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imaginepirates · 3 years

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Pirate

For the anon who wanted a James x reader where they meet on the Pearl, but James doesn’t have the guts to admit that he’s falling for them. Later, (we’re pretending his death didn’t happen), they meet again at Shipwreck Cove, and James confesses his feelings during the battle on the Dutchman.

@emdrabbles @tesserphantom @paljonkaikenlaista @viper-official @hellspawn-brownies @groovyfluxie @wordsinwinters

~3760 words. Long again.

~~~~~~~

His hair hung in wet strings around his face. Whether they were matted together with water, alcohol, or vomit, you weren’t sure you wanted to know, though you suspected it to be a mixture of all three. A guard rail was all that kept him upright. He was a disaster, even for a pirate. Not that he’s a pirate, either.

The former Commodore looked a wreck. You would be, too, you supposed, if you’d drunk yourself into complete oblivion. And someone needs to take away that damned wig. Currently, it sat on his head much like some bird’s nest, and you half-expected a gull to land in it at any moment. Pity mingled with your disgust. There had been a time when his name alone had struck fear into you. Now, he was a pathetic image, unable to do so much as hold himself up on two feet. He couldn’t strike fear into a fly.

You were a bit surprised that Elizabeth, of all people, showed him no sympathy. Even Jack looked a bit repulsed, which was saying something, given that Jack himself was never in a prime state. He staggered upright, puking over the side of a railing.

You sighed, walking brisky over, snatching the wig off the top of his head and tossing it overboard. He looked up at you through bleary eyes.

“What the bloody hell was that for?”

“You look awful.”

“Thank you for your astute assessment.” Even drunk, his tone dripped sarcasm, and you were a little surprised.

He’s still in his wits, then. You looked him over again. Somewhat. “You look marginally less awful without the wig.” He grunted. You grabbed the bottle he was holding, too, and threw it over the side.

“Now that’s just a waste.”

“You need to sober up.”

“And who exactly are you, that it’s your job to police me?”

“You’re embarrassing, is all, and it’s no good to be embarrassed by crewmates.”

He snorted. “You should write to the admiralty. That sort of thinking would have spared me many of my own crewmates throughout the years.” He stared down into the waves, where his water-clogged wig had begun to sink under the surface.

“Well, you don’t want to be that person, do you?”

“At this point, I don’t particularly care.” His wig finally lost the battle, disappearing into the murky depths.

“Have some pride.”

“Pride?” He pushed himself up, looking coldly into your eyes with his own. “I’ve lost my title, I’ve lost my station, I’ve lost my livelihood. I have no house, nor family, nor friends. I’ve lost everything I ever held dear, including the woman I love, because despite being with her,” here he gestured with his chin to where Elizabeth stood at the helm, “I’m further from her than ever before. Now please, tell me again why I should have pride.”

If you were being honest with yourself, it was hard to give him an answer. “You still have your life, and for however little that’s worth right now, things could be worse. You could be dead. Take pride in the fact that you didn’t let things get that far.” He scoffed, but you continued. “Go clean yourself up; splash some water on your face, and do something about the vomit in your hair. Things can get better. Clean up, and you’ll be one step closer.”

He looked at you then, a vulnerability in his eye that wasn’t there before. Hope. He stalked off then, stumbling a bit, but trying admirably to, supposedly, follow your advice.

Norrington carried out his tasks admirably and without complaint, no manner how demeaning for a man of his previous station. He was watched with suspicious eye; but why wouldn’t he be? He had been a ranking officer, after all, and an effective one at that. Too many pirates had been lost to his scouring of the Caribbean. Just how far can you trust a member of the navy, former or otherwise?

The way he looked at Jack’s compass didn’t escape your notice. He knows. “Not thinking of stealing it, are you?” His neck craned to look up at you from his position kneeling on the deck, a wet cloth in hand. He stopped his scrubbing to glare.

“I’m not a thief.” He looked back down, returning to his task.

“You are a pirate.”

His head whipped up at that, jaw working in annoyance. “I’m not a bloody pirate,” he hissed.

“Then what the hell are you doing here? Top secret mission? I’m surprised you were chosen; I wouldn’t believe your fall from grace if I weren’t here to see it myself.”

Norrington was showing clear restraint, obviously wanting to hit you with something. You watched him breifly consider using the wash-rag as a projectile before deciding against it.

“Commodore Norrington. That was a name to fear, once.”

The ferocity in his eyes vanished, replaced by sadness, his gaze dropping from yours. “I haven’t been that man in months. I never will be again.”

“Good.” He shot you a questioning look. “It’s no use to be afraid of you. And, if what I hear from Elizabeth is true, you might learn to have some fun and not be so stiff all the time.” Offence flashes across his face, but you only smiled. “I blame high society. Welcome to freedom, James Norrington. I hope you get a taste for it.”

He turned to look out over the steadily changing horizon, a soft pink beginning to dust the sky. “So do I.”

The days wore on, and the crew steadily adjusted to James’ presence. He no longer ate alone, though he ate in silence, and the crew was more willing to interact with him. Elizabeth, you noted, had barely paid him any mind since his arrival. How she could be so callous towards him you didn’t know; you had expected her to at least talk to him, but she barely even looked his way.

�� Not that he didn’t look hers. His gaze would fall upon her, sometimes, while he worked, and there was a sadness there that tugged at your heart. He was confused, too, as to her treatment of him. He wanted, more than anything, to be close to her. Even if she could treat him like a friend. But she refused to give him even that much.

You were tired of watching it. “Come on,” you walked up to him, “let’s do something about that hair.”

“You haven’t grown tired of telling me what to do, have you?” he drawled. He was propped against a railing, eyes following Elizabeth as she walked across the deck above them. With Jack, you noted. So, it seemed, did James.

You sighed. “It can only get in the way, hanging down by your face like that.” You turned away, heading down belowdecks. He needs to get away from watching her.

James followed, pushing off the railing and heading after you. Good. You found a spot with a few barrels—full of apples, you assumed; you never had gotten rid of all of Barbossa’s cargo—that would be suitable for sitting on. You motioned for James to do just that, moving behind him.

You found yourself at a loss for words. What was there to say? You had little in common, and less that wouldn’t bring back poor memories for him. You kept silent, instead running your fingers through James’ hair. It’s longer than I expected, for a naval man. I wonder if he always kept it like this, or if it was close-cropped, once.

“What exactly are you doing?” He turned his head a little to look back at you.

“Braiding.” You separated his hair into three parts, beginning to twine the strands together.

You expected him to ask you why, or to move away, but he stayed put. “I haven’t worn my hair in a braid since the navy.” It was almost a whisper. Somehow, in the low light of the hull, it seemed appropriate.

You almost pulled away and apologized, but he went on. “I used to braid it to fit it under that damned wig. It could get so insufferably hot in the sun, though I was always glad to have the hair off the back of my neck. I don’t know how Elizabeth ever managed, in those dresses.” A soft smile sat on his face. “How did any of us manage, back then?”

You knew he wasn’t speaking of the heat. You tied his hair off with a small strip of ribbon from around your wrist. It was interesting, to see something of yours on him, and you stared at it a moment before moving. “You’ve always kept your hair this long, then?” You moved to a barrel across from him.

“For years. My mother hated it.” He smiled. “She told me it would be easier if I just cut it off.”

“Good thing you didn’t.” He looked at you curiously, and you felt yourself beginning to flush. “It suits you.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise. Even in the dim light of the lanterns, you could see his cheeks turn pink, the color extending down into his collar. You sat in awkward silence a moment, James fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves while you looked down at the black deck. “A name to fear, you said.”

James was still toying with the cuff on his left wrist when you looked back up. “I think I like you this way better.”

“I’m not sure I do.”

You got up, moving to a barrel next to his. “I’d rather not fear you.” You grabbed his hand, taking it gently away from its fiddling. He scanned your eyes. “Like most people, you aren’t as terrifying as the stories make you sound.”

“I never thought of it that way.”

“That you struck fear, even into the best of us?”

“I…” he trailed off. “It seems so ridiculous, that anyone feared me. I know I was good at my job—it was all I was good for.” He scoffed. “But I was so out of place in society…I always felt horribly awkward at all those social events. I was much more afraid of those people than they were of me.”

“You were like…” you wracked your brain for a parallel. “You were told stories about Blackbeard when you were a child, right?”

“Yes, of course. Upon reflection, I’m sure they were too dramatic to be true.”

“That’s how you were to us. You were a reverse Blackbeard.” James laughed aloud at that. “I can’t even tell you how I pictured you. Larger, maybe. Older. And with a horrible, mean beard that took up half your face.”

James smiled, and you found you quite liked the expression on him. “Am I as scary as the stories?”

“Not even close. Though I’m sure I wouldn’t want to meet the business end of your sword,” you added.

“Is Blackbeard as frightening as the tales?” James questioned. Then, more seriously, “Is Davy Jones?”

You sobered. “Aye, he is.” You found that his hand was still in yours—he hadn’t pulled away. “But it’s mixed with disgust. He isn’t human, anymore. It can be revulting. And sad,” you said, upon reflection. “I can’t imagine; losing your humanity like that.”

James said nothing, his eyes on your entertwined fingers. He ran his thumb over your knuckles. “Why do you talk to me?”

You shrugged. “There’s no reason not to.”

“That doesn’t seem to be the common belief.” He continued to rub gentle circles in the top of your hand. His fingers were calloused from years of hard work, but so were yours. He traced over your knuckles and each finger in turn. His brows furrowed. “It’s pity, isn’t it?”

You could see how disgusted he was with himself. “Some, yes,” you admitted. “But you’re not half-bad to be around. This was…nice. I haven’t had a quiet moment with someone in ages.”

He looked at you thoughtfully, using his free hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re not half-bad either, for a pirate.”

You smiled, and he looked like he might say something more, but he stayed quiet, a soft smile of his own gracing his features. When he left, you knew he was in a better mood than when he came. I wonder if I’ll occupy any of the space in his thoughts that Elizabeth does. It was a silly thought, and you didn’t quite know why it came to mind, but there was a ghostly touch where James had brushed your hair aside, and you realized that you liked the idea of his thinking about you. Wishing for the attention of a naval man. Who would’ve thought?

~~~~~~~

The news about Isla de Muerta came hard. You had been anxious the entire time, confined to the Pearl on the account that Davy Jones could make an appearance, and the ship would need to be crewed if he did.

You weren’t prepared for the eventuality that James wouldn’t come back. You had worried, of course, wringing your hands with it, but you hadn’t actually thought…

You kept your tears for him to yourself. Nobody else was bothered—not even Elizabeth. A man she’s known her entire life, dead, and she has no sorrow to show for it. How can she be so heartless? It was as if nothing had happened at all. The crew ignored it; they were used to that, you supposed. Half your number had been killed by cannibles, after all. But even Gibbs seemed unbothered by the prospect of James’ death.

Only later did you realize that James had taken the heart. You didn’t believe it, at first, but slowly came to reconcile yourself with the idea. Elizabeth thought him a traitor. But was he ever really on our side? You thought back to your conversations with him. I like you this way better. It had been true. I’m not sure I do. That was true, too, and now he’d shown it.

At first, none of it mattered to you. He was dead, anyway. Slowly, you began to realize that Jones didn’t have the heart. After all, he hadn’t quit pursuing the Pearl, even if you didn’t have the heart. When you learned that the heart was in possession of Cutler Beckett, damn his eyes, your heart leapt with joy. James is alive! No matter the mood of Jack, or Gibbs, or Elizabeth, or the crew, you could only think of James. He wasn’t killed, then. He used the heart as leverage to secure his old position.

You pondered the thought. If ever you met him again, would you be afraid? Or would you just be sad?

~~~~~~~

Shipwreck Cove was just as you’d remembered it. Dimly lit, ships stacked one on the other, whispered conspiracies in every corner. Every sailor’s legend had its place in these ships. There wasn’t a legend that hadn’t been speculated within the fortress, and not a pirate who hadn’t chased them without.

You had fond memories of the Cove, but less fond memories of the Court. The Brethren Court convened on only the deepest of issues, and you still remembered some of their gatherings from when you were a child. It was loud, and there was no order, and the Court couldn’t meet without at least one death per session.

It was that way now. Jack toyed with the swords stuck in the globe at the front of the room while the other pirate lords surrendered the miscellaneous junk they deemed their pieces of eight. The end result was a dish full of random trinkets. Not that you didn’t understand; the idea that pirates obtained mass amounts of wealth was a myth. Most of the time, you barely had a shilling to your name. Working with Jack was especially non-lucrative, but it was certainly more entertaining.

Jack’s hand strayed briefly to the piece of eight at his temple. “Might I point out that we are still short one pirate lord and I’m as content as a cucumber to wait until Sao Feng joins us.”

“Sao Feng is dead.”

You recognized that voice. You whipped around to see Elizabeth, clad in full Chinese armor, sword in hand. You smiled to yourself; she was always full of surprises.

The best surprise, however, was the man standing at her side. You mouthed James’ name, and his eyes locked on yours. He stepped forward, as if to greet you, but you were interrupted by further discussion of the Court. He’s alive, and he’s here, and I never thought I would see him again. You glanced over your shoulder. And he’s in full uniform.

The Court was chaos. Barbossa’s plan to free Calypso was not taken well by the others, and you couldn’t blame them. Your mind was preoccupied, focussing on the man somewhere behind you. You wondered if he had seen the relief in your eyes. Had he felt the same?

A hand settled on your shoulder. You turned to see James, worried eyes staring into your own. He pulled you back, leading you out of the room.

“James?” You felt your eyes beginning to water. “For the longest time, I thought you had died.” Your voice cracked, and you were unable to stop it.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but only reached out to you, pulling you into a firm embrace. “I’m so sorry.” His breath tickled your ear. “I’ve done horrible things.”

You held tightly to the back of his coat. “I’m just happy to see you again.”

He stepped back, pain blossoming across his features. “I know you can never forgive me, for what I’ve done. I can only hope you-”

The doors behind you opened, and the Court flooded out. The consensus is war, then.

~~~~~~~

The rain made it hard for you to keep a good grip on your sword. The Dutchman pitched and rolled under your feet, waves crashing rougly into the sides of the hull. Its mast, tangled with the Pearl’s, loomed above you, a towering dark figure in the haze of the monsoon.

These damned fish people. The Dutchman’s crew fought more viscously than even Barbossa’s undead pirates. Who knew starfish could be so angry? You feared that their weapons, often tarnished and jagged, would catch on your own and leave you defenseless. I should’ve stayed on the Pearl. But there are fish people there now, too.

At least you weren’t alone. Elizabeth and Will were with you, as was Jack, though he seemed to be having difficulties of his own. If you hadn’t been fighting for your life, you might have been more amused. You had lost sight of most of your crew mates. You were too focused on the eel-headed freak in front of you to give your fellows much thought. With your swords locked, you had no other way to grapple with the beast. It hadn’t occurred to you that the eel could elongate its neck, which was exactly what it did, arching forward to bite at your face.

A moment later, the head lay at your feet, the slimy body collapsing beside it. James was there, sword in hand, looking at you with concern. That, or he’s squinting to keep the rain out of his eyes. You gave him a nod, stepping in closer.

“There are too many of them. We’ll never get to them all. Some of them are coming right out of the walls!” You both looked around yourselves at the endless numbers in the Dutchman’s crew.

“We only have to kill one.” James gestured towards the other end of the ship, where Davy Jones stood, lobster claw digging into the wood of the deck.

“We don’t have the heart.”

“But we both know who does.” James’ face was grim. “I should’ve stabbed it while I had the chance.”

You grabbed his arm. “No. You would be just like Jones, then, bound to this ship for eternity. You’d have no humanity left.”

“I’d be better than I am now.”

The comment broke your heart, but there were too many enemies around for you to focus on it. You slashed at a shark-headed monstrosity before James pulled you in close, stabbing something just behind you. Now isn’t the time for blushing. But James was holding you tightly to his chest, and you heard him shoot another member of Jones’ crew.

You hated to let go, but you had to duck under James’ arm to go after another, and another. Your back ended up pressed against James’, and you could feel each others’ heavy breathing.

“I don’t think we’re going to make it out of this alive.” You had to shout to be heard over the thunderous racket. Between the rain, the gunfire, and the sharp clanging of swords, there was little room for words.

“It doesn’t seem likely.”

“You were trying to tell me something earlier.” Rain ran down your face in streams. “Now might be your only chance.”

James put a hand on your shoulder, turning you around to face him. “I wanted to apologize, for it all. I hope you’ll accept it.”

“Of course.” You grabbed the pistol from his side, leveling it at a creature behind his shoulder.

“You didn’t deserve what I did.”

You cupped his face with a hand. “I understand why you did it.”

“You were the only one who treated me like a person, then, on the Pearl.” He had grabbed your arm, keeping you close. It occurred to you that you were both going to die like this, paying too much attention to each other and not enough to your surroundings. “I can’t…” James took a steadying breath. “I can’t help but love you for it.”

You barely had time to process the words before his lips were on yours. Despite the storm, and the gunfire, and the clanging of swords—despite the knowledge that neither of you were going to make it out alive—the kiss was achingly tender, with so much softness and vulnerability that tears began to slip down your already soaked cheeks.

This won’t be such a bad way to go.

There was a sudden shuddering of the ship, and you and James had to cling to each other to keep upright. You looked up, only to find that the Pearl had broken away, her masts now untangled from the Dutchman’s.

You tugged at James’ arm. “We have to go. I think the ship’s going under.”

He nodded, and you found a loose line to swing over to the Pearl. The Dutchman sank not long after you hit the deck. The ship fell beneath the waves, sucked under by the storm.

“We still have to face Beckett.” James looked out over the water to where the British armada was advancing.

You could already feel some of the fight leaving you. How could you withstand an armada, when you’d barely defeated the Dutchman? “At least we have each other, now.”

James looked down at you. “Yes.” He cautiously wrapped an arm around your waist. “And after? If there is an after.”

You smiled teasingly. “I hope you don’t mind returning to piracy.”

James smiled back. “I don’t think I’ll mind at all.”

#potc #pirates of the caribbean #pirate #pirates #james norrington #norrington #James Norrington x reader #x reader #self insert #potc fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #potc imagine #writing #writings

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alwaysahiccupandastrid · 3 years

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How Bad is Sia’s “Music” really?

I watched it illegally (because there was no way I was paying for that bullshit) and found out. It’s not as bad as we thought... It’s worse.

TW for ableism, Sia, drugs, alcohol, just in general a terrible movie, meltdowns, blackface

Literally the first thing you hear while they’re showing the production companies is THOSE stereotypical noises. If you’ve seen the trailer, you’ll know what I mean.

And yes, she does this for the WHOLE fucking movie

What was the need to show her in her underwear? Maddie Ziegler was 14 when this was made, so what was the need??? And why did Sia prolong the scene by having her hitting herself?

Less than a minute in and my reaction was already “what the fuck is this shit?”

So the opening number not only had stereotypical exaggerated facial expression, it has Maddie in BLACKFACE?!? And with culturally appropriated hair?!?

The exaggerated facial expressions are literally constant and I took photos during the film to show it, more later, but I’ll keep mentioning it

ITS LITERALLY THE WHOLE FUCKING TIME SHE IS ON SCREEN

Even her way of walking is fucking offensive, Jesus Christ

The vocalisations just had me cringing so hard, I cannot describe how awful it made me feel

Why do all the neighbours need to be paid off and help her when she goes for a walk? I don’t-

Yes, by about the five minute mark I was already seriously debating all my life decisions. It was that bad.

Kate Hudson really didn’t give a fuck that her grandma died

I will keep saying it but WHY are the facial expressions/vocalisations CONSTANT?!! Literally they do not stop at all. I work with a child who is actually similar to this in that he’s nonverbal and he makes similar noises/faces, but the way they’re in this movie is so over-exaggerated?!? And even the kid I work with doesn’t do it 24/7?!?

Sia, calling your characters Zu and Music doesn’t make them interesting in the slightest. They’re still painfully terrible and one dimensional

Literally ONE minute after being left alone with her autistic sister, Zu calls the mental health service asking if they could “theoretically” “pick up” her sister?!? Like she wants to get rid of her already?!?

“A magical little girl” - autism isn’t a magical power?!? And Music is a young woman, not a little girl?!? Why are you infantilising her?!?

Okay I’m not being funny but this choreography is NOT hard. ANYONE can do it, so claiming that you needed to hire a dancer to be Music because of the numbers is literally bullshit (and even so, there are so many amazing autistic actors and dancers?!?)

20 minutes in and I wanted to give up

So she had her first meltdown because her hair didn’t get braided immediately and that’s... certainly interesting??

The fact that Leslie Odom’s character says “I’m going to crush you now”?!?

AND THEN HE FUCKING PICKS HER UP AND FULL-BODILY PINS HER DOWN ONTO THE FLOOR

“I’m crushing her with my love” - oh fuck you, just fuck you

So Sia lied, the restraint scenes were NOT removed and there was no warning. She’s a fucking POS liar

I have no idea why he’s called Ebo or why he has such a cliche African accent?!? I might have missed out on why because I was busy trying not to bang my head into the table while I watched this film but just... yikes

“He (his brother) liked to be held” - YEAH, HELD. NOT FUCKING CRUSHED

“He is dead now” - IM NOT FUCKING SURPRISED IF YOU CRUSHED HIM LIKE THAT

The constant babying and patronizing of the autistic character is so exhausting to watch. I’m so tired

“Planning on sending her to the people pound but I guess I’ll keep her a little longer” - SHE WAS JOKING BUT THAT WAS NOT EVEN REMOTELY A FUNNY JOKE. NOT EVEN IN AN AWKWARD WAY

STOP THE FACES IM-

^ YEAH, Sia, totally a fucking love letter to the autistic community here ^

So Zu finds this necklace she made as a kid that had a little dog on it, and she says to Music, “He had seizures too, just like you”... MELTDOWNS AND SEIZURES ARE NOT EVEN REMOTELY THE SAME FUCK THIS MOVIE-

It’s like Sia is trying to make the movie funny but it’s really not at all

Is Zu implying that Music is autistic because the mum was a junkie?!?

For real though, the dialogue in general is so fucking awful and cringey. Whoever wrote this should never be allowed to write again

Did she seriously leave her autistic sister alone to talk to who I’m presuming was her dealer or loan shark?!?

Also why is he - a white dude - wearing cornrows?!?

So who is the film really about? The autistic girl or the older sister saviour? I think we all know the answer to that one

WHY IS SHE WALKING AROUND WITH HER TEETH JUTTING OUT LIKE THAT ALL THE TIME

The musical numbers are literally so painful to watch. The overly bright colours, the flashing... my eyes were hurting and so was my brain

Autism representation aside for a second, the musical numbers/choreography are all fucking atrocious. Ditto for the costumes

LIKE WHAT THE FUCK WERE THE PINK OOMPA LOOMPA FRUIT THINGS?!? THEY LOOK LIKE THE PINK VERSIONS OF VIOLET BEAUREGARDE THE BLUEBERRY

I wanted to cry by this point, this movie is far more awful than I thought

“I’m not saying she doesn’t want to change, I’m saying she can’t” - FUCK YOU. Why is it okay for him to assume what she can or can’t do

Can I just say that autistic people aren’t constantly in a coked up wonderland state?!! We don’t see the world as a wonderland fantasy world 24/7?!!

“She can hear you from two rooms away” / *shows her listening through two brick walls to a conversation* — Also, we don’t have super fucking sonic hearing?? WE CANT HEAR THROUGH FUCKING BRICK WALLS?!?

“She can understand everything you’re saying to her” - she’s autistic not fucking deaf

Less than 45 minutes in, there’s another meltdown in the park

“I’m not climbing on top of a small screaming white girl in public” - yeah please fucking don’t

So Zu fucking pins her down with her weight 🤦‍♀️

“She doesn’t know who she’s hitting” - IM SORRY WHAT

EBO LITERALLY SAID “TREAT HER LIKE A BEAR” when talking her through the prone restraint, I fucking CANNOT

“Tell her she’s safe” - NOT IF YOU FUCKING RESTRAIN HER LIKE THAT SHE IS NOT

The fact that she gets up, smiling and happy after a meltdown and immediately is excited to get a snow cone... I can honestly say that after a meltdown, I am in no way happy or smiling. I am often not very verbal and I’m withdrawn/not myself for at least several hours, usually the rest of the day. Fuck this film

This film is literally just about Zu, and Music is there for a plot device to give her character development. That’s all she’s there for.

Love how Sia shoehorned Zu being suicidal in there. You know, just to try and make her more easy to sympathize with (it doesn’t work)

This film is literally just a 1 hour 47 minute Sia music video with ZERO plot

WHY WERE THEY WEARING PILLOW DIAPERS IN ONE NUMBER-

I really did not feel into the side plot with that guy who was fighting but it was still better than the actual movie so...

I am SO DONE with the NON STOP CONSTANT vocal shit. So tired.

LOJ’s only role in this film is to be the stereotypical wise black guy who assists a white woman’s story. There’s like hardly any other depth there

The Ebo/Zu romance is so fucking stupid and pointless and out of NOWHERE. I couldn’t even tell if they were into each other or not

I was already so bored of the musical numbers by this point. They added NOTHING to the plot but they pretended they did, and I was so over it. And it’s not because I’m not “creative enough” or anything to understand, I love musicals and I think it could have been cool if done right... but it wasn’t. They were a mess. It’s just bad.

Sia really tried to pretend her movie was deep but really it’s a shallow mess

So Zu is meeting rich drug clients and says to Music “try not to have one of your freak outs up there” and “if you could try to get it out now”... FUCKING YIKES. It’s not an on/off button, shut the fuck up

YEP THIS WAS THE SIA CAMEO FUCK THAT BITCH

The fact that she just calls “DRUG DEALER?!? DRUG DEALER IS THAT YOU”, fucking end this please-

I fucking hate this bitch I’m dead serious

“We’re gonna send them to Haiti cause there’s been an earthquake. All these buildings fell down, children’s bones were dislocated” - WHY WAS SHE SO CHEERFUL ABOUT IT

“Gonna buy a shit load of pain meds, gonna but them on my private plane” - FUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOU

“Pop stars without borders” - Sia thinks she’s so clever but I would give anything to punch her I swear-

ANOTHER MUSICAL NUMBER JUST STOP IM BEGGING YOU

There’s this awkward conversation/bit with Zu and her drug dealer/loanshark about his outfit that was clearly meant to be funny but was just flat and painful

Yep, Sia really showed Music eating chewing gum off the underside of a park bench. Of course.

Look, the kid I work with does similar stuff by putting literally anything and everything in his mouth but like... why would you put that in your movie?

And there’s no indication before this that Music puts everything and anything in her mouth, she just randomly decides to get on her knees, under the bench and eat chewing gum, like she calculates that it’s there and gets it???

She has a THIRD meltdown after an allergic reaction to a bee sting and her sister just yells at her before realizing... I’m not here for this movie, I feel like I drifted off and was not really there

So Zu got angry because she left the drugs at the park but she’s not that upset that her sister had an allergic reaction???

Zu gets absolutely drunk because a) she lost Sia’s drugs and b) she’s stressed out by her autistic sister... wow, great message, Sia!

She really fucked off and left her sister alone to go clubbing/on a bender

The less said about the musical number here the better

Sia’s movie also checks the box of having stereotypical Asian parents, specifically stereotypical Asian dad being harsh/angry and hitting his wife!

ALSO HE PUSHED AND KILLED HIS SON WTF IS HAPPENING

Less than 3 minutes after the last, there’s a musical number that I think was about this side character going to heaven... another shitty Sia-esque number

The patterns during the number made my brain hurt.

Also there are so many autistic actors who can also dance, and yet Sia chose the neurotypical one because ✨ N E P O T I S M ✨

I just want to know how it was deemed necessary to show the fact the autistic character peed/wet herself? I mean... ??? It’s just so undignified and not at all necessary to the plot. Nothing happens after that, it just moves onto the next scene and it didn’t do anything

“I have no one” - 1) YOUR FUCKING SISTER. 2) GEE I FUCKING WONDER WHY, couldn’t be that you’re a shitty human being?!?

There’s a scene where Music is walking and she does ALL the stereotypical behaviours at once... just YIKES

Zu somehow stopped another meltdown just by grabbing Music by the shoulders and sitting her down???

Aaand yep. Another shitty musical number

Zu really goes to put her sister in a fucking facility and claims it’ll be “better for her” - BULLSHIT. Better for Zu, maybe, not Music.

Ah yes - the girl who the characters have said has problems with routines being changed/change in general... you’re now going to fuck up her routine by dumping her in a facility. Perfect Plan.

The nonverbal autistic girl suddenly speaking to say “don’t go” - you can just predict it from the off, can’t you?

Love that as soon as Music starts talking, Zu is like “fuck it, I’ll keep her!”

Zu really went and crashed Ebo’s brothers wedding... in a fucking bralette... YIKES

“I almost gave Music away” - SHE IS NOT A DOG YOU DONT GIVE PEOPLE AWAY

“We should sing a song” - PLEASE DO FUCKING NOT

Also that kiss/romance montage between Zu and Ebo was the CRINGIEST fucking shit ever

This movie seems to be implying that Music has locked in syndrome or something, like she’s locked in her own head or whatever it’s called, and I just... *sigh*

Oh and now Music magically fucking sings in a room FULL of strangers... this is literally embarrassing, please let this end

I mean it, this movie was fucking painful to watch on ever level

She got a service dog puppy which... okay?

Oh look, it’s the only decent song on the soundtrack but with an absolutely shitty over-stimulatory music video with the credits!

I can only name 5 characters in this film. Maybe 7 at a push, but even then I would be guessing

AND YEP SHE THANKED AUTISM SPEAKS OVER THE CREDITS. FUCK YOU SIA 🖕🏻

Let me reiterate: this is a movie about a neurotypical former drug addict whose character development comes from the autistic character, from having an autistic sister she has to take care of. I’m so tired.

We are NOT plot devices or tools for character development. Not once does anyone in this film treat Music like a human being - she’s treated as a burden, a problem, and then like a pet that they decide to keep. Not once is the film focused on how she is feeling - it’s always about Zu or Ebo. The performance itself was so over exaggerated and it made me want to cry when I watched it because this is how the world sees us, and this movie will make it ten times worse. It’s stuff like this that made me think “I don’t want to be labelled as autistic because people will think I’m a certain way”, that made me wait so long before going to the GP to get a referral.

As I said, poor autistic representation aside, the movie is just so appallingly bad. It truly is one of the worst films I’ve watched. If you’re going to watch it, please don’t - or, if you want to because you want to see how bad it is/to raise awareness/critical posts, at least do it illegally. Do not give Sia your money.

#sia #music #music 2021 #music movie #autism #tw ableism #tw meltdown #tw blackface #anti sia #lol sia

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weasleydream · 3 years

Text

i’ll never fall - Ginny x reader

I’m so so sorry that it’s so late! I wrote this for @pregnant-piggy ‘s writing challenge but I got a bit too inspired, I haven’t written that much in so long! Once again, congrats for 2k love <3

My prompts were: “Who do you see when you look at me?” ; “I will never forgive myself for the things I’ve done.” ; and “And you are sure it has nothing to do with the fact that you’re in love with them?”

Also, once again I think I messed with timeline

As usual, feel free to like, comment, reblog and enjoy!

Masterlist

If we were being picky, we could say that all of this began the day Tom Riddle was born. However, this specific point in the history of the wizarding world was the beginning of so many stories that no one could count them all, and mine was complicated enough without mixing them: that’s why we’re going to say that it all began the day I realized I had been manipulated.

_ _ _

It was as if nature itself knew what was coming. If the first of September was usually a bright day, the sun we had been hoping for was a long lost memory erased by the incessant rain. Somehow, even the traditional babblings on platform 9¾ were missing, replaced by parents’ doubts and students’ fears. Was really going to Hogwarts in this year of 1997 a good idea? Dumbledore’s death had been a strong hit to everyone, and now that we knew Snape would be at the head of the school, no one was reassured. Not even Molly Weasley who was usually so valiant. On the platform, with one hand on Ginny’s back and one hand on mine, she seemed as nervous as everyone else, and the fact that she couldn’t look away from Arthur for more than three seconds was the proof we didn’t need.

I remembered perfectly each first of September since I had received my Hogwarts letter. It was five years ago, and I was sure the view of the red train had never provoked such a wave of panic in me before. I glanced at Ginny; she was looking at me, her face closed in an attempt to hide what she was feeling and what she was fearing. A discreet nod confirmed what I already knew: she was as afraid as I was. Somewhere on our left, a voice said both our names, and we turned around to greet Neville. He hadn’t even needed to use a strong voice. He was pushing his cart on which his bags were stacked. On the top of the pile was sitting proudly a little plant.

“Mimbulus mimbletonia?” I asked, and he nodded quietly.

The locomotive whistled and we headed to the nearest door, after having looked away from Ginny and her parents exchanging a quick hug. Most of the compartments were empty, which seemed strange as we had never seen such a small amount of students in the train. Neville led us to the very last compartment where Luna was waiting for us. She said hello, but even her bright personality seemed altered. I really didn’t like this, and it was only the beginning.

Half an hour after the beginning of the journey, I left the compartment to find my other group of friends. Friends was maybe a big word: in fact the only one I got along pretty well with was Zillah. She was a Hufflepuff and I knew her since we were five or six. Our fathers had worked together for a while in a muggle factory when they were younger, hers because he was a muggle and mine because he and my mother had left the wizarding world when He-who-must-not-be-named had risen the first time. Zillah greeted me with a small smile, and one or two other heads looked up to me. I identified a Slytherin guy in the corner opposite to mine but that didn’t surprise me, Zillah was the kind of person that didn’t let such things as houses determine who she loved.

“You didn’t give me a lot of news,” she said when I sat next to her, which forced another girl to shift to the left.

“I know, I just… I was busy.” I looked around quickly, checking that no one was listening to us. The four other persons that were here seemed to be chatting, and only now did I realize that the atmosphere was less heavy than with Ginny, Neville and Luna. Anyways, I decided it was safe enough for me to speak. “You know, with that stuff about my parents…” I added in a lower tone.

Zillah moved closer to me.

“And? Did you find anything?”

“Nothing conclusive. I guess that’s a good sign.”

Zillah nodded and recovered her previous position. She knew what I was talking about: since a few weeks before the beginning of the summer, my main preoccupation was to find out if my parents - and the rest of my family - were or had been death eaters. A lot of old rumours had resurfaced, and my parents, along with one of my aunts and her half-brother, were suspected to belong to the dark side. I had spent the summer looking for proof, investigating, and I now thought that at least my mother wasn’t guilty of what she was accused of. I still had a doubt about my aunt’s half-brother, but we weren’t blood related, so I had decided it wasn’t my problem, and something was off with my father.

“I guess you’re relieved,” suddenly commented Zillah. “Now you’ll stop hiding it from your friends.” Indeed, Luna, Neville and even Ginny didn’t know anything about it, and it had been especially hard to hide during the last two weeks that I had spent at the burrow. Ginny obviously knew there was something off with me and had asked me about it several times, but I didn’t want her to know that, not when Neville had made some comments that had persuaded me I was suspected too. “You don’t seem relieved, though.” she added with a suspicious look. “Are you sure you didn’t find anything conclusive?”

“There’s maybe something about my father,” I mumbled, “but I don’t know what to think about it. Something he did a year or so before You-know-who’s fall that makes me think… Well, it makes me think maybe there’s a possibility that he’s killed a muggle family.”

“What?” Zillah’s voice was louder than expected, and the conversations in the compartment stopped briefly. “Why would he have done something like this?” she asked more quietly when chatters filled the compartment again. “I thought he was clean?”

“I told you I don’t know what to think about it… Something’s strange, but I don’t know what.”

Zillah nodded but stayed silent. She didn’t seem that surprised anymore, as if it was something she had been suspecting for a while. It created a big contrast between us because I was still deeply shaken by the news. Learning that your father might be the assassin of an innocent family wasn’t something you could accept easily. The conversations in the compartment stopped briefly, and I wondered why until I noticed a prefect’s head that had appeared through the glass. It was a girl from Ravenclaw, and she glanced briefly at us before walking away.

“Do you think she’s looking for You-know-who?” guffawed the Slytherin guy.

Everyone in the compartment chuckled, Zillah included. However, it wasn’t the kind of subject that made me laugh, and I suddenly felt really out of place among these people. I hastily saluted Zillah and left the compartment. I took a few steps just to be out of their sight, and then I stopped, asking myself if I really wanted to go back to Ginny, Neville and Luna. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation, Ginny was the person I was the closest to in the school, but she was really friends with Luna and Neville, and she shared way more with them than with me. If Luna was kind to everyone and me included, Neville had often shown restraint with me, without mentioning the few times I had caught him becoming suddenly very silent as soon as I had stepped in the same room as him. Finally, I decided going back to their compartment was better than spending the rest of the journey standing between two glass doors.

“- sorry he was ever born. Harry said it was him who killed Dumbledore, he’s not going to get away with it that easily, trust me.”

It was Ginny who was talking, and she didn’t stop when I opened the door. She just shifted to the left to make some room for me, and I sat after having made sure that the door was well closed. Making that kind of comment in a train crowded with people whose intentions weren’t all clear could be very dangerous.

“And how do you want to proceed?” Asked Luna. “Don’t you think he’ll think some people are thinking like this?”

“We don’t care,” said Neville. “He’ll pay for what he has done.”

“If any of you has an idea, feel free to suggest it. That goes for you too, Y/N, okay?”

I nodded, but a feeling of uneasiness had invaded me. Ginny looked at me with a raised eyebrow, asking me silently what was in my mind.

“If Snape is at the head of Hogwarts… don’t you think he’ll ask other death eaters to come with him?” A silence greeted my question. “Of course it doesn’t mean I won’t help you!” I added precipitously, “Just that we should be really careful. I’m not sure we know exactly what’s coming, that’s all.”

“You’re right,” said Neville. “But death eaters or not, everyone who throws a spanner in our work is going to have to face us.”

_ _ _

No matter how hard I had tried to convince myself that Hogwarts would be extremely different from before, the sight of the castle took a severe toll on me. The atmosphere reminded me a bit of the one that had enveloped us when Sirius Black had escaped Azkaban: full of fear and Dementors in the sky and around the park. It didn’t look like the safest place on earth anymore, that was for sure.

It was in silence that all the students that were in the train joined the castle. I was next to Ginny; Neville and Luna were just behind and I could see Zillah’s head a few meters in front of us. It didn’t take a long time to realize that the fears I had expressed before were founded: at each side of the entrance door were three people, all dressed in black, with a severe expression and a very straight posture. A whisper ran through the crowd of students; were they death eaters? The answer came to us in the form of a shout from a massive man.

“Shut up and move!”

From the corner of the eye, I saw Ginny stiffening and glaring at the guy who had just yelled. She had never looked as dangerous as right now, and I knew better than to think that it was an appearance.

“Ginny!” I hissed as quietly as possible. “Stop this!”

“But he’s-”

“I know!” Of course I had recognized Amycus Carrow, who had tried his best to torture Ginny only a few months ago. If he had failed, it was just because Ginny had drunk some Felix Felicis before the battle of the Astronomy tower. “But if you don’t want them to show what they are capable of, you’ll have to keep it cool until we’re in the dorm.”

She sighed loudly and nodded. If this time I had adopted the voice of reason, it didn’t mean that I wanted to stay here longer than necessitated, so I picked up the pace to walk past the death eaters. The sigh of relief I wanted to breathe when they would be out of sight stayed blocked in my throat, though: people all dressed in black were standing at regular intervals and this, on each side of the corridor. The silence was heavier in the inside of the castle; it was as if, without being clearly told, everyone had understood that staying quiet was for the best. Only the sound of our feet on the stones could be heard, and it was in this tense atmosphere that we arrived in the Great Hall.

The four main tables were still here and still the same. It was naturally that I followed Ginny to the Gryffindor table and took place next to her; and only when Neville was sitting in front of us while Luna was joining her place did I realize that the professors’ table was way smaller than before. A few more death eaters were standing in a corner, but Snape’s presence at the exact place Dumbledore used to stand at was the reason everyone was looking in this direction without a word.

“Look at him…” murmured Neville, which caused him to deal with some terrified looks.

Snape hadn’t even pronounced anything yet that he had already terrorized half of the school. Then his voice thundered and repercuted between the naked walls and the once magical roof that was now devoid of stars and colorful banners.

“Things have changed, and they will keep changing.” He paused and his eyes wandered amongst the students. I could have sworn his gaze had stopped on us, and according to the shiver that shook the girl next to me, it wasn’t just an impression. “From now on, the school is mine, and the rules you will follow are mine. Each breach of the rules will cost you a price much higher than a few house points. Any attempt to rebel will be severely punished. I also suggest you to remain in the ranks, or else the consequences could be unfortunate.”

As soon as the echo of his voice disappeared, Snape turned heels and sat in the central seat of the table. He lifted his hand and the doors opened; a seemingly exhausted professor McGonagall was walking in front of a bunch of terrified first years, and to the sound of their steps added weak sobs. When she walked past us, McGonagall glanced quickly in our direction, and from the corner of the eye I saw Ginny nodding imperceptibly. When she finally reached the single wooden stool that had gone unnoticed until then, it was with a firm voice that she shouted the name of the first student. It was as if she was trying her best to ignore the fact that Hogwarts had become the most dangerous place for us all, or maybe to show us that we weren’t alone in this.

The dinner - because it was hard to call this a feast - was conducted expeditiously and the first students to leave the great hall didn’t stay more than twenty minutes. Almost an hour and a half after our arrival, Snape’s watch dogs forced the remaining students to leave the great hall and to join the common rooms. A frightening silence was reigning everywhere in the castle, and the cosy common room of the Gryffindor house wasn’t exception. A very few people were occupying the sofas around the chimney, there wasn’t any first year left, and most of the students following us directly took the direction of the stairs leading to the dorms. Neville saluted us quite darkly and disappeared too.

“I didn’t think it would be so… the way it is.” I whispered as Ginny and I were sitting around a table in the corner of the room. “I remember the day we first entered the great hall… All these terrified kids, it’s awful. They’ll have to pay.”

“I agree. It’s a good thing that a few members of Dumbledore's army are still here, we’ll need as much help as we can get. We’ll have to-”

Ginny suddenly stopped and jumped on her feet, glaring at some point behind my back. I got up too, on the verge of asking what was happening, but the noise that echoed gave me the answer. Amycus Carrow and a woman that looked just like him had barged in, and they were now barking on the third years that were on the sofas. When one of them muttered that they had no right to come here, the woman drew her wand and pointed it between the guy’s eyes. Completely terrified, the latter followed his friend without another word. Understanding that it was useless and dangerous to provoke them at the moment, I went around the table and grabbed Ginny’s wrist. We took the direction of the stairs and we had almost disappeared behind the stone when we both saw it. Amycus Carrow had just nodded at me with a polite smile on the lips. Ginny’s arm moved quickly and a second later, she was shutting the door between us.

_ _ _

“The Weasley girl still doesn't want to talk to you?” asked Zillah with her mouth half full of bread as I was sitting next to her.

This had become the usual greeting she gave me each morning since I had camped in front of the Hufflepuff common room’s door, just after this thing with Amycus two weeks ago. Ginny had refused to talk to me since then, not even giving me a chance to explain, and of course the next morning Neville’s glares had added to hers. Even Luna didn’t look at me with her natural kindness anymore. Zillah had seemed very surprised when she had seen me the next morning; because I had spent the night on the hard floor of the corridor or because no one had caught me, I wasn’t sure. Still, she was now the friend I seemed to have in this castle.

“No, still not.”

“I think she needs time. I mean, she thinks you’re getting friendly with a death eater. You told me it’s the one who tried to torture her last year, right?”

I hummed and Zillah shrugged.

“Then I understand why she’s upset.” she paused to pat my shoulder. “Maybe she’ll even come to you first, who knows?”

“I hope so…”

Then a silence took place. My eyes were fixed on Ginny who was talking with Neville and Luna. The three of them were isolated from the rest of the Gryffindor that were in the great hall for breakfast, which wasn’t a lot. It was clear that their attitude was hiding something fishy with them.

“Are they preparing something?” suddenly asked Zillah. She was looking in the same direction as me and had a reprobatory look on her face.

“Probably, yes. They want to defend the castle,” I said before shaking my head. “I hope they’ll be prudent, it would kill Molly if something happened to her.”

“Yes, it looks like Ginny and her mother are really close to each other.”

I glanced at Zillah, surprised that she knew so much about Molly. As far as I knew, she had never talked to a Weasley. But my interrogations were cut short when an altercation burst on the other side of the great hall. Neville was standing up to one of Snape’s friends, and he was hiding a young girl behind him, probably a first year. Luna slipped underneath the table and grabbed the girl’s hand, leading her outside while Ginny was trying to calm Neville down. Finally, the silence came back when he agreed to follow her, and they disappeared behind the huge door.

“I still don’t understand why you don’t scream in their ears until they listen to you.” Zillah paused the time to let Snape walk to the professors’ table before getting closer to me. “I mean, your side of the street is clean, right? It’s not your fault if Amycus is weird.” I shrugged, trying to find the good words to explain why I had been waiting for two weeks instead of grasping the nettles. “Unless you think you have a reason to blame yourself, of course…” She finished with an interrogative look.

“Well… One of her brothers has been badly hurt by Fenrir Greyback, and his wedding has been ruined by death eaters. Another of his brothers was poisoned last year because of Malfoy. She has more reasons to hate the death eaters than anyone else and… I still don’t know what happened with my father, and I have even more doubts since this thing with Carrow... I just feel like it’s not right to stay by her side if I’m not sure that my father’s innocent, you know?”

Zillah nodded.

“I think you’re right, you can’t risk her hating you for nothing,” she conceded. “But how will you find the answers you’re looking for?”

“I don’t know.” I grumbled, before slamming my fist on the table. “It’s so unfair! What the hell is happening? Why does it have to be happening to me?”

“Relax Y/N, I’m not sure you want to make a scene in the middle of the great hall.” Zillah wrapped her arm around my shoulders. “You know you’re not alone, right? Whatever happens with Ginny and the others, I’m still with you.”

_ _ _

It was so unexpected that it took a few seconds for me to process what I had just heard. I was walking in the corridors somewhere near the library when three voices stopped me dead in my tracks. The voices were coming from behind the door that was just in front of me, belonging to three men I had never heard before even though they were obviously part of Snape’s watch dogs. At first, the voices were too low and all I could hear was a blur of unidentified sounds. But as soon as my ears were used to the muffled words, I realized they were talking about a particularly severe punishment and I had the feeling that I knew who was the target.

“ - couldn’t get them yet. Seems like the director is nervous about this and we all know how he can be when he’s not satisfied. He says it may be for today.”

“Maybe, but the fuckers are well organized, and we can’t just take them like this. The seniors won’t let us and we can’t afford to have the Order in our way.”

“The third year we’ve interrogated earlier said they were preparing their things in a special room in the castle, the room of requirements I think he said. Seventh floor. We can take a shot.”

“Never heard of this before, you sure he didn’t lie to you?”

“Trust me, he knew better than that.”

The first who had talked said something else, but I didn’t hear it. I had taken a few steps back and my brain was almost burning: how could I avoid Ginny and the others getting caught? I knew what was going to happen if evidences were found, I myself had paid full price for defending a bunch of terrified second years in front of Alecto Carrow and the sanction reserved for Ginny, Neville and Luna oughted to be even worse.

The wooden door suddenly opened, leaving me defenseless in front of three death eaters that drew their wands as in one. I was so terrified that my brain, which was so fast only a few seconds ago, seemed to be freezing along with the blood in my veins.

“I suggest that you find a good excuse for listening to us, or I can promise you you’ll regret it.” threatened a tall and thin man, whose face seemed to be the copy of a rat’s.

“I know what they’re going to do and where I can tell you if you want.” I blurted out before holding my breath, praying that they would be convinced.

The three guys exchanged looks, and the one on the left seemed dangerously sceptical. Finally, the rat-faced guy nodded and lifted an eyebrow.

“It’s for soon, in the potions classroom.” I started, trying my best to keep control of my breath. “I believe they want to make it explode, I’ve seen them gathering all sorts of forbidden products. I think they’re already there, but-”

“You better be telling the truth.”

With that, the three men left precipitously and as soon as their bodies had disappeared from my sight, I turned tails and ran in the other direction. I needed to get to Ginny as soon as possible to warn her not to do whatever she had in mind. By the time I had gotten to the seventh floor, my legs were burning and my lungs felt like they were on the verge of exploding. Without losing a second, I began pacing to make the door appear but someone’s arrival interrupted me.

“You here? Get out of here, you traitor!”

It was Seamus, and he rolled up his sleeve as if to address his words.

“Seamus!” I exclaimed, which definitely surprised him. “I need you to tell Ginny to stop whatever she’s preparing. She’s in danger, you hear me? In danger! Someone denounced her to Snape and he knows she’s here with Neville, Luna and whoever helps them. I led the death eaters off the scent but it won’t be enough, tell them, okay?”

And with that, I left as quickly as I had come, afraid that the wrong person could see me here and guess what had happened. I glanced in my back one last time - Seamus was still looking at me, seemingly very confused, but he nodded silently before being hidden by the wall. I only managed to join the fifth floor when a voice shouted loudly.

“You! Stop!”

I had been caught.

The rat-faced guy grabbed my arm, his fingers tightening me so tightly that it felt like he was touching my bones. He was almost growling, the sound coming from the depth of his throat and terrifying me as much as a snarling wolf would have. The man, Marcus as it seemed since one of his friends called him when he joined us, abruptly pulled my arm to make me walk behind him. His pace was quick and determined, and his jaw tightly clenched. As far as I could see, he was furious, and the little hope I had left vanished. I didn’t even know if I would make it out alive.

The three men brought me to an empty classroom that I was positive I had never been in before. The tables were all covered in a thick layer of dust, some of them were broken and so were the chairs. There was no window, only one door and the latter closed quietly behind us. I had the intuition that it wouldn’t open that easily, and definitely not soon.

It was dark in there, but not enough to be blind. That made me realize that the walls had a certain number of cracks, and for a second I thought of screaming with all the breath in my lungs. Marcus probably had the same idea at the same time; before I could do anything, he cast a silencing spell on me.

“This way, we’re sure we won’t be bothered.” he whispered with a twisted smile.

My heart began to beat at a terrible pace, and the fact that I was trying to scream so loud without even producing a whimper made me feel so defenseless that I never tried to protect myself. I just waited for the punishment, knees getting numb on the stone floor, expecting the pain without receiving it. It looked like it wasn’t what Marcus wanted; he tried to get me to react, maybe even attack him in what we both knew would be a desperate and useless attempt to escape; he pushed me before putting me back on my knees, insulted me, described me all he would do to me, all he wanted to do to Ginny, but I didn’t want to give him satisfaction. I wanted to focus on something else than the torture I was about to suffer, and all I found was to imagine Ginny swooping in to save me and telling me she wasn’t mad anymore.

However, it wasn’t Ginny’s voice that I heard when the first Cruciatus spell hit me, and it wasn’t hers either that I heard during the unending time that the punishment lasted.

_ _ _

“Y/N? Y/N?”

The voice seemed to come from a dream, muffled as if I had cotton in the ears, distant and soothing.

“Y/N!”

It suddenly became louder, more defined, and with the proximity I heard something else in this voice. Something that wasn’t soothing, it was the contrary; it was anxious and stressful, not very steady but not shaking either. More importantly, it was Ginny’s voice.

I opened my eyes, and it took a moment to remember where I was. The classroom. I could see the tables that had been moved around me, and I could even see the walls which was impossible before. A tall silhouette was getting close to me, someone that I couldn’t identify because the door was open behind them and there was too much light. The person that was now next to me kneeled and Ginny’s features appeared. She seemed disturbed, sad too.

“She’s awake!” she shouted above her shoulder, which made me screech. My head was on the verge of exploding. “Come on,” she added more softly as her eyes were on me again. “We’ll bring you somewhere safe.”

I nodded and let her and Neville, who had gotten in too, lift me to put me back on my feet. My legs had never felt so heavy and devoid of strength, I was nothing more than a dead weight as the two carried me out of this hell. As we got closer to the door, I identified three more persons; Zillah was standing next to Luna, and Seamus had taken a step forward to help Ginny. The latter shook her head and I felt her grip on my waist tightening.

The way to the room of requirements - I had heard Neville mentioning it, so I had supposed it was our destination - was essentially composed of stairs, and no matter how hard I tried to help Neville and Ginny, there wasn’t an ounce of energy left in my body. Every single cell was terribly painful, I had never suffered so much in my life before.

We finally reached a corridor of the seventh floor, the same in which I had stumbled upon Seamus earlier - how long I didn’t know though, it was another question I would have to ask. A huge door appeared and Ginny half carried me inside. She helped me reach a makeshift bed on the floor, and as soon as my head touched the fabric, my eyes closed.

And they stayed closed for a while, or so I supposed when I woke up. The room was no longer almost empty, it was more looking like an anthill now that all the beds and hammocks were occupied. But it wasn’t exactly time for sleeping; all the conversations were forming a soft buzzing somehow reassuring. Despite my sore body, I sat up and took a better look around me. The room wasn’t huge, maybe a bit bigger than a large classroom, not much more. The beds were in fact makeshift mattresses with colorful blankets, and the hammocks that were as colorful were suspended to the walls. There were also two banners hanging from the wall in front of the door; one for Gryffindor and one for Ravenclaw.

“It’s because we only have Gryffindors and Ravenclaws here,” said Ginny as she arrived from behind me with a water bottle. She handed it to me and I glanced to thank her before drinking avidly. “Though we probably will have to add another, your friend Zillah is here too. Very curious, maybe even too much.” she frowned before shaking her head. “But it’s not important. Are you feeling better?”

Ginny waited patiently as I was finishing the water. The sips I took were now longer and I was slower for a very good reason: I didn’t know what to say. Ginny wasn’t stupid though, and she gestured toward two Ravenclaw girls that I didn’t know. They nodded and left, leaving the two of us alone in this corner of the room.

“Y/N, I need you to tell me how you’re feeling.”

I could have answered a lot of things, like hungry, cold, afraid, sore… It was all true. Yet now Ginny was next to me, caring for me, and there was only one answer that seemed correct.

“Safe,” I murmured.

“You are now.” she whispered back. “We’ll make them pay, you can trust me.”

I nodded. The thought was somewhat soothing, but I couldn’t focus on that. It seemed strange that after such a long time spent seemingly hating me, at least avoiding me, Ginny was now sitting next to me, bringing me water and promising she would seek vengeance for me.

“Ginny, who do you see when you look at me?”

She looked up to me, seemingly surprised.

“I see one of my best friends that has been tortured to protect me. I know, Seamus told me,” she added before I could say anything. “I don’t see a traitor or an enemy, if that’s what you were asking. I’ve never seen a traitor or an enemy. Just… Someone I didn’t trust enough, I guess.”

I looked away, slightly hurt. I would have trusted her with my life, even before all of this. Knowing that it wasn’t mutual was something I would have a hard time to accept.

“Y/N, trust me, I’ll never forgive myself for the things I’ve done to you. I shouldn’t have been so mefiant, I should have given you a chance to explain.”

“Yes, you should have.”

Ginny looked away, something that looked a lot like regret painted all over her face. It was rare to see her displaying her deepest emotions, it caught me by surprise and it was without thinking that I wrapped my arm around her shoulders.

“Don’t worry, you trust me now, right? That’s all that matters.”

Ginny nodded and stared at me with an interrogative look.

“Can I ask you something?” She didn’t wait for my answer and continued. “Why didn’t you try to explain? Actually, what happened that day? Why was Carrow so… nice with you?”

“I don’t know why,” I mumbled. “I found it as strange as you. As for why I didn’t explain, it’s… it’s complicated, Ginny.”

“I think I can understand.”

There was no way I could avoid this discussion, that was clear. So I sighed and told her everything about all the research I had gone through, why I suspected my father to be a murderer, why I had felt like I didn’t have the right to be her friend. Ginny stayed silent for a while, and I didn’t have any idea on what her reaction would be. Her face was closed, she was looking at some point in the opposite corner of the room, where Zillah was talking with Luna and another Ravenclaw girl.

“And what was Zillah’s reaction when you told her you didn’t feel like you could be my friend?”

I hesitated before answering. The question was weird, it was not really what I was expecting but Ginny seemed to be deep in her thoughts.

“She said that I was right, I shouldn’t talk to you before being sure my father was innocent. Why?”

“You don’t find it strange that she didn’t advise you the contrary? To come to me and try to explain?”

“I… don’t know.” I hesitated again. “Ginny, what are you thinking about?”

“You noticed that Zillah was there when we found you in the classroom, earlier?” I nodded. Yes, I had seen her, even though I wasn’t expecting her when it was Ginny, Neville, Luna and Seamus that she was accompanying. “No one told her what you had done, and she wasn’t with you before. She’s the one who led us to you. How did she know?”

“Ginny… I know where this is going, but you’re wrong. Zillah’s my friend, and she didn’t even know what I was going to do! I was alone when I heard their conversation and I didn’t see her afterward.”

“I’m not talking about this.” Ginny’s voice was calm, and it was firmly that she grabbed my wrist to address her words. “Y/N, I’m not saying she denounced you to the death eaters. I’m saying she denounced us to them, and you just happened to hear them.”

“But how would she-”

I suddenly stopped because the question was useless. I knew how she had learnt about what Ginny, Neville and the others were preparing. Something as burning as acid slowly crept in my veins; it was guilt, because I was the one who had told her.

“I’m sorry Y/N, but it looks like you gave your trust to the wrong person.”

“Ginny, I’m- I’m sorry, if I had been-”

“It’s not your fault. I promise she too will pay for hurting you.”

Ginny was now infuriated; if her face was stoic, her eyes said it all for her.

_ _ _

“Zillah?” repeated Luna. “I knew I shouldn’t have warned her about the Wrackspurts. She deserves to have her brain go fuzzy.”

“Brain fuzzy or not, at least we know who the traitor is.” added Ginny. “Now, we have to confront her.”

“But we have no proof,” interjected Neville. “We’re not sure that she’s really the one who ratted us out, maybe she found us just because she was looking for Y/N. As for the ‘you shouldn’t talk to Ginny thing’, it’s not a secret that she doesn’t like us, maybe she just wanted to keep Y/N for herself.”

“It can’t be a coincidence,” said Ginny. “And I refuse to let her get out of this just because we’re not sure.”

“You’re making it personal.”

“Of course I’m making it personal!” exploded Ginny. “You saw Y/N too, didn’t you? You helped me carry her because she had been tortured so much that she couldn’t even walk! How can I make it anything else than personal?”

Seeing them talking about me as if I wasn’t here was getting annoying, so I just interrupted them. It caused me to deal with a murderous look that disappeared as soon as Ginny realized it was me.

“Neville’s right, we can’t do anything as long as we’re not sure. And it’s not by sitting here that you’ll find the proof you’re looking for,” I added before Ginny could interrupt me. “Maybe we should stop talking and begin searching.”

“You’re right,” she conceded. “Neville, Luna, you should start asking people about Zillah, but only people we trust, okay?”

Neville rolled his eyes, either because of the obvious recommendation or because Ginny had taken her time to admit he was right, but he still got up and followed Luna. As for me, I ignored Ginny’s piercing eyes when she asked me to follow her out of the room of requirements. We both stayed silent for a while: everytime one of us wanted to say something, someone stepped in the corridor we were in and silence was never broken.

“I know what you’re doing.” Finally said Ginny as we were heading to the library. She brushed aside my innocent face and continued. “I think you’re still hoping that she’s innocent.” It was useless to deny it; of course I didn’t want Ginny to be right, so instead of trying to find excuses, I shrugged. “I get it that it’s hard for you Y/N, placing your trust in the wrong person is… Well, it’s not very pleasant. But you have people you can trust around you, you have real friends. You have me.”

“Thank you Ginny. I- I needed to hear that.”

She nodded and accelerated a bit to open the library’s door in front of me.

“You didn’t tell me what we’re doing here,” I murmured as I was following her through the shelves until we stumbled upon Madam Pince.

“Can we go to the restricted section? It’s important.”

Madam Pince simply nodded and Ginny gestured to me to follow her.

“Since when can we go to the restricted section without any authorization?” I asked, flabbergasted.

“We have one, Madam Pince just allowed us, didn’t she?” Ginny glanced at me with an amused look. “It’s not the first time I’m searching in this section for information, that’s all.”

“I’ve been several times too and I always needed a note from a professor,” I grumbled as Ginny opened the door of the section. Once sure we were alone in it, Ginny turned to me and finally explained why we were here.

“We’re going to do some research about this muggle family you think your father has killed.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s something strange, and with Zillah’s reaction, I wonder if her family isn’t involved.”

“Impossible,” I objected. “They are muggles.”

“That’s what she told you.” I was beginning to find this far-fetched when she asked me something else that made me doubt. “Tell me, does Zillah seem scared by the whole muggle born thing to you?”

I opened and closed my mouth several times. Now that I thought about it, she didn’t seem even concerned by the several attacks and controls that the muggle borns were suffering. I hadn’t heard her talking about it once, and if we added the behaviour I had found inappropriate in the train, then it was natural to think that maybe she had something to hide. As Ginny was still monologuing, I found a table in a corner between two shelves and pulled a chair; I hadn’t said anything about it, but all the cells of my body were still burning, making every movement really painful.

“Does it still hurt?” asked Ginny from behind me. Her hand suddenly appeared in front of me, holding a vial filled with potion. “It’s for the pain.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled before drinking it straight. “So, where do we begin?”

The next hour and half was spent pouring over genealogy books and articles mentioning murders and death eaters. The potion Ginny had given me had made me sleepy, my eyes were closing despite my will to stay awake to find information, and Ginny eventually decided it was enough for this day.

“I’m going to bring you back to the room of requirements, and then I’ll help Neville and Luna, okay?”

I nodded and let her put back in their shelves all the books we had been reading. Then we left the library and joined our little safe place. Ginny only left after having made sure I was in my bed and too asleep to move away from it.

_ _ _

“I gotta admit you were right,” mumbled Neville, the eyes still fixed on the picture he was holding.

“I knew it, there was something strange from the beginning! Zillah is a liar and she had us all.”

Ginny had finally found the proof she had been looking for for days now: my father wasn’t a murderer. He had probably never known the muggle family that had been killed, I would have to ask him if the opportunity arose. The picture was a good enough evidence in itself: it had been taken by a muggle that lived in a street close to where the murder had occured, only a few minutes after the presumed moment of the facts. It showed a man leaving an alley with what looked awfully like blood all over his clothes. He was a wizard, which couldn’t be denied as he was holding a wand, and more importantly, his face wasn’t my fathers but the same as Zillah. I had first objected that it could be a coincidence; that was great because I was now sure my father wasn’t responsible, but maybe it wasn’t a member of Zillah’s family? Ginny had then handed me a copy of a muggle newspaper that mentioned a guy with Zillah’s family name, saying that he had been missing for a week. He had disappeared two days before the murder.

“But-” I had tried to object before Neville interrupted me.

“Listen Y/N, I think that these are unquestionable evidence. I understand that you refuse to believe that your friend lied to you, but it seems pretty obvious to me that she isn’t the person she says she is.”

“Even if it’s his father, it doesn’t mean that she knew!” I exclaimed. Neville and Ginny exchanged a glance that I didn’t like at all, and Ginny sighed.

“There’s something we haven’t told you,” she began. “We didn’t want to break it to you unless we were sure, but with all the things we’ve found, there’s no doubt left. You know this Slytherin guy she’s always with?” I nodded, apprehending what was next. “He and all his family have sworn allegiance to You-know-who. She meets regularly with him and a few other people in the dungeons. Most of them have well known death eaters in their family.”

Neville and Ginny were both looking at me and looking sorry. The latter patted my shoulder before wrapping her arm around my shoulders.

“We can’t let her know we’ve figured everything out,” she murmured. “I think it would be too dangerous.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

Neville shook his head, an irritating sympathetic look on his face, and he left without another word. Ginny was still just next to me; with everything that had happened, I was probably in for several months with her following me like my own shadow. That thought didn’t bother me at all.

“You know, Neville doesn’t really understand why you didn’t ask your family about all of this,” said Ginny after a few minutes spent in silence. “After all, with the rumours it’s legitimate. Is it because of this?”

“I wasn’t sure I could trust my mother to tell me the truth, and I didn’t ask my father for obvious reasons. As for the rest of my family, they are all suspected too.”

“I see,” she murmured. “I’m sorry Y/N, I didn’t find anything about them, just the proof that your father’s innocent. At least now, you’ll be able to ask your parents.”

I noded silently. After another few minutes, Ginny decided I had to change my mind and offered to follow her in the greenhouses. I first refused; couldn’t she let me get depressed on my own? But she insisted and I eventually gave up, secretly grateful that she hadn’t just left me alone.

I thought that with time, I had gotten used to the new Hogwarts, to the now omnipresent silence and darkness that crept in every corridor. It had been a while since the first of September, a time long enough to forget how joyful the place used to be. However, when we got to the main floor, where usually there were always several groups of students and even teachers no matter what time it was, it hit me harder than ever that the school was now like dead. As if it had been killed by all the evil that had invited itself.

“It’s scary, isn’t it?” I glanced at Ginny, wondering if she was thinking about the same thing as I was. “How everything seems physically darker than before,” she added. “In all honesty, I don’t know anymore what could save the castle… I thought that Dumbledore's Army was the solution, but let’s face it… We’re not changing anything here.”

“You’re wrong, many students are safe in the room of requirements thanks to Dumbledore’s Army. And think about the day Harry, Ron and Hermione will come back, think about how things will change!”

Ginny nodded with a smile and quietly thanked me. If it hadn’t sounded so cliché, I would have answered that she had done way more for me, and that all I wanted was her to be confident because I would have done anything for her. But it did sound very cliché, so I just shrugged it off.

“Funny how you just thought of my brother and his friend,” Ginny suddenly said with a malicious smile. “You are sure it had nothing to do with the fact that you’re in love with him?”

“What?” I exclaimed in disbelief. “Me? In love with Ron? Certainly not!”

“Then why are you always so excited to come with us for the holidays?”

Ginny seemed to be really amused by the situation, but I really wasn’t. She was right when she said that I was always overjoyed to spend some time at the Burrow but it wasn’t for Ron, I barely spoke with him! I wasn’t sure about the reason behind this excitement but it was definitely not her brother.

“I don’t know, but trust me, it’s not because of any of your brothers.”

“That’s too bad.” she stated, even though it didn’t really look like she was disappointed. “I still hope one day, you’ll be officially part of the family.” I laughed, and agreed with her. “You know what they say, as long as there’s life, there’s hope!”

“Yeah, well it looks like we won’t stay hopeful for long, then,” I mumbled as I was watching the empty corridor.

“You shouldn’t be so pessimistic, Y/N.” Ginny wasn’t smiling anymore, but she wasn’t looking defeated either. She was just determined. “We’re together, there’s inevitably hope. You and I, we’re two against the storm, and we have our friends and family. I’m not too afraid, and I don’t want you to be.”

“I’m not,” I smiled. “Not anymore. Ginny, I just wanted you to know that… As long as you need me, I won’t fall.”

She grabbed my hand and smiled.

“I’ll always need you.”

“Then I’ll never fall.”

#dev's2kwritingchallenge #Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #Ginny Weasley #ginny weasley imagine #ginny weasley x y/n #ginny weasley x reader #ginny weasley x you

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wintrcaptn · 4 years

Text

It’s You | Chris Evans 🖤

Summary : moving to a new place, not knowing a single person, wasn’t what you had in mind. But wanting a fresh start was the main goal. Little did you know, you were now living next door to none other than Chris Evans.

A/N : I had this dream and thought it would be fun to write a little story off of it. It’s cheesy and I honestly don’t even know if he has neighbors where he lives but oh well. Hope this makes you somewhat happy during these crazy times! Please be safe and don’t forget, wash your hands! (:

The house next door to Chris had been vacant for quite some time and he honestly didn’t even know it had sold.

Until now.

“Dammit.” You groaned to yourself as your books broke through the bottom of the box, falling to the ground.

All you could do was look up and let out a sigh. From driving all night, you were exhausted, stressed and beyond annoyed.

Chris had just finished changing his shirt when he heard the loud ruckus that came from outside, quickly catching his attention.

He watched you for a quick moment before Dodger snapped him back to reality after he bumped into his leg.

“Hey buddy.” He muttered, glancing back at you through the window.

You were struggle to push the broken box to your door. To get it out of the way.

Chris couldn’t help but feel bad. Without a moment to process what he was about to do, he started toward the door, making his way over to you.

It didn’t take long for him to walk over due to being literal next door neighbors. But finally getting to see you clearer he was captivated. Drawn into you for a reason he wasn’t sure as to why.

“Um hey, need some extra hands?”

The voice came from behind you, startling you. “Shit!” You exclaimed, holding your chest with your hand. “You scared me!”

You cut the word short once your eyes met his, suddenly, you were at loss for words.

“I—I’m so sorry.” He muttered. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I was—“ he stopped when he noticed your expression, one he has seen too many times on fans faces.

He didn’t mind really, but sometimes he wished he wasn’t so recognizable.

“You seemed like you needed a hand.” He flashed a smirk.

Swallowing hard, toy forced yourself to snap out of whatever the hell you were lost in. Which was harder than you thought.

“T-Thank you. But I’m okay.” You managed to get out. “I’m Y/N by the way.”

Chris’ lips curved at the edges, forming a soft smile. “Chris. It’s nice to meet you.”

As if you didn’t know who he was.

You tried to collect yourself and return back to moving the box full of books. But unfortunately, it was useless. With it falling apart and the weight of it all, you were having a hard time.

“Are you sure you don’t want any help?” He asked, his hands deep in his front pockets. “It kind of looks like you’re struggling.”

“Struggle is my middle name.”

Immediately, you winced are how horrible that joke was, which only created Chris to chuckle.

You knew having help would make things a lot easier, but you didn’t want to come off as creepy, mainly because you knew you’d probably stare too much or say the wrong things. It’s not everyday you move next door to your celebrity crush.

This whole thing felt like a fan fiction. Which you read from time to time whenever you got tired of the real world.

So it was hard to look him in the eyes and pretend to be cool about the fact that he was your neighbor. Of all people.

“I really am ok—“ before you could finish your sentence, the books fell through the box once again, but this time, one of them landed on your foot.

“Shit!!” You grunted.

Chris strode over to you in an instant, and helped you set the box down.

His hand grazed against yours, and for a moment, you forgot about the pain. Until you shifted in your stance.

“Damn, that’s going to leave a bruise.” You hissed.

Chris couldn’t help but start to laugh. As hard as he tried to hold it in, he couldn’t control it. Before you knew it, you were both standing in your driveway, laughing.

“Great way to break the ice, right?” You cackled.

“Definitely. One hell of a way to meet your neighbor.” He said with a cheeky grin.

You let out a soft sigh, and finally caved. Nothing could be worse than that right? Besides, you’ll be too busy walking back and forth, there won’t be time to talk or embarrass yourself even more for that matter.

“So about that extra hand?”

He nodded and went straight for the box you unsuccessfully moved.

“Where would you like me to put these?” He asked.

“Um anywhere is fine. Thank you.”

He flashed yet another smile and made his way inside, and suddenly you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

‘Holy shit. Chris Evans is my fucking neighbor?!’ You thought you yourself. ‘Okay, be cool Y/N. Don’t be weird.’

As time went on, you were both going back and forth, transferring the boxes into the house. You shared a few glances here and there, and when you would catch each other’s eyes, you couldn’t help but grow bashful and quickly look away.

Feeling like a teenage girl all over again.

Chris on the other hand, he was amused by the way he made you fluster. It was something he was used to experiencing with some fans he encountered, but there was something different when you did it.

After a while, you had small conversations here and there. It started with talking about the weather, then turned into something a little more intimate.

He had asked you about your life, your hobbies, your dreams. And the way you talked about the thing a you loved, he was somehow drawn in even more.

You were funny, and not just in a typical way. It was the one where the laughter rolls up in your chest and bursts out without any restraint.

Talking to him, it almost felt effortless. The words kept slipping through and fell into place. You managed not to screw up.

“I had no idea people still liked the Backstreet Boys.” He chuckled, pointing to your shirt.

“Hey, dont hate on my boys. They have been with me through a lot of relationships and heart breaks.”

He chuckled once again, leaning against your truck, he arms crossed over his chest.

You couldn’t help but get lost in those damn beautiful blue eyes, that you didn’t realize you had unloaded all of the boxes.

“Oh damn, we did it.” You smiled, feeling relieved to have that part done with. “And now all that’s left to do is unpack those damn boxes.”

“But that’s the best part.” He said. “You get to set up everything the way you like and reminisce on all the random crap you find.”

“That’s true. But I’m too sober to get into that mess.” You chuckled.

He knew he should call it a day and let you be, but he wasn’t ready to say bye just yet. He wasn’t ready to walk away.

“Well, let’s crack open some beers and maybe order some pizza while we’re at it.”

You were taken aback by his words, you weren’t sure if you actually heard him right.

“Wait, what?”

“Come on, I’ve helped you this long. Might as well help you finish.”

You snorted and chuckled at the same time, shaking your head.

“What’s so funny?” He asked.

“I’m sorry, I just have a very dirty mind, and well—“

He paused for a moment before putting two and two together and laughing along with you. “I mean, you could at least take me out on a first date before hitting on me.” He winked.

In that moment, you swore you felt your knees wobble and your breath hitch to the back of your throat.

‘Did he just flirt with me?’

“Trust me, you’d know if I were hitting on you. I’d use some of my famous pick up lines.” You said, feeling a tad confident in that moment. “And besides, I don’t think you could handle me anyway.”

Things were intense between you two. Tension so thick, you could cut it with a knife. But after a long moment of locking his gaze on you, Chris cleared his throat and laughed it off.

“I have some beers at my place I can bring over, and I could order us some food.”

You shook your head no and pulled your phone out of your back pocket. “You literally saved my ass today, the least I could do is buy you food. Pay you for your service or whatever.”

A smirk formed on his lips, “are you calling me a hooker?”

“What? No! I wasn’t! I was just—no. I’m sorry if—“

Chris could see the panic in your eyes and stopped you before you rambled on. “Hey, it’s okay! I was kidding!” He cackled. “I know what you meant. Don’t worry.”

Letting out a sigh, you could feel heat begin to radiate off your body. This is what true embarrassment felt like. Something you were definitely used to since all you ever do is make a fool of yourself.

“I’ll be back. I’m gonna check up on my dog and grab some beer for us.” He said. “Then we can get started on unpacking all of your dark secrets.”

Before you could say anything, he turned on his heels and walked back to his house, leaving you to yourself.

“So much for focusing on myself. How the hell am I suppose to focus when he is my freakin neighbor?!” You mumbled to yourself. Walking back to your house.

Chris was immediately greeted by Dodger the second he opened the door, and his brother Scott who was staying with him for a bit.

“Who’s that?” He asked, pointing out the window. “Because she’s cute.”

“Her name is Y/N. She just moved in—obviously. And please don’t start.”

Scott presses his hands to his chest, pretending to be offended. “Start what? I’m just innocently asking who she is. That’s all.”

“Scott, there’s nothing innocent about you.”

His little brother chuckled and shrugged. “You have a point.”

“Well if you’re done, I am going to grab some drinks and head back to her place.”

“Oh? You two are drinking together already?! Christopher! At least take the girl out on a proper date.”

Chris rolled his eyes as he made his way over to his kitchen. This wasn’t something he wanted to get into at that moment. Especially with his brother.

But he knew he wouldn’t let it go. That wasn’t in his nature.

“She seems like she needs a friend, that’s it.” Chris muttered. “Now let’s drop this okay? Besides, I am in no rush to get into another relationship. I am doing just fine with the way things are.”

Scott pursed his lips, not believing a single word his brother said, but he wasn’t going to push it. “Whatever you say, bro. Just don’t run to me when you start catching feelings, okay?”

“I won’t. Don’t worry.” He chuckled, as he grabbed a six pack of beer from his fridge. “I’ll just be next door, if you need anything.”

“Mhmm.”

As he started back to your place, he kept mumbling to himself, that this was purely platonic. This can’t turn into anything, it just can’t.

And for the most part, he truly believed he had nothing to worry about. But as months come and gone, and you two grew closer each day....

He soon realized just how wrong he was.

——

Chapter Two

#i was bored #im sorry if this sucked #but i think im going to make another part #marvel #chris evans #steve rogers #marveledit #marvel imagine #the avengers #marvel fanfiction #mcu #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #cevans #andy barber #chris evans x female reader #fanfiction #imagines #fanfic

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gayskywalkcrs · 3 years

Note

56. “I could’ve died and you couldn’t have cared less.” - Fox and Cody

HELLO yes absolutely!! here you go, my love.

(prompts)

words: 3431

notes: stitch, sketch, and zaisam are my ocs. other random clones you don’t recognise are probably some that i made up on the spot, just to avoid killing anyone else you guys are emotionally attached to.

Fox is dreaming. He has to be, because he feels safe, and he's never felt safe on Coruscant before. There's always a creeping feeling of something wrong, like a hand on the back of his neck, or of fingers digging into his mind. For the first time since leaving Kamino as a child, he feels genuinely safe.

It scares him.

He's dreaming that he's back in the Guard barracks, strangely comforting, though sparse as they are. There's a makeshift rug by the beds, made out of old blacks that were too worn out to wear anymore. Fox is lying on his bed, head in Thire's lap as his brother rests his back on the wall. He's running his ungloved hands through Fox's curls, gently untangling the knots that have accumulated under his helmet. Fox has never felt so relaxed in his life, and even in his dreaming state he is close to tears.

"I'm tired," Fox whispers, and Thire hums in agreement.

"You don't sleep enough, ori'vod," Thire laughs quietly, working his fingers through a particularly stubborn knot that's gathered itself in the grey at Fox's temples. "Lean on the rest of us. We can take some of your work."

"It's not just that," Fox says, stretching his arms in the air. He nearly hits Thire in the face, and they both giggle. "I'm so bone-tired all the goddamn time, vod. When we took leave the other month I couldn't remember any of it. I found bruises I don't remember getting. The medics say it's stress, but this is... this is different."

"You've had memory problems?" Thire asks, hands stilling.

Fox tenses as the atmosphere of the dream shifts. "Small lapses," he backtracks. "Just headaches. I'm not defective." His voice is more harsh than it has any right to be with Thire.

"I never said you were," Thire says carefully. "I've had them too."

"You have?" Fox is surprised - Thire is so capable, so reliable, it'd never even occurred to him that his own problems might be shared. "How much?"

"Rarely," Thire says, gently pushing Fox's head back down into his lap. "I'll be missing a couple of hours of a shift sometimes. It's usually whenever I pull doubles."

"Maybe the medics are right," Fox sighs, rubbing his eyes. "We're all kriffing overworked."

Thire laughs again, but this is a deep, rumbling sound. "You can say that again," he quips, and Fox grins. He opens his mouth to actually say it again, but Thire swats at his forehead. The grin on his brother's face is so genuinely happy that it makes Fox's heart clench, even as he's dreaming. His face falls.

"What's wrong, ori'vod?" Thire asks, looking concerned. "Fox?"

Fox's throat closes up, and he swallows his grief down. "I miss you," he says, voice cracking, and Thire frowns.

"Why?" He asks. "I'm right here."

"No you're not," Fox says, certain as anything, and closes his eyes. When he opens them, Thire's face has shifted: his hair is shorter, his face younger, yet edged with more grief than Thire had ever carried. Fives stares down at him, face contorted in fear. His hands are clenched tight in Fox's hair, and he lets out a high whine of terror, like a wounded animal.

"Fives," Fox gasps, staring into the face of the brother he'd never really known.

"Fox," gasps Fives, hunched over. Fox sits up, heedless of the hands in his hair, and Fives lets go. He brings his hands to his chest and Fox stares in horror as Fives' cuirass starts to smoke. "Why didn't you set it to stun?"

"Wh - Fives, what's happening?" Fox panics, hands frantically trying to hold his brother's chest together.

"Don't you remember?" Fives wheezes, collapsing slowly onto the floor. The bed is gone, and they're in the underbelly of Coruscant. "You shot me."

"Fives!" Comes Rex's anguished shout from behind General Skywalker's stubborn arm. "Force, Fives! Stay with me, brother!"

"Rex," Fives whispers, but Skywalker doesn't let Rex past. Fives is coughing and mumbling and dying in Fox's arms, and Fox comes to a horrible realisation this this dream seems familiar. He's played this out before, the blaster smoking in his hands, Fives dead on the floor, Rex crying as the final Domino falls, face blotchy and red, and then it's Fox's head in Rex's lap, and Rex is calling his name -

"Fox!"

Fox tries to move his arms, hoping he can somehow comfort Rex, but his arms are tied to the bed, and - since when was he in a bed?

Fox opens his eyes.

A brother's face comes into view, fading slowly into focus like a rock in a river. Fox thinks it's Rex, only for a second, but this brother's hair is dark, and there's a scar wrapped around his eye.

"Cody," Fox says, relieved.

"Fox," Cody says, furious.

Ah, shit.

Cody, clad in full armour, helmet held dutifully under one arm, stands up and grabs the first medic he can see - a tired clone, clearly awake entirely on caf at this point, and drags him to Fox's bedside.

"Good morning, Commander," says the medic. Fox notes his dreadlocks, tied back into a style that suits him quite well, actually, and nods in acknowledgement. "I'm Stitch, and I'm just gonna check you for a concussion, okay?"

"He's fucking fine," Cody snaps. "Discharge him already."

Stitch turns, frown deepening. "Marshall Commander or not, this is my medbay," he snaps. "I decide when the patients are released, and Commander Fox is not going anywhere yet."

Cody folds his arms, his Commander glare strong enough to kill a man, but Stitch isn't having any of it. Fox heard a brother say once that Hell hath no fury like a medic ignored, and looking at Stitch he's inclined to agree.

"If you hate it here so much you can either go and do some paperwork or whatever it is you soldiers do, or you can go grab us both some caf. Sir," he adds, seeming to remember he's talking to Marshall Commander Cody, not one of those idiot shinies he's obviously so used to dealing with.

There's a small laugh from further down the ward, and Stitch and Cody send matching glares in the general direction of the culprit. Fox feels sorry for whichever brother is currently in that bed, but before he can think too much about it Stitch is handing Cody an ID card.

"Use this to get the caf," Stitch says. "The Generals get the good stuff."

"Does General... Zaisam know you've got his card?" Cody asks, peering at the writing.

"Absolutely," Stitch nods, grabbing a rather intimidating-looking little torch. "Gave it to me himself."

Cody looks unconvinced, but holds it in his fist like it's the key to eternal salvation. Fox looks hopefully up at Stitch, who shakes his head.

"Sorry, Sir," the medic says, shaking his head. "You're on water only, at least until you've slept for a solid eight hours."

Fox doesn't think he's slept for a solid eight hours in his entire life.

Cody sends one last glare to Fox, then stands up and walks stiffly out the door. Stitch stares after him, eyes glazing over for a second.

"That man controls two-thirds of the Grand Army of the Republic," he says slowly, "and I've just sent him to get coffee."

The voice from earlier laughs again, and Stitch turns around, brandishing the torch like a weapon. Fox almost considers laughing too, but Stitch does not seem like a man he'd want to cross.

"Shut your di'kut mouth, Sketch, or I'll sedate you," Stitch snaps. Fox winces, but this makes the other clone laugh harder.

"I literally outrank you," says the voice, presumably Sketch.

"Not in my medbay you don't," Stitch shoots back. "Now shut up and go to sleep. Your blaster wound isn't gonna heal itself."

"Yessir," Sketch calls, and Fox can imagine the half-assed, sarcastic salute the man is pulling off. Stitch shakes his head, glowering, then shines his torch directly into Fox's eyes.

"Bloody snipers," Stitch mutters. "Think they know everything." Fox hums in agreement, wincing at the brightness of the torch. Stitch gently tilts his chin, looking at his eyes again. The medic carries an air of softness that doesn't quite seem to fit with how much he glares and snaps at the others, but Fox isn't complaining.

"You don't look concussed," Stitch concludes. "What's your name?"

"Commander Fox," Fox parrots dutifully. "CC-1010."

"Correct," Stitch says, tapping at his Padd. "Next question. What day is it?"

"Ah," Fox says. "Last time I checked it was... Primeday, I think."

Stitch lets out a hiss of air. He nods, and taps something else into his Padd. He mouths the words "memory loss", and Fox sighs internally. "It's Benduday now," he informs the Commander. "Last question for now. How's your head feeling?"

Fox tries to bring a hand up to feel it, but they don't lift more than a centimetre off the bed. He'd assumed that the restraints he'd felt in his dream were just that - a dream - but apparently he has no such luck.

"Fine," he says warily. "I don't think I'm concussed, trooper. Why, should I be?"

Stitch shrugs. "You've just had brain surgery," he points out. "And you took a pretty nasty knock to the head just before that. Concussions can last for up to about a tenday, so I thought I'd check."

Fox stiffens.

"I've had what?"

"Brain surgery, Sir," Stitch repeats, fiddling with a handheld scanner. He points it at Fox's forehead and pulls some kind of trigger, then blinks at the readings. "Performed it myself. You've got a lovely brain, if I may say so. Very wrinkly."

Fox stares at him, then decides to focus on the last piece of information. It seems easiest to deal with.

"Is that... good?" He asks weakly. “Having a wrinkly brain?”

Stitch nods, then thumps the scanner against his hand a couple of times. "A wrinkly brain means you're smarter," he says. "Unlike the good Lieutenant down there, whose brain is smooth as a kriffing pebble."

"Smooth as the hull of the Resolute," Sketch calls cheerfully, and Stitch shakes his head.

"Stop eavesdropping on my patients!" He calls, then turns back to Fox. "As for who authorised the surgery... You'd better wait for Commander Cody to come back. I'm not supposed to talk to you about it."

"It's my kriffing brain!" Fox cries, straining against the restraints. "Why the hell would you just give me brain surgery?"

"You have to wait for the Commander," Stitch repeats, and Fox thinks he looks a little nervous. "Please calm down, Sir. You're okay. We didn't harm you."

"I don't kriffing care about that, I want to know why you peeled my skull open without my permission!"

"Wait for the Commander," Stitch says for the third time, and Fox is just about ready to scream. "He's the one who you need to talk to about this. I'm just the poor bastard with the scalpel. If it helps, you have a wonderful prefrontal cortex."

Fox raises his eyebrows at the last comment, but sits back down on the bed. "Fine," he relents. "Where the kriffing hell is Cody, anyway?"

"Right here," Cody calls, rounding the corner. His helmet is on his head, and he carries a cup of caf in each hand. He reaches the bedside and gives one to Stitch, who looks down at it and sniffs. Stitch winces, then downs half of it in one go. Cody stares in what is, to Fox, an obvious combination of awe, disgust, and admiration.

Stitch shrugs, then raises an eyebrow. "I don't fear God," he says.

"Seven Sith Hells," Cody mutters, then sits back down in the chair he'd been in when Fox first woke up. He takes his helmet off and sips at his caf. "What's the verdict?"

"No concussion," Stitch confirms. "A little memory loss, not to do with the anaesthesia or the surgery. His skull's recovering alright, brain all seems good. Like I said, he's got a lovely prefrontal cortex. His amygdala is even better, but the hippocampus could do with some work."

"I'll take that under advisement," Fox snarks, and Cody glares, folding his arms.

"Stay focused, trooper," he orders. "What else?"

"Memory problems," Stitch says again. "He woke up thinking it was Primeday, which means he's lost two days before the surgery. It was yesterday," he adds, for Fox's benefit. "I'm not letting him out until Centaxday at the very least, Sir, so anything you want to say you'll have to say in here. I can give you a little privacy, but he's my patient and by the Force I am going to make sure he's okay." The look of absolute determination on the medic's tired face makes Fox feel strangely cared for. Cody glares.

"Fine," he spits. "But you make sure that trooper down the hall doesn't hear us."

"Got it," Stitch nods. "I've been looking for an excuse to sedate him."

Fox can't quite tell if he's joking.

Stitch downs the rest of his caf, raising the cup to Cody as a thank you. Cody gives him General Zaisam's ID card back, and Stitch produces a cup of water for Fox from Force knows where. "Drink it slowly," he instructs. "You'll make yourself sick if you don't, and the less vomit I have to clean up today the better."

Fox nods, and he and Cody watch Stitch leave. He draws the curtain behind him, and Fox turns to look at his brother.

Cody looks more tired than Fox has ever seen him. More tired than he had after Kenobi's pretend death at the hands of Hardeen, and Fox is more than aware of how badly that affected him. He looks like a tempest, hands clenching and relaxing with barely-contained fury.

"What have I done?" Fox asks softly, and there's no emotion behind it.

Cody's head shoots up. "How'd you - how?"

Fox shrugs as best he can. "I woke up to find my hands tied to the bed. I can't remember anything for the past week. You keep looking at me like you want to tear my throat out with your bare hands. I've had brain surgery, for fuck's sake. It's not a hard conclusion to come to."

"You really remember nothing?" Cody asks, and he can't quite meet Fox's eyes.

With a thrill of fear, Fox shakes his head. "Last I remember was pulling a double when one of my Guard was sick. I always get tired on doubles."

Cody nods, then puts his head in his hands. He breathes deeply, and sighs. "You... Force, I'm sorry, there's no easy way to say this - Fox, you're under arrest for treason against the Republic. You're also under arrest on suspicion of murdering the Chancellor, four members of the Coruscant Guard, and ARC Trooper Fives."

The bottom of Fox's stomach falls out, and he gasps, breathing heavily.

"I - shit, I killed six people?" He whispers. "I killed the Chancellor?"

"Nearly seven," Cody says, and brings a hand up to pull down the collar of his blacks. There's an awful looking cut across his throat, obviously made by a vibroblade. "Four others are in bacta tanks. What the hell happened to you?"

Fox bites his lip and stares at the sheet covering his legs. He killed the Chancellor. The very man he was created to protect. His whole existence, his duty, his entire life, is centred around keeping the Chancellor alive, and he killed him?

Fox doesn't know what to do.

He looks up at Cody, face pale. "I don't remember," he whispers. "I'm so sorry."

""Sorry" is not going to bring Thire back," Cody snaps, and Fox goes dizzy.

When he comes back to himself, he's hyperventilating. Cody is glaring at him, the cut on his neck still exposed. Fox is crying, trying to gasp in deep, shuddering breaths, hands wrenching at the bindings that the him to the bed. "Please tell me you're joking," he whimpers through his tears. "Please. Not Thire."

Cody shakes his head, making no move to try to calm Fox down. "Stone and Hound are in bacta tanks," he continues relentlessly. "Stone has six blaster bolts to the chest. They don't think he's going to make it. Hound took a vibroblade to the thigh and very nearly bled out."

Fox flinches. "Who... who else did I... who else did I..." He can't bring himself to say it, as if saying the words would make it more true than it already is.

"Who else did you kill?" Cody spits. "Crow, Spanner, and one of those shinies that got assigned here a tenday ago. He didn't even have a name!"

That hurts almost as badly as Thire. Fox knows exactly which group of shinies Cody is talking about. A group of eight year olds, fresh from Kamino, all of them just a little too small to fit into their standard armour. Only one of them had a name, and he'd chosen it on the way to Coruscant.

"Parallel, Sir!" He'd introduced himself, saluting smartly.

"Parallel?" Fox had asked.

"I copy noises sometimes. Helps keep me calm. The others wanted to call me Copy, but that got a bit difficult on comms. General Ti suggested Parallel."

Fox had nodded, clapping a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Good luck to the rest of you," he'd said, receiving a small sea of determined smiles in return.

"He was just a kid," Fox whispers. "Fuck, Cody, and I killed him?"

Cody nods. There's not even a trace of sympathy in his eyes. "You were insane," he says. "Covered in the Chancellor's blood, face blank - you didn't recognise any of us."

Fox shakes his head, feeling the tears trickle under his chin. It feels bad. He's not sure what to say - anything he says, or anything he doesn't say, will make Cody angry. The anger is inevitable. And fuck if Fox doesn't deserve it.

He keeps pulling at his restraints, not trying to escape, but trying to ground himself. He can't focus: all his thoughts are on Thire. Thire, who he'd dreamed of, who'd had his hands in Fox's hair. Thire who had looked at him with so much love in his eyes, who'd never been anything less than steadfast and loyal, and Fox had killed him. Worst of all, he thinks, is that he didn't even remember doing it.

"Tell me what I did," Fox begs, voice cracking around the lump in his throat. "Please."

Cody leans forward in his chair, settling his elbows on his knees. "Two days ago," he starts, anger colouring his voice, "you disappeared in the middle of a shift. Security footage shows you took a comm, then made a beeline for the Chancellor's office. He wasn't expecting you, and he turned to kick you out, and - and you pulled a slugthrower on him and shot him six times in the chest, then four more in the head. Then you just... stood there.

"Thire was first to respond. He heard the shots and came to see what was happening. He saw you with the 'thrower, standing over the Chancellor's body, and called for backup. You took him out without even a second glance. When Stone and Hound got there you took them both out almost as quickly as Thire. Stone first, with your blaster, and Hound managed to get that and the 'thrower away from you, and you stabbed him in response.

“I came in with the rest. You weren't responding to any of us. You just attacked us, crushed that shiny's head into the wall like he was made of paper. Crow was next, then Spanner. Both were quick, at least. The rest of us were all pretty badly hurt. You slit my throat, Fox."

Fox is numb and unresponsive. So much death, so much destruction, and he doesn't remember any -

"Order 65," he whispers. "Cody, Cody, I remember. Order 65 states that should the Chancellor be declared unfit to rule, any available troops should detain the new Chancellor by any means necessary, including with lethal force. It got mixed up somehow."

""Mixed up"?" Cody snaps, disgusted. "Fox, you could've killed me! I could’ve died and you couldn’t have cared less.”

“Of course I care,” Fox shoots back, eyes locked on Cody’s throat, but there’s not enough truth behind the words. If what Cody says is true, then Fox wouldn’t have cared. “Fives was right,” Fox realises. “Fives was right.”

Cody wipes tears from his own eyes, standing up fast. He downs his own coffee, slams his bucket on his head and walks out. Fox is left staring at the door, and he’s sure he can feel the blood on his hands.

#rowan writes #the clone wars #commander cody #commander fox #angst #angst prompts #star wars

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cultureisdarkbeer · 3 years

Text

In Season 8, Mulder returned to a world turned upside down. This is the story of how he worked his way back into Scully's arms.

*NEW* Chapter 4 - Does Scully want to be more than friends with Mulder? Does Mulder have the courage to ask? *Reader Discretion Advised*

Read Full Chapter Here

“Thank you for driving me home,” Scully said, as they pulled onto the street and towards her apartment.

Mulder twisted his hand around the faux leather of the steering wheel. “Thank you for attending my therapy session. What did you two talk about in there?” He tried to sound cool, but his eagerness was not lost on Scully.

“Reviewed different techniques, how I could be more supportive.”

Mulder tilted his head. “Sometimes, the flashbacks, nightmares, and anxiety attacks seemed to be subsiding. Almost as if my mental trauma is healing with my physical wounds. Then others, it is like I just got off the ship.”

“No one should expect you to heal at any pace, Mulder. He said it should take at least three months before you might begin to feel progress.. but Mulder, however long it takes, or even if you always have certain anxieties, depression, that’s okay. There is no right and wrong.”

Mulder didn’t know how to respond so he simply nodded. If only it was as simple as time passing or even the acceptance that time couldn’t be rewound, but there was more. A lot more.

The rest of the drive was met with a comfortable silence. It was so quiet he wondered if she’d fallen asleep. A quick glance in her direction revealed her eyes were closed, then, as if feeling his gaze, she opened them and a small smile curved her lips. She reached out and grasped his hand before once again closing her eyes. Did he just hear her sigh? Mulder considered how Scully seemed more willing than ever to follow him. Now, she seemed invested, even with her interest in helping him work through his trauma. It couldn’t be that her interest in helping him was only in relation to their shared past, their friendship. So many weeks had passed for her and so much of her life he had missed. Did he have a right to demand she make a choice? Did he have it in him to take that leap of faith and put himself out there? Was he just going to sit there and let another night go by without even asking? Just let her walk into that apartment without saying anything?

When they pulled up to Scully’s apartment, Mulder gathered up some courage and asked, “Do you still have my files on your laptop? When I was searching through the archives today I didn’t see them and I had some on my hard drive that left with my computer.”

“Actually, they took my laptop as well… buuuuut, I did have a backup hard drive and I was able to reload it into my new laptop.” Scully gave him a smile that sent a cascading warmth through his insides. “Come on up and get what you need.”

Don’t tempt me Scully.

Once inside, Scully took off her coat and headed to the bathroom. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a shower. Feel free to use my laptop. You already know the password.”

Pushing the image of Scully standing under a hot steaming shower naked and wet out of his mind, Mulder headed straight to her desk and sat down on the hard backed wood chair. A couple swipes at the keyboard and a quick search and Mulder was faced with two folders with his name on it. He considered doing a round of eenie meenie, but in the end just clicked on the top folder. The file names were all dates. In fact there was a file for every day going as far back as a week after his abduction. It had his name on it, so he picked one at random and opened it.

Mulder,

I have to believe you’re out there, alive. That belief is what keeps me moving, keeps me taking those leaps to solve the next X-File. I miss you with every breath, and I refuse to give up hope. We will be together.

Today’s case led us to Indiana, you’re going to laugh when you hear what I told Doggett….

He closed that file and opened another. He didn’t want to know about her and Doggett. There were more, lots more, covering cases, days off, shopping, hospital visits. Mulder couldn’t read fast enough and couldn’t stop either. He opened one dated during the time he was buried in the ground. It read:

Mulder,

Some days I question why I continue writing to you. In the beginning I believe it was because I didn’t want to let go. Other days it felt like you were closer when I did, like somehow, you could still hear me. Now maybe I write them so my baby may one day read them and know what you meant to me, what our relationship was like so one day they might be blessed to find the same. I prayed daily for your return and lately, I pray even harder.

I was going through my old answering machine tapes, my voicemails from my cell. I decided to take all the ones I have and put them on a cassette tape so the baby can hear your voice, know what you sounded like when I tell them about you. Tell them of the love of my life, my perfect other, and how I found him and how he gave his life for us, so that we may live.

I spoke in the past about driving in our endless straight line and now that I can look back on it with a clear mind, I understand that night in Oregon when you said it had to end sometime, in essence, you were throwing me out of the car.

I became pregnant with the full intent to raise this child on my own, to take on the full responsibility. Marriage was nothing I ever strived for even if the possibility of being married never strayed. I put myself, my career, the work, before those things. It was something that might or could, but nothing I truly needed. Now, when I look in the mirror, I know, you were the only one I would have ever considered that kind of commitment with. Now, that chapter of my life is forever closed without ever being written. You were my partner Mulder, in work, in love, in life.

“Did you find what you were searching for?” Scully said, and Mulder practically jumped right out of his skin. He spun in the chair and stood to face her. His fears turned to joy. She was beautiful, radiant, standing there in her robe, casually drying her crimson locks with a towel. And those legs, those little legs, and how they felt wrapped around him… Scully in love.. with him . His heart swelled, lighting him from head to toe, spreading warmth in its wake. A kaleidoscope of emotions ran over every part of him like a raging river, healing the cracks, filling and overflowing the voids.

“Yes,” he replied, his voice low as he barely got the sound out. He had found exactly what he was searching for. He cupped her face as she searched his eyes. He watched the desire that raged in him ignite inside her. Losing that last thread of restraint, he tilted her head up towards him and his lips crashed on top of hers, his tongue plunging into her mouth, his jaw rocking in time with hers, their kisses desperate, almost frantic.

Despite the insatiable hunger he felt, he pulled back to judge her reaction. Her eyes were soft in their gaze, but then her lids lowered and her eyes transformed to blue steel. Before he was able to speak, her fingers were in his hair, pulling him back down, kissing him hard, deep, unleashing unrestrained need and a passion that sent the crown of his cock swelling and brushing the seam of his boxers.

Mulder groaned and gently pushed her away before it went any further. “Is it safe to..”

“The doctor has me on no restrictions,” she answered back hastily. “I just don’t want to move too fast for you. I want you to be ready.”

Mulder laced his hands through her amber locks, knocking her towel to the floor, kissing her again as his pent up feelings burst inside his chest, exploring her mouth, entwining their tongues, caressing her face.

He felt her fingers at his waistband, undoing his button and fly..

“Scully,” he whispered against her mouth and her hand cupped his bare erection. Skin on skin. Pleasure surged in his nerve endings and throbbed in his veins. “There’s not a part of me that didn’t miss this.”

Fuck . Scully closed her grip around his cock and stroked the sleek hot steel up and down. Mulder breathed hard and Scully moaned.

“Let’s go to bed,” she said in a heady rush of impatience.

They kissed their way down the hall, Mulder almost tripping as he had to slouch as they walked to keep them from separating, Pulling off his shirt, hopping on one leg as he stripped off his pants.

The way Scully’s eyes widened when he took off his boxers and freed his cock made him feel ten feet tall. She gave out a warning when he removed her robe that “her body had changed,” and he replied as honestly as he could. “Scully, I’m harder than a male porn star on his first day of work. Yes, it’s because it’s you, but it’s also because you’re more beautiful than the last time I laid eyes on you.”

Scully’s cheeks blushed and her pupils dilated. He matched her smile, both of them recognizing how much was at stake, and how much they both needed this. She turned away from him and he helped her remove her robe. He combed the soft strands of her hair to expose her exquisite neck, trailing soft kisses up the sensitive skin, leaving a wake of raised flesh.

His hands traveled down her body, reacquainting with her new curves: her breasts, her waist, her ass. Soft noises released from the back of Scully’s throat as his fingers brushed over the inside of her thighs. Lust surged through him at the sound, and his length nuzzled the small of her back. Scully gripped the footboard of the bed.

She ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “Mulder, please, I want you inside me.”

Her insistence only made him grow harder, but he knew it wasn’t a sprint. “H-how.. What would be most comfortable for you?”

“I think on the bed, on my knees. I can hold onto the footboard, the headboard is a little too high, and if I lean forward… What?”

“Nothing,” Mulder said, but he couldn’t prevent the upturn of his lips. “It’s.. well, you’ve given this some thought.”

Scully lifted a brow. “During that second trimester, you have no idea.”

He helped her onto the bed and followed close behind, holding his hands at her waist. Scully spread her legs and his tip grazed her. Scully looked back at him. “Easy, Mulder.”

On her knees, and hunched forward, her ass in full glorious view, Mulder gripped his length, lined them up, and hesitantly pushed in.

“Oh God, Mulder,” he heard Scully moan.

Sharp pleasure bolted through him. “I know. You’re incredible.”

Easing back, slowly he pushed in again, a couple more inches before easing back again.

“More, Mulder,” Scully gasped, reaching back, her fingers finding his hair, tugging and twisting. “Faster.”

He was so worried about hurting her, but his excitement built and her tight, wet warmth around him only hastened it. He groaned and flexed his hips as another wave of pleasure hit him. She felt so good. The sight of them joining almost too much. This was Scully. They were finally together.

Soon they found a languid pace, her hips doing most of the work, him aiding her movement, pulling it out and letting her push back on him to the depth she craved. Until her knuckles whitened against the footboard. “God, Mulder. I really missed you.” Her walls pulsed and squeezed him tight and he groaned.

With a few light thrusts her body heated and swelled snug around his cock. It made them slide easier, faster. Scully’s jaw went slack as her eyes closed, tightening as she pushed back against him. Her breath was ragged and he could see her concentrating on her movements. It was intense and exquisite and the feelings produced inside him made Mulder moan louder.

He closed his eyes and tightened his fingers on her hips, losing himself in the feeling. Again and again, more and more. He missed everything about this. Her legs tensed and he felt her sucking him further inside. He remembered that feeling. She was close. A few determined thrusts and she cried out, her muscles pulsing hard and rhythmically around him. Mulder’s forehead leaned into her shoulder and he reached for the footboard, covering her hand with his as he shouted, pouring his soul, his love, into her.

“Scully, Scully.” He kept coming, for what seemed like an eternity. It left him spent and shaky. He had to catch himself for a moment, relishing in the feel, and calming his heart. “Everything okay?” As he asked her he could hear the deep octaves in his own voice.

“Mulder,” she breathed out and her blue eyes sparkled at him.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the sated look on her face as she made her way to the bathroom. When she returned, he helped her back onto the bed.

They stared into each other’s eyes as they laid on their sides face to face. Scully softly caressed his cheek and he mellowed into the feeling of her fingertips across his stubble. He pressed his face into her touch, drowning in it. Mulder leaned over, his lips a breath away from hers, and he stopped to feel their familiar pull. An attraction like no other. Scully raised her face to his, brushing his lips lightly, coaxing him. He kissed her even softer in return, teasing her like she did him until her mouth opened and he could taste her. Scully moaned quietly at the contact. Not knowing exactly what to do with his hand, he used it to prop up his head, the other he ran gently into her hair, stroking it softly.

Without words she tucked her head under his chin, her nose nuzzling his Adam's apple. Scully curled into his torso while he rubbed her back, pulling her carefully towards him until the bump of her belly rested against his tight rippled abs. From through the window he could see the last vestiges of light, painting the sky in orange and reds. White contrails highlighting the color in soft wisps.

He was the only one she would ever consider marrying.

Elation washed over his body. I would marry you, Scully. And raise that baby as mine, no matter how it started its life.

As if he had said it aloud she stirred and opened her eyes. He kissed her forehead once more and returned her drowsy smile. Tugging the comforter over her, they snuggled into their cocoon. Scully’s eyes closed and she mumbled right before her breathing evened out, “Don’t go, Mulder.”

I don’t plan on it, Scully. Not ever.

Thank you @ms31x129 for all the beautiful fanart and your beta work

Thank you @today-in-fic for everything you do for us and the fandom

Tagging friends @babygirlmulder1018 @kyouryokusenshi @bbbway @kblackm @borogirl @dontunderestimateawoman @mulderandscullylover2016 @karinanic @motedeweatherly128 @didhehavealightsaber @scullllaaaay @radioactivefish @whyle23 @aquilla27 @justbeachy42 @jaina01 @muldermakesmehorny @season4mulder @tinydi0sa @ombradellaluna @agertiegirl @improlificinsarcasm @xfimnotdone @its-for-you-have-a-cigar @xfilesobsessed22 @edierone @sculderfan @meg4nnn @spooky-fox-1996 @wolfishlyintimate @yaraswhy @scullyfan43 @chippedcup @kiwiphroot @enigmaticxbee @ombradellaluna @furiouskidcollectorlove @catherine-08 @ednitag @pacyt @scully-yeah-run @danaedaniels @secretstarfishgalaxy @amyg2430 @rosedyl @postmodernpromartheus @borogirl @bakerstreetlady @rebecca @haya661 @themarybfiles @masha2341 @impulsive-astrophile @iwanttorememberhowitallwas @knowleitall-super-soldier @gchick1013 @gillywitch @baly87 @veromar23 @alienbaby-babymama @i-turn-to-stare @jaina01 @sandymans-world

#xf #xf fic #Road to All Things #txf fanfic #txf fanart #txf #xfiles #x files #mulder and scully #msr #xfiles fanfic #todayinfic

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itsclydebitches · 5 years

Text

Discredit Pt. 2: More Recommended Reviews For A.Z. Fell’s

Alright, folks. Some notes first:

1. You all rock. I’m sending out 20k+ virtual hugs for all the notes I NEVER expected to get on this nonsense.

2. This is probably the final section, just because I’m not sure I can adequately follow up part one and it might be foolish to attempt it here. Let alone twice. But for now, here we go.

3. Kudos to the anon who reminded me of Aziraphale’s cash-only policy <3

4. Nicole Y’s review is based off an actual comment I read years ago, but heaven only knows where online it was. I’ve got the memory of a goldfish.

5. Trigger warning for the use of a queer slur in this. It’s the same review as above, number 5 if you want to avoid it.

6. There’s a text-only version of just the reviews at the end, after all the images. I’ll upload that to my Sparse Clutter collection on AO3 in a bit.

Bonus 7. People thinking this is a real shop deserve all the good things in this world.

That’s all I’ve got. Hope you enjoy! 👍

****************************************************************************

I’m a simple guy who likes simple jokes. If there’s a whoopee cushion I plant it. I will call you up to ask if your refrigerator is running and then tell you to go catch it. (Actually that one died out so thoroughly it’s actually capable of a comeback now!). Yes, I’m a dad and yes, I have a t-shirt that says Dad Jokes? I Think You Mean Rad Jokes! which I wear un-ironically every Saturday. All of which is just to say that my wife was well prepared for my stupidity when I walked into Fell’s.

I? I was not.

You see the bibles when you walk in? The ones to the left? Let them be. Don’t even look at them. Definitely don’t pick out the fanciest one you can find and absolutely don’t walk up to the owner with it held in your pudgy little fingers, grinning like a loon, cheerfully asking whether this should be in the fiction section. Just don’t. Mark my words you’ll regret it. Though your wife won’t. She’ll get a great old laugh out of it all.

In conclusion: it’s quite possible that mama did raise a fool and he just got his ass verbally whooped by a guy in a bowtie.

***

Shout-out to Mr. Fell for being the only decent bloke in this city. I’ve popped in and out of his store for years—including before I started transitioning. So he knew my dead name, dead look, whole shebang and I was definitely nervous to play the ‘You know me, but this is what’s changed and are you gonna throw a fit about it?’ game.

You know what he said? “Oh, Rose! What a lovely choice. Crowley dear, why aren’t you growing any roses? Some white ones would look splendid next to my Henredon chair.”

That’s it. He just went straight into dragging his partner for not giving him roses. So hey, Mom? Next time you’re snooping through my social media why don’t you explain to all these nice people why the 50+yo book seller accepts me in ways you won’t. Don’t go telling me age is an excuse or that you’re ‘Stuck in your ways.’ I’ve watched Fell dress in the same damn clothes since I was ten!!

Yeah. Sorry. Rant over. Fell’s a gem. That’s my take. Rose out.

***

Anyone else in the shop when that guy started yelling about buying pornography? And then got escorted into the back room for some ‘private conversation’? Well done, Mr. Fell! Didn’t know you had it in you.

***

Alright alright alright alright I am TOTALLY calm about this.

Went into A.Z. Fell’s last Thursday. Not because I knew anything about the place. Just because I’ve been hitting up every bookshop within a twenty-mile radius, asking if they’re hosting any book signings. Long story short I self-published my novel Blight last month—which you can get for a mere £5 here but I swear this isn’t a promotional thing I’m just BROKE—and have been looking for networking opportunities, tips, stuff like that. So the owner listened politely as I explained all this. Then said he didn’t do anything of that sort, which didn’t surprise me given the shop’s vibe.

But then? Then??? He offered to let me do a signing there??????

As said. Totally calm about this. This man either plans to kidnap me or is actually giving me my first shot at an audience outside my blog. AKA totally worth the risk.

Tuesday the 9th. 7:00pm. Just in case anyone’s interested ;)

***

holy sweet baby jesus i was tripping balls last week you tryin’ to tell me that kING KONG SIZED FANGED FUCK SNAKE IS REAL

***

Witnessed the most perfect exchange the other day:

Grumpy Dude With No Manners: “You. Boy. Where’s the man I spoke with over the phone?”

Mr. Fell’s Partner Who Knows Damn Well Only Two of Them Work There But Clearly Doesn’t Like This Guy’s Tone: “Did this man give you his name?”

Grumpy Dude: “Might have. Don’t remember. Sounded like a fairy though.”

Me: “....”

My girlfriend: “....”

This Poor Sweet Startled Kid On Our Left: “?!?!?!?”

Fell’s Partner In The Drollest Voice I’ve Ever Heard: “None of us have wings. Out!”

***

This shop gets full stars simply because every time I walk in they’re playing Queen.

I mean, I’ve walked in once, but once is enough when you’ve got Crazy Little Thing Called Love blasting full volume.

***

Okay, I’m still kind of shaken up but I needed to write this out somewhere and this seemed as good a place as any.

I spilled my latte on a book. Just tripped on thin air, popped the lid, and chucked a venti’s worth of coffee all over a very expensive looking text. I didn’t mean to, obviously, but it happened and I just started bawling on the spot. Full on sobs because this semester has been absolute hell, I ruined this guy’s antique, there’s no way I can pay for it, I can’t even sneak away because I’m drawing the whole store’s attention...just all the things all at once. I really was straight up panicking and was seconds away from pulling out my inhaler. I couldn’t breathe.

And then Mr. Fell showed up.

Jesus it’s embarrassing to admit but I think I hit him once or twice. On the arms I mean, because he was trying to touch me and I figured, I don’t know, it was a restraint or something. He was going to call the police and hold me until they got there. But then he managed to start rubbing my back and I lost it like I hadn’t already been bawling my eyes out in this shop. Ever cry into a perfect stranger’s chest? I have! But if Mr. Fell seemed to mind he definitely didn’t show it. Just kept holding me while I probably ruined his shirt and then took me into the back and made me a new coffee in this cute little angel mug. He let me stay there while I called my sister and waited for her to arrive.

She’s a good twenty minutes outside of Soho, so we talked for a while. It’s not like Mr. Fell could fix my shit roommate or bio classes, but I guess just talking about it all really helped. I was a lot calmer by the time my sis arrived and Mr. Fell insisted I come back any time I wanted—for browsing or more coffee.

Of course, sis offered to pay for the book herself. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so surprised in my life. “Certainly not!” he said. “Contrary to popular belief, no one should pay for their mistakes. It’s what makes you all so wonderfully human.”

So yeah. Thanks, Mr. Fell.

***

This little shop must have started a book club for kids! Lately I’ve seen the same group of children hanging out at Fell’s. Three boys and a girl. They’re a bit rambunctious at times, but who isn’t at that age? So wonderful seeing literature passed down to the next generation. Even if some of it is rather questionable looking...

***

It’s an honest crime that more of you aren’t talking about what a wonderful bookstore this is.

I’m a book lover at heart and Fell’s always makes me feel like I’m coming home. I just arrived somewhere safe and familiar after a particularly harrowing day. I’ve slipped under the covers of my bed after dinner and a bubble bath. It’s something like that, but with an element of surprise too. One of the reasons why I adore private and used shops over chain stores is that little touch of chaos. You walk in and sure, there are general sections to browse, but everything is just a little bit disorganized from people leafing through books and then putting them back somewhere else. There’s no real record keeping, you’ve just gotta head to one particular corner and hope for the best. It’s not the sort of place you go to if you want something specific because the chances of them having it are slim—that’s just how the universe works—and even if they did no employee knows where it is anymore.

But if you wander the shelves for a while, crouch down low to get a look at everything on the bottom shelf, pay attention to the books that don’t have easy to read titles or any summaries to speak of... you just might find something you didn’t know you were looking for. That’s Fell’s: the comfort of the familiar and the excitement of the unknown.

*** A lot of people might assume that these stories are embellished or outright made up, but as a bookseller myself going on twenty years I believe every single one of them.

That being said, I accidentally moved a rug and found chalk sigils that look like they belong in a cult. Make of that what you will.

***

There’s a special place in hell for 21st century shop owners that only take cash. Who carries cash anymore? Not me! I haven’t bothered with that nonsense in years! You can get a card reader for 15 pounds on Amazon. Or you know what? Be stingy and pay 7 for the little attachment on your phone. This place is nuts if it thinks it’s going to survive much longer on a cash-only policy, especially with some books that look like they’re worth hundreds or thousands of pounds! Yeah, yeah, just let me pull out this giant wad of bills for you. I’ll carry them around a crime-laden city because there’s no ATM near you either.

I mean jesus, you’d think this guy didn’t want to sell anything.

***

I walked in. There was a man screaming at a fern while another threatened him with an umbrella. I walked out.

5 stars do recommend.

***

I once walked in on the same (?) guy yelling at a book for daring to fall on the owner’s head. I think that’s just a Thing over there.

***

Like a lot of people here I didn’t actually go to Fell’s for any books (flat tire, Angel Recovery taking forever) and ended up staying three hours (not because of Angel). No, I wandered towards the back and found this ancient CRT set propped on a table of books, the kind that my Dad used to watch Twilight Zone on. This lanky guy had a marathon of Gilmore Girls going... though how he was managing that with a broken antenna and no DVR, I really don’t know. But yeah. He told me to pull up a chair and I did. Guy gave me popcorn.

I wish I’d paid a little more attention to his name. Charlie? Curley? I really can’t remember, but thanks for the enjoyable afternoon, man.

***

I BOUGHT A BOOK HERE

Not sure how though. Just kinda happened. First edition of Just William. Frankly I didn’t even want the thing, but the owner basically shoved me out the door with it when I took two seconds to look at the spine. Odd that he was so willing to part with this one.

Update: ... hold up. I didn’t buy a book because I never actually paid the guy. ‘Basically shoved me out the door’ was literal. Do I go back??

***

This page has really gone feral the last couple of months so I’m just gonna bite the bullet and say it:

Anyone notice that Fell’s snake and Fell’s partner are never in the same room together?

***

I really don’t like the implications of this…

***

This is precisely why the Internet has turned into a cesspool. You all should be ashamed of some of the stuff you’re writing here. Can’t two men just be friends anymore? Two real life men? These guys aren’t some characters for you to ‘ship’ or whatever. Quit making outrageous assumptions about their sexualities and use this website for what it’s actually for: reviewing the bookshop. Honestly I’m so sick of this sort of this shit.

***

Dude. They run a queer-focused shop together with a flat on the second floor. Fell calls the guy ‘Dear’ and he’s always calling him ‘Angel.’ People have literally seen them kissing. If you want I can give you the number of my physician. He might be able to help you pull your head out of your ass.

***

What the hell is your problem? I’m literally just reminding people to stop making assumptions. It’s gross and insulting. These guys check their Yelp page. You really think they’re gonna be okay with this stuff?

Also: I’m not the five-year-old relying on insults, so.

***

Making an account purely to set the record straight: I’m the hot twink in question and I married that angel. Peace

#good omens #ineffable husbands #air conditioning #good omens fic #guess who spent 48 hours doing nothing but writing and formatting #can I get a wahoo

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stranger-who-writes-fiction · 3 years

Text

Ya know what these self-indulgent Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow posts need? Self-indulgent banner art, that’s what.

Spoilers for issue #4!

Let’s start this off right with CREATOR CREDITS. Issue 4 of Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow is titled “Restraint, Endurance, and Passion.” Written by Tom King, Art by Bilquis Evely, Colors by Matheus Lopes, Letters by Clayton Cowles, and Edited by Brittany Holzherr. (w/ Assist. Editor: Bixie Mathieu & Senior Editor Mike Cotton)

THE STORY:

Right, so this? This issue? Best one yet.

Also the bleakest of the bunch thus far; even though we don’t always see the brutality of the space pirates that Kara and Ruthye are following, there’s...the suggestion of it. The aftermath. And how Kara responds to it.

Okay, getting a little ahead of myself. BASIC PLOT SUMMARY: Ruthye and Kara continue their pursuit of Krem, who has taken up with Barbond’s Brigands.

The Brigands basically just. Murder and terrorize people, for profit.

Each planet they visit brings new horrors, as well as people who need Supergirl’s help.

And help she does.

KARA-CTERIZATION:

I yell a lot about the art on this book, and have, in fact, openly admitted that I’m primarily here for Evely and Lopes.

Well, that wily son-of-a-gun King went and wrote some of the best ‘Super’ stuff I’ve ever read and dang it, dang it, now I gotta yell about the words too. XD

Specifically, I wanna yell (in a good way!) about some words that occur towards the very end of the book.

Kara and Ruthye have Seen Some Things; things like genocide and mass grave sites and horrible violence, and upon reaching a planet where peaceful monks were slaughtered, Kara’s had enough, and needs to leave because if she screams, she’ll destroy what little is left of the monks’ monastery.

Here’s the text in full, because my gosh. It’s so good:

“What I write next I write based on my observations in those long-ago days at the side of the greatest warrior in the history of this august reality we all call home. It is important to note that my assertions do not rely on anything Supergirl said. It was not a subject we ever discussed or even approached, but nonetheless I believe it to be as true as the turning of worlds. You see, what is not well understood about the daughter of Krypton is that her power was not one of action but one of restraint, endurance, and passion. She did not choose to fire a beam from her eyes, or have breath of ice, or run faster than a speeding bullet. Or any of her other well-documented miracles. No, she held back her heat vision to look you in the face. She warmed her breath to converse with you. She slowed herself to walk by your side. Ever moment of every day, she suppressed the forces churning inside of her. All of the energy of a dead world that strained against her many barriers, eternally demanded to be released. I believe this effort hurt her. I believe she lived her life in pain. But I reiterate again, for I think it important enough to repeat--These beliefs are based on my time at her side, watching her as she moved through strife and sorrow. If you were to have asked her, I have little doubt she would have claimed that such as assertion was absurd. She would say she felt fine and well and then she’d as you if you needed any help.”

A long chunk of words, I know (this comic is DENSE!) but like. This is it. This is one of the defining attributes of the Supers--all that raw power at their disposal and they choose to help people, to be kind, to suppress that power for the benefit and safety of others.

HNNNNNNNG.

Hope, Help, and Compassion for All.

Whole lotta folks claimed at the outset of this book that King did not understand Kara, that he was a bad fit. And that may be so, I suppose--there’s a whole other discussion about like. The violence and swearing and ‘does that belong in a Supergirl book?’ But the characterization? Getting that Kara and Clark are just good people?

King gets it. He got it in Superman: Up in the Sky and he gets it here, in Woman of Tomorrow.

Other things King gets! Kara is stubborn! Kara is passionate! Kara is going to fix things, even if the effort of doing so hurts her, physically, emotionally, and mentally!

(Fuuuuuuun fact for the crowd saying that Woman of Tomorrow is vastly superior to the CW show: TV Kara is ALSO all of those things! King isn’t pulling this stuff out of thin air. It’s almost like...gosh. I don’t know! Both the show and Tom King are pulling from the character’s comic history, or something!!!! HOW NOVEL.)

Like, seriously. There’s a lot of overlap. Stop pitting Karas against each other!

Anyways!

I promised art, so here is art!

Oh, right, forgot to mention, Kara literally THROWS HERSELF INTO THE SUN to express her grief and anger, so as to not cause that unnecessary destruction. She gives new meaning to the phrase: Set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm.

More art yelling: GOTTDAMN, the way Evely draws Kara just colliding with the surface of the sun and then the way Kara’s hair like...becomes the flames...

I am FEELING FEELINGS. HOW DARE.

Also, props to King and Cowles; King for deciding to have that initial scream, Cowles for the way the letters burst forth from the point of impact on the sun, and then back to King who decided that it would just be...devastating silent screaming from Kara, for the remainder of the scene.

Back to the characterization, I just wanted to highlight something I mentioned...earlier on, I think? In these posts? But haven’t brought up recently, and that is how this book has not once brought up Zor-El, and I think Superman only got a quick mention in issue 2.

Honestly, I think that’s gotta be some kind of record.

It’s so refreshing. Not because I think there should never be mentions of Clark, or anything--I love that boy--but because so much of modern Supergirl comic drama is mined from the same like, angsting over her place compared to Clark, or her crazy sometimes-a-supervillain dad.

There is no Clark and Kara drama here, no manufactured friction, because it’s just. A cool Supergirl story!

Gonna keep going, but let’s do it with some more...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTT!!!!

Once again, Mat Lopes is all over the dang place with his palettes, it’s marvelous.

Each new planet gives Evely the opportunity to go hog wild on the worldbuilding and design, and similarly! Each new locale is an opportunity for Lopes to set the tone with colors. Like, here, towards the beginning of the book, we’ve got a planet bathed in this warm, pale yellow/orange light.

(Quick note: “Sure, yeah, I get it. We all have our duties. And it’s mine as a neighbor to do what I can to help you with yours. Please.” A+ Kara content. We love to see it. And then locating the remains of the alien’s daughter, so that they can go visit the grave site and have some emotional closure???? It’s just. So. Touching.)

Anyways, back to colors.

Like!!!! LOOK AT THAT JUMP. From the soft, almost pastoral feel of the delicate oranges and yellows to HARD GREEN, PINK, AND PURPLE. (Difficult colors to pull off in print, I might add.)

(This is also an interesting scene, character-wise, because I think it helps re-contextualize some earlier stuff with Kara. Like, I’m mostly thinking that incident on the bus, where she was swearing at the passengers as the space dragon was about to destroy them. Here, we see Kara kind of...goad this alien woman into releasing her pent up emotions by yelling at her/getting her to fight, and you can clearly see at the end of it that Kara did not mean the things she said, because check this out:

She goes and gives her a hug once the woman is able to finally cry.

It’s not ‘Kara is being mean, Kara is swearing at her’, it’s, ‘Kara has an unorthodox solution to a problem, and she’s gonna FIX that problem, NO MATTER WHAT.’

Circling back to the bus thing--again, that could be an instance of ‘unorthodox approach to a weird situation that Kara is going to handle because lives are at stake.’)

But also, DIG THAT KIRBY KRACKLE, BAY-BEEEEE!

And a little Strange Adventures easter egg! The Pykkts!

(I think those guys are unique to the Black Label series, rather than deep Adam Strange lore, but don’t quote me on that.)

Moving on to YET ANOTHER PALETTE, one I’ve dubbed, ‘Treasure Planet Purple/Grey’

Love Ruthye’s snoozing against the door, waiting for Kara.

Also, just as striking as the colors of the environment, are the colors used on Kara.

If you compare this page with the previous one, Kara’s eyes are a paler shade of blue, and the red-rimmed look on her eyes here is not as intense as the red-rimmed look we saw back in issue one, when she was confronting Krem.

All of which to say! There’s a pale, haunted quality to both the linework and the colors. Like. We know Kara has Seen Some Things. But she’s shoving all that stuff down to protect Ruthye, to save Krypto, and to stop these monsters, and you get all of that WITH COLORS AND LINES ON A PAGE.

I love it, I love it so much.

OTHER BOOKS WISH THEY HAD THIS LEVEL OF CHARACTER ACTING, I TELL YA! THEY WISH THEY HAD THIS BEAUTIFUL ALCHEMY OF INKER, COLORIST, AND WRITER WORKING IN SUCH TIGHT TANDEM!

Ahem. XD

Alright, last bit of art, lest I just. Post the whole issue in here. (Which I’m honestly always tempted to do but Strong Feelings about Piracy hold me back.)

JUST HECKIN’ LOOK AT THAT BLUE, MAN. JUST LOOK AT IT. S’BEAUTIFUL.

And more stunning character acting from Evely. Like. Bottom middle panel. The expression, the tilt of her head and the shadows on her eyes...

*insert silent flailing here*

Oh, also, KRYPTO LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVESSSS (for now).

I’m never right about these things, so I’m glad the one time I’ve correctly read a thing is when it involves Krypto not, ya know. Being dead. XD

Also absolutely love that Kara’s instinct is to send Ruthye home to protect her--once more leaning into that whole, ‘I’m going to protect you, even at great cost to myself’, though of course we know that she can’t send her home, not here, not now, just halfway through our journey.

ERRRRRRGH, so mad we’re not getting twelve issues of this! CURSE YOU, POOR SUPERGIRL TRADE SALES! CURSE YOOOOOOU!

That said, King’s pacing? Has been phenomenal. I feel like Strange Adventures and even Mr. Miracle kinda...I’m not gonna say dragged, that’s not quite right. But it is more build up, I guess. Takes a while to get to the payoff.

Here, I think King is pushing things steadily along as he doesn’t have the benefit of an additional four issues, so he has to get to the point, so to speak. Keeps everything moving.

SOME FINAL, MISC. STUFF:

I’ve sort of glossed over the darker stuff from this issue, and I just wanna note that like. This is a book that features a bad guy getting stoned (in the death sentence way, not the drug way) on panel. Like. I can’t recommend this to children.

I can’t even really recommend it to some other Supergirl fans, because I know that the King elements will be too off-putting.

It never feels like the book is going too far, though. At least in like an...exploitative way? If that makes sense?

The violence is handled with discretion, I guess is what I’m trying to convey. This could very easily tip over into like, gross shock factor territory, if not handled well, but I think the creative team pulls it off.

...Still wouldn’t hand this book to kids, though. XD

As mentioned, we’re halfway through this series! Can’t wait to see where it goes--every time I think I have this book figured out, it surprises me. So, like. Bring on the Dinosaur planet! With no sunlight! I wanna see how Lopes handles THAT. XD

(But Oh, OooooOOooh, we gotta wait until NOVEMBER.)

(Hhhnnnnng!)

(Then again, maybe that’s good; we’ve got the TV show in the meantime, and then once it ends we can pick right up with new Supergirl content just a few weeks later.)

(...Aw. Made myself a little sad, thinking about the TV show coming to an end.)

So as not to end on that sad note, here once again is tiny, smushed Kara:

Give ‘em the ol razzle dazzle.

#stranger speaks #supergirl: woman of tomorrow #supergirl: woman of tomorrow spoilers #dc comics #comics talk #comics opinions #comics thoughts #long post #are those the right tags? I can never remember #gif

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yoj1 · 3 years

Text

I’m sorry I’ve been lacking some I didn’t mean to leave y’all for this long, but let me shut up and give you what want or what u probably don’t want(depends) alright here’s part 7

(Part 7) some nsfw content

Renee stepped back into the Elevator with Octavio, Ajay, Anita, and Makoa. After cooking and baking for hours they were ready to retire to their rooms with full stomachs. She waved to her friends that lived on the left wing of the hall and walked down the hallway with Anita.

“If you need anything Nee let me know”. Anita said smiling, waiving good bye to her friend. Renee smiled and nodded before heading toward her room.

That’s when she saw it. A giant black bear teddy that was bigger than her and a yellow gift bag with roses laid across the top. Renee stopped already knowing who this was from. Renee grabbed the gift bag and dragged the plush of her favorite animal inside hauling her loot to her bedroom and sat on the bed. She moved the multi colored roses and set them on her dresser she would need to find a vase for those later.

Renee opened the yellow gift bag and took out the baby blue tissue paper. She grabbed a large box and opened it revealing an assortment of her favorite chocolates. She took one as she closed it setting it to the side. She reached back in pulling out bath salts and bath bombs followed by her favorite scent of body wash.

“Wow he pays attention to detail”

Renee giggled at her next gift it was a bobblehead of Elliot in his Holo suit striking his famous pose. The the plaque at the bottom read “You got bamboozled- Mirage”. She pushed the head and it wobbled causing her to giggle. She leaned over and set it on the nightstand pushing the head one last time for good luck. She reached in to grab the card inside but something grazed her fingers she looked in seeing a velvet square box.

Renee reached for it pulling it out but she decided to read the card first. She opened the envelope to a card that was blank white she opened it and read the writing inside...

Hey Ren it’s me Elliot well you already know that but hey. I’m sorry for the way I acted and I never meant to make you cry. I will be honest with you I got jealous and that wasn’t fair for you to be in the crossfire, you were right I was acting like a child and making myself look stupid. I was a asshole and if you never want to talk to me again I understand but I just want to tell you I miss you Nee and my life is a mess with out you. I feel like I lost apart of me I feel like I lost my heart. I hope you like everything. I’ll see you around.

Love, Elliot Witt

Renee wiped a tear from her eye thinking about his heartfelt words. She moved to grab the velvet box and opened it. She gasped staring at a purple 14 carat diamond heart pendent attached to a sterling silver chain.

“Ellie” she said weakly touched by his gift.

You need to go talk to him

Tell him how you feel

He wants to make this right you have to let him

The voices were right but it was late and he had to be in the middle of his shift at the bar. She picked up her phone as she undressed preparing to take a bath with her new kit. She opened Elliots contact and responded to his text from hours ago.

Ellie: Renee can we talk

R: Yeah we can talk

Renee set her phone down and filled the tub up. She got in and sighed thinking about the handsome trickster and how he spoiled her. Her hand wandered between her thighs and a wave of pleasure hit her making her shiver as she played with her clit.

Elliot trailed kisses down Renees neck stoping at her shoulder before he dragged his tongue back up and nibbled at her ear. She sighed his touch lingering on her skin. He guided his length between her folds drawing a moan from them both as their lips met for a sloppy kiss. Her nails clawed in his black as he added more force to his slow thrusts making her shamelessly moan his name over and over. The bed frame shook as his hard thrusts became faster...

KNOCK...KNOCK...KNOCK...

Rene sighed as she removed her hand from between her thighs. She got out of the tub feeling all of the building pleasure leave all at once. She wrapped a towel around her chest and walk towards the door. She cracked it open to see Tae Joon Park standing at the door with a disc in his hand.

“You might want to see this” he said handing her the disc

She took it “What is it” she said examining the disc.

“It surveillance from my room and that’s all I’m going to say Good night Ren

achim-e mannayo see you in the morning.” He smiled before walking away.

She closed the door and leaned against it thinking of what it could be then she groaned.

Watch it

It’s about Elliot

It’s important

She listened to the voices putting the disc in her laptop before finishing her bath as it processed. She sat in the tub wondering what Elliot did. But the voices didn’t seem that alert so it couldn’t have been bad. Drying her hair she sat on her bed pressing play on the surveillance footage, Elliots voice cam through the speaker.

“Look I know you and I aren’t the best of friends. And we had a rough start, but I need your help.”

“First I want to say I’m sorry for any thing I may have said or did to you that made me seem like an asshole or was completely assholish. Second I need your help to get Nee back I... I..”

“I miss her, everything about her, I know you probably heard what happened, I know you probably don’t care about my suffering, but I never wanted to make her cry and I didn’t mean what I said, I love her”

Renee freezed her face turned to shock as she processed his words.

“He loves me”

“I love her with every fiber in my body and when she looked at me today for a second and I saw fear in her eyes, she won’t even look at me or talk to me and it hurts. I feel lost. I had no right to be jealous and by all means I deserve this, but I want Nee back I want my best friend even if I have to die 1,000 times.”

The video ended there. For the second time this week Elliot was making her cry, but in the good way. She hugged her bear and closed her laptop laying back on her bed. She closed her eyes. Tomorrow would be an interesting day.

———

Elliot leaned against his bar cleaning the last of the glasses from the night. It had been a busy night of patrons ordering drinks and getting wasted off their fucking ass.There had been a fight, someone hurled on the floor, a woman had flashed her tits at everyone, and a guy passed out.

The one thing he enjoyed was listening to the laddies gossip as he prepared their drinks. It was never boring and they never ran out of topics. He couldn’t lie the fight was entertaining to. It didn’t last long because the dude was out in about 10 seconds but it did spice the night up.

Usually he would call Renee while he finished his nightly duties before closing. He would tell her everything that happened and she was more than happy to listen.

He sighed and put his head down on the bar. It was quiet and lonely something he was way to familiar with before he met Wraith, Path, and the other legends. Forcing himself up he sulked his way to the back room/ office.

He threw himself in the leather office chair . He wondered if Renee liked her gifts and if she read the card. His lips curved into a smile thinking about her beautiful blue eyes and they way they lit up when she liked something or found something new she had forgotten.

He reached for his phone almost dropping it as he looked at the screen.

“One new message from: Renee”

Renee: Yeah we can talk

It was a simple answer but that’s all he needed. It had been three days since she talked to him. The four words blew up in his mind as he thought of what he would say to her. He didn’t think he would get this far. His mind wandered to all the possibilities eventually taking a turn into the dirtier part of his mind.

He felt his cock harden pushing against the restraints of his pants uncomfortably. There was no way he was leaving this untouched. He got up from the desk and locked the door just in case an employee showed up unannounced.

Elliot sighed as he unzipped his jeans and took his throbbing dick out of its prison stroking it gently.

Renee had her hands pinned above her head as Elliot took is middle finger and inserted it into her wet cunt. She sighed at the intrusion of a second finger moving in and out of her. He swooped down taking her clit in his mouth sucking at the little ball of nerves. She moaned as she squirmed against her restraints. Quickly he took his fingers out of her cunt licking the juices before continuing his work . His tongue began to flicked at her bud and his fingers massaged her ...

“HEY WITT OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR!”

Elliot jumped fumbling with his pants. Properly fixing them just in time for the door to be knocked clean off the hinges.

Jeez that was close

Anita was standing in the door staring daggers at him. He sat at his desk trying to look unphased he knew he was failing though. To his surprise she started laughing.

“Don’t worry I’ll pay for that” she said smirking as she walked in sitting at the chair in front of the desk.

“Whiskey or Hennessy”Elliot asked pulling two bottles out of the desk along with glasses.

“Hennessy and by the way I just came by to say sorry for trying to kill you.” She said rubbing the back of her head. ”I should have thought about how you were suffering before trying to make you suffer more and for that I apologize”.

Elliot handed her a glass as he poured his. “ It’s alright I totally understand Anita I would have done the same thing and besides I deserved it”.

“Friends”

“Of corse”

“ You know Elliot you mean a lot to her”,Anita said as she downed her glass and walked out. Leaving Elliot to process her words.

Elliot pulled out his keys opening his dorm as he glanced to the door of Renees dorm. He was glad she stayed next to him and was on the same hall. He noticed the gifts he left were gone, Elliot smirked to himself as he slipped in and closed the door.

He peeled out of his clothes tossing them in the hamper near his closet as he walked towards his bathroom. During his shower and even as he laid in bed he thought of Renee. An excited shiver ran up his spine as he thought of hearing her voice again.

#miraith

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chachkayes · 3 years

Text

Whiskey Business

So I had the idea that Grey’s may pull a Jovery moment on us and reveal that Meredith and Hayes already kissed off screen and kind of ran with it in this fic. I really need to learn how to write for other couples that aren’t Merhayes. So, here’s how I’d play out that scene if I were a Grey’s writer. I’ve been talking about this fic idea with @herrera-n-hayes for days now, so I’m glad I was able to find some time to write it!

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

Hayes was distraught – he’d just found Meredith lying unconscious on the ground. He’d gotten her back to consciousness just before heading into the ER, and she seemed to be doing better with the oxygen mask they’d placed on her. She’d been terrified about what had happened, as was Hayes. Meredith felt awful that Hayes had found her in such a dire state, but she was glad that she had someone familiar near her when she woke up. Yet 2 days later, Meredith Grey began to destabilize and crash. Hayes had been on facetime with her when she began to complain that she was having a hard time breathing, and her monitors began to beep like crazy.

Hayes could see the terror in Meredith’s eyes as she struggled to keep herself breathing and awake for him. His heart dropped and he quickly turned around from his place in the hospital, racing to her room. He’d got there just in time, and he placed an O2 mask over her face. “I’m here, Grey. I got you.” He held her hand as she tried to take deep breaths in, and as tears ran down her face. “Hey, hey, you’re okay. You’re not alone. You’re going to get through this.” Hayes was glad he had his surgical PPE on, so that Meredith could focus on him and focus on breathing. He stroked her hair with his free hand. Meredith took her hand and took off her O2 mask for a moment.

“You… could get… sick…. Hayes.” She said through deep breaths. Hayes closed his eyes and she put the oxygen mask back on. Her breathing began to stabilize as she looked at him. “I know. But I’m going to stay with you and I’m going to comfort you anyways, because right now you need it. I care about you too much to let you struggle alone.” Meredith let out a sigh and gave Hayes a grateful look. She took off her oxygen mask again, and luckily her oxygen levels didn’t drop significantly. “You always know how to distract and relieve me.” She said with a weak smile. Hayes chuckled softly, thinking back to the last time he and Meredith had hung out together, drinking whiskey in his office, before the pandemic took over their lives.

A slight knock on the door, “Hey, you said you had whiskey?” Meredith poked her head into Hayes’ office. She’d had a long day, as did he, and she was excited to have some down time, hanging out with her friend. Hayes nodded back at her, holding up the bottle he kept hidden in his office. Meredith entered the room, quickly closing the door behind her, and she smiled excitedly at the bottle and then at Hayes who had begun pouring the drinks into 2 glasses. He shot her a half-smile, it looked like the same slanted smile that Alex always had, and he handed her the drink and she sat down beside him on the couch in the office. “So,” Hayes started, his gaze catching Meredith’s excited eyes – he felt his heart flutter as she smiled and took a sip of her drink. “How crazy was your day today?” He finished. Meredith shook her head and scoffed. “Insane. The pileup resulted in 9 traumas coming into the ER, 7 of which needed a general surgeon, and Jo and I were the only ones available since Bailey was handling the ER. I think I did 4 surgeries today. My feet are killing me now.” Meredith laughed, giving Hayes the same butterflies he felt every time she smiled or laughed around him. He made a mental note to not let him or Meredith drink too much – the spark between the two was electric and he knew it, but he didn’t want to feel as though he’d taken advantage of her, because he seriously wanted to kiss her.

“I can just imagine – most of my surgeries today were elective surgeries, but we had one kid come in from the pileup.” Meredith raised her eyebrows – she hadn’t known that there was a kid in the crash. “Did they make it through?” Meredith inquired. “It was touch and go for awhile, but he did.” Meredith smiled again, which Hayes reciprocated. Meredith downed the rest of the whiskey in her glass, which was quite a significant amount and Hayes looked at her, bewildered.

“What?” Meredith said with a laugh. “I never would have pegged you to be the kind to be able to down a glass of whiskey.” He told her. She laughed again. “A whole bottle of tequila is my drink of choice; whiskey is nothing. Doesn’t mean I’ll ever say no to it.” Hayes’s brows furrowed as he looked at her, impressed. He seriously wouldn’t have assumed Meredith to be a tequila girl – but it made her even more attractive to him. “Interesting.” Hayes smirked.

Time passed quickly, and before he knew it, his once full bottle of whiskey was getting increasingly low. ‘So much for not drinking too much,’ he thought. Meredith still talked as composed as she was when she entered the office, as did Hayes, but the little voice in his head telling him to tell Meredith about his feelings for her and kiss her was getting increasingly loud. Whiskey made Meredith incredibly giggly, which did not help Hayes keep his self-restraint in check. He found himself inching closer and closer to Meredith on the couch, which she never resisted.

Their conversation got increasingly flirtier as they talked, and Hayes knew at that point that there was no stopping it – if Meredith Grey did not get up and leave that office within the next 10 minutes he’d give in to the voice in his head that was, at this point, screaming at him to kiss her. Little did he know, Meredith’s inner monologue was also practically begging her to kiss him. Conversation died down ever so slightly, and in a moment of total silence, Cormac Hayes blurted out the words he’d been keeping to himself for months. “I like you, Grey.” Meredith was taken aback. “I’m sorry, what?” She asked him. He shook his head. There was no going back now. “I like you. I have for months. I’ve been denying it and going crazy because every time you laugh or smile around me, I get these feelings that I thought I’d never experience again after Abigail died. And I might only be telling you this because my prefrontal cortex is incredibly inhibited but that doesn’t make it any less true. I like you. And I realize this may ruin our friendship, but I can’t keep denying to myself that I want you.” Meredith’s inhibitions were completely gone. She quickly turned around and shut the blinds behind them. “What are y-“ Hayes began to say before he was sharply cut off by Meredith pressing herself against him and kissing him passionately. Instinctively, his arms wrapped around her so he could get her as close to him as physically possible. She hooked her leg around his, pulling herself even closer to him, as if it was possible that there could even be any more space between the two of them.

10 minutes later and they finally pulled away from each other. “That was…” Hayes’ voice trailed off. “Wow.” All the tension that had been building since they met reached its boiling point. “Yeah. Wow.” As soon as it hit Meredith about what had happened, she immediately found herself worrying about Hayes. She knew how hard those firsts could be. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?” Hayes laughed at how quickly Meredith could switch from being so flirty and passionate with him to someone who wanted to comfort him. “I’m good, Grey. Promise. I don’t think I could’ve imagined going through that first with anyone else.” Meredith smiled knowing that he was okay.

It was getting late, so Meredith stood up. “I’m glad you’re okay.” A period of silence, so Hayes stood up as well, facing Meredith. “It’s getting late, I should probably get back to my kids, shouldn’t I?” She said to him, part of her not wanting to leave him at all. “Yeah… yeah, you probably should.” Hayes took Meredith’s hand in his, in a moment of pure confidence. “Just for the record…” Meredith leaned into Hayes and brought her lips to his ear. “I like you too… and I really want to do that more often.” Meredith leaned back and smirked at Hayes. He stared at her as she turned away from him and headed for the door. Before she left the office, she turned back to look at him one last time. “Goodnight Hayes. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Hayes smiled warmly at the woman in front of him. “Night, Grey.” He winked at her. She smiled back at him and turned around, walking out of the office over to the attending’s lounge. Hayes watched her walk away, a smile still on his face. For the rest of the night, both surgeons thought obsessively about what had happened.

#merhayes #merwidow #grayes #meredith x hayes #cormac hayes #hayes x grey #meredith x cormac #cormac x meredith #hayes x meredith #mcwidows

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bbyboybrock--archived · 4 years

Text

The Box (Colby Brock Imagine)

Summary: *Request* “I have a question, would you be willing to write like dark!Colby? Nothing like really bad but like let's say Colby stalks and kidnaps the reader or like hes dating the reader and slowly she realizes that he's trying to keep her to himself and tries to escape but he knows she knows so he locks her in his apartment, or even like the reader got kidnapped by Colby and one day the boys are over and she gets them alone and tells them and they laugh it off and tell her that they helped him get her?” [Read Part 2 of The Box here]

Written: 2020

Word Count: 2,719

Warnings: Swearing?, manipulation, kidnapping, dark!Colby

Masterlist

This all started with a box. A medium-sized, insignificant brown tin box that fell open when I was cleaning up the apartment. I’ve seen the box hundreds of times. I knew that Colby has had it since he lived in the trap house. I found it under his bed when I was looking for my shoes. Being a good girlfriend, I waited to ask him about it instead of being nosy. He just told me that it was full of important documents like his birth certificate. I thought it was odd for him to keep such an important box tucked in the corner of there room under his bed. But, by the state of his room, I figured it was the safest place. When Colby got arrested last year, I almost went into the box to see if I could find anything to help. I should have opened the fucking box there and then.

When Colby and I moved into the apartment, the box got moved into the closet of his office. On the top shelf where he keeps some of his filming equipment. Tucked away in another place where it would remain untouched until it was needed. I passed that box so often, not even paying attention to it, there was no reason for Colby to lie to me. Or at least, I thought there was.

That day, Colby left to go whatever it is he does when he leaves the apartment. And I staying doing what I do nearly every time he leaves, clean the apartment. I don’t do much else. My circle is quite small. I hand out with the girls in the group, but not too often, they’re more Colby’s friends than mine. I don’t have my own friends anymore. Those relationships ended when they kept telling me that I should break up with Colby. I should have listened to them.

I clean up the apartment once a week. I would let Colby do it but then he either gets distracted or bored. Plus cleaning is really peaceful. Sometimes, I’ll let the apartment get messy on purpose just so I can have more to clean up. Colby left out some camera equipment and merch that he had set up for a video. So like usual, I take his camera, lights, mic, and tripod and put them neatly away in his office. I put the electronics to charge and I hung the merch back in the closet. The only issue was putting the tripod away. Most of the floor in the closet was occupied by our suitcases and boxes, so, Colby puts his tripod on the shelf with the box instead of standing it up in the corner like a normal person. The thing about the shelf in the closet is that Colby can reach it with ease unless something falls the very back. I, on the other hand, can barely get something up there unless I get the little ladder, which I normally do. But that day, for whatever reason, I decided that I was just going to tiptoe. I can reach it that way, just barely.

I stretch and after a few tries of getting the tripod up without it falling, I knocked the box down with a loud thud. It nearly smashed my foot. I finally get the tripod to stay put on the shelf and deal with the mess that I made. When I crouched down to the ground, I realized that there were more than just documents in there, there were pictures. Pictures of me. But not in the cute, “oh look, my boyfriend has pictures of me” way. But in the very creepy, “these pictures are from before we met” way.

I pick up a stack of photos and look through them. These are all pictures of me after I turned 18 but before I met Colby. I can tell because of my hair in these pictures. The night before my 18th birthday I dyed a little bit of green in there and some of the pictures me with my green strips of hair. That, and Colby has taken the liberty to date the picture and provide a bit of information in his messy writing. There are pictures of me with my friends, family, at work, and even pictures of me with my ex-boyfriend. Of course, he scratched out my ex’s face in the pictures. Out of curiosity, I decided to check the papers that also feel out of the box.

The papers were just more information on me. My old high school schedule, my volleyball schedule, work schedule, my report cards, college applications, emails— hell he even has a whole dossier on me and my family. There are napkins with things I order scribble on them. It made so much sense why Colby was squirming when we were watching YOU season 1 and he refused to have season 2 play in the apartment. Colby is my Joe, and it wasn’t sitting well in my stomach.

I think at that moment, my fight or flight response was broken. Because I put everything back in to box, put the box on the kitchen counter, packed up all of my stuff, and proceeded to wait for Colby to come home. I didn’t leave, and I had every opportunity to. Colby didn’t come home until three hours after I saw everything. I just continued to clean the apartment and pack up everything calmly while waiting. Like Colby would come home and make sense of it all in a way that wasn’t crazy. Like I was the one who was reading to much into this.

The fact of the matter is that I didn’t want to believe that my loving boyfriend could be this crazed stalker. I didn’t want to believe that our entire relationship was built on a lie. I knew that I was a fan of Colby when we met, but I didn’t know that he was also a fan of mine. Which is saying something because the only online presence that I had when we met was a fan page and my personal accounts. I didn’t even get into the social media thing until after we started dating.

When Colby got home, that's when all hell broke loose. My bags were near the door, waiting for me to take my leave. I don’t even know why I didn’t at least put them in the car. I might have still been in shock. I was watching Netflix when I heard the door open, for fucks sakes. I even waited for him to close the door before saying anything. I didn’t have to. He saw my bags, then he saw the box, and then he looked at me.

“I can explain.” He started, while he inched towards me. I stood up and backed away. That’s when I realized the mistake that I made. Colby was by the door and the only other way out was off the balcony, and that’s the extreme exit.

I knew that Colby would never lay a finger on me. That’s just who he is. Or at least, that’s who I thought he was until I found the box. This is a different Colby. This situation could definitely end like YOU, and I wasn’t prepared for that.

“Stay right there. Don’t touch me.” I said calmly. Colby’s mouth opens in shock, then his expression changes to hurt.

“Y/N, do you think I’m going to hurt you? I would never. I swear. Let’s just sit and talk.” He said as he got even closer to me.

“I don’t know what to think, just stay where you are.” I don’t even know how I stayed so calm.

“Look, I did it because I love you. I know it’s weird but, it’s innocent. Just please don’t leave me, I’ll tell you everything.” Colby continued to walk towards me and my flight response was finally triggered. He finally moved away enough from the door where I thought I could squeeze past and run. Or at least make some noise to get help from a neighbor. When I tried to run past him, I slipped on something and hit the floor hard, knocking me out cold. When I woke up, I was in our bedroom my leg shackled to the wall. The door was somehow locked from the outside and my bags were back in the room.

****

That was over a month ago. I gave up trying to escape. The only time I get to leave the room is for supervised bathroom breaks. Colby stayed home every day for the first week, only leaving to get food. He kept trying to explain but I would tune him out. I must have been out for a while that first night because I can’t find a single hanger or bobby pin the room. He even took out every sharp object and medication from the bathroom in case I decided to off myself. I didn’t get to eat anything that required silverware either.

The first week was the hardest. He took away all my electronics, so calling for help wasn’t an option. I tried banging on the wall that faces Sam’s apartment, even though I knew he wouldn’t hear a thing. There was no point in trying the upstairs and downstairs neighbors if Sam couldn’t hear my, they sure as hell wouldn’t be able to. It was sometime during week 2 that I realized that if I wanted to get out of here, I would have to earn Colby’s trust. We were planning on moving to Hawaii in a few months. There’s no way he can smuggle me out of the state against my will. So the current name of the game is survival.

Colby hasn’t said or done anything that would suggest he would hurt me. Then again, I’m currently being held captive. If I just act compliant, Colby will give loosen the restraints a little. And once he gets rid of all the restrictions, I can make a run for it. Obviously, not that very day, he might have sort of hold on me just in case. Maybe the day we go to Hawaii, I can someone at the airport know, that way they could hold him.

I will say, that Colby has been nice throughout the whole time, besides the whole holding me captive thing. The first week, was harsh. When I said that I could only leave for the bathroom, well there was a whole open door policy. But as the weeks went by, he loosened some restrains. I still have the chain, but now, when I eat, Colby opens the door and lets me watch tv. And now we have a whole knock system. One knock for the bathroom, two knocks to skip the song play, three knocks to request a song, four knocks means I’m hungry or thirsty, and five knocks just means I need something. Colby has even started to get me books to read. This is like my own, personal version of Beauty and the Beast, without the Stockholm Syndrome and the talking furniture. Although, there was a brief time during the first few days where I was losing my shit and almost started talking to the bed. I want out, I need out, this is no way to live.

****

I was examining the lock for the millionth time to see if there was any way for me to take it off when there was a knock at the door. I quickly sit on the bed and pretend that I’m reading the book that I finished a few days ago. Colby comes in and stands in the doorway. This must be killing him. Colby is a very touchy-feely person. Not in a sexual way, well not all the time, but there were days that if Colby hadn’t even held my hand or hugged me, he would be in a bad mood. Since he’s locked me in the apartment, he hasn’t touched me. I appreciate it greatly, but at the same time, I also miss his touch.

Colby scans the room for a second, before his eyes land on me.

“Listen,” Colby finally moves away from the door and sits in the corner of the bed opposite of me, “I know that you’ve been lonely and bummed about missing pizza nights, so I invited Sam, Corey, and Jake over to hang out for a bit. Which means I’m going to have to unchain you. You have to promise you won’t try to run or anything.”

“I promise. I’ll act like everything is normal.” Freedom just might be closer than I thought

“I know this is hard on you. This is hard on me too. I love you and I hate having to do this to you, but this is the only way to make sure you don’t leave me.” He goes to reach for my hand by stops himself.

“I’m starting to understand now Colbs.” I give a small face smile to reassure him.

Colby leans down and begins to unlock my chain. When I hear the metal clank to the ground, I almost want to run away now, but I have to wait.

There’s three of them and only one of Colby, I should be in the clear. Corey might fight Colby, or at least tackle him to the ground so I can run away. Sam might help me get out and take me somewhere safe. Jake will most likely get confused and figure something to do after he realizes what is going on.

Laughter fills the apartment as Jake plays with something he wasn’t supposed to. I don’t even know the last time I laughed so hard. It’s refreshing to hand out with sane people. Maybe if all goes well, and I don’t manage to get out tonight, Colby will let me start going back to pizza nights. Or I could even give me my phone back. I know that Colby pretended to be me and stated that there is some sort of dram and that I was going through some stuff and decided to take a break.

“Oh, the food is here! I’ll be right back.” Colby says as he gets up after checking his phone. The guys aren’t even paying attention. They’re busy talking about some of the TikToks that we watched.

I watch as Colby leaves the room. I can’t believe he just left me here, without saying anything. Not a warning or even a joke. He just left. This is almost too easy. I wait a few seconds before turning to the guys.

“Okay, listen up, I don’t know how much time I have before he gets back. Something is up with Colby. I think he’s been stalking me since before we met and when he found out that I knew, he locked me in the apartment. I’ve been chained in our bedroom for the past three months. You guys have to help me get out of here before he gets back.” I speak quickly, fighting the urge to grab my stuff and explain as we leave.

Sam, Jake, and Corey don’t say anything at first. They look back and forth at each other and laugh. Full on, crying laughing as I stare at them in disbelief. I knew that there was a possibility that they wouldn’t believe me, but I didn’t expect this reaction.

“Guys, I’m being serious! Look,” I lift my jean leg so they could see the bruise from the chain on my ankle.

“I’m—I’m sorry dude, It’s just, I think it’s funny that you think we didn’t know. We’re like, his best friends.” Jake says as he calms down.

“You… you guys knew? And you didn’t try to reason with him or anything?” I stand up out of shock and take a step back. They knew and didn’t try to help.

“Y/N,” Sam starts and he wipes a tear from his eye, “did you really think that it was a coincidence that you ran into Colby at that party?”

“What are you…?” I can’t fully wrap my head around this.

“Y/N, we helped Colby get you,” Corey said calmly as I fall to the floor in defeat. I’m never going to be free.

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immortalbarnes · 4 years

Text

A Cabin For Two | Chapter 4: You’ll Never Know (part 2)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

summary: Sam visits for dinner, and you tell the story of how you and Bucky met part 2

warnings: angst, gore, dark themes, violence, reference to smut

A/N: low-key hate this but it was hard to write

***bold italicized indicates flashback

masterlist

The second you said that Steve’s eyes were wide open.

“Agent Y/L/N, you mean to tell me that you and Sergeant Barnes have not only been sleeping together during your deployment here, but he also managed to get you pregnant?’ The general interjects furiously, but still keeping his cool as you’re clearly having a meltdown.

“How long have you known?” Steve asks, ignoring the other man’s pressing questions.

“A few days,” You say, trying to calm yourself down, “I had morning sickness the past few days, and…”

You unbutton your blazer revealing a small baby bump.

“... I’m already showing. Nurse Linda decided that was the only possible reason. I wanted to break the news to B-Buck…:”

You trail off once more, remembering that your lover is now gone, and the tears begin to fight their way back.

“Hey, Y/N, it’s going to be okay,” Steve pulls you back into a warm embrace, “We’re going to send you home, so you can be with your family. I’ll be with you once the war’s over.”

“I’m afraid we can’t do so just yet.” The general interrupts once more, “I hate to make matters worse, but the mission failed and we need someone to go back into the village and gather intel on where Zola might be now. Agent Y/N is the only one capable of the job.”

Steve instantly objects, “General she can’t-”

“No. I will.” You step away from Steve, “Bucky would want me to. One final mission… For him.”

“Thank you, Agent,” says the general, “We’ll get you briefed tomorrow. Get your rest.”

…

“Oh my god, Y/N, I’m so sorry. I never knew.” Sam saus wholeheartedly.

You realize you’re tearing up at the memory as Bucky shifts closer to you and pulls you into him. You feel his metal arm and recall the times he made love to you with all flesh. How he loved to put his warm hands on your cheeks, and the only chill you had was from the air. Before you both were turned into monsters.

“Sorry if it’s too invasive, but what happened to your child?”

Words became tricky.

“Well Hydra was expecting me back in that village, and when I arrived they captured me. Which was the start of all this for me…”

…

Everything is cold when you come to consciousness. You open your eyes to a dimly lit room, and you’re on what feels like an operating table. Above you hangs a towering contraption holding a plethora of needles containing a rainbow of chemicals. To your right is a side table adorned in unwashed tools, and something wrapped into an extremely bloody towel.

You try to open your mouth, but then all the pain sets in.

It feels like you’re on fire everywhere. Yet the center of it all seems to be your pelvis. Similar to period cramps, but nothing like you’ve ever felt before. But how could it be your time of the month? You’re pregnant for christ’s sake.

“Ah you’re awake.” A thick German accent greets you.

“W-where am I? What happened?” You try to remember what happened before you lost consciousness. All that comes to you is returning to the small mountain village for your mission, walking into the hostile you were to rest in, and entering a room full of soldiers… All with a certain symbol on their chest.

Hydra.

“Why am I here? What do you want from me?” You ask, now with all the pieces put together.

“Let me introduce myself first, Agent Y/L/N, my name is Dr. Zola. But, you may have known that from your previous mission.”

How did he know about that?

“You might be confused as to how I know that, but trust me, Miss Y/N, I know everything about you. We’ve been tracking you since you were deployed to Austria. Someone as talented as you will have a perfect place in our team. Along with your loverboy of course.”

“Bucky? How do you know that? What do you want with him?”

Mr. Barnes is one of the finest shooters the American Army has ever seen, and with you, the best spy for the allies, and the serum your golden boy has, you two will be unstoppable. Hydra history will be made with you two. World history will be changed with you two. It only helps that you two are romantically involved.”

“Were romantically involved,” You almost choke, “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Bucky is gone.”

“Oh, on the contrary, for we took the sergeant before Cap’s boys could find him. He lost his arm due to the fall, but that’s only a minor setback. Similar to yours. Easy fixes.

“Bucky’s alive?! Where is he?!” You were willing to do anything just to see that he’s okay, “Wait, what setback did I have?”

“The embryo within you, but we already handled that while you were knocked out. It won’t be an issue now, or ever again.”

“You aborted my child!?” You wanted to scream and thrash, but you were in so much pain, and you just now noticed that you were held down by restraints.

“You are now unable to have children, but there’s no need to worry! You’ll never have the need to.”

Right then you hear a piercing scream. From a man.

Bucky.

“WAS THAT BUCKY!?” Suddenly you felt nothing but rage course through you. You thrashed and somehow pulled off the restainted keeping you at the table.

You lunged toward the doctor as he began to yell.

“GUARDS! THE SERUM IS ALREADY WORKING ON HER! HELP!”

You reached him and grabbed his neck, closing up his airway.

“What serum!? Where is Bucky!?”

Before he could choke out an answer, two strong men grabbed you and yanked you back. In a wave of anger, you elbow one square on the nose, then turn to face the other one. You had no clue where this strength had come from, but you were ready to use it to its fullest.

You start at the second guard, but he quickly dodges and pulls out some sort of weapon and flips a switch at its base. The tool began surging with electricity and before you could react, he stuck you down onto the ground.

“Oh, Miss Y/N, you have so much potential, but don’t worry, soon you’ll be the soldier you were destined to be.” You heard Zola say before a needle was stuck in your arm and everything went black.

…

It hurt to revisit this, but some part of you knew you needed to tonight. Bucky just pulled you tighter and you are comforted by his strong scent.

“Do you remember your first time seeing Bucky?” Sam asks, cautious of his words.

“No.” You answer, “I went through the serum process faster than Bucky because they started the first time he was kidnapped, so I was on so many drugs that’s all I remember until my first missions.”

“I remember the first time I saw her.” Bucky pipes up. He’s been silent recently, and you were worried about him, but you both trusted Sam enough with these memories. “It was not long after she woke up in the facility for the first time, and it was the first time I broke out of Hydra’s control.”

… Bucky’s POV…

“Хорошая работа, солдат, теперь добей его.” Good work soldier, now finish him, one of the officers ordered me to do.

He had put up a good fight, for a normal man, but as The Asset, he was no challenge for me. I don’t know who this man is, but he’s my mission, and I must finish. I draw my gun and aim at his limp body on the floor, struggling to flee.

Right as I’m about to pull the trigger, a side door opens to reveal two officers dragging a limp body of a woman across the hall.

“Restrain her and check her vitals.” The Doctor orders from the room the trio exited from.

This woman looked familiar, but how would I know? I have no family, for I am The Asset. All I know is war, but this woman brings me a sense of peace. Just looking at her makes me feel… warm.

“Y/N?” I hear myself mutter. I don’t know where that came from, but it feels right. Y/N. How beautiful. Like her.

Wait. I am not The Asset. I am James Barnes. I’m Bucky. Why am I here? Why is she here!? She should be back at camp.

Snapping out of my thoughts, I realize all the officers in the room are charging at me.

“Удержи его! Он помнит!” Restrain him! He’s remembering!

Before I could fight any of the approaching officers, all I felt was electricity. Losing all feeling in my body, I collapse to the ground and get dragged off.

“протри его. начать сначала” Wipe him. Start over.

…

After harrowing stories and some lighter topics, Sam retired to his own house. It left you and Bucky in a bittersweet state, for you were revisiting all the nights of torture and torment Hydra conducted between the two of you, but you were thankful you were now safe, secluded, and satisified.

You were sat up in bed with Alpine on your lap reading To Kill A Mockingbird (Peter Parker recommended it to you after he read it for English class), with the subtle sounds of Bucky brushing his teeth coming from the bathroom.

“Y/N?” Bucky is now leaning against the door frame of the bathroom.

“Yes?” You put in your bookmark and set the novel to the side.

“Why did you go on that mission for me?” There’s a tremble in his voice, as if he’s been holding onto that question for eternity.

“Something within me I guess. I was so devastated about losing you, but every part of me was telling me to go on that mission.”

“But…” He chokes on his words. “You could’ve been saved. You could’ve gone home and settled down, like you wanted. Like we always wanted.”

“Oh, Bucky,” You pull the covers, and Alpine, off and go to him, “How could I? I would’ve never looked at another man the same. How could I? When I lost you, I lost a piece of myself. And Hydra would’ve found me anyways. They were tracking me just like Zola said.”

You pull him into you and hold his head against your shoulder. Bucky was significantly taller than you and extremely broad and muscular, but when he needed to be held he became small and fragile. It hurt your heart to see him like this, but you were there for him for whatever he needed.

The two of you stood in silence for what felt like hours just basking in each other’s warmth. Until Bucky spoke up again.

“Do you miss our child?”

“Everyday.”

You were the happiest you’ve ever been when Linda told you you were pregnant. Nothing made you happier than the idea of settling down with the man of your dreams in the suburbs with a couple of kids and a white picket fence. You were itching to tell Bucky the news, but once you got the news that Bucky didn’t make it back from the mission, all you had left of him was your child. You swore to raise them to be just like their father, but Hydra took your ability away to have children away… Just like they took away your Bucky.

When the government gifted you this cabin and land, you had to make some agreements. You weren’t allowed to leave the country without notifying the military, you had to attend monthly psychological evaluations, and some other precautionary procedures. The one that broke your heart the most was that you weren’t allowed to adopt or foster a child because the government feared you could train them to become the next generation of Hydra killers. Just another precaution.

A precaution that made your heart twist.

You were taken out of your deep thought with the feeling of fur rubbing against your ankles. Looking down you see your pristine white fur baby crossing through your legs, causing you both to laugh.

“Thank the Lord the government didn’t stop us from having kids with four legs.” You joke, trying to make light of the haunting memories. Bucky chuckles and picks Alpine up.

“At least he can’t talk back like a child.” He adds.

…

You and Bucky lay in your tent stark naked huddling for each other's warmth under a thin blanket. Breathless after your late night “fonduing”.

“What do you want after the war is over?” Bucky asks.

“To start a family.” You answer with ease, “I know I’m a military girl, but I want to settle down and have kids.”

“I do too. Not that many people know that because I’m such a flirt.” He chuckles.

“Quite the reputation you must have back home, Barnes.”

He pulls you closer, “But as soon as this war is over, I’m taking you to the suburbs and we’ll get a nice place with a fence and a garden. And have kids.”

“One boy and one girl?” You ask.

“Perfect. Can we name the girl Winnifred? After my mother.”

“We can call her Winnie for short.”

“I knew you were perfect for me.” He sighs happily, “That’s all the family I need. You, me, and a couple of tikes.”

“Maybe a dog too.” You add.

…

Maybe this is all the family you need.

#bucky barnes #the winter soldier #Bucky Barnes reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes fic #fanfic #Bucky Barnes imagine #the winter soldier x reader #Bucky Barnes angst #Bucky Barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #avengers #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction

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winters-tales · 3 years

Text

Evening! I have a confession to make: I'm exhausted. I've been furloughed from my 9-5 job for 6 months, but I started back again at the start of this month. So I am back at work trying to relearn everything, and trying to keep up with NaNoWriMo, as well as sticking to my streaming schedule! It's a bit much. So today, I might not get much done, and that's ok!

To make up for it, here's another sneak peek of a bit more of the novel. CW for depictions of PTSD, implied alcoholism, implied suicidal tendencies, and forced sedation under the cut.

It wasn't easy to write, but I'm of the firm opinion that war - ANY kind of war - shouldn't be easy to write about or read about. This is obviously a fictional account, but PTSD is very real. Please look after yourself when reading!

Transcript of the debrief regarding Capt. [REDACTED] actions during Operation: [REDACTED].

Debrief in subject’s own words:

My name is Captain [REDACTED] and I was enlisted for a Black-Ops mission known as Operation [REDACTED] that began in May 1983. Myself, [NAME REDACTED] and [NAME2 REDACTED] were selected for this mission as a matter of utmost secrecy. I am satisfied that I am presenting my debrief to the proper chain of command, but even if I wasn’t, I don’t really give a fuck. Fuck your secrecy. I’ll tell anyone who asks.

When you signed up to fight in the War, you had to get comfortable with the impossible fucking fast. The foot soldiers I could deal with; they at least looked like us, more or less, in that uncanny valley, people-but-not-quite kind of way. Still, they were just people who didn’t quite look like me, and you’re trained not to think of people like that as people early on. Reduces the risk of you freezing up when you need to take an essential shot. But when it became clear that there was so much more to deal with, the knowledge that at the end of the day it’s still just people becomes a comfort rather than a horror. Isn’t that fucked up?

[sound of a teacup being placed in a saucer]

Have you ever seen a dragon? They’re not quite like the stories, you know, but they’re also like all of the stories together. [NAME REDACTED] hated us calling them dragons; he insisted they were Jabberwocks. Crazy bastard, but he got me and a few others out of a tight spot more than once, so sure, I’ll sing whatever tune he wants when he can hear us.

[pause, sound of chinaware clinking as the Captain fiddles with her teacup and saucer]

Shame.

[pause for 5 minutes as the Captain seems to contemplate something]

Anyway, dragons: They swallow fire. Sure, they breathe it, but they swallow it first. Not just standard flames, anything that could feasibly be called hot. Flares, phosphorous grenades, and even, as I saw once, nuclear warheads.

Lot of mixed feelings that day. Bastards for seeing us as disposable. Relief that it’s not getting dropped on us now. Hope it might kill the thing. Horror when it doesn’t. Pure terror as we see exactly what they’re capable of, exactly what we’re being asked to throw ourselves up against time and time again.

[pause]

Any chance of another brew? In a mug this time, I’m too rough for this fancy tea set. And if I could have my hip flask back, I’d appreciate it. It’s just rum. Nothing dire. Just to help me get through the rest of this. I know you’ve got me down as High Risk but truth be told, I’m too chickenshit to do that. I’ll live through everything because it’s not as scary as the alternative, just as long as I’ve got a little liquid courage.

[tape is paused briefly before the recording restarts]

That hits the spot. Right. Where was I?

Dragons. Jabberwocks. Infernal wyrms.

Whatever you decide to call them, whatever name you pick out of whatever fairy tales you grew up on, just know it doesn’t come close to the reality of them.

[chuckling]

The reality of dragons. There’s a sentence I never thought I’d say.

But yeah, the reality isn’t shiny. Impressive, yes, but on a scale your tiny fucking brain just can’t comprehend. Like standing at the base of a mountain and trying to work out how you’ll head-butt the peak.

I watched one of the colossal things snatch the first nuclear warhead out of the atmosphere, felt faint hope that it was just a dumb creature and would explode from the inside out… and watched it belch radioactive flame across our own ground troops. Instead of maximised dispersal over a wide area that was regrettably comprised of friend and foe, our lot got concentrated nuclear destruction while their lot walked away.

When you see something like that, it feels like there’s not a lot that can persuade you to go back out there. Queen and Country? What the FUCK is she going to do to me that’s worse than a dragon that EATS our nuclear weapons? Stand me against a wall with the rest of the poor motherfuckers who didn’t run far enough, fast enough, and shoot me personally? This bullshit-

[the sound of furniture being moved aggressively; the Captain had kicked the table away from her and begun striding around the room gesticulating]

-is why so much research was going into weaponizing DRONES-

[The Captain’s voice is becoming indistinct, although her volume is increasing; furniture is being thrown around her interview room, including the table, which cracks the one-way window in an impressive display of strength]

-because once we’d seen it first-hand there’s no amount of love for your fucking COUNTRY that’ll make you walk into the devil’s maw again!

[the interview room door opens hard and bounces off the wall as people enter quickly]

-no- get off me- I’m not wrong- I’m-

[indistinct shouting of multiple people]

-fucking hands OFF me you rat bastard -

[At this point in the interview the Captain had to be restrained by several orderlies and sedated. The recording was paused while we cleared the damage and found sturdier furniture and restraints. The Captain is much calmer when the recording begins again, a full 30 minutes after sedation was administered]

Anyway. Once a soldier has seen the widespread devastation of a nuclear attack – and not just one, when they’re forced to watch it again and again, with the knowledge their superiors have written them off as “acceptable losses” – they realise that their country really, truly does not care one fucking whit for them, and something in their brain breaks. You’ve then got to give them a reason not to run, not to take their trusty service pistol for one last hurrah, and certainly not to storm the offices of our beloved elected officials, grab them by their lapels, and ask them what the fuck they were thinking.

No, when soldiers break the way we did, when they can’t think of a reason to keep going, all you can do is harness what they do have left, and hope they self-destruct far away from where you’d need to clean it up. [NAME REDACTED] had rage, and the desire to destroy every last enemy, injury or no. I had my apathy and my stubborn stronger-than-gods-own-will survival instinct. Throw in someone who desperately wants to save the world more than they want to save themselves, and you’ve got the team of me, [NAME REDACTED] and [NAME2 REDACTED].

They told us – YOU, you bastards, you told us – that we were going to save the world, and truth be told I didn’t care. You told us we were going to eliminate the last credible threat to humanity as a whole, and during the briefing I wished you’d all die choking. But I went along with it. What else could I do? Maybe something would catch us and finally end my ridiculous will to live. All we had to do was gather intel, and cause as much damage as we could on our way out.

[There’s a pause as the Captain considers something]

Is Major [REDACTED] still around? Told him I’d demonstrate how soft he’d gotten if I made it back. Told him I’d- Well. Guess it doesn’t matter now.

[Pause]

[NAME REDACTED] and [NAME2 REDACTED], they were the damage. Higher-ups had their number, and knew that if it came to it, [NAME REDACTED] would likely stay behind to go out in a blaze of glory and cover our escape with a high casualty ratio. [NAME2 REDACTED] would, in their unfailing optimism, make every effort to return, no doubt about that, but if they couldn’t, they’d do the noble self-sacrifice to ensure at least one of us made it back in one piece with intel.

I was the messenger. They had my number too; they’d seen me walk out of situations that should have killed me and they knew I’d probably walk out of this one too, and they were banking on me not knowing what else to do except follow orders.

And you know the really fucked-up thing? They were right. Here I am, following orders.

The mission failed.

I remember the night before we went through: making sure we were kitted out properly before getting our rest, ignoring the PTSD nightmares when we woke each other through the night. Par for the course at that point; who wasn’t deeply messed up?

I remember the morning: breakfast was bacon pancakes with maple syrup and black pudding. Delicious. Last hot meal we’d get for who knows how long.

We roped ourselves together, and one by one we stepped into the godforsaken breach.

And from the moment we stepped through, to the moment I fell back out and into your compound, I don’t remember a goddamned thing. Not one second of it. For all I know, I stepped through and got spat back out straight away. There’s just a big old blank spot where time should be in my head, and I don’t have a clue what happened to the other two. Did they go out in a blaze of glory? Did they come back ahead of me with any intel they got? I don’t know, and you don’t either, because you weren’t expecting me at all, and if they’d made it back, you’d know I’d be following after.

And you’ve got the gall to tell me it’s me it’s been three-hundred and seventy-five years to the day since I left on my mission? You must think I’m fucking crazy.

Notes:

The Captain passed out quite quickly after asking if we questioned her sanity, presumably from the combination of strong alcohol and even stronger sedatives; that she was able to remain so coherent and measured after sedation is an impressive feat given how much was administered.

When she woke up again 4 hours later, she seemed perfectly coherent with no sign of any negative after-effects from the alcohol, sedatives, or the combination of both. There was no residual tiredness, she simply asked if she was being dismissed from duty yet, as she had a lot to think about. She said we could keep the hip flask. A concerning declaration; giving away meaningful items is a common prelude to a suicide attempt, so she is now on round-the-clock observation in a high security facility. While she insists that she’s at no risk of attempting, that’s not something we want to get wrong.

It’s true that the Captain more or less fell out of a breach that we’d previously thought to be inactive, however she swears blind that she was not responsible for the murder of Gatesman Antok and the two perimeter guards of the facility. CCTV investigation is unable to corroborate this, as she was the only unaccounted-for body on site, and CCTV did not pick up any other potential attackers entering the facility. The investigation into the murder is ongoing.

If any files on Operation: [REDACTED] exist, they’re almost certainly locked in a bunker somewhere or else consigned to a shredder some 300-plus years ago. Nevertheless, a request for information has been submitted to the relevant departments, and now undoubtedly sits in a bureaucratic traffic jam as we await the possibility of a declassified document. In the meantime, we’ve redacted the names of the accompanying team members to preserve what little deniability is left after almost 400 years.

#fen's originals #writing #NaNoWriMo2020 #creative writing #ptsd tw #alcoholism tw #forced sedation tw

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miss-tc-nova · 4 years

Text

The Cat’s Meow - Jumin Han x Fem!Reader Pt 17-Finale

Okay, look, I know the first half of this is kind of...Anyway! Maybe not my best ending, but I giggled writing it so there. I promise that the bonus chapter coming out tomorrow will be better.

Part 17: Thank You/Finale

Grumbling, I flop into the chair and let my head fall onto the table. The chair beside me moves and, with a grumble, Saeran sits and lets his forehead meet the table as well.

Things went a little crazy in the hospital following the incident with Rika. Out of it came Saeran, Luciel’s, or rather, Saeyoung’s brother who’d been manipulated by Rika. He’d caused havoc his first night at the hospital, but had come around to understand Luciel’s true intentions and Rika’s misdirection. He came to apologize to me the following day and we actually get along pretty well, taking on the suffering together in cynicism. We’re only a week in, with the doctor stating it may not even be the halfway mark.

“You too, huh?” I mumble, feeling the deep-set ache in my muscles.

“I considered cocaine today,” he groans. “But Saeyoung said I had to find it myself and I’m too tired for that shit.”

I laugh a bit, turning my head to look at him. “Jumin’s making every employee remove all cigarettes and medications from the C&R building. I think he’s even put all his wine in storage.”

Saeran lets his head fall to the side, giving me a suspicious look. “...None of that would work for our withdrawals.”

“I know...”

“Aww, look at our little druggies sulking together!” Saeyoung teases, sitting across from us. He’s also become a bit brighter since everyone’s been working to get him out of his secret agent job.

“_____, are you okay? Do you need anything?” Jumin asks, resting a hand on my back.

“Mmmeth.”

Saeran starts snickering.

Jumin replies in a warning tone, “_____.”

Giggling, I push myself off the table. “I know. Meth is expensive.”

“_____, get your facts straight. Cocaine is the expensive one,” Saeran says, earning a frown from Jumin.

“It’s not that price that’s the problem,” Jumin states.

Still chuckling, I play with the end of his sleeve and look up at him. “I’m just kidding. I could really use a water though.”

His stern expression softens and the heir leans in to kiss my forehead. “Very well.”

We quietly watch him go before Saeyoung adds, “You know he’d probably find you meth if you were truly desperate for it.”

“Noooo...Couple months ago, maybe. But definitely not now.”

“But we have withdrawals now,” whines Saeran.

Reaching out, I half-heartedly take his hand in comfort. “Be strong, Sae! We will overcome this!”

He’s not impressed. “I hate you so fucking much right now.” Even he can’t keep a straight face through his insult.

“I see non-druggie Sae likes to swear.”

“He has no respect for my innocent ears!” Saeyoung complains.

“You were watching porn last night!” shouts Saeran.

Saeyoung points a finger at his brother. “It was holy porn.”

“Holy porn, my ass!”

By now, I’m lying on the table crying from laughing so hard. That’s when the rest of the group finally enters the room.

“Hey guys!” Yoosung greets. “Oh wow, you guys look awful.”

“Shut it, blondie,” I retort, sitting up and wiping my eyes. Jumin passes me a water bottle. “Thanks sweetheart.”

“Hello Saeyoung, Saeran, _____,” V greets, Zen pushing him in a wheelchair. Not only was he still miraculously recovering from the gunshot, but also the eye surgery Jumin finally convinced him to have.

Now the situation with V was much more strenuous than making friends with Saeran; I had killed the woman he loved. Honestly, the moment I could walk on my own and was allowed to see him, I fell to pieces, sobbing and begging for his forgiveness. The man assured me multiple times that it wasn’t my fault but I know it still hurts him. Still, even if I will always feel the guilt, he doesn’t outwardly hold it against me.

He pushes a tray onto the table. “I brought treats for everyone.”

Saeran apparently hasn’t had enough of our shenanigans. “Is it drugs?”

Poor V is so confused. “I-...What?”

“Sae! No one is going to bring you cocaine!” I exclaim, slamming a hand on the table.

The room is silent for a minute before Saeran breaks, laughing. “I hate you so much.”

I lean back heavily in my chair, staring at V. “But seriously, what’dyu bring?”

“Uh, I brought cookies.”

“Yay,” I whisper loudly.

Saeran and I are the first to partake. Cravings and increased appetite are withdrawal symptoms; that combined with the fact that Saeran and I both naturally have a sweet tooth, we’re sugar monsters.

Jaehee sits down, looking concerned. “Though you two do seem to be suffering from serious withdrawals. Are you going to be alright? Are you going to therapy or counseling or anything? I read somewhere that people suffering from withdrawals often relapse without secondary treatment.”

“Dis is mah ferapy,” Sae replies through half a cookie.

Saeyoung speaks up, “He’s meeting someone on Friday.”

Jumin folds his arms. “And _____ has an appointment next week.”

I huff. “I’m telling you, I don’t need a therapist. My addiction didn’t come from voluntary use so what’s a therapist gonna do? Tell me not to take any more drugs? That’s great ‘cause Sae won’t make me any anyway!” I glare when my boyfriend takes my cookie away.

“Don’t look at me,” Saeran growls. “I wasn’t part of the group that made the elixir. The bathtub would be full if I knew how to make it. We’d probably just poison ourselves trying to replicate the stuff.”

I grumble, “So, much to our dismay, Saeran and I will not be relapsing.” I reach for another cookie. “We are, however, scouting new substances to abuseTHAT’S MY COOKIE!” I snap at Jumin, who’s taken the fourth from me.

“Substance of choice? Sugar,” hums Saeyoung.

“You’re going to that appointment. And you’ll just complain later if you keep eating all these sweets,” Jumin replies, not bothered at all.

Grumbling, I fold my arms. “I’m complaining now.”

“Also, it’s polite to share and Saeran has already taken the extras.” He passes off the cookie to Yoosung while pointing out the pile Sae is hoarding. The former-cultist pulls his stash closer to his seat when he catches me staring. We glare.

“Dammit.”

V clears his throat. “Alright, sugar and withdrawals aside, I’d like to begin the first official meeting of…of…Did we ever decide on a new name?”

“We did not,” Jaehee replies.

“Oh, well then I guess that’s the agenda of our first meeting. Would anyone like to make any suggestions?”

Jumin raises his hand. “Jumin Han, we are not naming the new organization after me,” I growl. He puts his hand down before raising it again. “Or either of the cats.” Hand goes down.

From there, the brainstorming goes on and on until it comes down to Sunrise Charity, mostly because V didn’t want it to be called VFA, which is fair enough. After discussing some dates for the inaugural charity party, we end the meeting there and Jumin takes me home, and I mean my home.

“Mako, I’m home!” I sing. The fold comes padding out to greet us with his chirping. Jumin kneels down to scratch behind his ears. “That took longer than I thought it would. I should start working on dinner.”

“I could have something ordered,” offers Jumin.

“No. I’m a big girl. I can cook for myself.” I eye him for a minute. “Can you even make anything edible?”

He thinks for a moment. “Pancakes.”

I gasp, hanging against him with my arm around his neck. “You should make me pancakes in the morning.”

An embrace that brings comfort engulfs me. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes. Also, maybe…” Supporting myself, I trace the pattern on his tie. “You could spend the night?”

I’ll admit it, since the incident, being alone has been a bit distressing. I’ve gotten over a lot of my withdrawal symptoms while recovering in the hospital, but there are a few that still plague me. My first night home, I woke up in a sweat my first night home and didn’t go back to sleep. Jumin made a point of staying on the phone with me until I fell asleep after that.

“Do you think we’re ready for that?” He’s concerned.

I scrunch my nose at him. “Afraid you won’t be able to resist me in my sloppy pajamas and bed-head?”

“Yes.”

My shoulders droop. “Wow. Okay. Maybe we aren’t ready for that.”

Jumin’s forehead rests against mine. “If it’s what you want, I’ll spend the night. It might be tough, but I’ll practice my restraint.”

I sigh. “I don’t want to push it.”

“Perhaps we should. How will we ever get anywhere if we don’t try?” He chuckles. “Besides, even if I do end up pushing it too far, you’ll just threaten me with a knife.”

I hide my face in his chest. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“You threatened the life of a high-profile corporate heir.” A gentle hand beneath my chin encourages me to look up. “I promise; I’ll keep myself under control. Do you still want me to stay?”

“Please?”

I receive a kiss to my brow. “Very well. But first I need to run to the office to sign some documents and stop by my home for some things.”

“Okay. I’ll have dinner ready when you get back.”

With a kiss goodbye, Jumin heads out and I change into sweats and a t-shirt before I prepare food. Before long, he returns with a small bag.

“How was the office?” I ask, stirring the pasta.

“It was fine. Just needed a signature so we can begin analysis on the coffee chain tomorrow.”

“Ew…”

“Yes. Ew.”

I giggle. “Well dinner’s almost done. You should go change.”

He glances at the suit he didn’t change out of. “You want me to change?”

“Yes! Look at this!” I pick up a magazine from ages ago that had a page of Jumin lounging in the sun in a t-shirt with a blue over shirt. “I know you own normal clothes and I demand you wear them more!”

A corner of his mouth quirks. “Demand, huh?”

“Yes! Especially if you’re going to be lazy with me!”

Apparently, I amuse him. “I see.”

“And I swear to god, if your pajamas are some ridiculous matched set they wear in comedy family movies, I’m going to have to seriously reconsider this relationship!”

A hand feebly covers up the laugh he’s trying to contain. “So…*ahem* So I should probably go then?”

“Are you serious?! What are you, twelve?!”

“I sincerely hope not or you’re at serious risk of going to prison for romancing a minor.” I glare. “Also, can we discuss why you have a magazine from last year with that page dog-eared?”

I turn back to the stove in an attempt to hide my blush. “Shut up and go get ready for dinner.”

Sure of his victory, Jumin ambles away. With two bowls in hand, I get comfortable in the living room when in walks that man in a gray t-shirt and sweats. The bit of water in my mouth goes right back out.

“Where did you get those?!” I shout, temperature rising.

His smirk signals that he’s still playing with me. “I’ve had these for a while now.”

“And yet you lounge around in slacks and a dress shirt?” I retort, picking up my bowl. “I’m going to corrupt you with my laziness.”

“We’ll see.”

Throughout dinner, I can’t help my wandering gaze every time I let up the reins on my brain; I begin zoning out and my eyes immediately drift to Jumin. Not only am I very much addicted to how he looks being casual for once, but the fact he’s here to spend time with me as my boyfriend is a nice thought.

“Are you okay?” he’s caught me.

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine.”

His brows furrow. “Are your hands numb again?”

The question draws my attention to my hands that I’ve been flexing mindlessly, trying to work through the pins and needles. This is part of my recovery, part of the withdrawal. “Yeah, but it’ll pass.”

Jumin takes a hand and beings gently massaging my palm with his thumbs. He’s been doing things like this since I woke up. The nausea was terrible the first few days and he was there to endure it with me. The lights and volume were turned down when they became too much. He even fed me a few times when my hands would shake so much I couldn’t do it myself. I hate it but at the same time, I’m so thankful to have someone here looking after me.

“How’s that?” he asks.

I test my movement. Most of the foreign sensation is gone. “A lot better. Thanks.” Jumin suddenly pulls me against him and leans against me until I collapse onto the sofa. “What are you doing?”

Jumin hovers over me, grazing his nose against mine. “I wanted to cuddle with my girlfriend.”I’m positive he can feel the heat radiating from my face. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” his deep voice rumbles.

“No,” I say softly.

“Good.” The man wedges his hands beneath me before relaxing on top of me, his head resting against my chest. Once he’s comfortable, he gives a very satisfied, content sigh. Adjusting to my cuddly partner, I settle in to watch the movie while running my fingers through his soft hair. It doesn’t take long for me to hear a deep, steady breathing. Seeing this man, whose entire wardrobe consists ninety percent of suits, who’s known for living high class, who’s always been the ever-vigilant business man; seeing him here in my tiny home, in a t-shirt, and fast asleep upsets the butterflies in my stomach.

The movie ends and I have to come to terms with the fact that I need to use the bathroom and that requires disturbing Jumin. I savor the sight for just a moment longer before attempting to wake him.

“Jumin. Sweetheart, get up.”Groaning, he tightens his grip. “Jumin, stop! I need to pee!”

Flinching, the man props himself up. “What? What’s wrong?” he grumbles.

“I need to use the bathroom, but maybe you should go to bed if you’re so tired.”

Jumin sits up, rubbing at his eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

I slip off the sofa and reach out to brush some hair from his eyes. “It’s fine. It is getting late though; you should go to bed.”

The man stands up too. “Only if you join me.”

Rolling my eyes, I let a smile pull at my lips. “Alright. Let me shut everything down. Go on; go get ready for bed.”

Once the bathroom problem is solved, I shut down the movie and clean up a bit. Ambling into the bedroom, I find my boyfriend sitting on the bed, providing Mako with enough ear scritches to get the motor running. Interrupting the bonding, I sneak my way onto Jumin’s lap, wrapping my arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his cheek. The response is a soft, reverent kiss in return that puts me under his spell almost immediately. For a while, I bask in the comfort of Jumin’s presence and the love he emits. My muscles ache, my head is full of dull pain, sometimes pins and needles overtake my hands, and sometimes I can’t sleep, but right here I get complete solace.

Jumin groans and breaks the kiss. “You’re tempting me, love,” he says lowly, and I can see the lust alight in his eyes.

“Says the man who made it much easier for me to strip him down,” I hum, slipping a hand beneath the hem of his shirt against his abs. I immediately notice the pink bleed across his face and the passion flare up. I nearly tear his shirt trying to rip my hand out. “No! Wait! I take it back!”

He sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “How cruel you are.”

“Eheh, sorry. We should go to sleep now.”

I flip the lights and sneak under the covers with Jumin. An arm snakes around my waist, pulling me flush against him. With a bit of a giggle, I hook a leg over his waist and latch onto him. The musky sweet scent accompanied by the warmth of his presence quickly envelopes me and I feel like I could just melt.

It’s been only a couple years since I met Jumin Han, and my life since then has been everything except perfect, but all the seems so far away now. The tears, fears, worries, none of that matters now. I have the love of my life in my arms; we struggled and suffered so much to get here, but we can finally be happy. I can finally give him everything without getting in my own way. The relief is so overwhelming I could cry, but instead I just revel in the peace.

On the exhale, I hum.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing. I’m just…happy,” I reply, resting my forehead against his chest. “Thank you for staying. And thank you for taking care of me.”

His arms tighten briefly. “I already told you, I would do anything for you,” he murmurs into my hair.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

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