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jkstompers · 3 years

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passing notes | jjk

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader

summary: a year of crushing and jungkook’s finally asked you out on a proper date.

genre: classmates to lovers??!, established friendship, they go on a date <3, jk is so stressed out, !fancy restaurant warning!, jk is A GENTLEMAN!! but wbk, oc is a nerd but is BOLD AF!!

warnings: mature!! (18+!!), SMUT,...they make out, LOTS of built up tension is let out tonite!, fingering, praise kink, handjob, backseat action, semi-public sex?? very strong language, jk overuses the nickname ‘baby’

word count: 9k

author’s note: pt. 3 of seatmate!jk. WE’VE GOT SOME FILTH TODAY PPL!!!!!!! this is my first time releasing a piece of writing that has smut in it so pls!! let me know what u think!!! i’m open to criticism but i cry easily so… pls pls be nice (Ｔ▽Ｔ) LMAO!! i also completely made up the program for ocean scientists that oc talks about LMAO i just needed her to ramble for a bit hahahah

additional note: also pls imagine jungkook looking like this in class and then wearing this for their date. also if ur curious, this is what i imagined oc’s dress to look like :)

okay enjoy!! thank u ( ˘ ³˘)

it was the end of the semester and of course, the only time jungkook would be running late to class was when he was finally going to ask you out on a date. so far, everything seems to be going against the idea. his alarm didn’t go off on time, the shower took way too long to warm up, and his car was low on gas. now he’s speed walking, almost running, to lecture to make sure that his seat next to you isn’t taken.

he wants to make sure this goes perfectly. he spent the past two weeks stressing over the plans. asking for recommendations for nice restaurants in the city in almost every group chat he was in. his friend (the one with parents as ceo’s, eunwoo), helped him and got him a reservation at this one five star restaurant that jungkook’s never been to. eunwoo told him that it was the prettiest place he’s ever been to, said it would be perfect for a first date.

jungkook specifically remembers you telling him that you’ve never gone on an actual dinner date. ice cream dates, movie theater dates, and amusement park dates were what you were used to. there was nothing wrong with that, it’s just that you’ve never experienced a candlelit dinner at a restaurant, that’s it. jungkook just wanted to be the first one to experience it with you.

so when his morning starts off this shitty, he wonders if his plans are falling apart. he tries to keep a good, positive mindset, but he’s already so nervous and the universe seems to be telling him: don’t do it, she’ll reject you, you’re gonna look stupid in front of her.

meanwhile, you’re early this lecture. it was the last class of the semester and you were hoping that you could get a nice conversation with jungkook in before it started. the two of you have gotten a lot closer since you last hung out. the chain of events starting with you apologizing for being so embarrassing,

[12:44 pm] you: jungkook!!! oh my god i am so sorry for last night 😭

[12:45 pm] you: i don’t take alcohol very well 😖

[12:50 pm] jungkook: 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

[12:50 pm] jungkook: no need to apologize! are u feeling sick? hungover?

[12:52 pm] you: omg no not really

[12:52 pm] you: ur a great drinking buddy, i owe u one 🥺

[12:53 pm] jungkook: it’s alright cutie

[12:54 pm] jungkook: just happy ur feeling okay :)

[12:56 pm] you: let me make it up to u 😭 i’ll buy us lunch one of these days?

[12:57 pm] jungkook: ah no can do cutie

[12:57 pm] jungkook: have to buy u dinner first

the thought of the conversation makes you smile. that one conversation starting the domino effect of the two of you talking almost everyday for the past two weeks. you couldn’t help but expect jungkook to at least be here, but if he didn’t wanna come, then he didn’t have to.

you sat in your seat, patiently waiting for the one next to you to be filled by him. the hall was starting to fill now and class was about to start. you look around one last time to see that jungkook is still nowhere to be seen, and that a familiar brown-haired guy was beginning to walk up to you.

“hello, ___! is this seat taken?” taehyung smiles brightly, you look down at the seat next to you. your bag saving the spot for jungkook. maybe he skipped this lecture, since it was practically for nothing anyway, you’ve already taken the final and there was no other material to learn, it was more so to wrap things up and see if anyone still needed to understand something.

your brain comes to a conclusion. you remove your bag and say, “no, go ahead,” to taehyung with a small smile on your face, one that hides the disappointment riddling your mind.

it’s about five minutes after the professor starts talking when jungkook finally walks in. he looks up to try and find you as he walks up the steps of the auditorium. his eyes land on you and taehyung, chatting amongst yourselves. he can’t help but feel a slight twinge of jealousy, that’s his seat. even though there were no assigned seats, the place next to you was always his, that’s just how it was, and seeing someone else sitting there, especially taehyung, makes jungkook’s green monster pop out.

you feel a presence step behind you while you were talking to taehyung, and before you know it, jungkook is sitting in the seat next to taehyung. “oh! good morning, jungkook!” you’re smiling to him. he doesn’t grant you one of his regular vocal responses, rather he gives you a tight-lipped grin before he leans back into his chair and focuses on whatever the professor was saying.

maybe he was jealous. witnessing you and taehyung having a wonderful conversation, one that makes you smile and laugh like he does. you didn’t even notice him when he came up the stairs, only greeting him when he sat down. no, he was definitely jealous.

you’re stealing glances his way, pretending to be interested in whatever taehyung is talking about. he’s wearing the most boyfriend-est outfit in the world. a white long sleeve with grey sweatpants, his long hair tied up in a ponytail. you’re unconsciously biting your lip as you stare at him, he’s just so cool. he’s not even doing much other than looking straight forward. but this angle lets you see his sharp jawline and his side profile perfectly.

you felt bad, one hundred percent. you should have told taehyung that the seat was taken, because now he was talking your ear off and you didn’t mind it, but you wanted someone else to be talking your ear off and it was the guy sitting next to him.

when taehyung changes his focus to your professor talking about a summer he had in paris. you steal another glance at jungkook. you catch him staring at you, your eyes meet. he doesn’t keep the connection, cutting it off by moving his head and looking straight ahead. his jaw clenches, arms coming over and across his chest. he seems angry, you pick up on the energy now. an idea pops in your head to try and make him feel better. reaching into your bag to find one of your index cards, writing a message on it.

feeling okay?

you scoot your chair back a bit, pretending to stretch as you tap jungkook’s shoulder. he turns his head to you, eyebrows raised. you hand him the paper. he stares at first, eyes flickering between you and the paper. reluctantly, he takes it, unfolding his crossed arms to receive the note. you scoot back into your seat and lean into the table, lowering your chin onto the desk.

jungkook tries to hide his smile as he reads your little note. how could he ever stay mad at you? it wasn’t your fault he was late. so he replies, his black ink has a stark contrast against your green highlighter. he can already feel his bad mood brightening.

yeah, didn’t save me a seat? :(

this time he folds the note, handing it to taehyung and telling him to pass it to you. “really? you’re passing notes? we’re in college, jeon.” taehyung snickers as he slides the paper towards you.

you let a small laugh, reading the note. taehyung’s scolding continues as you write your response on the index card. you changed your green highlighter out with a blue pen.

i came super early :( waited 20 mins for u </3 but i didn’t think u were coming so i let taehyung sit here

you send it back and watch jungkook’s somewhat straight face contort into a smile. there it is, the smile that you know and love.

jungkook on the other hand could cry. you came early. you waited for him. god, had he royally fucked this up. he makes his mind up now.

i’m sorry :( let me make it up to u? can i take you out on a date tonight?

check: ◯ yes ◯ no

jungkook keeps the paper for a good minute, reading the note over and over again, thinking about how childish this way of asking is. but at the same time, jungkook knows that if he talks to you about it after class, he’ll gloss over the words and never ask you. letting the reservation and plans he made weeks ago render themselves useless. it was now or never.

so he fully sends it, tapping your shoulder and giving it to you directly. you open the note and scan the words, sending him the sweetest look he’s ever received in his life. he thinks that would be a yes. he hopes. you write something onto the card and pass it back to him, your hand grazing his for a second.

⚫ yes :) ♡ ◯ no

the rest of the class passes pretty quickly. not that you were paying any attention. jungkook had emailed you a link to a game that the two of you could play, a weird version of snakes. jungkook kept cheating, you swore it, but in all honesty, you knew you couldn’t compete when it came to jungkook and his computer games. a clap from the professor breaks your attention from your screen, “alright, that was the last class of anatomy 101!” he then goes on a two minute long speech thanking the entire class for their great work this past year. he ends his ment with, “good luck and make good decisions! have a fun summer!”

you take your time packing your things, a little too long for someone that just has a laptop to put into their bag. taehyung says goodbye to the both of you and leaves first, the seat in between you both empty. now it was just the two of you. a small blush creeps onto your cheeks. you were well past your high school crush phase, but jungkook makes you feel so shy again.

you try to hide it by speaking first, “so, a date?”

he sends you that award winning smile that makes you swoon. “yeah, did you change your mind?”

you shake your head. “is it casual? fancy? want me to wear a dress again?” you tease, finally pushing your computer into your bag and standing.

jungkook gulps. you looked so pretty that night in a dress. “fancy,” he answers, “you can wear a dress if you want, pantsuits are cool too— whatever you want.” he finishes packing as well, standing next to you as you both begin to walk down the stairs.

“okay then,” you smile. “what time should i be ready?”

“i’ll come and pick you up at seven, is that okay?” he replies, hand in his pockets. you both make your way out of the room and start to move towards the parking lot.

“sounds good,” you nod, approaching your car. jungkook walks you to your door, his eyes focused on your sweet smile and your eyes. if jungkook didn’t know any better, he would have thought you were leaning closer towards him. a small laugh leaves your throat. “see you later, kookie.”

he sends you a smile, the nickname tugging at his heartstrings. the realization hits him after you’ve already driven away and he’s sitting in the driver seat of his car. an embarrassing blush covers his face, he takes a deep breath and laughs to himself. finally. a year of crushing and he’s finally asked you on a proper date.

jungkook is quite frankly, freaking the fuck out. he isn’t sure what to wear and his hair isn’t working with him. the long strands seemingly out to make his life a living hell when he tries to style it. one strand always looks out of place, or the way that it parts doesn’t sit right. he’s pacing his bathroom, debating if he should just shower again and take all the stupid fucking product out of his hair.

he gives in after ten minutes of deliberation. a quick shower removing all the wax and gel from his hair. the ends of his hair dripping when he goes to check his phone, the time reading: 6:45. he was gonna be late to pick you up. now he’s full on panicking. he has no other choice then to skip the hair product all together and just let his hair dry and part on it’s own. he slides on his all black fancy outfit he had planned out just in case the first one didn’t work out. he steps out of his apartment after grabbing his car keys, wallet, and the flowers he bought earlier in the day for you.

a friend of his works in a flower shop. jungkook remembers you saying that you like all flowers and that you couldn’t choose if you had to. so his friend asked what you were like, trying to figure out a way to style the bouquet without knowing your favorites. jungkook said the general things; you’re sweet like an apple, probably sweeter, like candy. you’re so pretty, it’s blessing that he’s able to lay his eyes upon you. you’re smart, too smart for him to flirt stupidly like he always does, ‘cause you outsmart him and flirt with him back in a wittier way. you’re— that was enough information, his friend told him he was babbling again. jungkook only had to wait ten minutes for his friend to finish fixing up a beautiful bouquet for you.

the bouquet is placed on the passenger seat as he starts his car, texting you when he realizes it’s almost five minutes until 7.

[6:54 pm] jungkook: fuck

[6:54 pm] jungkook: i’m gonna be a little late

[6:55 pm] jungkook: i swear i’m not standing u up

[6:55 pm] jungkook: ok i’m putting my phone down to drive to u now, sorry cutie!!

[6:57 pm] you: ah okay!

[6:57 pm] you: i was getting a little worried haha

[6:58 pm] you: see u in a bit <3

jungkook drives safely, but efficiently to your apartment. the drive only taking about five minutes because the stop lights were gracing him with green lights his entire way to you. he parks right in front, grabbing the flowers and hopping out of the car. when he knocks on your door, he starts to feel his nerves work against him. the adrenaline from rushing here gave him enough energy to hype himself up, but now as he’s standing here at your door, waiting for you to answer, his throat starts to dry and his hands start to sweat.

the metal door slides open, revealing you. in your silk dress, draping over your body in the most flattering way. the neckline deliciously hangs down to reveal your cleavage ever so slightly and the slit on the dress, displaying your thigh teasingly. jungkook is speechless at his first glance at you. his eyebrows raise and his mouth drops open, catching himself drooling once you step out from your apartment.

“h— hi, you look— wow,” he stumbles over his words, taking a step back to admire you once again. “you’re fucking stunning.”

you brush your hair back behind your ear, your hand covering the blush covering your cheeks. “thank you, you look very handsome, jungkook.” you reach out and play with his black tie. he looks down when you do, remembering that he was holding a bouquet of flowers for you.

he holds them out, “these are for you.” like a kid giving his crush a dandelion he picked from the grass.

“these are gorgeous, jungkook! thank you.” you look up to him with your signature sweet eyes, the ones that never fail to make him melt. “just give me one sec, i’ll put these down and then we can go?” you ask, holding onto the bouquet and waiting for him to respond. a quick nod is all you need to open your door and place them in the fridge. you come out a few seconds later, locking your door and standing by jungkook again.

“that was fast,” he comments. he holds his arm out for you to hold, which you gratefully take.

“i just put them in the fridge, my grandma showed me the trick, it helps them live a little longer,” you explain. the two of you walking out to his parked car. he never lets your hand touch the handle, always opening the door for you.

“when they die, i’ll just buy you new ones.” closing the door for you and making his way to the drivers seat.

you scrunch your nose. when he comes back and joins you in the car, you voice your worry. “it’s kind of a waste, don’t you think?”

he shakes his head, “if it’s for you, nothing’s a waste.”

jungkook was a professional with his words. always rendering you speechless.

with that he starts the car and begins driving into the busier part of seoul. he makes his way into the restaurants parking garage, the building looks to be about five stories. the architecture itself looks expensive, you wonder where jungkook is taking you tonight. he parks the car, turning off the engine, and moving to open the door for you. he takes your hand and you hold onto your dress, fixing it once you get out of the car. god, you’re so pretty. he was so nervous.

“ready, my lady?” he smiles, his arm out for you to hold.

it makes you laugh, a snort almost. “i’ve never seen you so proper, mr. jeon.”

“only for you,” he winks. your heels click against the concrete floor as he leads the two of you into the building. the high ceilings and multiple chandeliers are what greet you first, the brightness of the place giving the sun something to rival. jungkook brings you over to the waiting area, telling you to wait for a minute as he checks you guys in.

this was crazy to say the least. the last time you went on a date, it was to the movie theaters. you’ve never been in a place like this; a doorman greeting every guest as they walk in, checking in to eat, multi-story, etc. the more you look around, the cooler it is. “let’s go?” jungkook’s voice makes you turn your head. you stand, taking his hand.

the two of you follow a man wearing a black and white suit, with a long tail jacket. he brings you to the elevators, holding the doors open for you both. you step in and he presses the fifth button, which was the top floor. you squeeze jungkook’s hand. he repeats the action, looking to you and silently asking if you were okay with the look in his eyes and the raise of his eyebrows. you nod, a smile on your face.

with that the elevator doors open, the metal doors sliding apart to reveal a private terrace. only a couple tables on the entire floor. a few people sitting down and enjoying their dinners. beautiful greenery surrounding the perimeter, the night sky only making it prettier. your mouth is left agape, you’re stuck in the elevator, speechless. jungkook gently tugs you forward, following the suit man to the table.

jungkook pulls your chair out for you. you could cry at the chivalry. you sit and he pushes the chair in, jungkook follows soon, sitting in the chair across from you. the man hands the two of you the menu and moves away from the table, standing back near to the elevator, waiting until you are both ready to order.

“this is fucking crazy,” you whisper-shout. the terrace was lit by these bright fairy lights that were hidden in the plants and were above the tables as well. it looked like little fairies and fire flies were in the air, roaming around.

“i know right!” jungkook looked as surprised as you were. “i asked my friends for some help and holy shit!”

“they know you’re on a date with me right now?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.

to this he furrows his eyebrows, “of course they do, i talk about you all the time—”but he stops himself from exposing himself any further. you can’t help but giggle. “i mean, i asked them to help me make this special, and here we are.”

you swoon. he’s so sweet for planning all of this out and wanting to make you feel special. the two of you look through the menu, jungkook warns you not to look at the prices, telling you to get whatever you want because the price doesn’t matter. but of course, your eyes stray to the numbers, the meals costing a pretty penny for a simple spaghetti plate, the cheapest thing on there. you were craving pasta anyway, you didn’t mind. the two of you order and wait for the food to arrive.

the city of seoul was just below you, not too high but high enough to turn people into smaller figures of themselves. the night lights look gorgeous from up here. the warm summer night only complimenting the gorgeous atmosphere.

“the view is so pretty,” you gaze out into the city. the pretty colors from all the lights of the different stores and restaurants complementing each other so beautifully.

jungkook was in awe, he knows that the city below you is gorgeous, but he can’t seem to get his eyes off of you. your chin resting in the palm of your hand as your eyes search through the streets. “yeah…” he agrees, “very beautiful.” he smiles, only looking at you.

the food comes and you both dig in. the two of you enjoy some conversation with each other as you eat. the topic of growing up comes up, both of you explaining the occupations you wanted, and you said something that sparked curiosity in jungkook. “your childhood dream was to live in california?” he smiles, chewing on his steak. most of the time kids dream about going to the moon or finding atlantis, but you wanted to go to america?

you nod, “sounds funny right? when i was a teen, i watched a lot of 90210.”

“is that all though? you only wanted to go because of a tv show?” he asks. there’s something you’re hiding, and jungkook can see it in the way that you hide your smile.

at first, you hesitate, but you open your mouth to speak, “well— there is— no, it’s embarrassing.” you shake your head, changing your mind and reverting your eyes down. staring at the plate of pasta in front of you. guys you talked to didn’t wanna hear about it, they thought what you were into was boring, embarrassing almost. a part of you feared that jungkook would feel the same.

you feel his hand on your chin, tilting your head up. “i wanna hear about it.” his face telling you the truth, the sincerity in his eyes as he patiently waits for you to explain.

“there’s this science program in california, they explore new ideas for researching the ocean, like trying to see what lurks in the deep blue, helping fix the rising oceans, everything-- oh my god, and they like go on field trips to different countries to see the coastlines and historical sites—” you cut yourself off when you realize that you’re talking at the speed of light. “i’m rambling.” you were terrified to see his reaction.

but when your eyes finally meet jungkook’s, they’re full of light. and his smile is so big. “dude, that’s so dope!” he grins, “i didn’t know you were so into the ocean!”

it was the bare minimum, being nice, but that was hard to find when it came to the majority of the male species. obviously, jungkook is above average, he only proves that the more time you spend with him.

“oh, i love it! my parents would bring me to the beach and i would cry every time we would have to leave, aquariums too, and the fish section in the pet stores.” you gush, leaning into the table to tell jungkook more. he leans into his hand, resting his cheek against his fist as he listens to you spill your knowledge and love.

he notes that the next date should be at the beach or an aquarium. it was a great time for him to learn this, especially since it was summer. the weather in favor of the cold ocean waves. jungkook swears he can listen to you talk until the end of time. your sweet voice can be the narration to his life, he’d never get sick of it.

the food on both of your plates had been cleared, the conversation sizzling into a comfortable silence before the man came back to give you the bill. jungkook doesn’t let you see it, instead just sticking his card in the black folder thing, and giving it back to the fancy suit man. it wasn’t long before he came back, handing jungkook back his card and giving the both of you a lollipop with gold flakes encased inside.

you gasp at the piece of candy, now that was ridiculous. you weren’t one to reject a lollipop though, gratefully taking the candy and popping it into your mouth. jungkook does the same. it tastes of blueberry. at this point he stands up, moving in front of you and holding his hand out to you. “let’s look around? i heard they have a cool museum on the second floor.”

you take his hand, “i love museums!” the two of you make your way to the elevator, the man (he never told you his name) kept the door open for you both. he presses the second floor button when jungkook asks him for the museum. the elevator landing on the second floor, the doors slide open to show a completely empty art hall. this place shocking you every chance it gets. you didn’t think it could get better, but it did.

when the two of you exit the elevator, the man leaves you to it, taking the elevator down and leaving you alone. your eyes scan the place, huge paintings on the walls, small paintings in collages, some sculptures on the floor, it felt like a pop-up museum. you both make your way down the enormous hallway, both sides of the room’s wall displaying works of art. you stop at one specific painting, the familiar work has you spewing random facts. “these are the lovers! i had to analyze this once,” you speak. the art displaying a couple kissing, both of their heads covered by a white sheet. “the real one is in australia, i think.” you laugh, tapping the lollipop against your lips.

jungkook listens intently, but he doesn’t pay attention to the painting on the wall. everytime he does, his eyes always revert to you. the art doesn’t stand a chance against you in his book. you, yourself, were a piece of art, one that was rare in this world, one of a kind.

he can’t seem to resist. taking your hand and raising it over your head, the way that they do in ballroom dancing. if a twirl was what he wanted, then so he got it. “beautiful,” he compliments, pulling you in close for a hug. the two of you swaying in the middle of the hall of this stupidly expensive restaurant.

you look up to him, making full eye contact as the two of you lean on one foot to the other. probably looking like a lovesick couple, getting lost in the moment. which, you were. your eyes flicker from his eyes down to his lips, he seems to do the same thing. his hand moves to caress your face, the swaying ceased. now the two of you are centimeters apart, noses brushing against each other. if jungkook doesn’t kiss you now, he thinks he’ll combust. so when he feels you pushing forward, he does the same, meeting you in the middle. your lips connect. the kiss almost identical to the painting in front of you.

jungkook swears he felt himself levitating. your lips are sweet, the blueberry flavor of the lollipop lingering on them. he’s had his fair share of kisses in his life. makeouts, pecks, cheek kisses, all types of kisses. but something about this one tells him that he’s in for it. he’ll never be able to get enough now that he’s gotten a taste.

neither of you want to take it too far; swallowing each other's faces in a distinguished, five star restaurant’s museum didn’t seem very proper. so the two of you make your way out of the building, thanking everyone at the front desk, especially the man that helped you out today, and walking into the parking garage where jungkook’s car was.

when you get to his car, he moves to open the passenger door for you but you stop him with a hand on his arm. you reach to open the back door handle and his eyes almost bulge out. everyone knows what happens in the backseat, and jungkook did not prepare himself for something like this.

you look up at him with the most innocent eyes, but there’s something devious hidden in your smile when you ask, “do you wanna talk for a bit longer? in the backseat? it’s more comfortable than sitting in the front.”

jungkook never took you for someone this bold. it’s either you didn’t know the meaning of the backseat (which was totally fine) or you knew very well, and had plans to devour jungkook (which was also totally fine).

he chickens out, his hands starting to sweat. “do you want to just go for a little walk or something?” it’s not like jungkook didn’t want anything to happen, it’s that he did. if he starts, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever recover from it. he walks a tightrope around you when it comes to his self control. one wrong move, and he’s terrified that he’ll fuck everything up.

“oh, it’s just my feet kinda hurt from these heels.” you pout, lifting you foot up to show him the almost stiletto heel.

his eyes widen. why didn’t he think of that? “oh— oh shit, i didn’t even— yeah, let’s sit.” he tugs on the door, letting you slide into the back seat. he follows, leaving a good amount of space between you both to make sure that there was nothing too suspicious going on. you hope your bold moves hide your nervousness, despite your confidence, jungkook’s unsure looks make you want to curl up into a ball. did he not want this?

the air was different now. in the restaurant the two of you had been so carefree, slow dancing in the museum, and landing a sweet kiss on each other’s lips. but now, an uncomfortable silence tears at the two of you. your hesitance makes you speak, trying to see if a conversation would ease the tension in the air. “i had a lot of fun tonight, kookie, thank you.”

it seems to comfort jungkook, he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. with a small smile on his face he replies, “me too, i was really nervous you wouldn’t like the food.”

“oh it was good! i’ll eat anything really, it’s just—“

“you didn’t like the place? was it too much—“

“no, jungkook, oh my god— i loved it, it was just really expensive, i still feel really bad about you paying for all of it,” you look to him seriously. “let me give you at least my half?”

he shakes his head, “i asked you out on this date, it means i pay, don’t worry about the price.”

you roll your eyes playfully, “big spender huh?”

a pretty laugh escapes his lips. “hard worker too.”

to this you smile, you stare at his impossibly-perfect face, noticing a stray eyelash on his cheek. you see a chance to strike and you take it immediately. you lean forward to swipe it off. jungkook almost leans into your touch. he’s so terrified that he’ll embarrass himself right now, so he’s been holding back tremendously. but the way you pick the eyelash off and place it on your thumb with a smile on your face, it eases most of the tension in his chest.

“make a wish!” you hold your thumb up to his lips. his eyes cross to look at the piece of hair on your finger, but nevertheless he obliged. shutting his eyes tight, making a wish, and blowing the eyelash off of your thumb.

you let out a small cheer before you ask him, “what’d you wish for?”

“if i told you then my wish wouldn’t come true, right?” he boops your nose. suddenly, jungkook doesn’t feel so nervous. his nerves calming at the feeling of your soft hands against his face. you make him so nervous, but at the same time you make him so comfortable and make him want to be himself. it seems as though the two of you were staring at each other for a while. jungkook was thinking about how much he likes you, the same ideas run through your mind. the thoughts make you wish for something more.

“can i kiss you again, kookie?”

he stares at you, weighing his options. if he kisses you now, then he has to strategically only give you a few kisses, he absolutely cannot make out with you, or else, jungkook will succumb to his desires.

but he takes a little too long to respond. the both of you overthinking the fuck out of the situation. it makes you draw back. “it’s okay if you don’t want—“

“no, no, please, kiss me,” he brings you back, moving closer to you. licking his lips in anticipation as you slowly push forward, closing the gap between you both. the kiss is so sweet, like the one in the museum. jungkook can still taste the blueberry lingering on your lips. he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of kissing you.

you pull away first. your eyes scanning his face to see any expression of regret. there’s none. his hand moves to the side of your face, caressing your face and bringing you to him once again to meet your lips. he can’t get enough. “tell me what you wished for, please,” you speak against his lips.

he smiles into the kiss. he wasn’t going to tell you, but since you were asking so nicely, he gives you a kiss on the cheek when he answers, “i wished for a second date.”

“oh, didn’t you know?” you kiss both of his cheeks before speaking again, “i grant wishes,” with wink.

“fuck, you’re so cute,” he thinks out loud, it makes you blush. pink cheeks out for show and jungkook thinks you look even cuter. he dives in for one more kiss, telling himself this will be the last one, but when you make sweet noises against his lips, it has him wanting more. hands moving down to your waist, pulling you in and letting you climb onto his lap. he pulls away first, trying to get a hold of himself. “i uh— actually, didn’t plan for this to happen,“ he mumbles against your skin, tripping over his words.

you look down, arms wrapped around his neck. “hm? what did you plan?”

“we were supposed to kiss on the next date i take you on and i didn’t think— we’re just ahead of schedule, that’s all.” jungkook tries to explain that he didn’t want to rush it, god no. he wanted to take his time, make sure that you didn’t feel pressured to do anything. but now, it seems like you’re taking the wheel and jungkook doesn’t mind it one bit.

“oh so you had like a real plan? like times and everything?” the thought of it makes you laugh, and the way that jungkook flushes makes you want to pinch his cheeks.

he pouts when you giggle, “don’t laugh, i just really, really wanted to do it right, you’re just so amazing and i didn’t wanna fuck it up.”

you smile at his concern. the fact that you have the uni heartthrob planning dates in his head down to the details and wanting to be sure he does it right makes your head spin. you hope jungkook doesn’t notice the way that your heart is beating three times the normal rate when you go to kiss him again. the only sounds in the car are labored breaths and your lips smacking together. it doesn’t take long before you’re grinding into him. his growing bulge rubbing against your soaking core. a groan leaving him when you grind particularly harder, his hands moving to your ass to grip it. you melt in his arms, small whimpers leaving your throat as jungkook drinks them up

you pull away from his lips, giving his cheeks attention then leaving a trail of kisses as you make your way to his ear. one final kiss is planted below his earlobe before you whisper, “am i ruining your plans, kookie?”

jungkook tries his best to conceal his groan, tries his best to ignore his incredibly hard dick in his jeans, but you’re so pretty and you’re on top of him, kissing him. it feels like a dream to jungkook. it is quite literally a dream come true.

he was already playing with fire, your body a flame in the cold, he moves closer and closer until he burns. “fuck plans,” he breathes. a hand comes back to caress your face once again. filthy thoughts flooding his brain. he wonders what being in between your legs is like, what you sound like when you cum. he wants to make you cry and beg for his cock. but he holds himself back, knowing that you’ll have time to try everything out, if you wanted of course. he leans the both of you forward, his large hands splayed on your back to secure you on his lap. your lips find each other once more. “can i touch you?” he asks so sweetly, a hidden poison weaving through that you can slightly hear through the deep rumble of his voice.

you’ve never wanted anything more. “please,” you nod. your lips chasing his when he pulls further away.

jungkook smiles at the action. “lay on my lap, baby.” he instructs, tapping your thigh. the nickname rolling off his tongue, his voice seemingly dropping an entire octave. you raise your leg and move it over to sit on his lap, sideways. your back against the car door and his right hand rubbing your thighs ever so gently.

“like this?” you ask, looking to him for reassurance. he looks to you with eyes that you’ve never seen, lusted and dark.

“mhm, perfect,” he nods. “good girl.” the praise goes straight to your belly, your panties flooding from how much you want him. his hands move slowly down your inner thighs as he goes in to kiss you again.

you’re absentmindedly spreading your legs, making room for him. he smirks against your lips when he realizes. he knows what you want, so his fingers move to your panties, lightly putting pressure over your clothed bud. you whimper at the feeling, biting his lip in the process. he moans in response, putting a little more pressure against your bundle of nerves.

“jungkook,” you whine, pulling away from his lips, “please.”

“please what, baby?” he kisses your cheek, “tell me what you want.”

“please touch me, please.” you beg, making eye contact with him. jungkook’s dick twitches at the sound of your begging. he wanted to string you along a little longer, but you’re being so good.

“since you asked so nicely, baby,” he obliges. bunching your dress up around your waist and noticing the pretty black lace underwear you were wearing, “for me?” he asks. you nod, your teeth taking in your bottom lip. he groans at the thought, you getting ready and picking out these cute, risque panties out just for him. it’s just too bad they’re gonna be on the floor on his car. he’s gonna need to ask for a rain check on admiring you and your cute underwear later.

you lift your hips to help him, underwear coming off to reveal your soaking pussy. “oh, fuck,” jungkook murmurs at the sight of it. “you’re so wet baby.” he almost starts drooling, he can’t wait to taste you, but he’s still hesitant, only wanting to do what you want to. next time, he can eat you out. right now, he’ll admire the delicious sight and make you cum on his fingers.

your eyes travel to the window directly in front of you, suddenly feeling insecure. thighs closing, thinking about how someone could look in and see. “what about the windows—“

“they’re tinted, no one can see from the outside in, i promise.” he reassures, giving you another sweet kiss on the cheek before asking, “do you still want to do this? we can stop now.” he’s so lovely, his concern and change in demeanor only making you want it more, knowing that he wouldn’t want to push you to do something you were uncomfortable with. sweet was sexy on jungkook. you never thought there would be a day that jeon jungkook fingers you in a parking lot of a five star restaurant, but here you are. and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

so you shake your head, taking his hand, and placing it back in between your legs. “please.”

“anything for you.” he whispers in your ear before running his middle finger up your slit, collecting your wetness, and spreading it around your clit. he continues making tight circles on your clit, the sensation drives you crazy. you lean your head back against the window, moaning out. it was almost humiliating how reactive you were, you hadn’t indulged in this kind of intimacy in a while, almost a year to be specific.

it wasn’t helping that jungkook was a fucking pro. the right amount of pressure and the placement of his digits against you has you dripping onto his nice, dress pants. you hoped nobody else was in the parking garage, else they would hear your cries of jungkook’s name. “more, kookie, more— fuck.”

“more baby?” he questions, the sound of your moans going straight to his already hard dick. he thinks he could cum just to the sound of your voice. he’s one hundred percent fucked when it comes to you. he dips his middle finger into your hole, you gasp in reaction. “like that? hmm? ”

jungkook knew was he was doing, he had you spread wide in the backseat of his car, already on the verge on an orgasm. he had a few years of experience on his belt, a ‘retired fuck boy’ he was, but he’s never wanted to please somebody more than he does right now with you. you just looked so pretty like this, so eager and begging for more.

he adds his ring finger now, his thumb against your clit. “oh, god—“ you mutter, the feeling of his fingers and his thumb on your clit is too good. his fingers fucking you better than anyone else’s dick ever has. you found yourself bucking your hips against his fingers. “kookie, kiss me, please,” you look up to him with the eyes he can never fucking deny. so he kisses you, drinking up your moans as you fuck yourself up onto his fingers.

“i didn’t know you were such a dirty girl,” he murmurs against your lips. your walls clenching around him, “letting me touch you like this in the backseat of my car?” his usual sweet demeanor now contorting into this cocky guy with an ego. it makes you even wetter. the squelch of your pussy every time his fingers push in is loud, the sound is music to jungkook’s ears.

“only— only for you, jungkook,” you whimper. you feel a familiar knot in your stomach tighten. he looked so hot like this. eager to please. his bottom lip caught in his teeth and a strand of his long hair dangling in front of his eyes.

“good girl, all mine,” he kisses your neck. it may seem just like something you say during sex, but jungkook wanted it to be true. wanted you and only you. all to himself. he makes his way to a sweet spot, the feeling makes you tilt your head, giving him more access to kiss and suck along the sensitive skin. the discomfort of your back against the hard door was the last of your worries. your orgasm creeping closer and closer, juices leaking all overs his fingers. “so wet baby,” he growls, “i know i could just slide in, fuck you so good.”

“p-please, i want it.” the thought of jungkook fucking you senseless, oh, you’d go crazy. begging wasn’t something you did when it came to sex, most of the time it was quiet, moans and breaths were the only things that you’d hear, no dirty words or praises. it was a good change, you never thought that you’d be so into being talked through it.

he smiles at your eagerness, “patience baby, gotta take you on another date, yeah?” kissing your pursed lips. always so sweet and lovely.

you feel his fingers push a little deeper, curling to find that sweet spot inside of you. your reaction does something to him, makes him hit the exact same spot, over and over again, in a slow, torturous beat just so he can draw those delicious gasps and moans out of you. jungkook feels close. he’s never felt like this before, so wound up. he ignores it, pushing it to the back of his head to focus on helping you reach your climax.

lucky for jungkook, he didn’t have to wait very long. his fingers were longer and a thicker than yours, his efforts making you get there faster than you ever could. the consistent deep strokes of his fingers make the warning signals go off in your head. you speak a verbal warning before, “fuck, i’m gonna cum,” your voice pitches a little higher than usual.

“gonna cum all over my fingers, baby?” he gives you one last sloppy kiss before you’re moaning out and coming onto his fingers, eyes screwed shut as your walls convulse rapidly as his fingers fuck you through your orgasm. “fuck, you’re so hot, ___.”

you feel a smile break on your face. “you’re not so bad yourself,” you wink, still trying to catch your breath. a laugh slips from his mouth, small smirk on his mouth to match. he slips his fingers out, your body twitching at the over stimulation.

“i’m sorry, baby,” he apologizes. inspecting his fingers, your pale almost-white cum coating the digits. he brings them to his mouth, sucking on your sweet sap. you’ve never seen anything hotter in your life. “sweet, just like you,” he smirks. you shrink in his stare, hiding your blush. like you totally didn’t just cum on his fingers.

you’re distracted by the feeling of something hard resting under your thigh, it’s then that you realize, “what about—“ you start but jungkook cuts you off quick.

“no, no, it’s okay, it’ll go away soon.” he shakes his head, but you furrow your eyebrows.

you pull on his black tie, making him lean forward and make eye contact with you “can i?” you ask, so sweetly.

he stares at you with the most sexed eyes you’ve ever witnessed. “you’re driving me crazy.”

“you’re always so sweet to me, jungkook,” you kiss his cheek. readjusting yourself in his lap, straddling him once more. “took me on this amazing dinner, always treating me like a princess.” your lips travel down from his cheeks to his jawline, then to his neck. he shudders at the feeling of your lips against his sensitive skin. your hands move from around his neck to travel further down, to the latch of his belt. his breath hitches. “let me return the favor, kookie.”

“i—“ he laughs, the embarrassment evident in the pink tint on his face. “i won’t last very long.”

you didn’t mind, just assuring him with a sweet kiss on the cheek before you start removing his belt. jungkook leans his head back on the headrest, his neck exposed for you to kiss and suck. you unbutton and unzip, pulling his pants and his boxers down at the same time. his size makes your eyes bulge. he was huge. your mouth waters at the sight.

“you’re so big, kook.” you egg him on, fueling his ego because he just looked so hot. your hand moves to hold him at the base, he lets out a shaky breath when your soft skin meets his. jungkook’s head is in the clouds, he could cum right now if he let go, but he’s holds himself back, not wanting to look like a fool in front of you. your hand moves up his dick, your thumb collecting the precum dripping from his hole, your thumb running over his slit as he groans.

his hips buck up, “shit, baby.” he just sounds so good. you could just lick him up. you collect some saliva in your mouth, letting it drip from your mouth onto his dick to lube your hand. he groans at the sight, “you’re so filthy, baby, holy shit.”

you smirk at the admission, the spit making it so easy for your hand to glide against his cock. the feeling makes him throw his head back again. his chest rising and falling. the picture of him with his eyes screwed shut in pleasure and his mouth agape makes your lower belly light up once more, you clench around nothing. leaning in as you pump his cock to whisper in his ear, “wanna fuck me so bad? have me crying on your cock? you want that, don’t you, kookie?”

jungkook twitches at your words. that’s exactly what he wants. was he that easy to read? was that what you wanted too? the thought of it makes him want to explode, “oh— god, ffuck— fuck,” he sputters. his hand coming up to hover above his head, your hand still pumping as the spurts of his cum shoot out. you smile at the action, knowing he didn’t wanna fuck up your dress. instead just making a mess of him and his hand. he takes deep breaths before speaking, “there’s a little box of tissues in the center console, could you hand it to me, baby?”

you lean back, opening the console and reaching for the small box that sits in the center. before you give it to him, your eyes flicker to the sticky mess all over jungkook’s hand and groin. a sudden urge to lick takes you over, holding jungkook’s hand and bringing it up to your mouth. you lick the dripping cum from the palm of his hand as he watches, maintaining eye contact the entire time.

jungkook shivers, a smile creeping on his face, “you— you’re evil.” the remark makes you laugh.

“sorry, just wanted to help clean up.” you smile, swallowing the cum you collected on your tongue.

“yeah, yeah, you’re not the sweet girl i thought you were,” jungkook quirks a brow.

you roll your eyes playfully, “you don’t like it?”

“nope, i love it, you’re perfect.” jungkook wipes off the remaining mess from his lap and his hand. you help him clean up tissues and he picks up your panties that were discarded on the floor. the two of you fix yourselves before stepping out of the back seat, jungkook opens the passenger door for you before he goes to a trashcan and throws away the soiled tissues.

he joins you back in the car, starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot. you were rambling about how happy you were that no one was around and how there were no security cameras in the parking garage. jungkook blabbers too, telling you about how embarrassed he is that he barely lasted a few minutes. before the two of you knew it, his car parked in front of your apartment complex.

he stands outside of your front door, leaning against the doorframe. all dreamy and not like he just made you cum in the backseat of his car. “text me before you sleep?” he smiles.

you nod, “of course,” reflecting the same smile. you wave before closing your door. the date being more than you ever expected. there was no way jungkook was real. he had to be a figment of your imagination, he was the absolute dream guy.

you lay in bed, staring at the stars on your ceiling. a blush creeping up to your cheeks once more when you think about the events that took place tonight.

[11:02 pm] you: thank you for tonight, jungkook

[11:02 pm] you: it was magical <3

[11:03 pm] jungkook: no problem cutie, i had an amazing time with you

[11:04 pm] jungkook: feeling okay?

[11:06 pm] you: i’m great!!! more than okay

[11:07 pm] jungkook: 😂

[11:07 pm] jungkook: i’m glad cutie

[11:08 pm] you: lunch on me next time? now that you’ve taken me for dinner :)

[11:08 pm] jungkook: sure, i’m down :)

[11:09 pm] you: i’m rlly tired kookie

[11:10 pm] you: gonna head to sleep now

[11:10 pm] jungkook: alright cutie

[11:11 pm] jungkook: sweet dreams!

｡ﾟ(ﾟ^Ｏ^ﾟ)ﾟ｡ tag list: @giadalin @ggukkieland

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oceanid-writes · 3 years

Text

Infraction: Chapter One

Pairing: Yandere L x Reader

Infraction- (a violation or infringement of a law or agreement.)

Summary: In which you come to possess a death note, and catch the eye of a detective with sinister motives.

Warnings: Death, overall creepiness.

Notes: Here it is! I’ve never planned or written a chapter for a longer series before, so here goes nothing. This is a pilot chapter, and if it does super poorly I will not be continuing it. However, if it does do well, expect more chapters in the future!

Prologue

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There is no redemption for criminals.

No forgiveness for those with corrupted hearts, the criminals who terrorize the innocent.

That you know all too well.

Still, you find it in your weakened body to collapse into the table, chained hands clasped together in prayer.

“God, if you’re up there, please, save me.” You mumble into your hands. There’s no response, and you’re met with only waves of guilt crashing into your thoughts, accompanied by an oddly familiar clenching in your heart.

You dug a grave so deep that no one can help you now. You accepted the sweet seeds of power, and became sick on it. It’s too late.

There is no God for you anymore. There can’t be. No one can exist to you anymore except the man with messy black hair, and large dark circles under his even darker eyes. He sits, no, crouches on the seat directly in front of you, hands rested on the table in front of you. There’s an odd glint in his eyes, a weird twist to the edge of his mouth.

“I find it quite fascinating that you’ve turned religious,” He says, savoring every expression you make.

He’s enjoying this. He wants to see you break.

L’s next words only confirm your suspicions.

“I’m particularly interested to see how you’ll react to the legal repercussions of what you did.”

He must be loving the half-angry, half-shocked expression that flashes across your face.

“You are, after all, a criminal,” He continues. “And that places you under the jurisdiction of, technically speaking, myself and the law.”

No, you know it’s true now. There is no god for you anymore, because the being you once thought to be an all-powerful blessing stands behind you, laughing in a high pitched tone, excited to watch you break.

Chapter One: The Shinigami

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It began with a gift.

The air outside your bedroom window was cold and angry that day, and if you were to open the latch it would surely rip you into the breeze. Orange and red trees thrashed against the howls of the sky, violently slapping any surfaces they could touch.

Spare leaves rustled against neatly trimmed grass far outside, while you sat on the cushioned seat of the window, book in hand.

Your house was empty that day. Your siblings weren’t trampling down the stairs, you can’t hear the banging of pans and closing of cabinets from the kitchen. Everything inside was silent.

It was peaceful, in a way.

But things like that don’t last.

You heard a loud thump from outside your window. Curiously, you looked outside.

That noise.

It wasn’t like a bird had bounced off your window.

For some reason, it felt sickening.

Ignoring the odd sensations in your chest, you peaked through the glass of your window. That was when you first glimpsed it.

An oddly bound book, made out of what looked to be thick black pieces of leather.

And there it was, seated right on the edge of your window. Amongst the wind, it laid unmoved, unwavering. Waiting to be picked up.

You opened the window, just a crack, only to reach out and grab the book.

It felt warm in your hands, yet in an odd way. Like the warmth of skin.

‘Death Note’ the cover read, and you wondered what kind of book it was.

You opened the odd thing, and there, splayed out on the pages, were rules.

“The human whose name is written in this note shall die.”

Die? It’s supposed to kill people?

“This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.

“If the cause of death is written within 40 seconds of writing the person's name, it will happen.”

“If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a Heart attack.”

“After writing the cause of death, the details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds.”

“The Death note will not affect those under 780 days old.”

“A death note will be rendered useless if the victim's name is misspelled four times.”

“If a death note is lost or stolen the owner will lose ownership unless it is retrieved within 490 days.”

It was a joke. It had to be. A sick one, but so eerily creative you couldn’t brush away the knot in your stomach.

Flipping the page, you noticed more rules.

Your stomach began to knot even more.

“The Shinigami's voice and form will go completely unnoticed by others.”

Shinigami?

A bile began to rise in your throat even thinking about it. What did it mean by shinigami?

Your room was already darkening with every movement of the sky, so much that the back half had been sliced in half with a shadow consumed the half untouched by light.

When your eyes finally adjusted, and you looked to the dark, there it was.

It grinned toothily, and made itself known with a voice like an old record player.

“Hello,” It said.

“You’re such an interesting human. I’m Ryuk.”

#yandere death note #death note #yandere #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #reader #y/n #light yagami #l x reader #yandere l #l lawliet #ryuk #yandere x reader #dark fic

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ranmanjuu · 3 years

Text

titled “shin shin”.txt

came across a post... a long, long while ago about a god of death type reader and got super interested, since of all the cyikemen games, ikesen is the one most surrounded by death on a larger scale (cause, war and stuff), so i wrote this at... 2020? almost one year before, at 21th of july. i had more of it written, but i really didn’t like it cause it felt too “quirky wattpad reader” and plus me just copying from the original prlogue without adding anything, so... yeah. enjoy!

(also, very important that anyone who wants to do whatever with this idea, feel free, no need to ask me)

You didn’t like your existence

To call it “your life” would be simply wrong; you don’t breathe, you don’t eat, you don’t sleep. All you are is a walking, talking existence that has a job to do until you fade away. You didn’t even like your job.

To lead a soul from their death to the Land of the Dead was a grim job. You learnt their regrets, their anger, their sadness, all which you knew was personal. But you had to be there. You had to ensure that their soul is at peace, so when the time comes to cross to the afterlife, they don’t get reincarnated as a ghost, stuck forever with their past emotions.

Shinigami, was your kinds’ name. God of Death.

You were a part of the blanket term ‘yokai’, or as some would call in other names such as ‘ayakashi’. Those who fall under the category were spirits, demons, animal-like creatures, or, similar to you, gods. For as long as you’ve known, supernatural creatures didn’t mesh with humans well most of the time.

Fear of unknown from both parties led to anger, rashness, and cut communication and involvement altogether for perhaps half your life.

You’ve existed for long; you stopped remembering the exact number after 1.000 years. All you did now was remember the year you came to the world, and do the math. But that doesn’t matter much, does it? The only thing you concerned yourself with is when you’ll fade away.

However, for your own sake, you do take a break. Such a job is heavy for the heart, and a walk doesn’t help as much, but it’s a nice thing nonetheless.

Kyoto. You were just done leading a soul that got caught in a traffic accident. You never traveled outside of the country, but would it really matter if you did? You still appreciated everything as it were; there has to be some light in a life to look forward to.

This particular city was rich in human history, you knew that. Maybe it’d be a fun thing to do, even if you didn’t have much an interest in it.

“All your famous warlord knowledge, packed in a mag! Come get one now!” A boy’s shouts filled the nearby streets, attracting attention from the occasional passerby’s. Including you. A Quick Guide To Your Warlords, the magazine read on the cover. Sounds interesting, and you were bored, so you took one and stuffed it in your pocket.

With a blank mind, you were brought forth to a temple by your wandering legs. Honno-ji. A small, quiet, quaint place. The setting sky burned up above as the small cries of the crickets sounded all around.

You’ve heard some stories of the small memorial in front of you. One of the unifiers of Japan died here—betrayed, as you remembered. But you can’t draw an exact name.

While drowning in your thoughts, the approaching presence coming to you was acknowledged but not paid mind to further. Until you shift your eyes to the side as said figure was in your peripheral vision—a man dressed in a lab coat. The two of you said no words, only continuing to gaze at the stone in front of you.

You only started to react when the sky above you turned darker and darker—not by the setting sun, but by the awfully black and almost purple clouds gathering up above you. That’s unusual, you’ve never seen anything like that in your life.

The once bright and bold sky now rained down drops of water on your face. You didn’t even notice you shifted to your human form—and a look at your hands covered in specks of droplets confirmed that.

“What poor timing.” The man next to you said, causing your eyes to glance at him. He looked solemnly to the monument, then to you, “Are you alright? Do you have an umbrella?”

“No, unfortunately. I didn’t expect it to rain. . .” your eyes linger to above his head, where a set of numbers and a small text was visible to you only. The death profile, as the others call. A set of information that shinigamis can see in most creatures, usually entailing their names, time of death, and cause of it.

It’s a cursing bit of information; always reminding you of what you are.

Out of nowhere, a thunder ripped through the clouds and hit directly on the small monument—a loud crackle following along. Your arm flew up to protect the man next to you by reflex, as your body stood there in momentary shock. You’ve seen death by lightning, but that was unlikely to happen now.

You whipped your head towards the human next to you, who seems the slightest bit appalled, but stood his ground. A strange thing catches your attention. . .

His death date. It’s flickering—changing.

From a century where he was supposed to die. . .to the 15-16th century.

A date of death changing has been a rare thing that happens, however unlikely, but—it’s never jumped that far before! To the past, too?

Utter shock froze you in place as the numbers flicker back and forth, leading your attention away from everything else—him asking you if you were okay, and most importantly—

—the black ball that formed where the stone was.

“Watch ou—“ before you can warn the man, the image of him next to you twisted and distorted, slowly getting sucked in whatever it was.

And so were you.

Wait! He isn’t supposed to die yet—!

The world faded to black.

Ugh. . .my head. . .

Your vision fades in and out, clear then blurry, until you’re finally wide awake. The scenery around you changed drastically, what was first a small place in the city of Kyoto is now. . .a dark forest. You’ve seen this kind of environment before in your memories—you just don’t know how you got here.

The lab coat guy—!

You immediately stood up from the dirt beneath you, looking around and trying to sense his soul around you. Nothing. Pursing your lips in slight unease, you started making your way through the criminally underlighted woods.

You’ve roamed around in the forest before. Most of your time on this world, you didn’t settle in a house or anything, you preferred to just wander around like a lost ghost. You didn’t have a need for one—you don’t need shelter, not food, not clothes, nor drinks. You were a lost ghost.

The branches and rocks and whatever else you tripped on didn’t bother you. All you were focusing on is now just. . .walking. Without even a set destination. The only guidance you had was the occasional moonlight that peeked through the trees up above.

As minutes pass by, you start feeling a faint presence of human souls.

It’s distant, and not much from how weak it is, but I should go and see.

All other senses were rendered useless for now as you focused on the source of the souls, and slowly marched your way to it. It grew closer and closer, until you saw a faint light coming in the middle of the forest.

Two people, you now concluded. Your footsteps remained silent and your presence unknown as you creep near the light.

A fire was set in a small clearing, and you can now see the two people. A man with dark hair, dressed in monk’s clothes and a scar marking his face, with another feminime-looking boy, purple-haired in armor.

“Are you ready for this, Ranmaru?” The monk spoke in a low voice. “You’re about to kill the demon. Bring him down for good.”

Kill, huh. An assassination was about to commence.

“. . .Yes, Master Kennyo.” The boy—Ranmaru—spoke, wavering in unease but still tried to be certain.

‘Master Kennyo’ smiled; a bitter, unresting one, “Good. They’ve light the fire at Honno-ji, arrive there and kill him. I will follow shortly once the fire has spread,”

“. . .Understood.”

Clutching his sword until it shook in his hand, Ranmaru turned around and walked off from the clearing.

You overheard the conversation and calmly watched his figure fade away. It isn’t your place to intervene—not if this is fate, but even so—you’ll follow him. At least you can rest the soul of the victim.

In silent steps trailing him, you heard a last piece from Kennyo. “Finally, we’ll have our revenge. . .”

You took your time in following Ranmaru’s path. If whoever’s assassinated dies, it’s soul will still remain until they can go to the afterlife. Time stops for them as long as it takes to get their soul guided away from the living land. Is it immoral in a way? Perhaps.

Unless. . .you can stop them from getting killed. But often when you try to intervene, the death happens either way.

So what’s the point?

Nihilistic thoughts aside, you sensed more human souls coming your way; five, from what you can tell. But you paid no mind to that. Until it got nearer, and nearer, and nearer, and—

“Oof.” In your blank stated mind, you bumped into someone, causing them to huff in surprise. You yourself paused and looked—a brown haired man wearing red armor, “Hey, watch where you’re going—!”

His complaints died on his tongue as soon as he finally saw who he bumped into. His expression, from a slightly irritated frown, turned more into one of confusion, “Huh? Hey, what’s someone like you doing here in the woods? Nighttime, also? Such weird clothing, too. . .”

His spoken words made you raise an eyebrow, “Ignoring all that, I’m sorry for bumping into you. I just had some business is all.”

“In the dead of night? What are you, an. . .enchantress? Those stories of w-witches in the forest?” The man’s voice wavered more with each passing word. The quirk in your eyebrow deepens.

“I assure you, I’m not—“

“Yuki~! We leave you for a few seconds and you’ve already found yourself a partner?” A velvet and rich voice arose from behind the dark bushes and trees, all of them being pushed aside to reveal an auburn haired man, this one more built in his body.

The one you’ve been talking to—Yuki—blushed and shook his head vehemently, “Ugh, no! I’m not like you; we just bumped into each other is all. And I think it’s some kind of witch, too—”

The redhead man tutted at Yuki in a disapproving manner, “Now, now, Yuki. Have I not taught you how to talk properly in front of such a beauty all this time?” His attention turns to you, and in a second, his eyes lit in passion, “Forgive me for his prudeness, my goddess, dear Yuki needs a lot more lessons than I thought. However. . .if you want to be with a real man, I’m always up for service.”

“Will you stop flirting with everything you meet. It’s disgusting.”

Three more people emerge from the shadows, the small bits of moonlight pouring to their features. The one who spoke was a blond one, cladded in blue armor and with eyes that said he wanted to have nothing to do with any of this.

“But Kenshin, you can’t just turn away at such a beauty laid in front of your eyes.” The flirt replied to the cold comment with a smirk.

“Stop. Or I’ll kill you.”

The bickering of the two were left unnoticed as another man with dark blue hair stepped up, far closer than what you were expecting. His hand reaches and caresses lightly on your clothes, “I have never seen such a design or material like this before. How fascinating. Would you like to switch with one of my kimonos?”

“Yoshimoto, I’ve already claimed them! Don’t steal them right under my nose.” Flirt Man threw a light complaint, turning away from Kenshin for a moment.

“Art is to be appreciated by everyone, Shingen.” Yoshimoto simply responds, now tugging lightly at the sleeves of your shirt.

Okay, you’ll admit it. You’re slightly overwhelmed.

So far, you haven’t said anything, mainly because you don’t want to. It feels like anything you say won’t make the situation better anyway. But still. . .even in your long life, this is quite bizzare.

You observed each of them one by one. Then your eyes landed to the last one, the same brown haired man you saw earlier. Now, in. . .some sort of ninja attire. While you tilted your head in slight curiosity, you’re at least satisfied to see he was safe.

And his death date has changed, too. . .

Speaking of death, you’re finally reminded of following. . .who was it, Ranmaru? to an assassination.

Gently freeing yourself from Yoshimoto’s admiring touches to your clothes, you bowed slightly in front of them, “I appreciate meeting all of you, but I have to go.”

You don’t see Sasuke opening his mouth to say something, and neither do the others, as you walked off to the darkness.

You thought by losing your way from your unofficial guide, you wouldn’t find the destination. But luckily, even going in the same direction as he did led you to it. Honno-ji. This time, it’s in the midst of drowning in fire. You made your way through the front door and entered where the fire wouldn’t reach you—but it wouldn’t make a difference anyway.

And in the middle of the room not yet entirely covered in flames, was who you assume the victim, sleeping. The cause of death, “died in an assassination while the building was set on fire”, said as much. Dressed in black armor, you could tell he was important, somehow. Not everyone can casually wear one, despite the past few people you’ve met been donning it.

The text displayed above the man’s head displayed the same old. Nobunaga Oda.

On the other side, you see a silhouette approaching steadily, sword in hand. Ranmaru, you guessed. You double checked yourself to make sure you weren’t visible to the human’s eye, and you were just fine with watching another death as you have—

Until, for the second time today, the death date for Nobunaga Oda flickered.

You froze as what was 21st of July, 1582, blinked into a later date. Much later.

What. . .?! That was the second time today—what am I supposed to—

Your chest felt heavy, and your hands trembled in uncertainty of what you should do. Do you save him? Watch him die? Would he even die at this moment? Or would it be later? You’ve never been in this position—the answer was always clear. And now you’re terrified.

Your body swayed back and forth violently, as two sides fought in your head of what to do. But time was running out—he’d be assassinated if you didn’t take this chance. And he’d die. That’s the same as you killing him, you thought, and you’ve sworn to never do such a thing.

From your disarrayed thoughts, your legs moved on their own and walked to him. You’re saving him, then.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen #cyikemen #*writing #scenario #ikesen nobunaga #ikesen ranmaru #ikesen kennyo #ikesen sasuke #ikesen yuki #ikesen shingen #ikesen kenshin #ikesen yoshimoto

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monotonous-minutia · 3 years

Text

It’s here! The ridiculously long (about 9 pages on Word) and totally unnecessary literary analysis of the absolute gayness of one of my favorite operas!

you guessed it: Les contes d’Hoffmann. I spent way too many hours over the past months writing this thing.

I just think of all of this altogether too much so I decided to just write it all down in one place like the lit crit nerd I am.

As I’ve mentioned before, there is a LOT of evidence in Les contes d’Hoffmann that the two main characters (the titular Hoffmann and his friend Nicklausse, aka the Muse) are absolutely an item. To the point where I honestly can’t understand how a director can look at this opera and think “oh that’s not gay” and proceed to stage it as if it’s not. It is SO GAY. I can only imagine that directors who stage this differently are deliberately trying to specifically remove the gay content (e.g., taking out the Violin Aria, messing with edits, doing weird things with the productions that I won’t get into lest I fall into a rant and forget what I’m here to talk about).

For some, the only way to acknowledge that Nicklausse and Hoffmann are an item is it ignore the Nicklausse part and have the Muse be a girl for the entire opera. Because, well, we can maybe admit to the romance, but at least it’s not gay, right?

Well, no.

Often, we get a strange dynamic where productions can’t seem to decide how to mitigate the gayness. Is Nicklausse a girl so there’s no gay with Hoffmann? But what about when he’s flirting with Giulietta (and come on, it’s really hard to stage the Barcarolle, which is basically a love song, without Nicklausse at least vaguely flirting with Giulietta and vice versa, because they’re singing it together). How is that not gay if you insist Nicklausse is a girl? There’s no way to get around it.

No matter how you spin it, it’s gonna be gay. And like I said, if a production tries to insist otherwise, it’s specifically to push back against The Gay. That usually fails miserably for two reasons. One, those productions are garbage, I don’t care who the director is and how fabulous the rest of their work might be. And two, by trying their hardest to get rid of the gay, they are flat-out admitting that it is there. If it wasn’t so blatantly obviously gay, people wouldn’t try so hard to prove that it isn’t.

On another note, it’s pretty obvious that the character of Nicklausse/the Muse is genderfluid. The Muse introduces herself in feminine terms in the Prologue (and Muses are typically associated with femininity), but navigates the majority of the opera identifying as Nicklausse, who’s a man. Ironically productions that try to lessen The Gay get stuck on this because if Nicklausse is definitively a feminine Muse, she’s gonna be gay with Giulietta, in which case the only way to avoid that is to say that isn’t gay because Nicklausse is a man, and, well, whoops, you just admitted the character is genderfluid.

Like I said, there’s no way around it.

I feel like even this super-vague analysis should be enough to convince people. But, because it’s not lit crit if we don’t get all in-depth and nerdy, and because it’s really fun, I’m going to plumb the depths of my research and analysis and share with you this 4,000-word essay proving that yes, indeed, Nicklausse is genderfluid; and yes, indeed, he and Hoffmann are a couple, and a very gay one at that.

Let’s begin.

(Note: the following contains a lot of references to outside sources and I’m just too lazy to properly cite them especially because I just spent the last three years of my life doing that for all my research papers and it sucks. But if anyone is curious and wants to know where specific pieces of information come from, let me know.)

Nicklausse is genderfluid.

This honestly seems like a no-brainer. The dictionary definition of genderfluid is “of, relating to, or being a person whose gender identity is not fixed,” so the fact that the character spends part of the opera in a feminine form (the Muse) and part of the opera in a masculine form (Nicklausse) is pretty much the definition of gender-fluid since the character’s gender identity is not fixed. Yeah, maybe the Muse is just in drag for the night, but either way, they’re obviously extremely comfortable in the masculine form so it seems more than likely it’s something they’ve done many times before and are not only okay with but very used to. There’s debate as to how much time, exactly, the Muse spends with Hoffmann as Nicklausse, or even whether Nicklausse is a real person or has been the Muse all along. The solution to this could affect the way the character is or is not defined as genderfluid, but the fact that there is no way to tell what the answer is—because the authors deliberately left that ambiguous—renders it a moot point. We could argue back and forth about that all day and never come to a conclusion because there isn’t one. At the end of the day all we can agree on is that the Muse is acting as Nicklausse the night Hoffmann tells the stories, and likely has done so before.

There is other, non-textual evidence that backs up the concept of Nicklausse as genderfluid. The biggest one is that Barbier and Carré were not strangers to the idea of gender fluidity in their work. About 14 years before Hoffmann premiered, another work from these two hit the stage: Ambroise Thomas’s opera Mignon. The titular character is, for all intents and purposes, genderfluid, presenting as both male and female throughout the course of the opera and seeming comfortable in both roles. Even earlier than that, the two of them translated da Ponte’s libretto for Le nozze di Figaro into French for the Paris Théâtre Lyrique. Anyone who knows this opera knows the multiple levels of gender-bending that occur here and the extremely meta exploration of gender primarily through the portrayal of Cherubino, a boy, who is played by a woman and frequently dresses up as a girl. You can hardly talk about Nozze without acknowledging the genderfluidity it contains. So, before writing the libretto for Hoffmann, Barbier and Carré had worked with at least two other stories dealing with canonical genderfluidity. It’s not much of a stretch, then, to say that they were deliberate in their portrayal of the Muse/Nicklausse as a genderfluid being.

That being settled, on to the next point:

Hoffmann and Nicklausse are a couple.

You wouldn’t think so watching the way most Hoffmanns treat Nicklausse onstage, but there’s a lot of textual evidence that supports this claim. There are multiple facets of Hoffmann and Nicklausse’s relationship that indicate they are, at least in some sense, an item, even if Hoffmann doesn’t always acknowledge it.

We still don’t know if the Nicklausse we see in the tavern has been Nicklausse all along, or if he’s taking on the position of someone who’s actually been hanging out with Hoffmann all this time. That doesn’t necessarily mess up the analysis, though, because: if the Muse has been Nicklausse all along, then all of the evidence in Hoffmann’s stories is true (as “true” as they can be, being a result of Hoffmann’s drunken storytelling) of the person who is sitting next to him in the tavern right now. If, however, the real Nicklausse is absent, Hoffmann is still admitting the extent of the relationship to the Muse/Nicklausse who’s in the tavern tonight. We know this because Hoffmann is presumably making these stories up since it’s revealed at the end all these “loves” are manifestations of the real-life Stella. In which case, it is Hoffmann who is describing all of these things about Nicklausse that indicate they are in a relationship, consciously or unconsciously admitting that they are an item. Since the Nicklausse who is sitting with him during the storytelling is also the Muse, it’s not really a stretch to assume Hoffmann is talking about them during the telling, even if there is a “real” Nicklausse who’s absent tonight, because Hoffmann is taking details from things in the immediate vicinity to tell these stories tonight.

Now on to some more specific details:

They are a packaged deal. Before Hoffmann enters the tavern, Luther announces his arrival, adding that Nicklausse is with him (“Messieurs, il ouvre la porte,/Et Niklausse est avec lui!”). No one questions this or asks who Nicklausse is. They are all used to the idea of Nicklausse coming along with Hoffmann, so it clearly happens on a regular basis.

It’s also clear that Hoffmann is much closer to Nicklausse than he is to anyone else in the tavern. And that’s probably saying something, as it’s clear the friends at the tavern know a lot about him: they are familiar with his many different stories; they look forward to seeing him and hearing his tales; they know he enjoys singing, and convince him to do so to cheer him up; they tease him; they ask him personal questions; and they know his schedule well enough to notice when he’s late coming to the tavern. So, Hoffmann clearly has a lot of people here who know and care about him—but none nearly to the extent that Nicklausse does, as we will see. That indicates his relationship with Nicklausse is much more intimate.

Here are some examples:

When Hoffmann and Lindorf are facing off in their insult duet, before they can get too far, Nicklausse intervenes with a metaphor about shepherds and their girlfriends, distracting them before they come to blows. The others in the tavern join in, but no one else was motivated to stop the fight. Nicklausse was the only one who cared enough to break it up.

When describing his role in the stories that are to come, Hoffmann says Nicklausse takes the prize for common sense; he thinks highly of Nicklausse’s perceptions and opinions, even if he doesn’t always show it.

HOFFMANN Tu m'auras sans doute compris, O toi qui dans ce drame où mon cœur se consume Du bon sens emportas le prix!

At the beginning of Act I (Olympia), Nicklausse makes several statements that indicate he knows Hoffmann extremely well. Upon his entry, he exclaims “J'étais bien sûr de te trouver ici!” (“I knew I would find you here!”) He is familiar with Hoffmann’s usual haunts and knows exactly where to look for him. Further, he already knows about Olympia; when Hoffmann shushes him after his entrance, Nicklausse asks, “C'est là que respire la belle Olympia?” (“Is there where the beautiful Olympia is?”) He teases Hoffmann about being in love with her, so Hoffmann has obviously told Nicklausse all about her. Given no one else in the tavern knew anything about Hoffmann’s love life, we can assume he only talks about things like this to people he’s particularly close to.

Further, when Nicklausse is trying to get Hoffmann to reach out to Olympia before proclaiming his undying love, we have this exchange:

NICKLAUSSE Alors, chante, morbleu! pour sortir d'un tel pas! (Then sing to her, for heaven’s sake, if there is no alternative!) HOFFMANN Monsieur Spalanzani n'aime pas la musique. (Mr. Spalanzani doesn’t like music.) NICKLAUSSE Oui, je sais! Tout pour la physique! ... (Yes, I know! Science is everything!)

So not only had Hoffmann told Nicklausse about Olympia, he has also told him about Spalanzani’s obsession with science and aversion to music. Which means Hoffmann very likely talks to Nicklausse a lot about his studies and his intention to pursue a science education.

Out of all the names and titles Hoffmann is given in the tavern—poet, writer, artist, drunk—no one mentions the fact that he is a student. It might be because the group consists almost entirely of students, so it’s a given; but it might also be that, in addition to not discussing his love life with his friends, he also does not talk to them about his studies. Once again, this indicates that he is much closer to Nicklausse than anyone else in the tavern.

Nicklausse also knows the best ways to interact with Hoffmann. After Nicklausse sings his song and Hoffmann brushes him off, Coppélius enters and tries to get Hoffmann’s attention. However, Hoffmann does not respond, to which Nicklausse replies “Voilà le seul moyen d'être entendu!” (“There is only one way to be heard/get his attention”). Then we get the stage direction “il frappe doucement, puis plus fort sur l'épaule d'Hoffmann” (“he hits softly, then harder on Hoffmann's shoulder”). It works; Hoffmann turns and asks him what he needs. This is a very particular way to get someone’s attention. The fact that Nicklausse knows it means he gets Hoffmann’s attention a lot, and knows him well enough to understand the ways in which Hoffmann needs people to interact with him. This once again indicates a more intimate relationship, as no one else in the opera expresses having this kind of knowledge.

In less specific examples, Nicklausse spends a great deal of this act teasing Hoffmann about his love for Olympia. However, Hoffmann doesn’t seem annoyed or put off by his behavior. He goes to Nicklausse repeatedly to make sure he stays involved in the action. He’s used to Nicklausse’s banter, but it doesn’t annoy him enough to keep him away. He’s too attached to him to let the teasing get to his head.

Though Nicklausse does leave with the other guests so Hoffmann can be alone with Olympia, he returns much sooner than any of the others, looking for Hoffmann and asking “Veux-tu qu'on se grise sans toi?” (“Do you want us to get drunk without you?”) Apparently the party isn’t nearly as fun as it would be if Hoffmann were there with him. He misses Hoffmann and wants him to come join him. Then, he tries to warn Hoffmann that Olympia isn’t what she seems, and that he should be careful. When Hoffmann doesn’t respond to that, Nicklausse suggests he come to the ball and dance with Olympia—anything to get him to come to the party.

When Hoffmann does begin to dance with Olympia, she goes out of control. Nicklausse intervenes, afraid for Hoffmann’s life; in the process he gets knocked over himself, but continues to focus on Hoffmann’s well-being (while no one bothers to check in with Nicklausse). (This is rarely staged but it’s in every version of the libretto I’ve read.)

Finally, when everyone else is laughing at Hoffmann for falling in love with a robot, Nicklausse goes to him and tries to comfort him among the madness.

In Act II (Antonia), we obviously get the Violin Aria, which I wrote a really long thing about earlier. In short, it is clearly a love song, and since he’s singing it to Hoffmann, what’s really left to be said? That alone should be enough to convince folks that there are romantic implications (to say the least) between Nicklausse and Hoffmann. I’m at a loss as to how anyone could come up with any other reason Nicklausse would sing that song. “Love victorious”? “Poet, give your heart”? What else could he possibly be talking about?

Unlike almost every other number in the opera, the Violin Aria has no precedent in the play. It’s only here now because we have the Muse doubling as Nicklausse, singing a love song to Hoffmann. Though he spends a great deal of the opera discouraging Hoffmann from pursuing the objects of his affections, he’s not against the idea of Hoffmann being in love. He’s against the idea of Hoffmann being in love with anyone who isn’t him.

Of course, this song is sometimes (often) cut. There’s more evidence that it’s supposed to be there than evidence against, though (according to a bunch of people’s research), so edits that exclude it are probably trying to lessen The Gay as much as they can. I don’t see any other reason for taking it out.

In addition to that, though, in the dialogue version of the libretto, Nicklausse gets a paragraph or so describing just how long (six months) and hard they have been looking for Antonia. You’d have to be pretty devoted to someone to follow them around for six months helping them look for the supposed love of their life. And on Hoffmann’s end, you’d have to like someone quite a bit to have them around you nonstop for six months, and feel extremely close to them to be able to expect that kind of devotion from them.

In addition, Nicklausse once again risks his own safety in order to save Hoffmann (though this is also rarely staged). When Crespel goes after Hoffmann with a knife at the end of this act, Nicklausse literally throws himself between Hoffmann and the knife. Y’all, if that’s not devotion, I don’t know what is.

Act III (Giulietta) is much more complicated because there are just so many versions of it. Of course there’s Kaye’s edit which is heralded by many is definitive and I’ll admit his research seems pretty sound so I’ll allow that to stand (because obviously I have the authority to have any kind of say in the matter). However there are several things from previous edits that Kaye takes out that also contribute to this discussion, so I’ll be referring to them as well.

First off, we get this line here which I’ve seen exactly once out of (n) productions:

GIULIETTA (se tournant vers Nicklausse) Et son ami! Pardon, Pylade or Pollux?

Giulietta is introducing Hoffmann to her company, and of course wherever Hoffmann goes, Nicklausse is as well, and since they’re a packaged deal, Giulietta introduces him as well, immediately after. And not only that, it’s precisely what she calls him that really drives the point home.

“Forgive me, was it Pylades or Pollux?”

I wrote a thing about this too. Here I’ll say:

Pollux refers to Castor and Pollux, who are typically used as a symbol of platonic affection between men, since they’re half-brothers. However, Pylades and Orestes are a different story. As I mentioned in the other post, if you’re familiar with Greek mythology discourse, you’ll know that most people agree there’s more to the relationship between Orestes and Pylades than a little bromance. So Giulietta is clearly suggesting something here when she refers to Nicklausse in these terms. It’s almost like she’s asking the question: “Are you two bros or are you romantically involved?” The fact that neither Hoffmann nor Nicklausse attempt to address that point seems significant to me. Nicklausse simply introduces himself, neither confirming nor denying the implications Giulietta is making about his relationship with Hoffmann. Nor does Hoffmann make a comment. If they didn’t want people thinking of them as a couple, one of them would have probably spoken up, but neither do.

In some Oeser-based edits we get an extended gambling scene, during which Giulietta serenades the guests, Hoffmann is distracted by her, Dapertutto gets some side dialogue, Schlémil acts shady, Pitichinaccio has some fun, the chorus gets philosophical, and Nicklausse tries to convince Hoffmann not to gamble away all their money. (Even if the extended scene isn’t included, Nicklausse gets a line to this effect in many versions of the libretto.)

Their money. Throughout, Nicklausse isn’t just worried about Hoffmann throwing away his own life savings. He’s worried because, despite the fact that he himself is not involved in the game (until Hoffmann makes him take his cards so he can go be with Giulietta), Nicklausse’s funds are at stake here too. I don’t know all the historical intricacies of finance at the time, but it sounds to me like the equivalent of these two having a joint bank account. You don’t share a joint bank account with just anyone. If Nicklausse and Hoffmann’s funds are collective to the point that Hoffmann losing money means Nicklausse is losing money too, the two of them are clearly financially dependent on each other, and if that doesn’t scream domesticity, I don’t know what does. I almost feel like the entire argument could ride on this alone.

The rest of the act is all over the place in terms of the order of events and even if some or others happen at all. The one most of us are probably used to honestly doesn’t have much Nicklausse material after the Barcarolle and his spat with Hoffmann, but others have more—like the conversation with Giulietta and the gambling scene described above. One of the most significant, which is based on a similar scene from the original play, concerns Nicklausse trying to get Hoffmann to leave with him, begging him to leave Giulietta behind, telling him this place is sketchy AF and they should leave before someone tries to steal their souls (which, incidentally, is pretty much exactly what happens). Eventually he gives up and goes to find a means of transportation (usually horses) and someone to help him physically remove Hoffmann so they can finally get out of there. After that, we only see him when he returns after Hoffmann gets his reflection taken; sometimes he doesn’t say much, sometimes he laments their fate, sometimes he finally does get around to dragging Hoffmann away once Hoffmann finally gives up, rescuing him yet again as they escape just before the police come looking for Schlémil’s murderer.

An interesting side note: In one performance I saw, Nicklausse tries to go after Hoffmann when Hoffmann goes with Giulietta, but is held back by Pitichinaccio (who then attempts to give him a poisoned drink, similar to an event in the original play). I also found a libretto and an album where a similar event occurs, except it’s Dapertutto who pulls Nicklausse away and makes him go back to the room where everyone else is still playing cards. In both cases he was able to return to Hoffmann right after Giulietta steals Hoffmann’s reflection. This bit isn’t included in any of the critical editions as far as I can tell, but it’s an interesting event, Nicklausse trying to go after Hoffmann to protect him (yet again) but being prevented by one of the villains. And, because Nicklausse isn’t there to help him, Hoffmann does get hurt this time (Giulietta steals his reflection). The one time Nicklausse is prevented from helping Hoffmann, Hoffmann winds up in a whole lot of trouble.

The epilogue is pretty self-explanatory, I feel. Nicklausse doesn’t get too many lines, but his altercation with Hoffmann is pretty significant. Nicklausse makes the connection between the three ladies in his stories and the real-life Stella, joking that they should make a toast to the lady. Hoffmann yells at him, basically telling him “shut up or I’ll slap you” (and in some productions I’ve seen, he actually does get slapped). Nicklausse is definitely offended by this.

NICKLAUSSE se levant Ah! je comprends! trois drames dans un drame Olympia ... Antonia ... Giulietta ... Ne sont qu'une même femme: La Stella! LE CHŒUR La Stella! NICKLAUSSE Buvons à cette honnête dame! HOFFMANN furieux, brisant son verre Un mot de plus et sur mon âme Je te brise comme ceci! ...

NICKLAUSSE Moi, ton mentor? Merci! ...

This isn’t the kind of fight you have with an acquaintance. Banter like this, that borders on threats and insults, typically happen between people who are very close and have a lot of history. Nicklausse is trying to draw attention to Hoffmann’s failed loves, comparing them to Stella, to point out how futile it is for him to continue to pursue this siren. It’s about time Hoffmann notices him. Hoffmann, on the other hand, is furious at Nicklausse for revealing the fallacy in his tales. Saying “I’ll break you” is a pretty savage way to respond; Hoffmann feels betrayed by Nicklausse. He’s also pretty drunk. Either way, it’s clear his reaction stems from the closeness he feels with Nicklausse; upset that his “mentor” and confidante would reveal him like that.

After this, Nicklausse usually ducks away, though some edits give him the line “Il faut se décider!” (“You need to decide!”) as Stella enters. He’s giving Hoffmann the final choice, the one he delineated in the Prologue:

Il faut en cette heure fatale qu'il choisisse entre nos amours, qu'il appartienne à ma rivale ou qu'il soit à moi pour toujours!

(In this fatal hour he must choose between our loves; he will belong to my rival or be mine forever!)

Hoffmann is too drunk to recognize Stella, and she leaves him to go with Lindorf. The students leave as well, and Hoffmann is alone—until Nicklausse returns (or maybe he never left, depending on how it’s staged), revealing their identity as the Muse. Again, it’s unclear if they were Nicklausse all along, or just borrowing the identity for the night. Either way, the character that we’ve spent the last two and a half hours with (or longer depending on the edit)—the one who, as the last six pages will attest, is almost definitely Hoffmann’s boyfriend—is here declaring their love for Hoffmann. In some versions they literally say “I love you!”

Je t'aime, Hoffmann: confie-toi à moi! fie-toi à moi!

(Interestingly, when this line is included, it is spoken under the name “Nicklausse,” before their transformation back into the Muse. To me, that’s a decent indicator that Nicklausse has been the Muse all along, even before the events of tonight.)

We don’t know exactly what’s going to happen next, and what precisely we assume will happen once again depends on the Muse’s status as the actual Nicklausse in Hoffmann’s life or imagining. I haven’t seen any two productions (save revivals of the same production) that stage the ending in the exact same way. There’s a lot of ways to interpret it.

But after all this, I’d venture it’s pretty safe to say the ones where Hoffmann and the Muse get together at the end are accurate.

#aaaaaan there you have it #have i reached peak nerd level yet?#Les contes d'Hoffmann #The Tales of Hoffmann #literary criticism #literature analyisis #character analysis #opera #opera analysis #opera tag #also none of these translations are mine i got them all from libretti and subtitles #i may have this opera memorized but that doesn't mean i can translate haha

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geniusgub · 4 years

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north//chapter one

here she is!! after the long wait, here is the first chapter of north! I hope you all like it. let me know what you think. more chapters to come soon🖤

also i dont have a tag list for this but if anyone wanted to be tagged in this fic then let me know and I’ll create a tag list

genre: fluff

pairing: spencer reid x female oc

warnings: very basic troupe that I’m sure some people are tired of lol but other than that, none!

word count: 3k

SPENCER

Being late to work is not something that I tend to enjoy. I hate it, in fact. I feel like I'm letting my team down if I'm ever late to round table meetings or if I miss a briefing. But these days, sleep is rare. And if I do sleep, it's not uncommon for me to sleep over the array of alarms I have.

Coffee is a must have for me at all points of the day. No sleep means exhaustion and exhaustion means my brain doesn't work as quickly as it could and that means we don't solve cases and not solving cases means more people die. I can't have more people die on my watch so I drink as much coffee as I can. But the coffee in the bullpen isn't always the best so if I ever have time, I stop at a cafe on my way to work. I take the extra five minutes to walk there before hopping on the metro.

I mumble off my coffee order to the tired looking barista and she scribbles down my name. I hand over a few stray bills to pay and get some change in return, tucking it in my pants pocket. I give a tight lipped smile to the barista before moving to a table in the corner of the cafe, pulling a book out of my messenger bag and starting to read, crossing one of my legs over the other. I don't look up while I wait for the barista to call out my name, not even when two people bump into each other in front of the door or a tourist asks someone else for directions. I just read my book and chew my lip, tapping my fingers against the hardcover.

"Spencer," I hear my name being called and finally allow myself attention to be lifted.

I stand quickly, tucking my book in my bag and closing the flap before heading back to the main counter. But the buckle of my bag gets caught on the button of my sleeve when I try to close my bag all the way. I pull at my sleeve, trying to get the buckle unlooped. But in this tussle with myself, I don't even realize that I'm still walking until I bump right into someone. I move my attention from my bag and catch the person's shoulders so I don't completely knock them over and make not only a fool of myself, but of them too.

"Oh my gosh," I say immediately, my eyes widening, "I'm so sorry,"

"It's okay, it's okay," the girl laughs, her hands squeezing my arms as she regains her balance, “didn’t even fall. You caught me. I didn’t even break a sweat!”

My eyes finally find the girl's face and I'm rendered absolutely speechless. I somehow notice everything about her right away and I memorize her beauty. Her eyes are a bright, beautiful shade of ocean blue and her eyelashes cast shadows over her perfectly pink cheeks. Her hair is wavy and blonde with brown roots, but there's a yellow and blue patterned scarf tied around the front of her head like a folded bandana with pieces pulled out to frame her face. Her nose is small and I can only liken it to a button. Her lips are full and plump and a pretty light pink color and her Cupid's Bow is one that Cupid himself should be jealous of. Both of her ears are full of different types of piercings, and her nose even has a hoop in her right nostril.

She's wearing a light blue knit sweater tucked into a tight denim skirt, along with a pair of short black boots with small heels on them. Her nails are painted white and her fingers are full of rings, each of them different styles and various shades of silver with yellow gems. I notice a tattoo on one of her fingers but she moves and I can't make out what it is. I wonder if she has more tattoos. I find two straps around her shoulders and realize she's wearing a leather backpack, one probably very similar to my own bag. The last thing I notice is the old fashioned camera hanging around her neck, resting just above the waistband of her skirt.

I've seen my fair share of pretty girls. I've seen girls that I wouldn't mind getting to know better. I've met girls that have caught my attention. I've even been in what I believed to be love. But what is this? If I thought I'd seen a beautiful girl before, I clearly hadn't met this girl before. She looks like an angel sent directly from heaven. She looks like she was crafted by God himself and put on this earth to grace mankind with her beauty. Is it fair for one woman to be this beautiful? Is it even possible? I didn’t think that one woman could possess such beauty.

What the hell is wrong with me? I can barely even breathe. I’m just staring at this gorgeous specimen, admiring her smile and trying to memorize the way her fingertips feel on my forearms. I quickly try to think of something to say, another apology for running into her, but I can barely even breathe when I stare at her, much less speak.

"Spencer," the barista calls out my name again, setting my cup down on the counter before walking away. Saved by the barista.

The girl smiles at me and her face lights up, only further illuminating her features. She's got two dimples on her cheeks, bringing out a childlike spirit in her that I pick up right away. "Um," she says with a laugh, "is that yours? You should probably grab it before someone else steals it,"

Okay, Spencer, breathe. You can do this. You’ve spoken to pretty girls before. Sure, it’s hard and it’s scary, but you can do it. Just say words. Preferably, coherent words. Preferably, maybe, a full sentence.

"Right," I finally force out, dropping my hands from her arms. I hadn't realized until now that I was still holding onto her and she was still holding onto me. I reach over and grab my steaming coffee, almost wincing at the heat under my fingertips.

The girl still hasn't moved when I turn back to her, but now she's fiddling with her camera. "Are you," I start to say before hesitating. Her head pops up and she smiles again, letting her camera fall against her stomach. I gulp, shuffling my feet against the floor as I attempt to speak a full sentence. "I didn't mean to bump into you like that,"

"Oh, it's totally fine," she waves her hand at me casually. "I wasn't paying attention either. No harm, no foul. Like I said, I didn’t even break a sweat,” The girl pushes her hair behind her ears and places her hands on her hips. With the confident way she speaks, I almost expect her to keep speaking, but she doesn’t. She just looks at me with the cutest smile, even baring her teeth, waiting for me to say something else.

So I clutch my cup of coffee and swallow thickly. “I-" I hesitate yet again, but when the girl's eyes scream for me to continue, I do. "What's your name?"

She opens her mouth to speak but before she can, another cup of coffee is placed on the counter. "Amelia," the barista announces before walking away.

Amelia laughs, taking a step over to grab her cup, which I immediately notice is tea and not coffee. "Took the words right out of my mouth,"

"Amelia," I repeat as if testing the way the word rolls off my tongue. It tastes sweet. "You heard already, but, um, I'm Spencer,"

"It's nice to meet you," Amelia holds her hand to shake mine, and the panic starts to set in. For a moment, I debate on actually just shaking her hand so I don’t seem like a total freak to this girl that I seem to have a massive crush on. But the prospect of shaking a total strangers hand is repulsive and when I find myself looking at her hand for more than two seconds, I’m starting to count up the amount of germs that would be present there and I have to force myself not to make a face.

So of course, while my hands get clammy and my heart rate speeds up, I do what I do best. I spit out a fact that Amelia didn't ask for. "On average we carry 3,200 bacteria from 150 different species on our hands,"

Amelia's fingers curl into her palm and she retracts her hand, looking down at her palm and smiling just a tiny bit. "You know, I don't blame you for not wanting to shake hands. It is kinda gross anyway,"

"Sorry," I blurt out immediately, still shuffling on my feet. "That was rude of me,"

"It's not rude," Amelia counters, sipping her tea without so much as grimacing at the inevitable heat. "Are you in a rush?" I glance down at my watch and see that I still have ten minutes until I should be getting on the train. I relay this information to her and watch as she smiles again. "Would you like to sit with me then?"

"Oh," my eyes widen slightly and I squeeze my coffee cup so hard that I think I might poke holes in the sides, "y-yeah, sure,"

"Cool," she breathes out, waving me on and leading me to a booth on the other side of the cafe. I'm far too anxious with this situation and by Amelia's beauty and her comfortability around me to even think about relaxing, or drinking my coffee, or taking my bag off from around my shoulder. I definitely can’t remember any of Morgan’s advice on how to chat up girls or any of the conversation starters I’ve memorized for social situations like this. My mind is completely empty, just when I need it to be full and plentiful. How lovely.

Amelia sits across from me and grins, and every time she does, I swear my heart skips a beat and another butterfly breaks through its cocoon in my stomach. "So where are you off to this morning, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Work," I answer, and then realize that's an incredibly vague answer. Amelia raises her eyebrows as she lounges back against the booth, clearly waiting for me to elaborate. "Uh, I work for the FBI, actually. More specifically, the BAU- the Behavioral Analysis Unit,"

"You're a profiler!" Amelia perks up again, sitting up straighter with a huge grin on her face. "That's super cool! My dad is a police officer, sheriff actually, back home in Texas and I'm pretty sure he's worked with the BAU before and he says you guys are awesome. You catch serial killers, right?"

I'm almost stunned by her reaction. Most people don't believe behavioral profiling works, and most people resist the practice, especially local police. But her acceptance of it is incredibly refreshing, and it's welcomed. Honestly, any type of excitement from this Amelia girl is welcomed. It’s a beautiful sight.

I can feel my cheeks turn bright red as I nod, still clutching my coffee cup. "Yeah, we do. And um, what about you?" I hate talking about myself so I change the subject. "Where are you off to?"

"I'm actually meeting a friend of mine to go shopping a few blocks over," Amelia gestures out the window. "But since we're talking about your job, I'll tell you about my way less cool job, which is an artist. I went to Carnegie Mellon and then moved here and I’ve been here ever since. My preference is canvas painting but I bring my camera around a lot, hence," she holds up the camera around her neck, "the camera now. I try to capture spontaneous moments for when I do exhibits and galleries and such,”

"I've always loved art. Never been talented at it, but I like it." I shrug nonchalantly and sip my coffee, trying to divert my eyeline down to the table, but when Amelia smiles at me, I can’t find it in me to break our eye contact.

Something about Amelia's smile brings me in. Every time she flashes her teeth, I feel myself sink further into my seat and I feel my head get fuzzier. I almost forget that I have to get to work in just a few minutes. But I don't want to go anymore. I want to stay here and keep talking to Amelia. I want her to keep going on and on about canvas paintings and her education at Carnegie Mellon, or even just tell me why she likes tea over coffee, if that’s even true. I don’t know anything about this girl but I want to.

"Nobody is technically good at art," Amelia responds. "Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses in the arts, everyone sees art differently, and that's okay. I'm sure you're not horrible, I'm sure you just haven't found your strength yet, Spencer," She enunciates my name with such beauty and grace that I almost ask her to say it again. I'd do anything to hear her say my name again.

"If-" I'm cut off when my phone rings in my pocket, so I lean over and fish it out. I read a text from Garcia that tells me we have a case, meaning we'll be briefing for a new case this morning. I sigh defeatedly, wishing I hadn't just gotten a text that usually piques my interest. Today, it makes my heart drop.

"You have to get to work?" I look back up at work to see yet another smile on Amelia's perfect face. "Go ahead, it's okay," I’m so used to seeing disappointed faces when this text comes in, not a smiling face. It’s odd, somewhat confusing.

I grab my coffee cup and stand as Amelia does the same. She holds her cup to her chest, looking down at her feet. "Will," I chew on the inside of my cheek when she looks up at me, ocean eyes wide with anticipation as I struggle with my words for the umpteenth time, "can I see you again? We barely got to talk and you-"

"Yeah," Amelia nods before I can even finish my sentence. "Can I give you my number?"

I have to hold myself back from jumping up and down in excitement. "Y-Yeah, sure, of course," I pull my phone out yet again as she does the same. She tells me her phone number slowly so I can get it down, but of course, it sticks in my brain immediately.

"Just text me," Amelia murmurs, looking over my shoulder at my phone where my shaky thumbs press against the buttons on my phone to type out- hi, it's Spencer. She waits until her phone rings and then she smiles at me. "Great, I've got it. Now, um, go. Don't let me be the reason you're late in helping people. You don't have to text me if you don't want to," she pauses for a moment, and I wonder what she's waiting for. Is she waiting for me to confirm or deny that statement? Is she waiting for anything at all? Is it an open-ended statement? Where have all my profiling skills gone? Forget profiling- where is my common sense? "But if you do wanna text me," I'm thankful when she starts talking again, "don't until after you've solved your case. Don't worry about me until you've saved lives. But like I said, if you don't wanna text me, you don't have to,"

My phone buzzes again and I can only imagine it's someone from the team asking me where I am, hurrying me along so we can get started on our briefing. I ignore it for now. "Well," I have to clear my throat to be able to speak again. I give Amelia a bashful smile holding up my phone for her to see, "I'll text you when I'm back home,"

Amelia blushes, her bottom lip being pulled between her teeth. She breathes out a tiny laugh, nodding. "I look forward to it, Spencer,"

I take a step towards the door and feel my body grow cold at the distance starting to increase between us. "I'll talk to you soon, Amelia,"

And with that, before I have it in me to take one more look at the angel standing in the corner cafe, I hurry out the front door. There's a dumb smile on my face as I rush down the stairs to the train platform, struggling to swipe my card and respond to Penelope's text at the same time, all while running to catch the train at the platform. I'm somehow successful at all of this and only manage to breathe once I'm inside the stuffy car. Amelia's face is stuck inside my head and I can't get it out, and I'm positive that I never want to.

///

"Reid? Reid!" My head pops up as Morgan forcefully says my name, catching my attention and bringing me out of my daydream.

When I look up at him, he's already staring up at me with his eyebrows raised, clearly expecting an answer out of me about something. I have no idea what that something is, but he’s wanting an answer about it. I clear my throat, placing my cup of terrible police station coffee on the table and running a hand over my face. "Sorry," I apologize half heartedly, "I was thinking,"

Morgan sits across from me at the table and folds his hands. "Case related?" I glance up at him before deciding to completely ignore him, standing and walking up to the board, returning to examining the geographical profile. "Reid, come on, we've been on the case three days. You've been distracted ever since you walked in for the briefing. You can talk to me," I keep ignoring him. I stare at the map in front of me. "Is something going on? Is it your mom?"

"My mom is fine," I spin around and cross my arms over my chest, ignoring the way my heart starts to speed up when Amelia’s face resurfaces in my brain. “Can we just solve this case so we can go home?”

#nikos north fic #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #matthew gubler #mgg #gublernation

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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A Beginner’s Guide to Marvel Zombies

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This article contains spoilers for Marvel’s What If…?

Man, Marvel’s What If…? series really does draw you in with a false sense of security, doesn’t it? The first episode is an adorable romance story laced with punching Nazis. The second is a tribute to a late actor in the form of galactic utopia. Then we get the Avengers being murdered, the universe being melted, and now Captain America eating human flesh. Enjoy your nightmares, kids!

The fifth episode of What If…? is a bit of a fanservice choice. For the latter half of the 2000s, Marvel was riding the Marvel Zombies train like nothing else.

While the first use of the concept came in 2005, one could consider What If…? v.2 #24 (What If Wolverine Was Lord of the Vampires?) to be the prototype. The story involved Dracula turning the X-Men into vampires, but Wolverine’s healing factor allowed him to overwhelm Dracula’s control and fight back. He then littered New York City with vampire heroes and humanity’s last hope came in the form of the Punisher wearing Dr. Strange’s cape.

Mark Millar

The first real use of Marvel Zombies was more of a prank than anything else. Mark Millar and Greg Land were doing Ultimate Fantastic Four and all signs pointed to the idea that they were setting up a crossover. Not just any crossover, but THE crossover. Marvel had been adamant about the Ultimate Universe being separated from main continuity, but solicitations and covers made it seem like the two Reed Richards counterparts were going to meet up. Much of Ultimate Fantastic Four #21 played into this with Ultimate Reed conversing with an alternate universe Reed who very much resembled the mainstream one. Ultimate Reed created a portal to go visit him.

What he found was zombie incarnations of the Fantastic Four with Reed asking, “Ever had the feeling you’ve been had?”

Robert Kirkman

The rest of the arc was about Ultimate Reed trying to survive and escape that world with the help of that world’s Magneto. This set the stage for the first Marvel Zombies miniseries, written by The Walking Dead’s Robert Kirkman with art by Sean Phillips (Arthur Suydam did zombie parody covers of classic Marvel art, which would continue for several more miniseries). Initially, Kirkman wanted to do a story about Luke Cage being the last hero alive, playing up his unbreakable skin as a deterrent, but since the Ultimate Fantastic Four arc already depicted Zombie Luke Cage, that was off the table.

Instead, his story involved two main arcs. One was the survival of Black Panther, who – much like the animated What If…? episode – was kept alive, albeit with his limbs being gradually removed for the sake of being zombie food without infecting the body. While the cartoon had Scott Lang’s disembodied head, the comic had a decapitated Zombie Wasp as Panther’s ally. She was never cured of the disease, but she did stop being hungry after a while and came to her senses.

The other story was about Earth’s zombified heroes dealing with the coming of the Silver Surfer and Galactus. A handful of them went on to devour the invaders and absorb their cosmic powers, along with their cosmic hunger. Hank Pym, Iron Man, Luke Cage, Wolverine, Spider-Man, and the Hulk went on to wipe out nearly all life in the universe as the Zombie Galacti. The follow-up was the basis for Marvel Zombies 2.

As for what caused the zombie outbreak in the beginning, that’s where things get a little hairy. The Ultimate Fantastic Four story revealed that a Zombie Superman (recolored to be the Sentry so as not to piss off DC) got so hungry that he punched reality until breaking into an alternate universe and infecting its heroes.

Kirkman and Phillips did a one-shot prequel called Marvel Zombies: Dead Days that suggested that Magneto bartered with some force to unleash the virus on Earth, thinking that it would only target humans and not mutants. Then a later miniseries called Marvel Zombies Return created an alternate universe time-loop where the zombies from Marvel Zombies continuity ended up in another universe, where they caused an outbreak, infected that world’s Sentry, and Zombie Sentry ended up popping into the Marvel Zombies universe to cause the initial outbreak.

Did anybody follow that? I hope so. Either way, Zombie Sentry was never mentioned again. He infected the heroes and then…nothing. Just a loose plot thread. Weird. Though fitting that the Sentry stopped being a threat because people forgot about him.

Crossovers

The initial Marvel Zombies universe was revisited here and there in several ways. Black Panther’s comic (during when he was leader of the Fantastic Four) journeyed into that universe and dealt with the Zombie Galacti. Ash from Army of Darkness got his own cool crossover miniseries taking place during the initial outbreak. Zombie Wolverine showed up in an Exiles story about a team made entirely out of Wolverine variants. Zombie Deadpool (Headpool) became a major part of the short-lived Deadpool Corps. Marvel Zombies also did a crossover with Marvel Apes.

There was also a one-shot called Marvel Zombies Halloween that revealed that Kitty Pryde and her son survived, while also showing what Mephisto was up to in this reality.

Fred Van Lente

With Marvel Zombies 3, Fred Van Lente started writing and brought the series in a different direction. He introduced ARMOR, a SHIELD offshoot based on dealing with alternate realities. While it still dealt with the Marvel Zombies universe, focus was more on the mainstream Marvel universe as it tried to prevent an invasion. The protagonists for the story were Machine Man and Jocasta. In the follow-up, Marvel Zombies 4, Morbius brought the Midnight Sons back together to save the world from a possible outbreak.

Van Lente’s swansong was Marvel Zombies 5, which was about Machine Man and Howard the Duck venturing into different zombie universes for reasons. After that came Marvel Zombies Supreme, taking place in regular Marvel continuity and featuring Battlestar and Jack of Hearts fighting zombie versions of the Squadron Supreme. Then came the last gasp for the line with 2012’s Marvel Zombies Destroy, where ARMOR sends Howard the Duck and Dum Dum Dugan to fight an alternate reality filled with zombie Nazis.

The Zombie Saga Continues

They did get a shot in the arm a few years later with Secret Wars. The event featured a world made up pieces of alternate Earths, haphazardly connected together. There’s a No Man’s Land on this Earth that’s filled with zombies and homicidal robots. It’s basically a place to dump criminals for execution.

A couple more stories were released, though neither had any connection to the original Marvel Zombies or the stuff with ARMOR. Marvel Zombie was a one-shot about a band of heroes trying to survive a zombie apocalypse, who end up teaming with Simon Garth, Marvel’s Zombie. The ending is…well, it sure is something.

More recently is Marvel Zombies: Resurrection. This one is about the Brood infesting and killing Galactus. The race evolves into a hivemind of zombies, all very interested in infecting Franklin Richards. The heroes for this one include Spider-Man, a Sentinel reprogrammed to be Franklin and Valeria’s nanny, a blind Wolverine, a techno-organic Frank Castle, and a SUPER EXCITED Blade.

Also of note is Marvel Universe vs. The Punisher and its sequels (Marvel Universe vs. Wolverine and Marvel Universe vs. The Avengers). This reality also dealt with a zombie superhero apocalypse, but in a different and more coherent way. Instead of being a virus, it was a bio weapon let loose into the ecosystem. That meant that presumably everyone was going to succumb to it eventually, turning into a savage cannibal. The Punisher, who was inadvertently behind the mess and was immune, would spend his days hunting down and beheading heroes. Also, he’d have to kill Deadpool on a nearly daily basis.

That’s Marvel Zombies in a nutshell.

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creampuffqueen · 4 years

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Broken Jars - Sukka Week Day 1

hello everyone!!! this is my very first atla fic i’ve ever written, and i’m super excited to share it with y’all!! this is why i didn’t participate in tlc shipweeks lol, i’ve been super busy trying to get stuff for sukka week because these kiddos need more content!!

the prompt for today was post-canon, so i wrote what i write best: a kid fic. rip to whoever said suki died young because that’s not possible. she and sokka got married and live a quiet life on kyoshi island to raise their babies.

anyway, hope y’all enjoy!!

word count: 2,418

~~~~

The house is so silent when Suki walks in, carefully removing her headdress, taking off the thick gloves of her uniform. Silence isn’t something she’s used to anymore.

It’s later than she normally gets home, the sun high in the sky and sweltering at this time of year. She has to resist swiping a hand over her sweaty brow, lest the face paint rubs off.

She had stayed late at the dojo, after a younger student practically got on her knees and begged for an extra lesson, desperate to keep up with the older girls. Suki couldn’t say no.

Normally when she gets home the house is joyful chaos, the by-product of two four-year-olds fully rested from a good night’s sleep and energetic from their lunch. Now, the only sounds to be heard are the creaking of the floorboards and… is that snoring?

She finds the source a moment later, chuckling softly to herself when she finds her husband asleep on the couch, laundry strewn about in the process of folding, looking for all the world like he just intended to rest his eyes for a moment.

“Sokka,” She croons gently, leaning over his sleeping form to drop a soft kiss on his cheek. Those blue eyes of his flutter open, lips parting into a sleepy smile when he recognizes her.

“Hey,” He grins back, voice slightly hoarse from sleep. “Are you home early?”

She laughs at that, glancing over at the clock hanging over the bedroom doorway. “No, actually. I’m home late. Are the twins napping?”

Sokka lets out a loud groan, sitting up, rubbing his neck. “They should still be. I put them down about an hour ago. After Kolla stole Koda’s stuffed badger-mole and both of them started crying, I knew it was time.”

Suki shakes her head at that. “They both have the same stuffed badger-mole, why does she do that?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. She just likes taking Koda’s stuff.”

Suki sits down on the couch beside him, resting her head on his shoulder with a sigh. “I’m glad they’re both asleep. I always get home before their nap, and then we both have things to do.”

“Well, I have things to do.” Sokka snorts. “Laundry. Somehow they’ve managed to dirty more clothes than when they were babies, and that’s saying something.”

“So there’s nothing else you’d rather be doing?” Suki asks coyly, batting her eyelashes exaggeratedly. She drapes a leg over her husband’s lap, leaning into the couch.

“Absolutely nothing.” Sokka gives her that lopsided grin that makes her heart race, blue eyes full of amusement.

They stare at each other for only half a moment before Suki sighs, done with playing games, and pulls him down for a kiss.

“You got me.” He smiles against her mouth in a way that makes her heart swell, “I’d much rather do this than the laundry.”

She laughs as he kisses her, quick pecks on her nose, her cheeks, her forehead. Suki leans in to kiss his nose, and his smile increases tenfold.

It’s then that she notices the red stain on his lips, the white on his nose. And she giggles harder, shaking in his arms as she points it out.

“Great Spirits,” Sokka sighs, “how hot was it out there? Your makeup has never melted before.”

Suki doesn’t answer him, just presses more kisses around her face, laughing in hysterical delight at the red marks she leaves in her wake. Her husband rolls his eyes but lets her have her way, a small grin turning up the side of his mouth.

When the novelty finally wears off, Suki leans her head against his chest, still giggling slightly. “You need a bath.”

“Thanks for that,” He snorts. His fingers shoot to her side, tickling her even through the thick Kyoshi uniform.

Very few things make Suki come undone faster than when he tickles her. As much as she hates it, she is very ticklish, and Sokka uses this to his full advantage.

Even after years of elite training, the Kyoshi warrior is rendered completely helpless as her husband’s fingers dance on her sides and her stomach and underneath her arms, her squeals of laughter echoing off the walls of their home.

“You’re gonna make me wake them-” Suki manages to get out between the laughter, but Sokka ignores her, yanking off one of her shoes to have access to her sensitive feet.

She shrieks again, laughing so hard she can barely breathe, when something crashes to the floor in another room, shattering-

Both of them pause, eyes widening, both of their minds racing. Their bedroom, something fell, something broke-

“The twins!” Suki gasps out, frantic, hurling herself off the couch and towards the door, makeup still smeared, one shoe on. Her fans, which she hadn’t removed from her waistband, appear in her hands as she scrambles inside, searching for the intruder; nobody is getting near her babies. She can hear Sokka outside, running for the twins’ bedrooms, ready to gather up the toddlers and get out.

Even though the world has known peace for years now, the fear still lingers, and even now Suki and Sokka wake up in the middle of the night gasping, visions of fire and death and loss all they can see.

For Suki, it was so much worse after she had the twins.

Before, her nightmares were awful. Sokka, lifeless in her arms. Her friends, separated and in danger. And her warriors, taken from her, captured by Azula, tortured with lightning running through their bodies.

After Kolla and Koda were born, their tiny shapes were added to the mix.

It didn’t help that their birth was so traumatic. She and Sokka had prepared for one baby, had smiled at every little movement and kick they’d felt from the outside.

She went into labor, and it was long and it was hard and Spirits, it hurt, but in the end little Kolla came screaming her way into the world, waving her tiny fists, a warrior from the start.

But the pain didn’t stop. And by the time the midwives figured out what was going on, that there was another baby, it’s heartbeat was so, so slow. Koda slipped into the world and he was so, so quiet. And he was so, so small.

He was still, the tiniest baby Suki had ever seen, a head of brown hair to his twin’s auburn, and he was silent.

She’d felt her heart break, then. Shatter, like it never had before. That was her baby right there, her son, and he was so tiny and so still and the world was so wrong.

She couldn’t even hear her daughter’s screaming over the sound of her own sobs, the roaring in her ears as the world stood still and moved too fast at the same time.

I’m sorry, the midwife had said, wrapping him up in a towel and passing him so gently into her arms. He didn’t make it.

Sokka was holding Kolla then, and she cried and cried and cried, like her heart was breaking too, a piece of her that could never be replaced.

Then a miracle happened.

In the dead of night on a summer solstice, the moon was full. It shone through the window, illuminating the tiny face Suki held so carefully in her arms.

Koda started crying, then. Just like him, it was tiny and small, but every single wail healed another crack in Suki’s ruined heart. A single stripe of his baby-soft hair lightened, turned moon-white, as he continued crying.

Suki knew then, what had saved her baby. Who had saved her baby.

Thank you, Yue.

In the years that passed, Koda was always so much smaller than Kolla. He was shy and quiet and so thoughtful, while his twin was wild with energy, and loud loud loud.

Even with their differences, they were still best friends. It also helped that Koda was a waterbender- one of the only things he was better at than his sister. Kolla so admired it.

And all of these thoughts bombard Suki as she runs into the room, fans at the ready, thinking about how hard she’ll fight, what she’ll do to make sure her children are safe-

“Mommy’s home!” Kolla’s sweet voice chirps, and the four-year-old runs into her mother’s arms, not at all bothered by the makeup, the uniform, the fans.

Suki accepts the hug, just as Sokka runs into the bedroom, shouting for her. “Suki, the kids-”

“Daddy!” And then he, too, is put under the spell of his daughter.

Suki spots the source of the crash, eyes widening as they settle on Koda, attempting to hide behind the dresser. The boy’s whole face is covered in red and black, and a smashed pot of white face paint is shattered on the wooden floor.

Suki’s makeup.

She notices, too, that Kolla’s hands have white paint on them, as well as a smear of red on her eyelid, the paint all coming off on Sokka’s shirt as she hugs him.

“What are you two doing awake? I thought you were napping.” Suki sighs, sheathing the fans back into her waistband.

“Koda and me wanted to do our faces like Mommy!” Kolla says happily, bubbling with excitement as she shows off how she put the red paint on her face. “But Koko reached too far for the white and now it’s broken!”

“You told me to!” Koda protests, hiding his face behind the dresser. “I said we’d get in trouble.”

“Come here, both of you.” Suki leans down, holding out her hands for her shy baby boy. “I don’t want you two to get hurt on the pot, okay?”

Koda starts crying then, and Suki holds him close, not worried about the face paint. That stuff stays on, and even if it doesn’t, she cares far more about her baby than an easily washable uniform.

“Koko, don’t cry!” Kolla says earnestly, dragging Sokka over to them so she can hug her parents and her twin.

“I’m- I’m sorry, Mommy.” Koda blubbers.

“Hey, buddy, it was an accident, okay?” Sokka soothes. “We can clean it all up in no time. It’s going to be alright.”

Still, it takes all three of them to calm Koda down, and in the end Suki picks him up and cradles him like a baby while he sucks his thumb, and Sokka cleans up the smashed jar of makeup.

Koda and Kolla both still have the paint smeared all over, not to mention Sokka’s own red-stained face, and Suki is sure her own is a mess.

“Koda, would you like it if we all went down to the ocean?” Suki offers, smiling as the toddler instantly perks up. If nothing else could cheer him, the prospect of swimming always did. “We can all get on our swimsuits and wash off the face paint.”

“I wanna go swimming too, Mommy!” Kolla giggles, dancing around her ankles.

“Then let’s go!” Sokka scoops her up, and Suki follows him into the bathroom, where the twins’ swimsuits are kept. She helps them put them on while Sokka changes in the other room, and then they switch.

It’s still hot outside, but it helps that they walk together under the trees on the way to the little ocean cove. The area is small and shallow, perfect for little swimmers.

Kolla runs around excitedly, as always, while Sokka stays behind, smiling at Suki, hand clasped with her own. They walk hand-in-hand to the water, their kids running off to splash in it.

Relaxing in the warm cove, Suki tugs her husband close, grinning as she washes the makeup from his face with gentle strokes. Kolla squeals in the background as Koda splashes her, the two of them sitting on the sandy bottom and having the time of their lives.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?” Sokka says cheekily, helping her to rub the face paint off.

“You may have mentioned it once or twice,” she laughs, thinking back to only this morning, where he pressed sleepy kisses over her body and whispered the words over and over in attempt to convince her to stay in bed. It almost worked.

“Well, let me mention it again. I love you, Suki.”

She can’t hide the smile and the tug in her heart that he produces. They’ve been together for years, married for a long time, and even have two babies. Still, she can’t help blushing like she did when she was just a teenager, brand new to love and diving into it headfirst.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me cry,” she sighs, laughter bubbling up. Overhearing their words, Kolla pushes her way in between them with a determined pout.

“Daddy, stop. Don’t make Mommy cry.” She has her hands on her hips in a way that reminds Suki a lot of Katara, but the expression is all Sokka. Koda trails over to see the commotion, draping himself into his father’s lap.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I was joking.” She soothes her daughter, and Kolla, satisfied, bounces back into the water to search for shells.

Sokka starts to clean up Koda’s face while Suki washes her own, then pulls her daughter back to wipe her down as well.

“I hope this is a lesson, you two.” Sokka chides, gently swiping his fingers over Koda’s cheeks to smooth off the smears of black face paint. “The makeup is for Mommy only.”

“But I’m gonna be a ‘Yoshi warrior too!” Kolla protests, attempting to squirm away from her mother.

“If you want to be a Kyoshi warrior when you’re older, my love, go ahead.” Suki tells her. “But right now you’re only four years old. You’ve gotta get a little bigger.”

Kolla pouts, but it’s soon forgotten in place of splashing her brother. Koda yelps, scrambling away, throwing out a hand behind him to send the water back at his twin.

Both kids clean, Suki lets them go free to work out their own differences. A moment later both toddlers are squealing with laughter, splashing water back and forth.

She glances back over at her husband, at Sokka’s fond look as he takes them in. Years ago, none of this was a possibility, not in a war-torn earth. The idea of a peaceful life, with someone they loved, friends all over the world, and now… two little ones to share it with.

Suki leans her head on her husband’s shoulder and smiles.

~~~~

there it is! i hope you all liked it! remember, reblogs >>>>> likes (not that i don’t appreciate likes as well!)

#avatar the last airbender #atla #sokka #suki #sukka #sukkaweek #sukkaweek2020 #sukka week #sukka week 2020

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nad-zeta · 4 years

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Hello! I sent a match-up rq for IkeVamp as anon by accident. I am a 5'4 INFJ girl. I like to read books and write poetry. Some people describe me as a chameleon since I fit in with everyone but that's because as an empath I easily understand people. I tend to have panic attacks a lot. I am also very bubbly and friendly. I have a habit of overworking and not taking care of myself when I am focused on work. I easily blush and get very flustered with the simplest act of affection. Thanks! Tag me

Hehe, thank you so much for the request dear❤☺! Hehe soz for making ya wait sooooo long! 😱😳I hope you enjoy this, love and I hope you have the best day! ❤🌻☺

So I match you with.................. Comte

It's no secret that for Comte it was love at first sight. This man has lived a looooong time, so the second his golden eyes glazed over you, as you were looking at one of Leonardo's paintings he knew. His heart started hammering in his chest, and a quiet voice whispered that you were the one.

He shook his head, thinking the thought preposterous, he had stopped believing in soulmates a long time ago. He turned to leave when suddenly you gave his sleaves a gentle tug. He turned around, and the second those golden eyes locked with yours, his heart had been won. You smiled a bright smile as you handed him the dropped pocket watch.

For the first time in this man's life, his heart was beating out of his chest, and his mind was blank. He felt like a silly teenager at the way he was rendered speechless, the second your hands touched. And he swore at that moment it was like a blot of electricity that had gone through him, sending a spark down his spine.

He quickly gained his composure and smiled his all so charming smile as he thanked you. He had to shake his head from the silly little thoughts of soulmates and the ones. He had lived long enough to know not to get too attached. That, vampires, did not have the luxury of getting the destined soulmate and that he was fated to live out his eternal life alone.

Sending another charming smile your way, he bid you farewell and made his way home, back the way he had come, a few days before.

The charming smile and warm golden eyes of the mysterious man had stayed with you as you continued to explore the museum. You wondered around soon finding yourself before a large door, and curiosity must have killed the cat cause you found yourself gently pushing the door open, to explore further.

You suddenly found yourself in a completely new place. Gone were the white walls and tile floors of the museum. You were now surrounded by old fashioned wooden floors and wallpapered walls. You continued on with your explorations, walking in on a dinner attended by a variety of different characters. Before you could apologize and excuse yourself a familiar face caught your attention. Comte stared up at you in awe, just how on earth was it possible that you were now standing before him once more. He strode to your side, gently taking you hand in his to invite you to join them for dinner and the rest was history.

You quickly befriended everyone in the mansion with your bubbly friendly personality. Cause you were a bit of a chameleon, you found yourself effortlessly blending in and adapting to life in the late 19th century. TBH all the residence adored you and saw you as a bit of a mother figure, being able to relate to and understand them.

The one person who had taken the biggest liking to you, was the lord of the mansion himself. He loved that you got along so well with the residents of the mansion. He enjoyed that light airy feel you had that surrounding you and made a point of it to invite you to the garden for tea and snacks every day. He loved your bubbly personality, and the two of you would chat for hours on end about everything and anything.

Comte had to laugh at the way you had adopted the role of mansion mom. Often when the residents would get up to mischief *cough Arthur cough* they would run to your side to avoid daddy Comte's wrath. You had Comte wrapped around your little finger, whether you knew it or not. If Arthur had taken a prank too far, he could be found hiding behind you, to avoid a Comte scolding session.

Comte realized rather quickly that you would get so involved in your work that you would simply forget to care for yourself. Often he would find you passed out in the library from exhaustion. He would usually let out a small sigh followed by the most tender smile, as he makes his way to your side to drape his jacket over you shoulders, before carefully picking you up and taking you back to your room. "Ma Cherie, you mustn't push yourself so hard," he gently whispers as he dusts a small kiss on your forehead as he tucks you into bed.

When you walk up later that night, you will wake up surrounded by the warmth of Comte's jacket and the sight of Comte sleeping on the edge of your bed. You can't help but smile as you run you finger through his golden locks.

Within seconds golden eyes flutter open to meet yours as he gives you with a lazy smile. "Ah your awake, you must be hungry, come, my dear let's go and get you some food." He then gently takes your hand in his and leads you to the kitchen to make you something to eat. You can't help but laugh as one would think that having lived as long as this man, he would be able to cook. Nope! Sabastian ran into the kitchen, panicked at the scent of smoke coming from the kitchen. He burst through the kitchen doors to find a small fire and both you in stitches laughing at Comte's lack of culinary skills to even make toast. Sabastian simply shakes his head with a slight chuckle at his lord and instructs both of you to wait in the dining room, while he whips up some food for the two of you.

Comte will be sure to visit you regularly to make sure you are taking care of yourself. He will legit whisk you away every lunchtime and take you out for lunch at a new cafe. If he sees you have been neglecting your sleep, he will invite you to his room and then lead you to his sofa. You will curiously eye the man as he gently guides your head to rest on his lap, as he starts to pull his finger through your hair with the softest of smiles, "you honestly make me worry, Ma Cherie, please rest for a little while." Sleep instantly finds you as he soothingly reads to you as he plays with you hair.

This man will be by your side in a split second whenever you have a panic attack. He will wrap you up in is stong arms, as he soothingly traces small circles on you back, while telling you to focus on the sound of his heartbeat. He will help you get you breathing under control all while whispering the sweetest most encouraging word in your ears. "I am here Ma Cherie, I will always be here for you." Once you have finally got you breathing under control, he with tenderly caress you face as he wipes away all the fallen tears. It breaks his heart to see you so distressed. He will gently pick you up and take you to his room where he will spend the rest of the day cuddling with you.

This man loves to tease you! Loves how flustered you get at any signs of affection. He will legit surprise you with little acts of affections like small lil kisses or hugs just to see the blush spread across your face.

Often, the two of you are spending time together. Sometimes you are simply just in the same room, each busy with their own tasks. After finding you, Comte can't bear the thought of being parted from you, so he will spend as much time as possible by your side. Sometimes this boi gets lonely while working alone in his office, so he will bring his work with him to your room and just plop himself down beside you reading on your bed and continue working. He will most definitely occasionally kiss you hand or cheek, as the two of you continue with your own task snuggled side by side. Sometimes the man wonders how he ever survived without you in his life, as you bring so much light and love into his life that he has never known.

Loves the fact that you are such a bubbly friendly chameleon, cause his job requires him to make many appearances at different balls and banquets, and as the love of his life, he is always more than thrilled when you accompany him. The room is always dazzled by the two of you cuties. Each of you charming the crowd in your own special way, to build up and foster new business connection. The two of you honestly suit each other perfectly.

If you are feeling tired from all the socializing, Comte will quickly pick up on your silent cues and lead you to the dancefloor and spend the rest of the night with you in his arms, twirling you around. Otherwise, the two of you will enjoy the quiet of each other company out on the balcony as you watch the night sky.

This man will melt whenever you pull him away from his work to take a cuddle break. He is legit the happiest man in the whole world whenever you guide his head to rest on your lap, as you read your newest poem to him, all while pulling your fingers through his soft golden locks. I hope you are ready to be doted on and spoilt rotten cause this man loves to shower you in endless amounts of love and affection. It just so happens that his love language is both physical touch and giving gifts. So you best be sure every time you go shopping with Comte the two of you will return home with arms filled with parcels and packages.

Comte thanks his lucky stars every day for finally meeting his soul mate, the love of his life and the missing piece to his puzzle. And as such will spend every day of your eternal lives together, cherishing and loving you!

Other potential matches……………… Napoleon

I hope you enjoy this, dear! And I hope you have a super good day! ☺🌻❤🦋

#ikesen matchup #match ups #matches #matchups #ikevamp matchup #ikevamp match up #comte fanfiction #ikemen vampire comte #ikevamp comte #comte de saint germain #ikevam comte #comte matchup

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thehierophage · 4 years

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Bruno and the Occult Attack of Politicians

Since Lord Dampnut's ascension to the presidency there has been no shortage of witches, sorcerers, and enchanters working to try to bind, curse, or hex him. As a somewhat amusing side effect of this cultural phenomenon we've been able to see David Griffin of the Golden Dawn(R) wax like a tin-foil hat wearing kook decrying this evil and malignant magical warfare against our nation's Holy King. The purpose of this essay is to lay out why these efforts aren't really working. I'm putting this out there not to discourage your magical operations, but to make sure they are more effective.

The primary work I'll be referring to in this discussion is “On Magic” (De Magia) by the great Renaissance thinker and magician, Giordano Bruno. In this work he details the conditions required for establishing the necessary magical bonds whereby a magician would be able to manipulate and control a spirit/spirit-embodied person.

The first two bonds are considered to be comprised of a type of “triple power” which demands the utmost attention before any of the other bonds can be considered. That is, the first two bonds are each composed of three elements a piece which make up their effectiveness as a bond and which must be attended to if any magical operation is to be successful (outside of luck or grace). Here are the first two:

1. The first bond which ties spirits together is general in character and is represented metaphorically by the three-headed Cerberus of Trivia, the doorkeeper of hell. This is the triple power which is needed by one who binds, i.e., by the magician: namely, physics, mathematics and metaphysics. The first is the base; the second is the scale; the third is the summit of the scale. The first explains active and passive principles in general; the second explains times, places and numbers; the third explains universal principles and causes. This is a triple cord which is difficult to break.

2. The second bond is also triple and is needed in the agent, in the action and in the thing on which the agent acts. It consists of faith or credibility, of invocations, of love and of strong emotions in the application of the active to the passive. The role of the soul is to produce changes in the body of the composite, and the role of the body is to change the soul materially. If these bondings do not happen, or especially if they are not present, then no amount of attention or motion or agitation will produce any results. For a magician is most fortunate if many believe in him, and if he commands great persuasion.

So in the first instance, the magician is expected to have an understanding of the nature of the thing being worked upon (physics), an understanding of the symbols being used to create that change (mathematics), and an understanding of the philosophical theories which by necessity must contain the first two (metaphysics), and these three are considered to be the first and most important of magical bonds.

I would venture to say that sorcerers working against the current administration by and large are probably a pretty savvy bunch, or at least sophisticated enough to understand at least one thread of this triple cord (i.e., the “mathematic”). There's also a good number of magicians out there that have a decent understanding of the metaphysics of their given magical systems as well as the sets of correspondences which they use in any given magical operation. Where many may be lacking is in understanding the subject which they wish to change/affect, and this proves to be the lynchpin to the observable failures of the magical operations up to this point. Because unless all three of these cords are being put into use this most critical and primary of bonds will not take.

The second link in establishing the magical link extends its scope to not just the magician, but the magician, the target, and the operation being performed. Bruno says that the knowledge and understanding which is the core of the first bond is not sufficient in and of itself, but requires a real intense passion in the execution of the operation. In fact it requires a type of furore (a la Ficino) or Platonic mania in the magician to produce the necessary non-ordinary consciousness which will allow the magician to summon forth the necessary force for or against the target. What he doesn't mention explicitly until later is that the potency of the invocation must be something that would also move the target to feel that they are a passive recipient of the force being invoked. Simply put, it doesn't matter how passionate your petition is or how adroitly you handle your magical tools – if Lord Dampnut isn't the type of guy who is impressed by or fears such actions, then your ministrations will not produce a strong magical bond.

Bruno says of this later on in the same work chapter on the bondings of spirits:

“For actions actually to occur in the world, three conditions are required: (1) an active power in the agent; (2) a passive power or disposition in a subject or patient, which is an aptitude in it not to resist or to render the action impossible (which reduces to one phrase, namely, the potency of matter); and (3) an appropriate application, which is subject to the circumstances of time, place and other conditions.”

So not only must you 1) know your magical system really well (#3), be super passionate and precise in your working of that system (#1), but the subject/target of your work must not be resistant to being affected by the system or its operator (#2). Obviously it's in this last point that the process unravels.

Bruno continues:

“In the absence of these three conditions, all actions are, simply speaking, always blocked. For even if a flute player is perfect, he is blocked by a broken flute, and the application of the former to the latter is useless. Thus, a lack of power in the matter makes an agent impotent and an application unfitting. This is what was meant when we said that an absence of these three conditions, strictly speaking, always blocks an action.

“Closer examination may show that the defect is due to only two, or even only one, of these conditions. But a defect in any one of them should be understood as meaning a defect in all three, as when the flute player and his performance are perfect but the flute is defective, or when the player and the flute are perfect but the performance is interrupted. If the whole meaning of efficient action is taken to consist in the application, then the first condition merges with the third, for the agent is nothing other than the applicator, and to do something is nothing other than to apply something.”

To complicate matters Bruno throws out this interesting tidbit in his list of the types of magical bonds:

“7. The souls of men who are tyrants and rulers, and of those who have acquired some degree of fame and thus have become spirits.”

Now this could refer to the souls of these figures after they've died when they move from being a personality to becoming a principle – a kind of euhemerism where the minutia of the person is stripped away and the image becomes the receptacle and embodiment of specific values as in the case of patron saints.

Another, more sophisticated reading of this note may entail that the powerful and famous generate their own spirits of themselves which consist of their public image and the conceptions of themselves created and broadcast by the media. If this latter explanation is valid, then any magical work put against a media figure of some notoriety would affect possibly only the fame-generated spectre of the person and not the actual target. Only through continuous chipping away at the public persona would the source of that spirit begin to be affected.

In the case of the current example - their nature as a thin-skinned slave to their own media representation seemingly should assist media-savvy sorcerers in creating hexes which would damage the spirit proxy. This damage would then impact the host generating the spirit.

So what would a successful magical operation against this monster look like? The key here I think would be a two-fold coordination between those assaulting his public image (i.e., the spirit generated by it) and individuals working on the target directly. Both parties would have to be extremely well-trained, polished operators in order to dismantle such a juggernaut.

The first would tactically release imagery and stories meant to lure in those who have fallen under the spell of his spirit while also dismantling the spirit's ability to rally those same people to it by showing the spirit and its host as undesirable, insane, impotent, and working against their ability to enjoy themselves. This has become increasingly difficult to do as audiences have become hypersensitive to absolutely anything that has a whiff of being oppositional to their Fearless Leader. When faced with reasonable questions concerning the spirit's intentions its followers often respond simply by falling into a paroxysm of anger leveling accusations of unpatriotic behavior until the accuser has been shouted down. As a result these victims rally around a continuously fine-tuned stream of media from sources that provide them material which reinforces their position while also coordinating this spirit's magical force thus amplifying the problem. Frighteningly, one of the only ways to dismantle the power of this spirit's sway over its servants is to show it as being the thing that they hate and positing an even more insane alternative.

The second group of magicians would have to contend with finding and fixing those weak bonds discussed above. But who would turn a man like that into a passive recipient of the magical influence invoked by the magician? The answer, most likely, would be women. His love life has been very public and it would take no talent at all to figure out what his “type” is. A well-trained sorceress could then make him receptive to her charms (perhaps by feeding him her menstrual blood or powdered hair), receive personal effects from him by which to bind him, and be able to use these in conjunction with a burgeoning relationship with the target. Since the subject's natal chart is available and well-known this sorceress would be able to calculate the name of his Wicked Spirit, create specialized invocations triggering his already poorly placed malefics, and/or calculate the Lot of Death or Misfortune to divine when certain actions would need to be executed.

( Donhole by Blacky)

The above scenarios are a description of the type of work that would most likely have to be done to magically bring down a man with that kind of power. Anything less would probably fail or only be successful as a stroke of luck or through grace. I still recommend that magicians continue to do the work they're currently doing though. Not because I feel it will succeed in removing this monster from office, but because it accomplishes a continual regicide within the mind of the operator. There is one throne within the palace of the mind and it should either be filled by you or left conspicuously empty. Sic Semper Tyrannis.

#Giordano Bruno #Magick #Occult

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hypnotica-ships · 3 years

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3x3

So, thanks to some A+++ enabling from the discord server, I've decided to post my BNHA self insert fanfic. I haven't really talked about my insert, but I plan to sometime in the future, but for now I"ll leave ya'll in the dark.

This whole thing was made just to make me and my friends feel good and give us some much needed self indulgence.

Word Count- 1,550

Hypnotica- My S/I

Grafight- @fictional-characters-are-hot's S/I

Slasher- @alwayslovestruck's S/I

It's been 3 hours.

4 hours since the hero team Discorded was asked to help out with a capturing some drug smugglers.

3 1/2 hours since they found the drug den.

3 hours since Hypnotica sent in Grafight and Slasher to covertly search the place.

3 hours since he's heard a response.

It was a loud, shrill scream that made his blood go cold. Expecting the worst, he decided to find some loiters and use his quirk to get some backup.

After being only able to scour up 2 shadows for his mask alts to posses, he realized the longer he spends time looking for people, the more harm could come to his friends...*family*. Dolly, taking the form of a Harpy, and Dylan taking a shape of a Lion man, will have to do for backup. Hoping that it won't be needed, he finds an open window and heads into the den.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Look! They're opening the crates. That must be how they ship the quirk enhancing drugs."

"Slasher. I can't see shit, it's too dark in here and I don't have dope cat eyes like yo-....wait a sec..."

The younger of the heroes takes out a sketch book and quickly draws our some night vision binoculars and they suddenly 'pop' out into a physical object. After giving a thumbs up, in order to stay quite, Grafight uses the goggles.

"Oh shiiiiiiiiiiiiit....that's a lot of powder. How the hell do they sell it all?"

Slasher just shrugs it off and continues watching the group of men, tail swaying as they do.

All of a sudden, all of the men stop moving. A few moments later they all turn to the gurder that the hero duo were perched on.

"Hey! Lookey here fellas, some new 'test subjects' to try the new mix on."

"Oh as if you'd even come close to touching us! You won't even get a chance to lay a finger on us. Right Grafight?"

"Right! Good luck fuckers!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Slasher! Grafight! What's going o-...."

"We won!'

Hypnotica was greeted by the sight of Slasher triumphantly standing with one foot on top of a human mound of passed out thugs while Grafight was looking over the crate of drugs, kicking one of the thugs that started move on the ground.

"Wha- Then who the hell screamed?!"

Grafight, grabbing the thug she kicked by his collar and threatening to punch him again.

"This guy did. I think he's like...the kingpin or something. Screams like a little bitch though."

"We managed to take these guys out super easily, like it was nothing! Can't believe they were talkin' smack like they could beat us..."

Still a bit shaken up from his worry, Hypnotica headed over to check out the crate. Noticing a strange metal box buried slightly underneath some of the drugs, he pulls it out and begins to question the kingpin about it.

"This your tracker? Is this the thing that you use to keep an eye on your 'supplies'?"

"You better answer. Grafight is pretty liberal with bodily harm."

Slasher says as she walks over to look at the box better, poking it with one of her claws.

"...it....it...he.....hehaha..."

"Punching time?" Grafight asks looking up at Hypnotica.

"Not yet. He needs to be conscious to answer our questions."

"Talk then, asshat."

"...doesn't matter....we....we were gunna..."

"Gunna what, idiot?!"

"d....die...die anways..."

"...Punch him Grafight."

Hypnotica grumbles while Dolly pried open the box with her talons.

"Gladly!"

"...I don't think he meant, like, *80 times Grafight...*"

Slasher now worriedly watches as the kingpin get's absolutely destroyed by fists.

"..."

Hypnotica seems frozen as he looks down at the box, unmoving, and holding his breath. Cocking her head, Slasher notices that somethings wrong with him.

"Hey....you alright big bro?"

"..."

Finally stopping her onslaught on the kingpin, Grafight looks over to Hypnotica.

"Cat got your tongue or something?"

Still not saying a word, Hypnotica turns the box so the others can see. In the box is a small glowing green tube with wires attached to it, there's also a countdown screen slightly below it. It's only got 3 seconds left on it.

As her tail drops, so does her heart, with only a few second to accept her fate Slasher meekly gasps as she starts to speak.

'Oh..'

'Shit'

Grafight finishes Slasher's thought, right before everything goes white.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sirens are blaring as the green mist clears from the rubble of what's left of the warehouse. Various bodies are strewn all about, policemen and EMTs were able to arrive on the scene fairly quickly. Not that it mattered, the damage was done. From the looks of everything, there was no survivors, all thugs and kingpin were either crushed by the rubble or suffered from some strange type of asphyxiation. Death seemed to encompass the area, until one of the EMTs discovered a lion like shadowy figure seemingly protecting a group of still breathing bodies. The figure soon dissipated leaving a strange mask in it's place.

The bodies were still alive, but barely, and they needed medical attention and fast.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"-Sources say that the 'hero' team were incapable of apprehending the group and had to resort to extreme measures to stop the-"

"Horseshit! Why would we set off a bomb? We had it covered already, it wouldn't kill them to get their facts straight..."

"Calm down Gummybear, the doc said you shouldn't strain yourself..."

It's been 4 days since Grafight was released from the hospital, suffering from 2 broken arms, rendering her unable to use her quirk...among other things. Fatgum, her partner, had insisted to stay by her side until things healed, neglecting his own hero duties in the process.

"The doc can shove it as far I care! These newscasters have no right to spew out garbage lies like that! It's gunna hurt our rep.... Sure we might not be the nicest, safest, smartest heroes in the game, but we aren't villainous either!"

"...You...you do have a point, but don't worry about it, I"m sure one of the others will give them a piece of their mind and sort things out. Right now you and I have dinner to eat!"

Grumbling as she rose from the couch, Grafight followed her partner to the kitchen, sitting down at the small round dinning table that the family usually shared. This dinner was different though. The table had a nice white satin cloth draped over it, with 2 light candles on top. It seemed that this time these two will be dinning alone.

"Take a seat baby, I'll go grab our meal."

"It better be something good, the meals at the hospital were utter shit..."

She lets her sentence trail on as a covered plate is placed ever so gently in front of her.

"Oh? Did you plan on surprising me? ....Babe, my arms, I can't open it."

"Yeah, my bad, here ya go my sweet Gummy."

Fatgum slowly removes the cover for maximum surprise effect. Once it's off, Grafight can't help but smiley widely as she notices one of her favorite meals, but with a culinary twist. Hotdogs sliced up into star shapes, surrounded by a circle of mashed potatoes, topped with melted cheese, a dash or salt, and a glob of ketchup in the middle of it all.

"So? Ya like?"

"..."

Grafight's eye's start to tear up, but her smile still stays plastered on her face. Fatgum notices right away and goes to quickly grab some tissues.

"Oh Gummy, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to upset you! I just...I just thought I could do something special for ya...I...I-"

"Oh baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaabe! I love it! Omg, I love it so much, you're the best, you know that right?"

"I...yeah....no. Wait. YOU'RE the best, you're so strong and special to me, I...I"m just so happy that I didn't lose you...you mean the universe to me."

"Stop...I'm already crying, let's just...let's just enjoy this meal together, okay?"

"Okay. I"m starving anyways..."

Fatgum takes his place across from Grafight, and starts to devour his meal.

"Uh....Ahem...."

"Oh! Yeah, my bad, let me help ya."

The two enjoy their meal together, never breaking their love filled eye contact.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Slow down Mochi, you shouldn't be over-exerting yourself."

"But Kano, I want to dance! I really like this song...cough cough...it's a total....total banger, and I deserve to have some.....fun after what happened. Everyone else has been so....gloomy since then....I just....want to bring some life.....back into the house is all...."

"I know, I know...but, you won't be able to do much joy-spreading if you can barely walk to the mailbox without getting winded halfway there."

"Hmph, stupid bomb chemicals getting.....getting into my lungs...fucking up my whole system...did they ever figure out what...what was in that tube...anyways?"

"They still haven't called us back about the results yet, but they said the inhaler they gave you was working well enough for us not to worry. So we won't, right Mochi?"

"...Yeah...I guess...I just hate...feeling weak like this...I wanna cry but.... I don't want the others to...to see....they've been through enough....I don't wan them to worry about me...me too..."

Kano takes a moment to think, after a moment he takes Slasher's paw and leads her into the living room.

"Sweety...what are you doing?"

After he gets Slasher to relax on the couch, he walks over the Hypnotica's advance sound system and grabs a homemade looking CD. Putting it in he looks to Slasher.

"The good doctor said YOU shouldn't exert yourself, but....he never said anything about me."

As soon as the music starts, Kano begins to dance in a way that's all to familiar to Slasher. It's a dance they've grown to call the 'Humpty Dance', and no one else in the house can quite get it right like these two.

"Oh Kano! This....this makes me so....happy! Keep...keep going! Maybe...maybe you could...put in some...Slipknot next? Pwetty Pwease?"

"Anything for you my Mochi."

Slasher enjoys the show Kano puts on for almost 2 hours, by the time he gets done, Kano is just about as winded as Slasher has been recently. The two then cuddle on the couch, just taking in each other's slow and labored breathes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You will most certainly not."

Sir Nighteye slams his hand down on the counter to emphasize his point, making Hypntoica jump a little.

"And why the fuck not? The need to get their facts straight. I will not stand for all of this fucking slander."

Sir sighs and pushes his glasses up, trying to calm himself down.

"I understand that, but 'kidnapping the newsroom executive' is not the most ideal way to go about it. You can barely walk, even with the crutches!"

Motioning to Hypnotica's broken left leg, and the sprain in his other. Hypnotica just huffs and looks off to the side, still with an angered expression plastered on his face.

"So. Fucking. What? Okay, maybe kidnapping is a bit extreme, but..."

Sir's own angry expression starts to soften as he notices the tears that begin to fall from his partner's face. Wondering how long he's been holding it in.

"...I can't let my family take the blame for a stupid mistake that I made!"

Hypnotica's body begins to shudder as more tears fall, Sir walks over to him and embraces him in a way to try to calm him down.

"It's not your fault...all of you did what you could to try and handle the situation."

"That doesn't excuse all of the death and destruction that happened, and not to mention all the hurt my family is going through because of it!"

"No. It doesn't. But how is any of that your doing, hmm?"

"...I...I..."

"Shh, just stay, and relax. I'll make up a fully detailed report and send out a few copies to some of the stations. They'll most likely use those facts since my name does carry some weight..."

While still holding him with his right hand, Sir uses his left to tilt Hypnotica's chin up to meet his eyes. After a few seconds go by, he rests his head on his partner's.

"...Trust me dear. Everything will turn out just fine."

"Promise?"

"I promise. I saw it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"A trusted source, who has decided to stay anonymous, has confirmed that the deaths in the Discorded Warehouse accident were not the before mentioned teams fault, but the fault of-"

"Thank you! Finally, a news channel that checks their facts. Even though I'm fine with a few deaths under my belt, but whatever I guess."

"Oh! Look Gummy! That's me! Saving all of those orphans was quite the task, I'll have to tell you all about it later."

"Kano my love! Let me help you with those dishes, there is far to many for one man to clean."

"Thank you Mochi! I kinda went all out with the meal this time, it was a celebration for everyone recovering so quickly....well, mostly everyone..."

"I call bullshit. Of course right after I get healed I trip down the stairs and end up right back to square one."

"Guess that means I'll have play nurse bit longer my dear."

~~*Cue Laugh Track*~~

#my writings #neversetinstone #...#I don't know if i want to tag this with the source material tags...#considering this made for like 3ish people

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justkending · 4 years

Text

Is it even possible for you to stay out of trouble? (Drabble)

Summary: Dean and Sam get caught and get some help from an old friend on busting out. But how do they know her again?

Word Count: 2500+

Pairing: Dean x Reader (if you squint really hard)

A/N: This is a drabble that I completely forgot I had done a while ago, and since I won’t have any new chapters on my series until finals are over, I’ll put this out! Enjoy and let me know what you think:)

“Just tell us what you did son! We’re about to get the footage showing you’re guilty.” The sheriff from a small town in Ohio sighed running a hand down his face. “Make it easier for yourself and just confess.”

Dean kept his signature smirk looking up at the officer. He clicked his tongue and raised his hands best he could from the restraints locked on the table.

“Can’t confess to something I’m not guilty of.” He shrugged with that damn coy smile.

The sheriff’s, or Sheriff Townsley as his badge said, eyes showed rage now and he was just about to give Dean a piece of his mind when-

“Listen here boy-!”

“Excuse me. I would consider taking a step back sherif. Unless of course you would like me to file a report on you for threatening my client.” A female voice from the doorway spoke up.

Both men turned their heads to the sound, and eyes widened.

“I-I-” Townsly began.

“Go ahead and get that sentence put together outside. I need to speak with my client.” The Y/H/C women smirked showing she meant business as she walked into the, room briefcase sat on the table by Dean. Dean watching in awe that the fearless woman who just put a man of the law in his place. Plus, that pencil skirt was doing wonders for Dean’s imagination.

The sheriff was about to say something else, but again she cut him off.

“Go on now Sparky. I got it from here.” she winked moving around him and sitting at the table not paying the man any mind once she looked at Dean.

Sheriff Townsly rolled his eyes and shot a glare to the two in the room before grumpily walking out the door. Only giving one last glance through the window pane before giving them privacy.

As soon as they were in the clear, the women let out a loud sigh and dropped her head.

“Dean Winchester. Is it even possible for you to stay out of trouble?” she groaned pushing her perfectly curled hair behind an ear, and grabbed her briefcase.

“Wait, how do you know who-,” Dean said going from entranced by the women, to worried that she knew his real name. They were technically dead to the public. The last accident was the one with Lilith. Last report on them was dying in a helicopter while being transferred to a different jail.

“Bobby sent me Dean.” she said shuffling through the briefcase. “I’m going to shake your hand now as if we are just meeting for the nice little camera up in that corner.” she ever so slightly nodded to the place of the surveillance recording. Dean looking and shaking his head in annoyance. “Nice to see you again Mr. Winchester.” she says extending her hand.

Dean looked down at the gesture wearily, but returned the action confused why she was making it a big deal that they saw it. That is until he felt the small piece of cold metal in his hand. A paperclip.

“I’ve already visited your brother, he should be out in less than 8 minutes. Until then you and I are going to talk as if discussing your case.” she said standing and moving to the window to act as if she were casually going to admire the view.

Dean taking a second to admire the beauty that this mystery woman was. She had long hair that was done up as if she had a movie premiere that she needed to get to. Curled perfectly and professionally and pinned back half up half down. Her navy blue pencil skirt hugging her curves just right, and a tucked in white blouse that had a grey sweater over it tucked in as well making her look scholarly. Who was she and why was she helping? Dean didn’t get it.

“How did Bobby know that we were in trouble?” Dean asked.

“Sam called him telling him about your little burglary plan to go to that museum and steal that artifact. Said if you guys didn’t call the next day to check in and send for help.” she says fiddling with the window. Not noticeable to the cameras looking as if she was just picking loose paint on the window seal, but Dean had an idea of what she was really doing.

“It was just a break in. Why did he tell Bobby?” Dean said confused by the small inconvenience. They had got out of this multiple times. Yet again, this time they were dead to the public so it was more risky than pass times.

“I have no idea. He’s your brother, but it looks like he made the right move. Considering those vultures out there are just dying to lock you up and do some extensive background checks on you.” she said turning back around and Dean began to focus on her features now.

Her cheekbones perfect for her facial structure and brought just the right amount of attention to her slightly blushed cheeks. Her eyebrows sculpted and thick showing the real sass in her attitude and stature. Eyelashes long and bringing attention to the beautiful orbs studying Dean like he was her. Her Y/E/C eyes were mesmerizing and bold. Something about them familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

She must have been a hunter if Bobby sent her and if she knew who Sam and him really were. No doubt in his mind that she was. She had the tough exterior and hard set face that showed it. But how did he know her?

“Ok.” Dean said shaking his head out of his thoughts. “So what’s the plan Miss…” he waited for an answer on her name hoping he could put two and two together.

“Wow. Don’t remember me Winchester? I’m hurt.” she said with a fake pout and a hand on her chest. He was about to ask how they knew each other, but she moved back to the seat across from him. “We can discuss that later. Right now I need you to listen closely, because I’m only going to break you out of here once.” she said interlacing her fingers together and leaning forward to talk quieter.

“I already unlocked the window from the outside to make it faster for you. The inside is unlocked now too.” Yep, Dean knew what she was doing earlier. “Your car was still at the motel when they came to get you. I moved it somewhere else, but I have mine parked about 2 blocks south from here far from any surveillance cameras and such. As soon as I leave here wait one minute. No longer, and move to that window. I messed with the footage they planned on arresting you with rendering it useless, and hacked the cameras to go on the fritz right when you need to get out of here.” She nodded leaning back and placing her hands in her lap. “Don’t worry about Sam he should be headed out in the next 10 seconds. They didn’t put him in a room with cameras since they don’t see him as a threat.”

“Wait, why don’t-”

“No time to explain. I’ll distract the squad with lawyer like argument while you two make it to my car. Sam has the keys. Do you get the plan?”

“You still haven’t given me your name princess.” he said with a flirty grin leaning forward. He has a little time for flirting right?

She mocked his movement and gave him a sly smirk. “It’s not princess. That’s for sure.” she whispered in a sultry tone and stood up grabbing her briefcase. “See you out there ranger.” she sashayed to the door. “Oh.” she turned looking over her shoulder. “If you don’t make it, have fun running before they catch you. For your sake, I hope you’re fast.” she winked and left, leaving Dean with his jaw practically hitting the metal table restraining him.

Sure enough, Dean heard arguing down the hall from the woman and the sheriff. Then looking up at the camera, he noticed the red light showing it was recording go off, and leaving the camera dead.

He took the paperclip he was already messing with, and undid the cuffs from the table and his wrist. He moved swiftly to the window opening the window pane with a creak and cringing hoping it wasn’t loud enough to bring someone to investigate.

He followed the plan step by step and made his way to her car 2 blocks south. He realized he didn’t know what kind of car she drove, but luckily Sam was waiting for him and they both got in the car ducking inside to keep out of view for others. Smart on her, she had parked in a back alley so no one was coming by anytime soon.

Their next instructions as Sam said was to just wait until the woman came back and she drove them to where she said she moved baby.

“Who the hell is this girl?” Dean asked as they kept an eye on the alley.

“You really don’t remember her?” Sam scoffed. “Of course. You only payed attention if they were someone you wanted to sleep with.” he rolled his eyes at his brother.

“Excuse me, but don’t make me sound like a douche bag!” Dean defended shouting a little louder than he probably should have.

“It’s Bobby's niece Dean.” Sam rolled his eyes again sinking more into the back seat.

“Wait niece? Bobby doesn’t have a-” he paused thinking back. “Wait! Y/N? Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Yeah, I guess adopted niece, but yes. She grew up with us, but was sick a lot growing up so didn’t mess with this kind of stuff like we did at a young age. Bobby took care of her every once and a while when her parents couldn’t.”

“Her parents were those hunters that Bobby was super close with right?” Dean asked trying to think back.

“Yeah. I heard her parents both passed when she was 18. She’s been kind of fending for herself since then, but Bobby tries to help where he can.”

“She was the one who was sick all the time?” Dean asked thinking back to that comment.

“Yeah, smaller than she should’ve been, frail, had a bad immune system so was on bed rest half the time. She was sleeping or getting rest most of the time we visited Bobby, but she was always really sweet.”

“How come I barely have any memory of her?”

“Because she was my age and liked reading. You were always out fixing cars with Bobby or dad, and me and her would stay inside talking.” Sam laughed softly looking out the window.

“So, she was a nerd.”

“Just because we like to learn doesn’t make us nerds. Plus, that ‘nerd’ just saved our ass from getting put on the FBI most wanted list. Again.” Sam defended smacking Deans head from the back.

“Ow! Ok, ok… God I get it.” Dean sighed clutching his head. “She got hot.” he added only getting another smack from his brother. “Stop that!”

The door opened just as Dean was about to jump in the backseat and return the smack to Sam, and both the boys turned seeing Y/N throw the briefcase in the back and starting the car with the keys Sam left in the seat.

“Ok. Let’s get out of here.” she sighed checking her surroundings before peeling out and heading as far from the station as possible.

“So,Y/N…” Dean said flipping to a flirt instantly. He threw his arm over the backrest and leaned toward Y/N. The console being the only barrier.

“I see your brother refreshed your memory.” she said never taking her eyes off the road.

“Who’s to say I didn’t figure it out on my own?” Dean shrugged never looking away from her.

“Yeah, I highly doubt that considering you never even batted an eye my way back in the day.” she said turning to give him a fake smile before letting it drop and looking back at the road.

“Now that’s not 100% true,-” Dean began but Sam stepped up.

“So, Y/N how have the years treated you? Did you ever go to school like you planned?” Sam asked getting a genuine smile out of her as she looked in the rearview mirror. Dean pouted a little upset at the cold shoulder she was giving him but the kindness she was showing Sam.

“I did for a little. Then Bobby started asking for help, so I kinda dove into the hunter life.”

“What did you major in?” Sam asked.

“Psychology with a minor in Poli-Sci.” she answered.

“Wow. That’s amazing! You didn’t finish school though?”

“I was one semester away, but I got a good education. I’m not too upset about it. Bobby stopped anything and everything to help me so I did the same. I can go back and finish my semester another time.”

“You’re not upset with being pulled out of school?” Dean asked.

She shrugged again getting more comfortable in her seat. “I mean would I have liked to just wrap it up and have the degree? Yeah, but what monster asks what degree you have when you’re killing them?”

“Touche.” Dean chuckled.

“Ok, your car is just on the outskirts of town. Bobby said that he wants you two to head to his house when you get situated.”

“Are you going to be there?” Dean asked anxious to spend more time with her in hopes he can learn more about her and how she’s been over the years. Even if they were never close to begin with. She intrigued him.

“Why Winchester?” she said with narrowed eyes still on the road.

“Just wondering.” he said trying to pass it off as casual.

“Yeah, I’ll be there, but probably not for a couple hours after you guys get there. I have a few errands to run.” she answers easily.

“Nice. Cool. Cool. Cool.” Dean said failing miserably at acting cool.

She turned sending him a confused look before shaking her head and focusing on the road.

About 10 minutes later they were at the Winchester’s car.

“I’ll see you guys around. Try not to get into anymore trouble because I may not always be a few towns over.” she smiled as they got out and walked to baby.

“Thanks again Y/N. You’re really a life saver.” Sam smiled kindly.

“Anything for Bobby.” she winked.

“We’ll see you in a little right?” Dean asked before going to the driver side.

“Depends on how long my errands take.” she laughed. “I’ll see you around Ranger.” she said to Dean showing the first sign of friendliness to him. “Bye Sam. Take care boys.”

With that she drove off, only leaving dust from the gravel in her wake.

“Ok, but you agree. She got hot.” Dean said turning to Sam looking over the hood of the car at him.

“Get in the car.” Sam laughed shaking his head crouching into the car.

“You can’t tell me I’m wrong though!”

Supernatural Tags:

@flamencodiva @hobby27 @sucker-for-dean @deans-baby-momma @squirrelgirl67 @death-unbecomes-you @snffbeebee @larpandtherealgirl @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @spnbaby-67 @akshi8278 @musiclovinchic93 @vicmc624 @carryon-doctor-lock @perpetualabsurdity @herscrunchiehairtie @spnwoman @shamelesslydean @monkeymcpoopoo @winchestergirl82 @luciathewinchestergirl @deansyahtzee @thatgirl1456 @sucker-for-dean @atomicloverdonkeyperson @screechingartisancashbailiff

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravic @traceyaudette @kakakatey @notyourtypicalrose @laneygthememequeen @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @snffbeebee @thefaithfulwriter @marvelfansworld @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan @naomi02hook @xostephanie @schwankyblock @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @carls1022@rainbowkisses31@carls1022 @jjlevin

#supernatural #supernatural drabble #SPN #SPN drabble #spn reader insert #spn one shot #justkending writing #justkending #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester one shot

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evien-stark · 4 years

Text

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 34 [Begin: Interlude]

You had a flight to Switzerland in four days. And a flight to NYC to close papers on property came five more days after that. In the middle of all that you were still cleaning up the Expo, paying out slots in the fund for the people who got hurt, taking pressers and briefings, linking up with the legal department to get started on casework against Justin Hammer. Shelling out cash and vision to fix the damaged house in Malibu.

You’d thought this is what you wanted. But was it?

And, surprise surprise, right in the middle of contemplating that, leaving a boardroom meeting, you found Natasha Romanoff sitting in your office. She’d been mysteriously absent after the Expo violence, but then again, you supposed that was her job. It wasn’t with you. Made all the more clear when she slid a piece of paper your way on the desk once you sat down.

You didn’t even need to look at it to know. “Resigning?”

“Ms. Rushman finds that Stark Industries has grown a little too hectic for her tastes.” Although she was offering you a smile, you couldn’t find it in yourself to return it.

Was this disappointing to you? A strange feeling. Not sure where it was coming from. “I share her thoughts on that.”

The expression on her face shifted to something sharp but neutral. “I’m ending my cover here without provocation. In case I need to use it for something else later.”

Good ol’ super secret spy talk. “I figured. Does that mean I’ll be getting a call for reference at some point?” Trying your best not to be cold to her. Offering just a little joke.

Something she seemed grateful for. “It could happen. You never know. I expect a glowing recommendation.”

“Make sure not to list Tony, then.” You had no reason to fight with her. Especially if you were going to be… coworkers? Was that even the right word? You had no idea.

She nodded with a light laugh as she stood, a brief meeting it seemed. Must have had other things to get to. “SHIELD has a space not too far from here. We’re just setting up.” And the other shoe dropped. “We’d like you to come in for your preliminaries in the next few days.”

Setting your elbows on the desk, you linked your hands together. “I’m going to be out of the country. But I can work it in the 17th, if you’re okay waiting.” Time enough to enjoy Basel, get home and reset. “If not it’s going to have to be after the 20th.” An even longer wait in that case. You couldn’t start letting them order you around.

You had a life. A very busy one. This Avengers SHIELD nonsense was probably important. But so were your own duties. Dropping everything just to attend to this superhero life was a poor play. You’d only just barely convinced Tony of that.

“The 17th is fine. We’ll do your firsts tests then.” As she spoke you tapped the desk a few times to bring the on-screen open so you could add it to your calendar. “Then we’ll do your first round of physical training on the 18th. And your first round of enhanced training on the 19th.”

See?

See? You knew this was going to happen. All those dates and what came with them fell out of her, well prepared. Eager to start you into your new life as a super soldier. Although you circled the dates on the calendar, you glanced up at her with a brow arched. “What’s the difference between physical and enhanced?”

“Physical will be with me- as long as I’m on premises.” Meaning that could change at any moment. Made sense. “Enhanced will be with someone else with more… experience in that field.” Oh. The thing. Right.

You were unable to hold a sigh in. “How long will this take- the sessions, I mean. I’m not expecting to get buff overnight or anything.” Or at all. You were almost certain that was not the point of this.

But it at least eased you when she smiled again. Genuine. You much preferred that. “We’ll start at three hours a day. We know you’re a busy woman.”

Three hours. Three hours every time you committed to this. In a warehouse or a room- some days getting your ass kicked, no doubt. And others… doing whatever it was you were going to be doing to hone the thing. And you knew that would be exhausting, too. And once it was all over you’d have to slink off to a meeting or an interview or paperwork…

“What time on the 17th?” Was this really your life now? How? How had you been indoctrinated into being a superhero? Wasn’t that absolutely insane?

“For testing we’ll start at 8AM. For physical we’ll start at 10AM. I like to sleep in when I can.” Her joking with you wasn’t exactly landing. It was clear she was trying to lighten the mood. Make it easy. Because it seemed like the two of you were going to be working together- again- …

Ah.

Now you understood it.

I’d like it if we continued to get along.

You tried not to dwell on it. Giving her a smile, “Me, too.”

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

No matter how much money you had at your disposal to clean up the house, people could only work as fast as they could work. While some bits were cleaned up, others were cordoned off. The teams had at least gotten walls and windows fixed so there wasn’t an overbearing amount of outside air just trundling in. While it may have been smart to stay at a hotel, still, Tony had wanted to be in the lab. Which had been just lucky enough to keep from being destroyed. Not that it wasn’t used to it.

So that’s where you went when you got home around 11PM that night, two platters from a restaurant, ordered and picked up on the way, in arm. Keying yourself into the lab, you kept quiet.

Tony had a pair of blue tinted glasses on, thick black frames up top and clear around the bottom, squinting at the holo-board with tons of equations all over it. “No, JARVIS, that’s not gonna work for me.”

“Well if you would put in the proper variables, I may be able to help.”

You tried to hide a smile as you set dinner down on the corner of a nearby work station. Turning, Tony moved a wireframe hologram mock up of his newest Iron Man suit around. “Lift- here. I need more stabilization in the back panels.”

“And where would you suggest we reroute the power from, sir?”

“Unbelievable. If I have to do everything myself, why do I even have you?” Extending four small slices of the suit on the back- what looked kind of like wings, sort of- he then lifted the panel out of the back and began pulling makeshift wiring. It was sort of amazing what he could do with all these lights.

“Like I said, sir, if you’d give me the proper-”

“Proper variables- proper variables- I heard you the first time.” Turning half his body, hip propped out, he reached his hand over to the board to start quickly writing out numbers and letters and signs you’d never even begin to process. Tony was way beyond you with this stuff. Always would be.

He was way beyond everyone.

And watching him work was… kind of hot.

“There. Now- simulate- give me about 30MPH of force.” The suit tilted forward, and you propped yourself up on a stool, opening your container to take a few fries in hand and watch. Still quiet. “Up to 40.” Half crossing his arms, he put his free hand under his chin. “Hands out-” Talking to the suit, which obeyed. “Quick stop.” The motion jerked the suit with a dangerous rattle of the helmet. He breathed out an annoyed sigh. “Change this- get rid of this-” Waving numbers off the board and then scribbling in more. “We working with proper variables yet, JARVIS?”

“Getting closer, sir.”

Turning the suit back around, he opened the chest piece, messing with some of the things in there. “I need you to up the leveling… and give me a read on the source… connect this… which should… stabilize…” Mumbling thoughtfully as he worked. “Mm. Yep. That should do it. No thanks to you. Render that out for me.”

“Render time will take approximately one hour.”

“Enough time for you to eat dinner.” You finally spoke up and delighted when he turned to look at you, surprised for only a moment and then breaking into a smile like he hadn’t seen you in days.

“When’d you get here? -wait, actually, come here.” Holding his hands out with a little inward motion.

Getting down off the stool and wiping your hands on your pants you stepped into his work space, opening your arms, thinking he’d been beckoning you into a hug. But he side stepped you and instead put his hands on your arms to hold them further up. “What are we doing?”

“Hold. Like that.” Keeping your arms out and then moving down to readjust your legs in a wide stance. “Great. JARVIS scan.”

Even though logically you knew it was just lights passing over you, you couldn’t hold back a little shiver as a beam came down over you, then up, then down. And when it was finished you put your hands on your hips. “Tony.” It was clear what he was doing.

Reaching up, he cupped the sides of your face in his palms and that softened you, only a little, at least until he held a finger up on the left side of your face, watching your eyes with a little bite of his lip, trailing his finger across the bridge of your nose and to the right side ending at your temple. “Mmhmn… yeah. Okay. I thought so.” Turning away he scrolled through a few pages on the holo-board and when he arrived at a new set of variables, he wrote in some information.

“Tony.” Calling to him again. Not angry, knowing that he was working on exactly what you two had agreed on, but getting just a little agitated because he was so wrapped up in it he was practically using you like a bust form.

Moving around again, he settled behind you, one arm around your shoulders. He then slipped the blue-tinted glasses he was wearing over the bridge of your nose and a flood of light entered your vision. So sharp you tilted your head away- uselessly- with a close of your eyes. “Give it a second. It’s calibrating.” He held you steady, a comforting presence.

When you opened your eyes again you saw… some prototype of a HUD- or was this what he was working with all the time? As your eyes flicked around the room, a tracker kept watch on your iris, seeing the light circle there as it highlighted everything you stayed focused on for more than a few seconds. It picked out objects with detailed readouts in the upper corners, papers by listing lines of text that were on them- “This is a lot.” You could feel a headache coming on.

“Here-” He took hold of one of left hand, still holding you close with his other arm, sliding your finger down the side of the lens. The brightness and information dimmed. “You’ll be able to tell her low mode later. It’s a base prototype so I don’t have voice commands in yet.”

Shifting back to look at him- the glasses zeroed in on his face, giving a read out of not just him but his vitals. “Her?”

He grinned softly. “I don’t want JARVIS to have to play favorites.”

“A terribly difficult decision, I assure you.” JARVIS’ wry wit sounding off.

Tilting your head carefully again, he redirected your attention. “Can you see everything? Everything you want to see?”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to want to see.” You heard him reaching back to grab something on the desk and he threw a wrench at the far side of the room. The glasses picked up on them, tracking the pattern, the trajectory, speed… “This is what you see? When you’re in Iron Man?” It was so much information. How did he do this constantly? “It makes my head hurt a little.”

“Just about. Well- sort of. This is in casual mode.” You immediately knew what that meant. And you didn’t feel like asking him to expand on what was probably attack mode or something similar.

“Fujikawa is going to be pissed.” They’d been asking for his direction on their own prototype of something very similar to this. The Stark HUD 2020. It was his tech, so he could do whatever he wanted with it. But…

“I told you. They were moving too slow for me. Whatever they end up with won’t be as good anyway. Let them keep going. This is for singular personal use.” Yours, he meant. “I looked at their designs.” He waved a hand in front of your face and you watched the tracker hone in. Finally, he let go of you to walk around and stand in front of you again. “This is nanotech. No one’s even close to this.”

Save him.

Your genius Tony Stark.

But that reminded you, and absently you reached up to touch at an injection site that had long since healed. “Nanotech?”

“You’re getting comfortable with it. And it’s lightweight. The glove is nanobots, too.” The one you’d used to… better not think about it. Easy to do when he continued. “This is just a start. You want something that will conceal your identity. I can do that.” Self satisfied. Tilting back just a little, he scrolled through the holo-board contents again to bring up what your suit specs looked like. Barebones. Filled out only a little more by what you knew was JARVIS’ scan of you moments ago.

And at that you really couldn’t help the smile that blossomed on your lips. “I thought Fury said that was a bunch of nonsense.”

“Fury doesn’t know who he’s dealing with. Clearly.” It seemed Team Stark would not be told no for anything. While you’d learned this was a dangerous behavior, not being able to rein Tony in… on the other side of it, it was nice. And kind of fun.

“Speaking of. Natasha came to my office and gave me some dates.” On the left side of the glasses, your schedule popped up. Something that drew your attention only briefly before looking back at him again. “We’re going to start between Basel and New York.” Activities highlighted themselves as you called them out. Again only briefly glancing at them.

He crossed his arms, propping his hip against a work table. “I can have this done before then.”

“No. It’s alright. They don’t need to know about this right now.” On top of that you really didn’t want him working to the bone to get whatever this was going to look like finished. “It looks like you’re pretty preoccupied with your own suit, anyway.” Leaning up on tiptoe to pointedly look at the holographic Mark VI behind him.

The HUD on the glasses immediately started working through information piece by piece, calling out important details on the new mock up of the latest Iron Man. You let it, interested although not completely sure what you were looking at.

Giving a detailed read out, all happening within brief flashes of moments. Maybe your brain was registering things even if you weren’t really getting it all. Because you saw where he left off- even if you’d heard him talking about it when you’d come in. “You’re working on a way to stabilize flight without your hands, right?” Finally you slipped the glasses off and handed them back to him.

He slipped them in the front pocket of his shirt, giving you a light smile. “I’m trying not to go the whole big vulnerable wing route. Might as well add a cape at that point.”

Reaching up, you wound your arms around his neck. “You already have lift.” No need for wings to take off. A thoughtful hum as you smiled back up at him. “But a cape. Now there’s an idea.”

“Oh. So you want a cape?” His hands slipped over the curves of your hips, pulling you closer.

“Yes, let’s piss off Fury even more. It needs to be sparkly.” Giggles leaked out of you as he leaned in closer, his nose brushing against yours, all smiles. But he swallowed the noise of them soon after as he took you in a careful kiss.

Lasting too short a time before he pulled back. “I’ll add it to the design specs.”

Tugging him close, you gave him just one more kiss and then eased back. “Come eat dinner, please. It’s probably mostly cold by now.”

He slipped his arm around your shoulders as the two of you walked to the front of the lab. “What’d you bring?”

“Burgers.” And fries, of course.

“Have I expressed to you yet how perfect you are?”

Picking up the boxes, you let him lead you further out of the lab and up the steps. “I’m willing to listen to it again.”

#Tony Stark #Tony Stark x Reader #INY Chapter Thirty Four

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