to stand beside me through my wraths and storms. You don’t have to, but you do. ;-; And sometimes, Kai, I have a hard time grasping why you made that choice. Why you insist on taking up part of the weight on my shoulders and carry part of my struggles with you, even when you have your own struggles.

You must love me a hell of a lot. ;u;

I don’t know why, but I am so thankful. Words cannot describe how thankful I am, Kai ... Because for these ten, eleven months that you have been in my life ---- I was able to be jubilant and silly and carefree like I once was. I was able to forget grief, to feel loved- and to love. To smile, to laugh. You have been all my reason of joy. I've loved you so much. I love you so much.

So thank you, for being the source of happiness for a lot of people. Not only me, but your friends, the people around you. For being the sweetheart who always puts other people first, giving instead of receiving even on her own birthday probably. And so, I want to let you know how special you are. To me, to everyone… I want to remind you that you are special—not just today, but every day- Kai, you are special. So please-- continue to be the very person who makes not only me, but everyone else around you smile continuously each day without effort?

Continue being you. The Kai that I’ve come to love, you.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ Happy 26th Birthday, Kaila. ♡ You deserve everything you have, and nothing less than everything this life has to offer.

Thank you so, so much for being born, for being here today. You are the source of many of us joy... you are our smile. Our happiness. You brought fun to so many others. And I will be eternally grateful for Lyon and Gray. They are ... so special to us. They are what brought us closer; what brought us together. And as we grow in relationship, so did they. As they found love within one another, so did we.

Plotting with you, having you as roleplay partner ... is such a blessing to many of us. To me. Roleplaying is much more exciting with someone like you to discuss with, Kai. Because writing and developing my muse with you has been such a great joy to me. You made me feel so completed - a roleplay partner like you, who share the same enthusiasm and passion with what we have ... I honestly couldn't ask for anything more. You and Lyon have contributed so much to the development of my Gray. To his characterization. To who he is today. Lyon is literally his better half ... and your portrayal just blends so well with mine. Their relationship is a perfect combination of banter, conflict- and yet so full of LOVE. It is something very important to me that I could only have with you. I never, ever want to lose Lyon. I want to be able to .. see our muse keep growing more and more together.

Because you have brought so much love and joy my muse, Kai. YOU are my muse. My inspirations. My everything. ;-;

Like Christmas and New Year for me, today is also a very important day for me. It is the day that you were brought into this earth; that me and everyone are able to be blessed with your lovely presence in our lives. Therefore, I hope I can make this day as super special as I can. ;u; ---- Because to the moon and past the stars, to the farthest reaches at the end of the very last universe &&. back around again ISN’T even enough to show how much I love you. I love you so much, Kaila. My days begin and end with you, and I honestly couldn’t ask for anything more. ;-; You are just ... my person, I guess. Kaila, my person. My best friend, my love, my better half, my soulmate, all rolled into one ... my person.

The way I feel with you is ineffable. I never feel so loved. So comfortable. So accepted .. with anyone before. Thank you for loving me so completely and wholly, Kai. For always providing me with comfort, understanding, stability &&. validation.

With you, I don't feel so alone in this world. With you ... it's almost as if my battered soul has found a place to call home.

⠀⠀⠀⠀

Thank you for everything, Kaila.

I will love you forever, through your rains &&. storms. and on your brightest, sunniest day.

------- ♡, Ameru

#I FEEL SO NERVOUS POSTING THIS DFHKDFHFDJHDFK //DIES #MY hands are all SWEATY #im dying. DYING #But Happy Birthday you beautiful beautiful person !! ;-; I love you ahhh #long post /#kairu /#my art.

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