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otakuminami · 2 years

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And with that season 4 of Young Justice comes to a close

Spoilers

Ok first and foremost

Fucking called it!

Dick faking his death and slowing his heartbeat (taught by Batman)

Also Bart!!!

Anyways onto the fight scene,

I thought it was pretty good. I liked how everyone was fighting and seemed in a way dynamic (is that the word I’m looking for?) What I’m trying to say it flowed great

My heart when Conner remembered his family from the scene when he and Clark talked back in season 1 but also him meeting the Kent’s and him being brought in and then Conner meeting Jonny (also conformation that it IS Jonathan Samuel Kent (the Jon from Super Sons) and not some random son of Superman named Jon (there are many of those)

I love that Dick told M’gann to go off on these clowns and unleash her demigoddess

And she did

I love that we got to see her go off but like also keep in control. Like you can tell that she is at full force but isn’t loosing control like she did when she was younger.

I am so glad M’comm didn’t kill Danny. I was worried there for a second. Then he started fighting and he got to fight M’comm in his mind himself.

I love that Bart after being held prisoner for days?weeks? He’s running around and it just made me smile

Till he got hit and Artemis called him kid

I love the Artemis and Dick team up!

Also when Conner didn’t “recognize Kaldur as family” I was like yeah it the beard

When M’comm fell into the boom tube to the phantom zone and M’gann said that he was happy that Conner died was just hit me so hard.

Rocket coming in hot

I was not expecting that! It was great!

I love how Metron is just like so chaotic and like so petty.

And I completely forgot about the smudge stain on the wall in the cave. I just wrote it off like that’s just a red herring or something. But the fact that it was Lor Zod made me so happy(?) because the story came like full circle kinda.

The sunrise at the end of the fight signaling a new day (a new *fill in the blank*) was pretty.

So the Villains got their own planets

M’comm got Durla which coincidently is Chameleon Boy’s home planet. They’re both shapeshifters but what is this mean in the grand scheme of things? Like we can assume that the A’ashenn become the race Chameleon Boy is. So should we assume that maybe the G’arrunn and the B’lahdenn become another race too? I heard about the theory that Saturn Girl is a descendent of M’gann so maybe?

Then we got Daxxam and Ursa. I don’t know what she’s going to do? But I do know and was thinking of this since he was first introduced, Lor Zod is Chris Kent and he is an adopted son of Lois and Clark. So that might still happen.

I loved the little moment we got with the Kent’s breaking the news about Conner to Jon and the video message of the wedding.

Everyone is at the wedding!

M’gann’s parents are here! With her sister! I love the conclusion we got with her sister saying that she’s decided to change her name back to M’ree M’orzz. I wished we got to see her more.

Gar talked to Perdita and I liked it. Perdita saying that she still loved Gar and forgives him but has moved on and so should he. It was a nice moment. While I would love for them to get back together, I also love that even though you love a person you can move on from someone and take yourself out of a relationship after a bad situation. Plus it didn’t make it seem like she is required to get back together with him just because he apologizes. Gar’s not a bad person and she knows that. But she has moved on and I think they’ll be friends.

I wonder if the break up is setting up Raven? Possible but maybe not

Also we now know that the future is back on and Conner still has his role as doing something very importaint.

Any guesses?

You know how I said everyone was at the wedding well…

ICICLE JR IS HERE!!!!!

Oh my god! I’m SO glad he made it in this season! He’s crying too!

He also caught the bouquet. (Artemis’s (new) new love interest?!?)

Lucas making the classic wedding jokes

Jon running to give them their rings was so cute!!!

The speeches they gave about their love for one another was good!

Is Black Canary hinting at Heroes in Crisis?!?

Didn’t everyone hated that?!?

Cause if I remember correctly when it came out all of you were yelling

Anyways I’m not complete sure my memory is right on that but what I remember clearly is that WALLY WEST appears in that!

Also Wally kills people

But WALLY WEST is in that ALIVE

Also why is this Black Canary’s reasoning? Like that is some people’s issues but that isn’t really the problem with someone like Gar. Gar was grieving. He was grieving poorly but grieving. He needed to be with people and to talk to them. Going to a place even if it would be more peaceful is not a guaranteed solution nor is it really a solution. It could help the solution but it doesn’t really matter at the end of the day where you get help or only matters if and what type of help you get. The reason why they have a lot of them have mental health issues is because they’re heroes. You need to find a solution to that. Not worry about how many.

That after credits scene

For one finally got an update of Mary. I’m happy they didn’t leave us hanging till next season (is there a next season?!?)

But the bigger deal is

Kara is here and I have so many questions like why was she in the Phantom Zone? Did Vandal Savage specifically chose her because he knew of her connection? Or was it a coincidence? Was it Klarion who picked her out?

Anyways overall a great season finale! It closed the some plots that had to be close this season but also hinted at more to come in the next.

I think this season was pretty good. Yes there were some problems but like at this point most shows do. While I do believe we can hope for better and expect better, I do think that this was pretty good (considering that they worked on this during the shut down I think). The arcs ranged from pretty good to great. I only really have a problem with two of the arcs. Well ones a problem and ones a question.

The problem I have with one of the arcs is Rocket’s. I just felt like it was really focused on the characters. Like the plot there was mostly set up and like everything else felt kinda well background. I did like Razer and the bugs and Rocket’s son, but I felt like it wasn’t really focused on any characters really and I know that probably sounds crazy because it probably is. Does anyone get what I’m trying to say? Like I can’t fully remember what happened besides Razer, Tomar-Re dying, Forager becoming a Green Lantern, Jay being great, Amistad being amazing, the legion and Bart and like that’s it. It just felt weaker than the others.

The question is how does Artemis’s fit into this? Like everyone had call backs to their arcs but like Artemis had none. It’s like hers could be taken away and it wouldn’t affect the plot. And that makes me mad because I loved her part. But I felt like there had to be something there and the only thing is the ending with for one Ra’s doing what Dinah talked about in a way and that ending scene with Lady Shiva and Talia looking evil which means they’re future villains. I guess? Unknown. This has me worried about what they have in store for Jason and Damian. What are your thoughts on how her arc fits?

See you guys next season!

#young justice phantoms #young justice season 4 #conner kent #m’gann m’orzz #dick grayson #artemis crock #jon kent #lor zod #garfield logan #m’comm m’orzz #danny chase #zantanna zatara #kaldur #clark kent #ursa zod #dru zod #kara zor el #supermartian #icicle jr

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shadowed-dancer · 3 years

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My Thoughts on the New MHA Opening and Ending

I have thoughts, and I will share them because oh boy if I don’t get this out I’m gonna explode

Vague Spoilers for the manga (up to chapter 258 and vigilantes) because I discuss the upcoming arcs, but I don’t discuss any major plot points in detail. Still, proceed with caution if you’re anime only

Keep in mind, this OP and ED will cover the Endeavour Agency Arc and the MVA Arc, so I will be judging them accordingly.

First, the OP

This is a good OP... in theory (that’s going to become my catchphrase for this post). It’s nice to look at and flows pretty well, but my biggest problem is that it doesn’t do it’s job. An OP is supposed to be a sort of... summary (?) of the Cour it plays for. That means any cool plot points, emotional beats, and important characters should be featured in some way, shape, or form. We’ll talk about that more later, but first let’s discuss the music.

The song is really good. I have a feeling it will continue to grow on me as I listen to it more often, but yeah my first impression is that the song sounds great. My only complaint about the music itself is that it ends kind of abruptly (I noticed this is the JT opening too). The previous openings used to have a bit of instrumental to “play us out” and lead us to the end card, but this one feels like it ends very suddenly and unnaturally.

As for the visuals...

Yeah alright I’ll admit, the visuals are stunning... in theory. I appreciate the variety in backgrounds and colours, it makes the OP really interesting to look at. This was actually one of my biggest problems with the JT Opening, it all took place on the training grounds, so there was no variety (everything was metal tubes with a blue sky, with only 3 shots set somewhere different). I appreciate the style of this OP.

But like I said, that’s only in theory, as in, through screenshots these are all pleasing to look at. The pacing of this OP is wild, and I truly don’t know who to blame for this.

That sunset shot above? It lasts approximately 12 seconds, zooming in every few to make it seem like something is happening (when in reality it’s still the same poses, angles, etc). While there’s nothing wrong with a nice, drawn out shot, it becomes irritating when compared to the pacing of the rest of this op.

At the 41 second mark, we are given the shot above. It has flowed directly from the previous sunset scene. We still have not moved away from the image of the trio (aside from the opening shot and the title card) yet we’re approaching the halfway mark of the OP.

The next shot is the MLA, which lasts about 5 seconds. Ok, perfect. Not too long, but also not short enough to be confusing. It cuts away a little fast once the dude on the far left appears, but does anyone actually know who that is? No, seriously, I’m asking. I don’t remember his name and he’s not on the wiki, so I can only assume he’s not important. Therefore, it’s not all that bad if the shot cuts away shortly after he comes into frame. The audience is able to take in the scene without having to pause...

... And then the problems start

While this shot is fine in theory, it pans up fast and cuts away quickly. You know how hard it was for me to get this screenshot? Really hard. You want to know why I struggled so much? Because, due to the timing of the cut and the way it pans upwards, it’s almost impossible to pause on Dabi’s face. I literally had to go frame by frame to get it, because he’s in shot for so little time that naturally pausing is guaranteed to miss him.

When watching this in real time (without pausing) the cut away makes you feel as if you missed something because “something was there, I just couldn’t register what because now it’s gone”. Unlike Compress, who wears a very colourful coat you can recognize the entire time, Dabi’s pants are more blended into the background.

It also doesn’t help that this shot is literally composed to draw your attention away from Dabi until the last possible second. Due to framing, your eye is naturally drawn to the brightly coloured Toga in the foreground, making it super easy to miss Dabi in the back (until, of course, his bright face appears and contrasts against the background, drawing your eye just in time for the scene to change, leaving you to wonder who or what you missed).

I know this sounds like nitpicking, but this shot is the only group shot we get of the League, and is also the start of a seriously weird trend for the villains in this OP getting the short end of the stick.

Anyways, then we get what I’ll call “The Carousel Shot” in which every Class 1A kid shows up and poses dramatically, as if they were on a carousel. It’s a lovely sequence and I really enjoy watching it but... why is it in this OP?

Seriously, this is a genuine question. Class 1A barely shows up in the Endeavour Agency Arc, and NONE of the students are in MVA. This sequence (not counting the three boys at the end) lasts 8 seconds. Why is this much time dedicated to characters who are barely in the arc? (Unless Studio Bones extends their work studies into fuller plot lines which oh my gosh please don’t do that, or if they do, do it quick).

We then get what I call the “Oh God I Blinked And Missed Everything” sequence, which lasts 3 seconds (not including the longer, moving shot of Shigaraki at the end) and features NINE INDIVIDUAL IMAGES, none of which are related to each other. Not only is this 3 images per second, but the fact that they are all unrelated means you can’t even use previous information to fill in the blanks.

What do I mean by that? Well, imagine if I show you 9 images of various pro heroes posing. If I play that in 3 seconds you’ll absolutely miss some of them, but as long as you catch some you’ll still get an idea of what I’m trying to show to you. Your brain is able to fill in the gaps that “I recognized 4 pro heroes, therefore the rest must have also been pros” even if you didn’t register every single frame.

That doesn’t work if every frame features a completely different subject. The shots in this sequence vary so widely that it’s impossible to find a through line. Some feature multiple characters, some feature one, some are closeups, some are super far away, some are character’s we know, others are characters we don’t. It’s impossible to get a solid read on what you’re being shown.

Now, again, there’s nothing wrong with these super quick shots... in theory. The problem comes from the fact that these shots are the only indicators for some of the major themes that will be explored during this Cour (like Twice’s growth and young Shigaraki).

That being said, let’s move away from criticism and talk about speculation, because hidden amongst this sequence are two... interesting images.

This All Might one is very reminiscent of the shot in Chapter 257, where Aizawa and All Might have a conversation while staring up at the stars. However, this is technically the start of the “War Arc” (or the “prologue”, if that’s what you want to call it), so this might indicate that we’re going to get farther into the series than a lot of us guessed.

(Many people suspected we’d get to that cliffhanger at the start of the season (if you read the manga you know the one), but after seeing the pacing for JT a lot of us assumed we’d be lucky to even finish Endeavour Agency. It seems we’re back to the cliffhanger now though lol).

This is another really interesting shot because it’s indicative of Shirakumo, meaning we might get to see Aizawa and Mic confront him some time this Cour (this also makes sense, since this confrontation technically happens before that All Might scene I mentioned in the previous paragraph).

But the cat specifically is a really strange addition. That cat is named Sushi and, correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think Sushi is ever mentioned in the main series. I think he’s only in Vigilantes.

This might just be a little Easter Egg for Vigilante readers, but I’m personally hoping that they’ll add at least a few Vigilante shots in there to really tug at the heart strings. I’d say I want a whole Vigilante episode but I don’t think they have the time (unless they really cram MVA, which I do NOT want).

I don’t have much to say about the last bit of the OP. The action shot between the 3 boys was nice, and it follows the sort of narrative through line they established from the early shot of them sitting at the sunset. I also like the shot of Endeavour fading in to replace All Might, even if it’s very simple.

But I want to talk about an overarching problem I touched upon earlier in that villain shot: the way the villains are handled in this OP.

This is a good OP... in theory. The problem is, it doesn’t represent half the arcs in the cour! Every shot of the League is so rushed that you can barely register that they were on screen before they’re gone.

I have no idea how many Episodes Endeavour Agency will take, but I’d assume 3 (4 if you count the Christmas episode). 12 episodes for this Cour minus 3 for Endeavour Agency = 9 episodes left. If we truly do get the prologue for the War Arc (and if we assume it’s only 1 episode) that leaves us with 8 villains episodes.

8/12 episodes (aka two thirds of the Cour) will likely be about the villains. And yet they’re pushed to the background so hard in this OP.

I want to dream, and I want to believe that this OP is going to magically change when MVA starts. The song fits super well, and I can imagine like an inversion of the OP but from the Villain side! Wouldn’t that be neat? Imagine right after the “it’s alright” part Shigaraki just freaking decays the title card... oh man that would be so cool. But, alas, I highly doubt they’d do that.

Side rant, but you know what was so fun about MVA in the manga? It’s that, for 21 chapters, we leave the kids behind and the villains become our protagonists. Suddenly Shigaraki is the one we’re rooting for, suddenly we’re learning backstories for everyone, and suddenly we find ourselves just as attached to the villains as we are to the kids. It’s an inversion that’s SO RARE to find, and I think many people (myself included) were hoping it would be reflected in the OP.

A big part of being the protagonist means featuring heavily in the OP, and a lot of us just wanted the villains to get that honour, even if only once. As is, the OP still treats them as the antagonists when... really they aren’t. Not right now, at least.

So yeah, final thoughts on the OP are that it’s good, it’s just not very representative of the arcs it’s supposed to cover. If this was just for Endeavour Agency, I’d say it’s actually really cool, but if we assume that this is what will play for the Villain Arc, then it simply doesn’t do it’s job. And it makes me sad to say that because, again, this OP is really well done.

If I had to rate it? Hmmm

If Studio Bones actually grants my wish and creates a different visual for the Villain Arc (while using the same song) and then this version only plays for the Endeavour Agency Arc and the War Prologue? I’d give it an 8/10. It’s really good, but it could use a few more elements that are clearly derived from the Agency Arc (ahem, Todoroki siblings).

But if this is the OP that will play for the entire Cour? a 6.5/10. It’s nice, but it’s not representative of one of the arcs it’s going to cover. And, unlike other arcs like Pro Hero or Summer Exams, the villain Arc is so important and takes up so much time that it honestly feels like a bit of a disservice.

Now for the Ending

I want to say that I appreciate how soft this ending starts. This cour will likely feature a lot of episodes that end on... heavier themes, and I think the sight of peaceful, falling raindrops is the perfect way to let the audience process their emotions before starting the ending in earnest.

The song itself is very nice, and I like that it’s a bit slower than the more recent endings.

(Side note, but the FUNNIEST moment in the entire series is when Sir Nighteye dies because it’s so emotional and everyone is standing around his bed in his heartwrentching silence, only for the ending to come BLARING IN out of no where. If you forgot how jarringly hilarious it was, go listen to the Eri ending and tell me that’s not the funniest thing this series ever did. Anyways yeah I’m glad that’s not gonna happen this Cour).

This ending is a bit all over the place in terms of it’s visuals, but honestly I think it works. Most endings usually have a theme tying them together (all the Class 1A girls, a fantasy AU, old photographs, planning a party, etc) but this ending’s theme is a bit harder to identify.

That being said, I think it’s just supposed to show everyone going about their day. It’s calm, it’s peaceful, and it’s just very sweet to think about

I like this shot. Actually, scratch that, I like this whole sequence. I enjoy anything that allows Class 1A to chill and have fun.

Hawks is featured quite heavily in this ending which, fair. He’s pretty important in this arc.

I really love the shot where Endeavour immediately switches to Hawks, I thought that was a lot of fun, and very good symbolism on how Hawks wants to be like Endeavour. I also love all the shots of Baby Hawks, because it’s adorable.

Something about this shot is just so cute. It’s the little domestic things like waiting for a bus that make this ending feel... idk the word, real? It shows a side of the characters that we’ll never see in the episodes, but we know have to exist.

Like yes, of course the kids have to wait for the bus. We never see it, but of course there are those moments of quiet. Agh, I love it.

The villains also make an appearance and I’m very happy about that (I’d love to see more of the villains just chilling around, I think they deserve it). I kind of wish they weren’t sitting in a dark room for the sake of being edgy, since I think it would be nice to see the villains just... sort of existing, but honestly it’s still a nice shot. I also like how this shot sort of mirrors the first one with Class 1A (someone coming in while everyone else is sitting and waiting for them).

That being said, as much as I love looking at Dabi and his stupid face (affectionate)... why is Dabi the one getting the closeup?

Mind you, endings don’t need to be connected to their Cours (they can be, like the Eri one, but they don’t have to be). But this ending does seem to be connected to the arcs it intends to cover, given all the Hawks appearances, the boys wearing their work study scarves, etc.

So, I ask again, why Dabi? Out of the six League members, we learn the backstory for four of them in this arc (Shigaraki, Toga, Twice, and we very briefly learn about Spinner). The only two left out are Dabi and Compress.

I can only assume they chose Dabi because he’s constantly in contact with Hawks, and therefore that makes him important? If the OP told us anything, it’s that Bones values the Endeavour Agency Arc over the Villain Arc lol...

... Oh my gosh please tell me that’s not actually the reason Dabi is focused on here BONES WAI-

Anyways, the ending comes to a close with Hawks watching over the kids and Endeavour. The relaxing time is done, it’s time for work studies.

Overall impression? It’s great. It’s hard to screw up an ending, so as long as you have something pretty on screen, it’s wonderful.

I’ll give this a 9/10

#bnha #bnha season 5 #dabi #keigo takami #bnha season five #katsuki bakugo #shoto todoroki #mha season 5 #mha season five #bnha op #bnha opinions #izuku midoriya #bnha hawks #ok to reblog #actually yes please do reblog if you found this interesting #I worked hard on it

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oksana-moods · 3 years

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Ghost of you - Part 1

Summary: This story begins before CAWS and will develop following the movies. Our OFC was being held by Hydra, who is trying to create a new super soldier. She has a past, which will haunt her untill it comes to bite her. Slow burn. Plus, the title is a song from My Chemical Romance and brings a lot of ofc’s point of view; I was inspired by a lot of songs and I’m sure you’ll recognize a few. Trigger warnings: Violence, bad language, angst. If you find any other, I’ll be glad to add.

“And I remember now, at the top of my lungs in my arms she dies At the end of the world, or the last thing I see.”

Pain.

It’s all void, but pain.

Pain.

It’s like a faint light in the back of my mind telling me to move, but it hurts.

It’s too much.

I feel lightheaded while I slowly drift into consciousness, and it hurts.

Pain.

I become aware that I am laying in the cold ground, I just don’t know where, I can’t remember. I try to turn to the right, but the sharp pain on my left says to me that I broke one rib or two, maybe more. But how?

What am I doing here? Where is here?

I can feel a split on my lip, my cheek has a gash and when I rise my left hand, I see something like a metal glove. Wait. I try to move to have a better look at it…

Pain.

I curse under my breath; my chest is heavy.

I try to look at my hand again. With shaky breath, I realize that I’m not looking at a glove. My whole forearm, from right below my elbow to the tip of my fingers, it’s all made of cold metal. What. The. Fuck??

I gasp. When did this happen? I had two perfect flesh arms, didn’t I?! Why can I remember what happened to me? I lay my head back on the ground and close my eyes. I try to search, but that is nothing to grasp on my mind, I can’t remember a thing. It’s all gone. I take a deep breath and I try harder, try to think of something, anything at all…

And then, like seeing a movie scene from a foggy screen, it’s hard, confusing even, I see a woman. Of course, I don’t know who she is, but it’s something, at least. I’m outside a… bar? A Club? I’m not sure. I am looking at a blond woman, she gives me a wide grin, takes the key from my left hand (oh my, I knew it, is a flesh hand), climbs the motorcycle in front of us. After she turns the engine on, she motions for me to climb as well. Without missing a beat, I am hugging her waist and then we go. Who is this woman? What happened to my arm? To me? I need more answers, I need to dig further, I need more memories. I feel tired, but I push it away. I search, dig throughout the emptiness of my brain…

And here it comes, another flash of foggy memory, will it be the same wo…? Before I could finish, I see myself standing on some sort of park. I’m looking at such pretty little girl wearing a red shirt, her hair is everywhere trying to ride a bike. I feel myself smiling at her. ‘Look at me, I am doing it!’ She laughs and I feel my heart so light at that moment. ‘Yes, you are, sweetie’. I smile back at her as she comes to hug me. ‘Thanks for teaching me, aunt L..’

No. No, no, no, come back. Arg! I needed that information. She was about to say a name. With a grunt I turn to my side, this time it hurts a bit less. Guess I’m getting used to feel like shit. I blink twice, for a moment I think I passed out and started to dream, but no. I’m wide awake. I’m about to grasp a piece of memory in the back of head once again. I close my eyes and there it is… I blink twice. The shades failing in keeping the sun rays out of the room, but I can’t bring myself to care. Just when I turn to my side, a smile creeps itself into my mouth as my eyes land in the goddess laying centimeters away from me. Perfect silk skin, the most beautiful curves my eyes have ever seen. Having her this way, so bare, immaculate even and there’s nothing I wanna do but to stare in awe. Her eyes stir open. They focus on me. Holy, she’s perfect. ‘Morning...’ She flashes a smile and my heart flutters. She brings her incredible warm hands to touch the military tag resting in my chest. I move my head to kiss her hand that are now touching my cheek. ‘I didn’t know you were wearing my former tag among yours’ She says. I kiss her hands once more before replying ‘That way I can feel you close to me. Close to my heart whenever you’re not around’. The look in her eyes could light up a hole city, priceless, so full of passion and warm and… ‘I lov…’

All I can see is darkness. I’m back to the same place I was before. Instantly missing the warm those memories brought to my chest. I try to go back to that sunny room, but to no avail. I can’t access that memory again as I realize my mind starting to drift off, to go blank. I feel nothing but pain, as darkness embrace me.

______________________________________________

I’m jolted awake as the door is burst open by a man wearing black tactical suit. I try to move away, but he takes three steps way too fast. He picks me up by my collar and arm with a deadly grip. Ouch, this is going to leave a bruise. He punches me in the face. Hey, what the hell. Before I can even muster some words, he says: “ready for the next session?” “wha.. what?” “what do you remember, bitch?!” “I…hm. I… nothing. Who are you?” Another punch, and I feel a crack in my nose. Did this idiot just broke my nose? “Don’t lie to me, woman. What do you remember? Answer me. NOW!” He violently pushes me, so I hit the wall behind me… Suddenly, just like a dream, or a snap, that foggy screen is back. I’m in a doorway, looking at that blond woman again. And God, is she beautiful. She’s wearing a leather jacket that I recognize as my own. I walk towards her, within her personal space. I brush our noses when I see the corner of her lips twitch, ever so slightly, then she pushes me causing my back to hit the wall. She takes two steps. She’s so, so close that I can breathe her breath. My eyes are closed since I’m about to taste…

I’m brought back to reality by being hit square in the face again.

“Stop.” I mutter, now lying on the ground. “Ok. Ok. I remember a... a woman. A blond woman, we are…” I trail off trying to find the correct words. What are we? Who is she? “We are friends. And… And a little girl. That’s all!” I stutter out because that big Glock in his waistband is not friendly at all.

“Aaarg.” He grunts and pick me up again, pushes me to the wall once more, punches me twice and drags me out of the room, or should I say cell? After a few turns through corridors, we arrive in a room, or a lab, with very strange devices and a chair, in which he drops me and ties me, all the while smirking at me. He saw the very confused look in my face, he squats a bit so he can look me dead in the eye. “You are going to break, eventually, woman. I am going to break you. And, in the end, all you will remember is despair. Nothing, but despair.”

I probably lost my mind, or I don’t know, something in his voice made me mad. Made me burn with angry. I totally lost my mind, because I was tied in a crazy chair, in a creepy room, having my ass being beat out of me, but what did I had to lose? All I could feel was this flame in my chest, and boy, it burned. This man could have the upper hand, but I refuse to go down that easy. Next thing I knew, I was spiting blood is his face giving a very blooded grin. I was mad. “I wanna see you try, barf bag. I’m not breakable!”

Of course, his answer was another punch, and my nose did break this time. However, before he could do anything else, the man with a white coat spoke: “Sir, she’s very strong, her memories are very strong. She’s too attached to them. Is hard to erase everything without killing the subject”. Wow, now I became a subject, was this a research facility? Did I volunteer for something? No, not likely. If I had, why would they kick me, punch me and walk around with guns? I’m brought back from my reverie when the ‘doctor/scientist’ speaks again “We could use a different approach, though.” “Which is…” My ‘friend’ in black was losing his patience. I was getting under his skin; I just didn’t know if it was from today or previous encounters. “I think that, since erasing is not working just as it did with the Soldier, we could try to manipulate her memories. Put her through erasing process one more time, and then replay some specific memory, a very painful one a few rounds. It will take time, but I am sure it will be affective. The only memory she’ll have will be one that she’ll beg to forget.” My eyes went wide. I just don’t know what to think. What are these guys doing? And why are they doing it? “Well well, Doctor List, now I know why you are in the payment check.” He turns to face me. “Still think is funny, bitch? You’ll break as it seems.” I spat again, on his feet this time “I will come for you” Oh, I swear I’ll wipe his smug face with my bare hands. He smirked at me “You won’t remember who I am”. He looks at the doctor. “Go on, doc!”

Apparently, this was what the doctor was waiting for. He turned on a few devices and pressed some buttons in the computer whilst I saw and felt some sort of slab, better yet, a helmet closing around in my head. The doctor pressed my cheeks so I’d open my mouth and he could shove a plastic mouthguard inside it. I was about to spat it when he calmly said, “I think is better for you to keep it.”

Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could prepare me for the excruciating pain that I instantly felt when the machine sent electric shock waves to and through my brain, through me.

I must’ve screamed, because I saw the man in black smiling.

Pain. Why are they doing this? I can’t hurt anymore.

Pain.

___________________________________________

I was leaning on the kitchen counter facing the blond woman once again. However, this time I’m feeling a pang in my chest when I look at her eyes. ‘I need to go. This time I think will be longer’. She says and I sigh looking away ‘Then, what are you still doing here?’ It’s her turn to sigh ‘Please, you can’t make me choose between my heart and my responsibilities’. Oh, that line lights a flame inside my heart. ‘I am not. There is nothing to choose. Not now, anyway.’ She throws her hands in the air ‘Why… dammit. Why are you being this cold, this heartless?’ Pain and rage are doing this crazy mix inside me. She has the nerve… Why is she mad? She doesn’t have the right to. She is the one leaving. I grit my teeth ‘Me, I’m being heartless? How long do you think we could keep playing house, pretending… dreaming that I am important, that I’m good enough? You said yourself, you have your responsibilities and there’s nothing I can do. So, forgive me if I am being a bit too cold right now. I’m just trying to protect what’s left from my heart.’ Now, that was a deep cut. But I can’t withdraw my words, if she’s hurting so am I. Right now, she’s standing right next to the door. Hands on the doorknob, but it feels like she’s squeezing my heart. Maybe, because she is. We lock eyes, and all I can see is sadness in those brown pools. ‘It’s not easy for me either, you know’. She gives me a humorless smile. I had to close my eyes to brace myself for what’s coming next. The final strike, the final hit to shatter the remaining pieces. ‘Guess we are too good at goodbyes, by now’. All I can hear is the door closing and I refuse to open my eyes and face the empty house, the truth. Because opening my eyes is realizing, is to accept the reality. She’s gone. For good this time. She’s right. I am used to goodbyes, way too much for my liking. Pain. I feel some shock waves again in the back of my mind.

Pain.

I have a helmet in my hand and I’m walking towards a chopper. ‘Hey.’ I look up to see the beautiful blond waving and smiling at me. She’s wearing a green flight suit, climbing into some sort of fighter, but this one is different. I smile back ‘Have a nice flight, Cap’, before climbing on my chopper and taking-off. After a few minutes, the radio goes off with the blond’s voice ‘mayday, mayday’. All I can hear is some distress sound. I try to respond but there’s no reply. I look down to the TCAS’s screen and I see her fighter descending way too fast to be good. Tracing a path to where the fighter is headed, I turn the chopper and go as fast as possible. Not long till I see the fighter’s right wing on fire. ‘C’mon C’mon’ I said to myself. I contact the base and tell them to send a medical support to our coordinates, but I can barely hear the response as I watch the aircraft hit the ground in a clearing. My heart drops. When I spot two forms outside the plane, I release a breath that I didn’t know I was holding ‘Son of a bitch, if she isn’t the best pilot’ I laugh to myself. I was flying over the woods, almost reaching their location, relief was washing over me, but was short lived ‘cause I see some sparks near the crash and… ‘NOOOO!’ I shout when an explosion comes from the crash. My heart stops. Truly, stops. It can’t be. No, no, no, no. ‘She can’t be gone’. Then, all I see is white.

Pain.

A helmet in my hand and I’m walking towards a chopper (What? It can’t be). ‘Hey.’ I look up to see the beautiful blond waving and smiling at me. (oh, no. Not again) She’s wearing a green flight suit, climbing into some sort of fighter. ‘Have a nice flight, Cap’ (No, stop. I cannot see it again) I hear ‘mayday, mayday’ And some distress sound. I try to respond but there’s no reply. Not long till I see the fighter’s right wing on fire. I watch the aircraft hit the ground in a clearing. (What is going on?) I see two forms outside the plane. I was almost reaching their location when I spot some sparks near the crash and… (NO. NO, PLEASE. I CAN’T WATCH HER DIE AGAIN) ‘NOOOO!’ (NOO!) I shout when an explosion comes from the crash. ‘She can’t be gone’. And then, white.

This scene, this memory, is being looped in my brain over, and over, and over. I wasn’t counting how many times. I was hurting. My heart was being ripped from my chest over, and over, and over. I was being broken from the inside out.

Pain. And I see her die again, and again, and again.

Pain. And I do nothing, but to scream again, and again, and again.

Pain. And all was left is void.

Pain. And darkness, and despair.

#marvel fanfic series #cap marvel #carol danvers #original character

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that-rock-chick · 3 years

Text

Love Bites

Love sucks. That's pretty much common knowledge. Combine that with addiction, money, fame, and childhood trauma and you've got a recipe for disaster.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Same shit, different fucking day.

Don't ask me how I'm balancing six days a week at my job and band practice three to four days a week, because I truly have no fucking idea. I tried college but once the band formed, I cut that out of my schedule completely.

It's been about a months since the argument with Gwen and Tiffany went down and our band hasn't practiced. I tried to be sympathetic for the longest time, but it's beyond ridiculous now. Veronica, Tiffany, and I have been wanting to do band stuff but Gwen refuses because she's mad that Tiffany is dating a man SHE broke up with. It's not like Tiffany did it intentionally, and the fact that she's letting her own personal stuff interfere with our band is really pissing me off.

We've all got shit going on, but Gwen loves being a drama queen. Veronica has suggested kicking her out of the band a few times and Tiffany has echoed the same sentiment, but I don't think my patience has thinned to that extent just yet.

But it's getting there.

Young musicans aren't hard to come by, but finding someone who fits the band's sound as perfectly as Gwen's adds on a large layer of difficulty that I'm not prepared for. We'd have to start all over, teach our new singer the songs, establish chemistry...it seems exhausting and more trouble than it's worth, at least for the time being.

"Hey Julie." Dylan greeted me as I walked past, something he does whenever we work together. Sometimes it ends up being the best part of my day.

As the day progresses, I find myself smiling a lot more than I usually do. Customers are easier to deal with and a large amount of them were actually friendly. It created a light-hearted atmosphere in the restaurant that we don't get too often, unfortunately. The time seemed to fly by.

"Good luck Dylan." I said goodbye and walked out of the front door. Dylan was always there a hour before I arrived, and an hour before I left. The rest of the staff is pretty cool, but Dylan is the only one I'd consider to be a friend of mine. He's essentially the less musically inclined male version of me.

I head to our rehearsal space for the second time this week. I've extended the invitation to Gwen, as if she needs an invitation to show up to her own fucking band's rehearsal. If she doesn't show up tonight, she's out. Our time is just as important as hers and we're all tired of it being wasted.

I'm usually the first person to show up, but some days that isn't the case, like today.

"Hey." Gwen says shyly.

I give her a blank stare and proceeded to put my things down on a table nearby.

"Nice of you to finally decided to show up." I stated plainly.

"Look, I know I've missed a lot of practice and I totally understand the three of you being pissed at me, but can you please take one second to see this from my perspective?"

I couldn't help but scoff at what was coming out of Gwen's mouth. Has she seriously taken an objective look at the situation and came to the conclusion that she has a leg to stand on.

"Okay fine. You broke up with a guy, he moved onto Tiffany, you were so jealous that he wasn't falling you around like a lost puppy, and you took it out on Tiffany."

Gwen rolled her eyes but before she could speak, Tiffany and Veronica entered the room. Anger was written all over Tiffany's face, while Veronica seemed to be as cool as a cucumber.

That's one thing I've always liked about Veronica. She can keep her cool in some pretty tough situations. That's not all there is to like about her, though. She's utterly gorgeous. Her dark skin and hair that was almost always styled in an afro were truly beautiful features that I couldn't help but admire. She's beautiful, smart, talented, and has an amazing personality. She's the full package.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Tiffany wasted no time begining the screaming match we all knew was about to go down.

"We're in the same band." Gwen managed to maintain her regular tone of voice, but if I know Tiff like I think I do, and trust me, I do, she'll keep going until she sets Gwen off and then everything will go up in flames.

"Clearly the band hasn't been very high on your list of priorities for the past four weeks. Finally make time in your schedule for us, princess?" Tiffany was speaking with her genuine emotions, but part of her wanted to get a reaction out of Gwen. She knows how Gwen feels about being called "princess".

Gwen looks like she wants to say something to Tiffany that would no doubt escalate the situation even further, but she takes a deep breath and regains her composure.

"I'm sorry, okay? For everything. Julie was right, I should've maintained my professionalism above all else...and I shouldn't have put some guy over you and our friendship."

The three of us looked at Gwen semi-shocked. That girl never apologizes for anything. Instead of responding, Tiffany tells Veronica and I that she's stepping out for a smoke.

I'm not sure if we should discuss things further or let bygones be bygones, but it's not exactly my place to make that call.

Tiffany returns just as I finshed tuning my guitar and walked up to Gwen. If I didn't know Tiffany, I'd say she was going to punch Gwen in the face with the speed she was moving.

"That whole situation was fucked up, but I know how hard it is for you to apologize to people, so I forgive you." Tiffany pulls Gwen in for a hug and for the first time in awhile, things seem okay between the four of us.

"I would like to reiterate that Gwendolyn said I was right." I smiled proudly.

"Yeah, don't get used to hearing that from me."

It was nice while it lasted, at least.

Band practice turned out to be super productive, and it hasn't been that way in a long time. We got a lot of work done today and hopefully we can keep this up for awhile. We spent about 7 hours in our rehearsal space and it felt more like 5 minutes. Time really does fly when you're surrounded by positivity.

The girls and I said our goodbyes and parted ways for the night. Tiffany had mentioned that we haven't seen each other this past month like we usually do. Of course I feel bad about that, she's been my best friend for so long. But I've been spending a lot of time with the Guns N' Roses boys...Axl in particular can be a persuasive little shit when he wants to be. I've already told the guys that Tiffany's birthday is this weekend and they can't keep monopolizing my time. I need more feminine energy!

"Julie!" I hear someone call out. I recognize the voice as soon as it hits my ears.

"Hey Slash, what's up?"

Minus Izzy, I'm becoming pretty close with the members of Guns N' Roses. I just wish that man wasn't so goddamn illusive.

Slash and I walk and talk. Clearly he's decided we're hanging out tonight. I don't mind it much since Tiffany's going out with Victor tonight, Gwen is visiting her parents, and Veronica is doing god knows what, like always. So even if I wanted to make plans with someone, it's not like I had anyone else anyway.

"I don't think anyone's at the house, besides Izzy." From the way he phrased his sentence, it was a clear indication that Slash had no interest in staying at the "Hell House" with Izzy, he usually opted to spend his nights the same way he spent his days: completely wasted. It didn't matter if it was alcohol or heroin, if it got him high, he'd take it.

But this isn't about Slash. I want to see Izzy...I might have a slight obsession with a man who has never even said a single word to me, but I mean, he's absolutely gorgeous. There's something about him that keeps me drawn to him and I'm determined to figure out what it is. No matter how long it takes me.

"Then let's go to the house."

Before Slash can process what I said so he could say no, I grab him by the arm and run as fast as I possibly can while dragging a grown man behind me. It only takes about 15 seconds of running before I realized, Slash in tow or not, I'm very out of shape. I'm running out of breath, determined to get to the band's house. I'll be wheezing all the way down Sunset Boulevard and trying to convince myself it's worth it by the time we get there. But knowing me, it won't.

We enter the house and lo and behold...

Izzy isn't there. Despite me struggling to breathe, the look of defeat plasters my face and Slash starts laughing his ass off.

"Izzy's out working, I just wanted to see how you'd react. Sure didn't think you'd go runnin to our house, though." Slash manages to get out through his fit of hysterical laughter.

"Slash! Why the hell would you do that?"

"Because I know you like him. I got the confirmation I needed. Just wait until I tell Duff!" Slash heads for the stairs, but I grab his arm before he starts his ascent.

"You cannot tell Duff." I tell him seriously.

"He can't tell Duff what?" Duff appears from the kitchen

"And why are you out of breath? And why are you holding Slash's arm?"

"She totally likes Izzy, dude. I told her that he was here and she dragged me through the streets. We almost got hit by like, 5 cars."

My shocked face slowly twists into a look of confusion as Duff rolls his eyes, pulls out his wallet, and hands Slash a 20 dollar bill.

"Dude, you guys bet on whether I liked Izzy or not?" I was part shocked, part confused, and part mortified that my crush on Izzy was that obvious. Izzy seems like a smart man, so I couldn't stop thinking about the possibility of him knowing and not talking to me because I'm a weird chick who likes him without even knowing anything about him.

"Yeah, and now I'm out 20 bucks because you can't control your goddamn hormones." Duff says in mock frustration. I ignore his joke as the overthinking sets in further.

"Does...does he know?"

"Nah. The man's pretty oblivious, plus he doesn't pay much attention to anything except drugs, work, and music. It's fine." Duff reassures me.

Then Izzy walks in. The three of us get quiet when he shuts the door behind him. He looked at the guys then looks me up and down. He then looks back up at my face like he's done several times before, but this time he doesn't look away when our eyes meet, not immediately, at least. I feel my heart start beating a mile a minute at the momentary eye contact and feel myself longing for it again when it breaks.

He nods his head and walks up the stairs. I guess his first words to me will have to wait another day.

"What does Izzy do for work?" I ask, to no one in particular.

"He's a drug dealer." Duff replies nonchalantly.

I don't know how to respond to that, so I don't. Slash and Duff have their own conversation and I find myself wondering what kind of person Izzy is. I don't know what to think. All I know is he's a damn good musician, an equally gifted writer, and a drug dealer.

Who the hell is Izzy Stradlin?

#guns n' roses #guns n roses #guns n roses fanfic #axl rose #steven adler #izzy stradlin #duff mckagan #slash #slash gnr #saul hudson

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thesnowinthemountains · 4 years

Text

Getting Lost with Monsta X

listen this is so long i’m so sorry i have no excuse

Shownu

“We should turn back, it’s gonna be dark soon,” he said. “No, wait, I know this path, it’s just a little further up.” You were certain you knew the way. You had grown up nearby, you recognized every fallen tree, every bump in the ground. He was certain you were lost; every forest looked the same to him. He sighed, but followed you. “Trust me,” you looked at him, eyes wide. “Sure,” he grumbled, “but I’m getting hungry, so it better not be too far.” You shook your head and walked on. It was only a few minutes until you found the clearing you were looking for. At the end of it was a wooden structure, the same you remembered from when you were a kid. You ran over to it and climbed up the old stairs. He hurried after you and stopped at the top. “Woah,” he breathed. “See? I told you,” you said, proud. In front of you was a view of the whole town. You couldn’t have timed it better - the sun was setting behind the old church at the bottom of the mountain, all the houses and neighbourhoods lit up in fiery orange, the sky deepening in purples and pinks. You sat at the edge of the structure and he followed, reading all the messages engraved in wood from generations of teenagers spending their youth here. He found one that was unmistakably yours - lyrics from one of your favorite songs - and chuckled. “Really?” he pointed it out to you. You shrugged and pointed out another that was your initials with another pair of initials centered in a heart. He frowned and rummaged through his bag until he found an old pen. “No-” you started, but he was already carving both of your initials in a blank space on the railing.

Wonho

“Are we just walking in circles? I feel like we’re just walking in circles.” You announce after an hour of what you deem to be pointless wandering. “It’s Venice, babe, it can’t be that hard to navigate,” he chuckles. You look around and throw your arms open. “How many times have we been here, though? I mean, look,” you point to a storefront, “that’s the weird little shop with the yellow writing in the window,” you point to another shop further up the way, “that’s the doll repair shop that’s super creepy but also quaint, like…” you trail off. “And over there’s the building with the spiral staircase around it, I know,” he sighs, finally admitting defeat. He glances around before nodding to a small restaurant a few steps away. “Let’s just get lunch for now, we’ll figure out the way later. I’m starving.” You scoff but nod. He leads the way into a dimly lit dining room with a large wood oven at the back, and the smell of fresh pasta surrounds you.

Minhyuk

“I can’t believe you don’t know how to read a map,” Minhyuk scoffs, looking over the huge paper sprawled on the hood of the car. He pulled over the car fifteen minutes ago after figuring out that neither of you knew where you were going. “My apologies, I only grew up in the twenty first century. I didn’t expect I would ever need to,” you bite back, annoyed. You didn’t expect to lose cell reception either, but here you are, on a country road somewhere in the American Midwest. He cocks his head at you. Surely there would be a town nearby, but neither of you have ever been here before, so it’s difficult to tell. “This is what we get for deciding a good old-fashioned American road trip was a good idea,” Minhyuk mumbles, still staring at the map hopelessly. He wouldn’t admit it, but he never learned to read a road map either. A pickup truck finally comes over the horizon and eventually slows to a stop beside you. “You folks lost?” the gruff man at the wheel asks. “No, thanks,” Minhyuk replies dryly. The driver shrugs and speeds away. “Minhyuk!” You cry, eyes wide. “What? I figured it out, look, we’re here,” he points at a random stretch of road on the map. “Whatever,” you sigh, not believing him. “Get in. I’m driving this time!” You call over the car.

Kihyun

“Do you know the way back?” he slurs with a giggle. Maybe you two did have too much wine with dinner, after all. “No, but it’s Paris, let’s just walk and see where it takes us,” you wrap yourself around him. He kisses you right as rain starts falling and you both cry out laughing. “Come here, I’ll protect you,” he holds you against his side, throwing his jacket open and holding the side of it over your head. You explode into giggles before pointing up at a white marble tower ahead, lit up from all sides. You gasp. “What is that?” You stop, staring. “Not the Eiffel tower, I can tell you that,” he replies. You pause in the rain, pulling out your phone to get a picture, hoping it comes out as well as you want it to. “Hey, there’s the metro!” Kihyun exclaims proudly. “Found it!” He grins. You run through the rain into the warm underground. The next morning, when you look at the pictures you took, they’re all blurred by rain and light, but you smile, finding the atmosphere captured perfectly.

Hyungwon

Hyungwon had wanted to see a DJ’s set at a music festival while you wanted to catch one of your favorite bands. You’d agreed to go your separate ways and meet up later for the last set of the night - the headliner. There was a path cut through the crowd to get from one stage to another, and you’d agreed to meet near the headliner’s stage. When you got there, however, Hyungwon was nowhere in sight. You paced around the path, looking around, until a security guard shooed you, saying no one was to stay in the ‘circulation lane’. You shrugged and went around to the other side of the gate, standing on the edge of it to try to see over everyone’s heads. “Step down from there,” the same guard barks at you. “I’m trying to find someone,” you snap, annoyed, but step down. You check your phone and Hyungwon is trying to find you too, so you call him. “Hey, where are you?” he asks the second he picks up. “I’m at the circulation thing, behind the big fountain,” you turn to look at the fountain, lasers from the stage ahead beaming into the water. “Oh, shit, that’s not where I am, wait,” with that he hangs up. You see the guard further down, facing away, so you climb the gate again, looking around. “I told you to get down from there,” the guard rushes back, screaming. An arm wraps around your waist from behind and you’re ready to elbow whoever it is before you spin and find Hyungwon pulling you down. “Woah, just me!” he exclaims, laughing, “Someone piss you off?” You nod at the security guard. Hyungwon gives him a quick glare but grins, pulling you away. “You shouldn’t argue with the security. You know they can actually kick you out?” He chuckles, giving you a quick kiss on the side of your head. “I know,” you pout, “I was just worried. I couldn’t find you.”

Jooheon

“I literally can’t believe we got lost. Like, I can’t believe it,” Jooheon was repeating for the millionth time. You laughed. “Don’t laugh,” he looked at you, “we were literally at a neighbour’s house. How are we lost?” he asked incredulously. “We just moved into the neighbourhood, I’m sure if we just keep walking we’ll find something,” you laughed again. The neighbours had invited you over as a sort of reverse-housewarming. Normally, you didn’t talk to neighbours much, but this was the first house you’d bought together, and you hoped it would be a long-term thing. Getting along with neighbours was key, plus they were actually pretty cool; they had dogs. The sun had long set and you looked up at the stars you had never been able to see from the city. Gazing down, you found a park and ran to it. “Where are you going?” Jooheon shouted after you. “Come on,” you cried back with a grin. You hurried to the swing set and sat. There was no more efficient way to bring on a wave of nostalgia. Jooheon chuckled as he came to sit on the swing beside you. “Are we teenagers sharing feelings?” he asked. “We can be,” you offered. There was a comfortable silence before he spoke. “We shouldn’t stay here too long, it’s getting late and we don’t actually know where we are.” “Listen,” you lent an ear to the distance and he did the same. “What am I hearing?” he asked. “A boulevard. If we walk toward it, we’ll find our street.” “Ah, see, that’s why I love you,” he replied. “Supernatural hearing?” you giggled. He nodded wisely.

Changkyun

Changkyun was looking around, clearly worried, which did nothing to ease the stress and exhaustion you felt. You’d gone to a club for Halloween, and it was fun, everyone was dressed up. The atmosphere was perfect, the music was even good which almost never happens, but now it was almost 4 AM. You were in a short dress and it was freezing cold even after Changkyun had sacrificed his jacket for you. He was walking around in nothing but a long-sleeved shirt, his nose rosy from the cold. You felt bad, but you were still shivering violently, so you didn’t say anything. “Look, the last bus should be here any minute, we’re gonna have to hurry,” he said finally. You nodded. He grabbed your hand and lead you to the bus stop, a few street corners away. There was a spot on the bench in the shelter and you hurried to it because, to top it all off, it was starting to rain. Other people huddled around the bus stop, some of them loud, some of them obviously drunk or high. Changkyun stood in front of you in the bus shelter and sighed, looking at the time on his phone. Any minute now. You turned to some guys who were obnoxiously loud. You were seriously drained, you wished you could spawn into your warm bed; anything was annoying to you at that point. You started to stand, prepared to give them a piece of your mind - it was late and they should be respectful of the fact that there were others around - but Changkyun held you by the shoulder and sat you back down. “It’s not worth it, babe. We’ll be home soon, okay?” he murmured. You nodded and looked out at the street, spotting the bus in the distance. “Oh, thank god,” you whispered, hurrying to the curb.

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nachohypno · 4 years

Text

Pine’s College Jocks Ch. 10 - Overloading

I was in a hospital bed.

At least, I thought so. I still couldn’t see anything.

After the challenge ended abruptly, I passed out. I remember waking up in an ambulance but still not being able to open my eyes. Like I wasn’t in control of my body anymore. My eyelids just didn’t want to open. I fell asleep shortly after.

“He stopped seizing as soon as the ambulance arrived, but he hasn’t wake up. His signs seem to be normal” An unknown voice said. Did I have a seizure? The voices woke me up this time. I was already in the hospital bed, and it was so comfortable… but I still couldn’t open my eyes, or move at all.

“A few of his friends want to see how the patient is, should they enter?” A female voice said.

“Let them in. He should wake up from his attack at any moment, given his condition” The doctor said. A moment later, a door opened and more people entered the room, but I had to listen to them if I wanted to know their identities.

“Is he alright?” That one was Stacy, she was the first one to burst into the room.

“His vital signs are normal; he just needs some time to wake up. We don’t have the answer to what caused the seizure” I don’t think modern medicine has the knowledge to identify a mind overload

The doctor continued “Stay around a few minutes, visiting hours have ended already so we can’t have you around for a long time” Then footsteps left the room, I assumed it was the doctor.

Stacy, Mike and Aiden (who was also there, but never spoke until the doctor was gone) started theorizing about what might have caused it. Mike probably knew already, but avoided mentioning the fact that I have powers and that I might have overloaded them.

As the doctor asked, they started to leave. But Mike seemed to stay more time than the others.

“Uhm… Hey bro. I really, really hope you’re alright. That… I must be honest, that seizure scared the hell out of me. The thought of losing you…” He gulped “But the doctor said you will be alright! And I thank god for that. I-I called your parents, I thought that would be the right thing to do”

He remained silent. I felt bad for him, I probably gave him a good scare. I have to find a way to control my body once again.

I noticed he started whispering close to me. “Please don’t leave me, bro. I won’t be able to handle losing my best friend… and my first love”

“Sir, it’s time to leave” Said a nurse. Mike sighed and did as told, I could hear the footsteps, a door closing and then… complete silence.

Alright, time to think.

Maybe I could reach out to one of my slaves? If I fixed these overloads, once and for all, I may be able to return to the world!

I just needed to concentrate… the cardiac event recorder’s beeps disappeared as I focused in the mind links. I needed to find a way to control my body again… A particular mind link seemed strong, I held onto it and after a bit more mental effort…

-----

I opened my eyes, finally.

I noticed I wasn’t in the hospital anymore. I was sitting in the frat house’s living room. The sofa was comfortable.

I tried to get up, and almost fell to the ground. Wow, my body was weirdly heavier than usually.

I tried to balance myself, and look for some kind of mirror. I had a phone in my pocket, great. I opened the camera and looked at me.

I’m controlling Nick’s body!

I was between “Awesome!” and “What the heck?!”. Nick’s face seemed completely black. But this wasn’t the time to find out about new powers!

Although, I didn’t waste my chance and flexed Nick’s- My big biceps to the camera. ‘I’m so hot’ I thought.

Wait, Pine, it’s not the time nor the place. This isn’t your body.

After setting my mind, I decided to go seek for help. Wait, that would be useless. It’s not like they can pull me back to the real world or something.

I walked around the house, passing by other frat members, until I encountered a few of my slaves.

Some of the pledges that I got under my control by accident during the first challenge.

I got closer until they noticed me.

“Wow, Nick. Everythin’ alright, mate?” They probably noticed my blank face. I tried to say something to them but… It was hard. I don’t know how to explain it. I tried so hard to say something but I just managed to open my mouth.

Wait, I can’t feel my legs.

Nor my torso.

What is going on?!

Was I losing control of Nick’s body? That seemed to be the case!

My mind was hurting again.

Aaaand I returned to complete darkness. Damn it!

I needed some way to end with those stupid overloads!

“Just concentrate on ending them, then” A voice said.

“What?” I thought.

“I said, concentrate on ending those mind links. Like using some kind of scissors to cut a string, and you’ll manage to get it”

“Who is this?” I asked. This was weird!

“I’m… you! Well… Yeah, you! I don’t think there’s a better way to explain it. Think of me as the representation of your powers!” Alright, now this was getting super strange. But alright, it gave me a good advice. The voice sounded nervous though

“Do you know why this overloads are happening now?”

“You said it yourself, you’re overloading your mind with your powers. Wait, let me check how many mind links you have at the moment…” The voice disappeared and I waited for it to come back. “Fift- FIFTY-THREE!”

“I think I may have gotten a bit carried away with the powers” I said. It was true, I didn’t think that using my powers would have any consequence.

“It’s alright! You have them for a reason, so it’s alright to use them! It’s just that you’re too young, and the “mind link” ability, as you call it, can damage you if not used carefully. You’re only 18 years old, still pretty young” The voice explained “But, as you grow older, your mind will be able to maintain more mind links, and maybe develop new abilities!”

I won’t lie, that sounded amazing. I just had to wait until I’m older, and keep myself alive.

“So, for now I should cut off some mind links and I would be able to return?” I asked.

“It would be a good start. But avoid using the takeover ability for-“

“The possession I just did?” I interrupted him “Oh, sorry”

“Possession, yes, that may be a better name. That ability can be a bit dangerous for now. You only managed to maintain control for a few minutes, maybe in the future… but not now, you have to be more careful!”

“Hey, my verbal mind control never caused me an overload, that means it’s safe to use, right?”

“You got it! Since it barely connects your mind with the victim, you can use it as much as you want!”

I would have liked to nod but, you know, overloaded mind or something. So instead, I just waited for the pain to fade to try something again.

“As I said, concentrate on the link… focus on ending it, remember you have complete control over them”

“Alright” I thought.

I started like before, focusing in one of the far links. I assumed they would be at the house, and I wanted to target the enslaved pledges.

I had to cut the link before the possession power starts working. The cardiac machine’s beeps disappeared once again as I concentrated. This time, I avoided thinking of control and focused on the link. The guy’s thoughts started flowing towards me.

He was nervous about of the last challenge, apparently they haven’t revealed the results for now, because of what happened last night.

I tried to focus a bit more on the mind link, but this time, instead of possessing his body, I imagined a pair of scissors cutting the link, then I stopped focusing on it, a bit abruptly. It hurt, but went away after a few seconds.

I tried with the link that seemed closer to that one, reading his thoughts to see what happened.

Great! He didn’t mention anything happening to his friend. So either he wasn’t that close to my former slave or there wasn’t any consequence about cutting those links!

I should think for a bit which ones would I like to cut. The football team was out of the question; those guys were like a personal project for me now. I wanted to help them succeed. The coaches too, I had some ideas for them, but I wasn’t able to carry them out because of this whole fraternity pledging stuff.

Gary… Well, he was my first slave. I just can’t let him go, he’s happy now. So that leaves the rule for the frat guys, maybe except Max, to keep a man of influence around there.

I’ll stop cutting links when I start to feel better, so I’ll just cut the necessary ones.

I started with the guy I just checked in. Mimicking what I’ve did before, I focused on his mind link until the hospital sounds disappeared from my surroundings and there was only darkness, and the links.

The pair of scissors appeared easily this time, I’m probably getting the trick of this!

And… slice! Mind link gone!

Now, to the next one.

It was easy to recognize that group of pledges. I checked on their minds just to see who they were; in case I was looking at one of my football jock’s minds by accident. It’s not like every mind link has a tag with a name on it.

The voice, my powers’ representation, kept giving me advice during the whole thing, as it saw it was becoming easier for me to just cut the unwished mind links.

If it were for me, I would have loved to keep them. I mean, the more slaves the merrier, right? And I’m not ruining their lives or anything, so it wouldn’t bother to have more options.

But if it endangered my life, I prefer to say goodbye to them, for now at least until I can have more mind links tied to my mind.

It was working!

When I finished with another mind link, I could feel my body again. Still not able to move it, but I could feel that the hospital bed was really comfy!

Just a few more and it would be over.

Once that pledge group was finished, I could move my fingers a bit. “Just a few more, keep going!” I kept thinking. It was a piece of cake now, I just had to think about what I wanted to do with that mind link after recognizing it, and if I wanted to end it, it just happened.

“I’ll see you soon! Good luck with your powers!” The voice said, before I opened my eyes.

Finally.

I looked around a bit before trying to move more, I felt a bit of pain on my head, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I was back on the world again.

The room was empty, the cardiac monitor showed that I was excited. Probably because of all the mind links I just ended. The pain faded though, so I felt good.

I pressed a button on the night table to call a doctor or nurse. I was able to move again, so I assumed they should know I’m awake.

Minutes later, the doctor entered with the nurse behind him. He explained to me that I couldn’t go home until tomorrow, for safety reasons in case I had another seizure.

I accepted, they probably wouldn’t believe that this whole mess was caused by my mind control powers so I decided to play it safe.

The doctor left, and before the nurse left she explained me that I could call her if I needed something. I thanked her, and then I was alone again.

My phone was at the table beside my bed. I had to tell my parents and my friends that I’m awake. They probably won’t be able to visit me because it’s 4 a.m., but still, so they wouldn’t worry.

After sending the messages, I left the phone in the table and laid in bed again.

I wasn’t tired, but I also didn’t want to wait for the morning, so maybe a good sleep was the answer.

-----

I woke up at 12 p.m.

I grabbed my glasses and checked my phone. My mother said she was about to arrive. Great, visiting hours must have started a few hours ago, if I’m not wrong.

I just waited patiently and played with my phone. I missed my switch so much, but it wouldn’t hurt to download something from the store and just pass the time.

Mom entered the room with the nurse. The later was carrying a plate with some juice and a little pack of water crackers. She left it at the table beside me. I thanked her, as mom sat down in a chair near me.

“How are you feeling?” She asked “I was really scared last night, when Mike called. We thought it was an innocent prank at first, you know he’s always been the prankster one of the pair, but I noticed he sounded really worried”

“I’m alright” I said with a sincere smile “Really. Just a peak of stress ‘cause of the studying and pledging, but it was nothing”

She nodded “I’m glad to hear that. The doctor said you will be able to leave today, if you don’t show any other symptoms”

“Awesome!” Being honest, I wanted to get out of here ASAP. Mostly for curiosity, what happened after my seizure at the challenge? Was I out of the pledging process? “Sorry for scaring you mom, I didn’t want to bother-“

“Don’t say nonsense! It’s always good to have an excuse to visit my son” She reached out to me and we hugged, then she sat back at the chair “Besides, you never told me you have a boyfriend now!”

I was red. I shouldn’t be embarrassed, I like Mike and I told him he could tell anyone about our relationship. But… it’s kind of weird to hear it coming from my mom, alright?

Which shouldn’t be, since she saw me going to prom night with Gary. I did jazz hands and said “Surprise!”, and she laughed. “It’s a recent thing… I haven’t really told anyone”

“It’s okay, I hope to see you both around Winston soon,” She got up “I’ll let you enjoy your breakfast while I finish with some paperwork on the lobby” Mom kissed my cheek.

“Thanks mom” And then she left.

I grabbed the plate and started eating. It was going to be a good day.

-----

I got bored after 6 p.m., and no more symptoms appeared, so I ordered the doctor to discharge me. I did a few tests by myself on my room, walking around, running a bit from one point to the other. I was fine!

As mom said, she was waiting on the lobby. Aiden and Stacy were there too. I was surprised Mike wasn’t there.

My mother thought I had to stay in the hospital for another night just in case, but took me and my friends back to the campus before heading back to Winston.

“Your mom is awesome” Stacy said “She offered to buy us hot dogs, but we gently declined, right Aiden?”

The guy was frowning. I imagined he wanted to accept the hot dog, but Stacy forbid him. She can be quite convincing.

We arrived at the frat house, and I saw Max standing at the house’s entrance.

Everyone was outside, except for the active brothers, they were behind Max. Weirdly, Mike was nowhere to be seen.

“And there they are! Now, we can finally start with the pledge initiation!” Max said. The other pledges started to celebrate, but were quickly silenced by the frat president. “We’ll have more time for greetings later, guys!”

I chuckled, the guy took his work very seriously.

“The time you’ve been waiting for: We’re going to announce who managed to survive this pledging season! Don’t worry if you didn’t make it in, you’ll have more chances in the future” He grabbed a list from his pocket.

My fellow pledges names were being called out. Luke got in. Aiden got in. I got in (obviously, since Max was still under my control). Although, some guys complained because I blacked out during that last challenge, but I guess Max would excuse it saying that my score was high enough from the previous challenges.

After he mentioned some other jocks, the frat president finished with his list, he told anyone who wasn’t named had to leave the house and try again another time.

Luckily, nobody tried to start a fight, but they seemed pretty pissed.

The ones who did get in were invited inside. There, the party started. The whole place was decorated and had more beers around the room than usual. It was a day to celebrate, I guess.

I lost Aiden and Stacy in the crowd. Cool, all alone again. Reminds me of the start of the year, in this same house.

-----

After a bit of walking around, avoiding people drinking, I found Mike. And was he wearing a shirt and tie? I remember the last time he did so, we had our first date in our room.

“Yo, been looking for you, bro! I’m so glad you’re alright, enjoying your time back at the earth?” He said, patting my back. Surprisingly, his breath didn’t smell like alcohol. Mike without drinking at a party? That was new.

“Yep, just happy to have finished with the challenges, and the overloads too! It’s just a great day, you know?” I was really happy. Everything seemed so great now, no more headaches and shit like that. I just had to moderate how much I use my mind powers.

He put an arm around me “I kinda prepared something for you, babe. I wanted to show you after you finished the challenge but… yeah, everything happened. But if you want me to show you, we can go to our room”

I nodded “Sure, I can’t wait to see!” A surprise? This day keeps getting better and better.

“Remember prom night?” He asked, as we walked to the room. I could still hear the party noise, but they seemed to stay in the public lounge and the living room.

Probably because this party was for Sigma Nu and Pi Omega members only. They didn’t fill the house like they did in my first and second party here.

“Uh… Yep, I do” It was half a year ago? Probably more? I went with Gary and Mike went with one of the cheerleaders, Esther. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, bro…” We arrived at our room and he opened the door.

The place was decorated just like that night. Red and yellow ribbons, a few balloons (which made me chuckle a bit, given the last challenge) and serpentines hanging from the ceiling.

“What if we relive that night, but this time, as a couple?” Cheesy as always, but I loved the idea.

“Sounds great to me, do I have to wear a suit too?”

He laughed “Only if you want to”

It would take me a bit to dress up, and we would probably end up having sex, so I preferred to save us both some time. “Nah, it’s alright”

He nodded, then held out his hand to me, with a nervous smile. “May I have this dance, then?”

I grabbed his hand and he pulled me closer to him. I interlaced my hands behind his neck as he placed his hands on my hips.

Slow music was being played in Mike’s phone, and it seemed to clash with the music from the party downstairs. Still, it was nice, and Mikey had a big smile during our whole dance.

“So…” I broke our silence “Did you really mean what you said when I blacked out?”

He looked around, blushing. “I wondered if you would bring that up. Uh… If I’m being honest, I was really, really scared about what happened to you. What if that was your last day and I’ve spent it preparing some dumb challenge instead of hanging out with you?” He sighed. “I love you, Pine. I’ll always do, and I realized I always had. And I don’t want this… thing we have, to end”

He looked down to the floor as we kept dancing. I decided to answer after picking my words carefully.

“I’m not really a romantic guy, and I don’t think I’ve worried about finding love or stuff like that. Had more important business going on at the moment I guess. But I must admit, dating you is one of the best things I have. You’re a really great guy and I’ve known you for almost my whole life. So yeah, I love you too, Mikey”

His face lit up and he kissed me lightly on the lips. “Thanks, bro. I needed that”

We continued our little slow dance for a few minutes more, before he asked “Do you want to return down there or you’d rather stay here? I know you don’t really like to party”

“Hmm… I like being in here. And I have an idea of what I would like to do now that I’m back in the world…”

He probably caught my drift, because he smiled and pulled me closer for a make out session.

I groped his ass, as we made out. He did the same to me. Nice, a battle for dominance?

We moved to the bed and laid down. He took off his shirt, but left the tie on. It looked good on him.

I took off my shirt too and we resumed the kiss, then we rolled in the bed until I was on top of him.

“Have any ideas for tonight, babe?” He asked, after noticing he was below me.

I wondered how he might react, but said it anyway “I want to… fuck you. Done it with Max and it felt really good”

He remained silent, just for a few seconds. Probably thinking about it, then said “Sure, you’re the boss”

“Wait, really?” I was surprised, I never thought he would like the idea of bottoming.

“What, it’s that unbelievable? I mean it, fuck me Piney” I was already turned on, and hearing him saying that was helping a lot.

We took off our pants and underwear, and he bent over. I didn’t waste any time and started rimming his ass, and he moaned softly after a bit “Damn bro, I thought you would need some help but you’re an expert at this already!”

“Thanks, had some practice before!” I said, before resuming. He seemed like he wanted to ask but he got lost in the rim job.

After a bit, I grabbed the lube from the night table and put some in my hard cock. Then I positioned myself behind him. “Ready?” I asked him. It was his first time bottoming, as far as I knew.

“Be as wild as you can, tiger” He said, confidently. I followed his request and started fucking him, pretty slowly at first but I got faster with time.

He didn’t wait any time and started moaning. “Feels good?” I asked, without stopping.

“…Awesome, please don’t stop, babe”

I liked this. Hopefully, Mike would start bottoming a lot more from now on. He seemed to like it too!

I stopped for a second and faked the jock accent once again “Who owns you, bro?”

“You do, bro! You own me!” That was the good answer. I thrusted harshly into him, and he loved it.

We changed positions after a while, he got on his back and put his legs over my shoulders. I positioned my cock again and resumed the fucking, picking up the pace faster than before.

---

We both laid together in bed.

He was smiling at me. “What?” I asked him. It was kind of cute, and unnerving at the same time.

“Nothing, I just… I love you, bro. And sorry if I sound repetitive” He chuckled.

I pulled him in, to cuddle together. I noticed the party was still going downstairs, but luckily they weren’t missing us, if they still hadn’t come up to search for us. “I love you too. And it’s fine, I like when you say it”

He wrapped his arm around me. “Didn’t know you liked to dom that much”

“It’s something I’ve been exploring, I guess. It’s fun, and kind of… well, really hot. And you?”

“I’m okay with subbing, it’s fun. And getting fucked by you felt good, so I’m not complaining” We remained silent for some time, just cuddling together. With the guy I loved. I got used to that, but it never gets old.

My mind felt good. It no longer hurt when I tried to check on my enslaved guys’ minds, and that was great. I had to cut some mind links, but I prefer that rather than stop using my powers.

Besides, I just had to wait until my mind matured a bit more to have more powers and be able to use them without any consequences, according to… myself, apparently.

For now, having the football team, the coaches, and the frat president was enough. As long as I didn’t push too far at least.

“Should we return to the party, or you want to stay and cuddle? Your choice, babe” Mike asked. I thought about it, but honestly I wasn’t in the mood to survive a party. And cuddling sounded amazing.

“Cuddling!” I said.

“Cuddling it is!” My boyfriend smiled and gave me a kiss, before closing his eyes. “Good night, bro”

I couldn't stop thinking about the overload, and what happened last night. It was scary, really scary. I may have to hold myself back with the power usage for a while. No creating new mindlinks, and if I'm going to use the ones that already exist, I'll manage them one or two at a time. Not like at the challenge when I tried to see where everyone was. Vocal mind control should be fine. Maybe after some time I could go back to researching and experimenting with my powers. But, for now...

“Sleep well, Mikey” I said, before drifting off myself. It was time to rest.

-----

The new arc is already on the works, I’ll hopefully be able to start posting it soon, but I want to have a few chapters ready before starting to publish them.

I hope you liked this story so far! Don’t worry, it’ll continue :p

#PinesCollegeJocks #mind control #gay hypnosis #brainwash #brainwashing

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p-artsypants · 4 years

Text

Longest Night (35) Burning

I had the flu last week! It was super not fun! Make sure to wash your hands and stay home as much as you can! Besides the big bad the flu is also afoot and it sucks!

As I stated in an earlier chapter, I’m a Christian. Because of the nature of this story, I wanted to incorporate some elements of my faith into it. I find it weird to impress my faith on fictional characters, so I usually don’t, but my God is a healer. It makes sense that He’d be mentioned. I’ll probably keep it kind of subtle.

Not this chapter though. THIS ONE GOES HARD. STRAP IN BOYS!!

It’s also REALLY GROSS at parts. Sorry in advance.

(Also, this is creative writing, I’m not really up to theology debates. Please and thank you in advance.)

Ao3 | FF.net

—

“End of the road.” Lady Lacrima said, her face blank and emotionless.

Salo pulled her hand, or rather her wrist, to her chest. “How the hell did he find you?”

Lady Lacrima shrugged. “You must have gotten sloppy.”

“Or you gave him clues! I should have killed you weeks ago!”

“You should have,” Lady Lacrima agreed. “You should have let me die with compassion in my heart. But you didn’t. You created a monster. Two of them.”

Salo spat at her. “You’re a product of Hawkmoth! I only avenged my Eddy!”

“After all this, you’re still justifying your heinous actions. You’re so lost in your depravity, that you can’t even see how low you’ve sunk.”

“So what now?” She sneered. “Now that the roles are reversed, what are you going to do?”

Lady Lacrima reach out and caressed the woman’s face, leaving a smear of blood on her cheek. “The roles are far from reversed, Salo.” She stated, holding out her arms. A buster sword, one bigger than any human could wield, materialized in her hands. “I’m more powerful than you could ever hope to be. And you…there’s no punishment on Earth that befits you.”

“Will you kill me then?”

“That depends…do you believe in God?”

Salo scoffed. “What are you, my Nonna? Go ahead, kill me. Let your God punish me.”

Lady Lacrima adjusted the sword in her hand. “He’ll get his turn.”

Salo’s lip trembled as she attempted to scoot away.

“It’s funny. Without those glasses, you look almost human. And all this time, I thought you were a soulless machine. But if you have a soul…you can burn in hell.” And she slammed the blade down, down through flesh and bone and into the cement, separating her legs from her torso.

The woman screamed in agony, clawing at the ground to escape.

Claws ripped into her stomach, pulling her intestines out and spilling them on the floor.

“What do you think Salo? Should we leave you like this?”

Salo didn’t answer, only squealed and cried out as she writhed on the floor like a worm. Her vision was blurred, but she could see the lights above her head.

Then there was a silhouette, holding out long claws. Claws that pulsed and churned with dark energy. They came closer and closer to her face.

It burned. Hotter than any fire she’d felt before. She heard her skin sizzling and cracking.

Then there was nothing.

No sound, no light, nor breath in her lungs. No emotion fleeting through her head.

And yet—

She was awake. More awake than she’d ever been before. It was like she had been dreaming all this time, and she was finally aware of all that was happening around her.

“Where am I?” She asked, noting the white space around her. Not the billowing clouds she’d seen in Sunday school illustrations as a child. Just a vast infinite of nothingness.

“It has many names, ones in each dialect. We like to call it Hades, or Sheol. Though to you, it would be Death.”

“I’m in...I’m in death?”

“Correct. For death is not a natural state, it is only a temporary condition of the fall.”

“The fall?”

The voice hummed, patiently answering her question. “The fall of mankind. In the Garden of Eden. You know the story, Bianca.”

“I—I do.” She admitted. “I just didn’t think—“

“That it was real?”

“Yeah…”

“What did you think would happen when it was all over?”

She shrugged. “That’s just it. That it would be over. There was nothing else.”

“You are a product of your time. Your eyes were closed to the truth. You had plenty of chances to open them, but they remained firmly shut.”

Bianca raised her hands, finally looking at what had become of her body. No scars, no wrinkles, no calluses, just sooth skin, like a newborn baby.

“Who are you? Can I see you?” She finally asked.

“We’ve never talked, but I’m a good friend of yours. I’ve been with you a long time.”

“Are you my guardian angel?”

The voice laughed. “No. I’m not an angel at all. I’m an antagonist to the angels.”

“A demon?”

“No no, but you’re getting warmer,” it sang, “I will show myself soon, but my name is Death.”

Bianca blinked. “Wait, I thought I was…in Death. I’m in you?”

“I am the state, place, and Lord of Death. I am here, walking with you, all around you, and I am you. But it is beyond mortal understanding.”

Bianca just took a shaky breath, resolved that this was bigger than her, for once.

“You are receiving a wonderful gift, Bianca. A look at the future. Those who perish permanently are not provided with this opportunity.”

“…have I not perished permanently then?”

“Mostly likely not. In the world of free will, there is still a chance that you, and several others will return to Earth for a few more pitiful years.”

“Because…of Ladybug and Chat Noir? Their reset button?”

“That is correct. But until then, you are separated from your body. And I will show you what happens in the end.”

Bianca swallowed as wispy white rolled away. The sky was rolled back like a scroll, displaying the mighty heavens in all their glory. The ground quaked and cracked, falling away to show a growing hoard of lethargic souls, shuffling on with no destination. Bianca stood above on a pillar, just observing them.

“These are the others in Death, they are just like you. But they won’t be returning to Earth. Their lives are over, and ahead of them is judgement.”

“And then?”

“Two options. Up…”

Within the vastness of the sky, a city floated. Walls made of jasper, gates of pearl, and twelve foundations stacked on top of each other, each made of a solid precious metal. There were no lights, as darkness couldn’t penetrate the walls. It was blindingly bright and hurt to look at.

“Or down.”

The pillar grew, twisting to peer over the edge of the world. Below, she saw a pit of fire and smoke, covered with an ancient seal. Inside the pit sat a beast with ten horns and seven heads, with crowns on each head. It looked up to her, licking her lips in patience.

“What is that?”

“The beast which devours all and demands worship. One day, when the seal is broken, the beast will go to earth. He will be exalted as a king above all, and everyone will love and adore him. He is a deceiver.”

“People will worship that?” She asked, incredulous. “Out of fear?”

“Out of blindness. The beast will not appear on Earth like this. May he appear as a man, or as a temptation? That is not for you to know.”

The Beast paced in the pit, its fourteen eyes never leaving her.

“Once it’s reign begins, it cannot be stopped. A prophesy will come to pass, and the wrath of God will pour out on the Earth. After a thousand years of peace, this Beast, the Devil himself, and I will be cast into the Lake of Fire. Those in my arms will be judged, and if their names are not found in the Book of Life, they too will be cast down.”

The pillar grew again, the ground tilting and shifting to move the pit out of the way. And beneath that was a horrible chasm, stretched out for miles and miles, though she could still see the divide clearly. On the other side, a lake, vast and sprawling, but instead of water, it churned with fire. Flames rolling and burning, on and on, hot, and unbearably agonizing.

“And then what?” She breathed. “We burn up, and then are no more?”

“No.” Said Death. “There is no end to the burning. It will go on, forever and ever. You will beg for relief, but you’ll never get it. Every second, you will want to die, but this is the second death. It lasts forever.”

“But that’s thousands of years from now!” She cried, trying to dissuade her panic. “What about now? Do I wander like the rest of them?” She gestured down to the wandering souls below her.

Death smiled. “I suppose you’ll just have to find out for yourself.”

The pillar crumbled, pulling her down to the crowd, though no one seemed to pay any mind. Though as her feet touched to cool ground, things started to slip from her mind.

She bumped into a soul. A man who she recognized. “Harken! Oh it’s nice to see someone I know! We have to stick together, the Miraculous Cure is going to take us back soon.”

But Harken didn’t respond, only pushed passed her and continued listlessly onward.

“Death? Why didn’t he recognize me? He died only a minute before me!”

But Death did not respond, so she was on her own.

So she wandered among the spirits. Not really knowing where she was going, or what would happen. Was this it? Milling about for hours until her return to Earth?

That didn’t seem so terrible.

She wasn’t calm, but not panicked either. Nor scared nor bored, just…there. Like a blank slate of her emotions. Even the last few moments of her life on Earth began to slip her mind. She passed faces she swore she knew, names that where common to her.

But none of that seemed important now. Nothing did.

Then with a step, she was in front of a podium, one so tall it loomed over her. Standing at it, was a living creature with the face of a human, with seven wings and seven eyes. It wore pure white linen and a gold sash. On the podium rested a huge book, thicker than she was tall, and four times as wide.

“Name?”

She blinked, the clarity returning to her mind. “Uh it’s Bianca. Bianca Furtoli.”

The being flipped through the pages. Then opened another book, and another. A scroll unrolled from the surface and came cascading down to her, unraveling next to her and continuing off into the distance.

“Your name is not written in the Book of Life.” The creature said simply.

“And?”

“And so The Way is closed to you, for you are unrepentant, and your eyes are closed. Your lips only hold blasphemy, and your throat is like an open grave.”

“Are you Death?” She asked.

“No,” it said, “But it will be coming for you soon. I am an Angel of the Lord.”

“Funny, I thought Angels were supposed to be beautiful.”

“What would there be to fear in beauty?”

“Why do you think people fear me?” She asked, hand on her hip.

“Humans fear you, Bianca, because your reputation proceeds you. You speak with a silver tongue, convincing crowds, manipulating multitudes, and preying on vulnerabilities, like a lion stalks his prey.”

“You’re all so poetic up here.”

“And you don’t fear what’s to become of you?”

“I was killed by an akuma. Once Ladybug does her little magic spell, I’ll pop right back on Earth. It’ll only be a few minutes now. Death told me so.”

“Death must be fond of you. It rarely talks to mortals. It does not discriminate. But take heed child, it is not a friend, for it works for the Lord, but it should not exist.”

Bianca frowned. “It gave me more answers than you’re giving me.”

“What makes you think you’re worthy of answers?”

“Because my Nonna said I was made in the image of God. That’s why.”

“A good answer.” The angel mused.

“Then tell me how I get my name written in the Book.”

“Ask your Nonna.”

She frowned. “I prayed that silly little prayer as a girl. I did exactly what I had to do.”

“You were a child, and had the faith of a child. The repentance of a child. But you have grown, and you haven’t lived up to your vow. You prayed to accept the sacrifice that Jesus the Messiah made for you, and yet you trampled upon all he asked of you to do.”

“What did he ask me?”

“To follow him, and be like him.”

“Well, no one’s perfect.”

“He’s not asking for perfection. He’s asking for you to be forgiving, kind, patient, loving, gentle. To have self-control. To be a light to others in the fallen world.” The book slammed shut. “Not to torture children.”

“Says a lot coming from a god that allows wars to be waged. Cancer to run rampant. Hunger and disease to plague half the world. If he’s so powerful, how has he allowed all this to happen, huh? How come he didn’t stop me sooner, if I’m so bad, huh?”

The angel shook his head, “O Childish Blasphemer, who are you to know the infinite ways of God? How are you, a mere infant in the eyes of the world, supposed to understand these concepts beyond your vapid existence? For now, these horrors persist, but one day, they will cease forever. But the likes of you are unlikely to ever believe that. In the last days, you will be gnashing your teeth, and cursing God, even when he gives you plenty of opportunities to repent.”

“What will happen to me now then? Will you continue to berate me until I go back to Earth? Doesn’t seem very loving to me.”

“I have nothing more to say to you, Bianca. Death will fetch you now.”

The Angel moved one of its wings, and from behind it came a pale horse with a rider. The horse was sickly, with a tail made of serpents, and with a mouth of a lion that spewed smoke and fire.

The rider wore fiery red armor, with accents of yellow sulfur. He had a sickle in one hand, and a whip in the other.

The horse whinnied, thunder roaring from its jaws, instilling Bianca with fear.

“Can I run?” She asked the Angel.

“You can try.”

And so she did. Though there was no where to run in this vast expanse where Death could not find her.

Bianca was halted by the whip cracking around her throat, though the rider never stopped his gallop, and dragged her away. She flailed around, choking as the sky turned black as sack cloth and the moon turned red as blood. She cried as the flesh ripped from her body and blood streaked behind her, carving her path. The many eyes of the wandering souls around her watched as she was stripped naked in all her shame. She was swallowed by the darkness, not even the light of fire illuminating the writhing floor beneath her.

The smell of rot and decay was strong, as vomit crawled up her throat and out. Maggots crawled over her, making a home in her wounds, her ears, her mouth, her eyes. Anywhere they could crawl, they did. Every bite, every pinch, she felt. There was no blurring from one to the other, she felt it all. And all she could do was scream.

She was left to rot, tormented for hours, perhaps days. Flames burst up from below, doing nothing to the worms, but roasting her alive. Burning, agonizing, blistering pain. She rolled around, trying to get relief, but there was just none to be had.

The fire was intense, and she laid there, cooking like a piece of meat on a grill. It was so hot she couldn’t move. So hot she couldn’t think. She gnashed her teeth and screamed and cried on and on.

“Death!” She begged. “Please! Please show me mercy!”

But Death did not answer, and did not show her mercy.

“Water! Please…just a little water…”

Finally, Death appeared on the horse, trampling over her. “Water? You murderer, you rapist, you liar, you thief! Water is what you want?”

“Please! Please I can’t do this!”

“Where were you when they begged for water? When they begged for peace? Where were you when they begged for time and patience? You had no mercy in life, so why should you receive it in death?”

“Please God! God make it stop!”

—

One moment, she was shrieking in agony, the next, her consciousness melted and she laid on cold metal. Her breath bounced off the surface in front of her. She reached her hand out, touching the sides of the metal box she rested in. A coffin?

Did that mean she was going to suffocate and die again?

She was going to—

Burn.

The tears streaked across her cheeks as the memories of that torture returned to her. She had been eaten alive by maggots, and burned. Burned. Burned. It did happen. Indisputably. The wounds were gone, and she was wearing the leather clothes she had been wearing in the catacombs, when she was killed.

Miraculous Cure must have brought her back.

But how long did she have?

She cried out in horror.

A light shone down by her feet, before the surface she was laying on rolled out, and she found herself in a room.

“Bianca Furtoli?” A police officer asked.

She just stared at him for a moment before weeping. “Please! Please help me! I don’t want to die! I don’t want to go back there!”

He turned on the radio on his lapel. “Havoc here, I’ve got Furtoli. She’s just like the others.”

Bianca reached out and grabbed his arm. “I am back now, aren’t I? This is Earth? Paris?”

He pried her hands off. “Ms. Furtoli, I’m going to need you to calm down. Yes, you were dead, and now you’re alive again. I’m sure this must be hard for you—“

“Where’s Marinette? Where’s Adrien? Please, I need to see them!”

“You don’t get to know that information.” He said sternly.

“I need to ask forgiveness! Please, I beg you!”

“Sit down.” He demanded.

“What’s going to happen to me?! Where am I?!”

“Likely, you’ll be going to prison. If not a mental hospital.”

“Will there be a priest there? I must talk to a priest! Please! I went to hell! I was burning in hell!”

“You know what?” He asked shortly. “I think you completely deserve that after what you did to those kids.”

Bianca fell to her knees and sobbed, not even trying to hide her shame or guilt. She just wept and wept.

She wept when the handcuffs went on her wrists. She wept when she was read her rights, and as she was loaded into the car. She cried herself to sleep that night, and every night for the next few weeks. She spoke to none of Edward Savauge’s men. She had no contact with family.

Fear is a terrible state to live in. And for Bianca Furtoli, it meant every day, every hour, she was preparing to return to that awful fire. She would not rest until she found a way to repent.

And for a woman who believed she was a god, that was a long way off.

—

Marinette awoke to a cool hand on her forehead. She shivered under her blankets, but her face felt so warm.

“Hi there, Ladybug.” Said John, setting a cup of water on her table. “You’ve got a little bit of a fever. That’s expected, and it’s not too high.”

“Cold…” She breathed in her half awakened state.

“Of course. I’ll get you a blanket in a second. How is everything else feeling? How’s your pain?”

“I can handle it. It’s mild.”

“Okay, I’m glad to hear that.” He stepped out of the room briefly, only to return with a soft blanket. “Here we go, nice and warm.” He unfurled it, and brought it up to her chin. It was fresh from the dryer, and nice and toasty. “Better?”

“Much.”

“I’ve got some water here for you. Try to drink a little more before going back to sleep, okay?”

“Okay.”

“That’s a good girl. I’ll be back to check on you periodically.”

“John?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. For everything.”

He smiled at her and squeezed her hand. “Anything for my hero.”

#miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #longest night

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diyunho · 4 years

Text

The Joker x Reader -”On Cloud Nine”

The Clown Prince of Crime died protecting his girlfriend and now The Afterlife Assessment Bureau doesn’t know what to do with him: although J’s actions didn’t change the outcome, it scored major points in his chart and they have to recalculate the final score. Until that happens, The Joker was allowed to wait on the Lower Clouds right below The Higher Clouds where the woman he tried to save is spending eternity.

“Hey lady!” you hear as you watch the beautiful blue skies from your fluffy cloud. ”Hey!”

Y/N looks towards the source of the noise only to notice this strange man with green locks waving at her from the cloud below.

“Yes?”

“Where are we?” the guy asks, having a hard time processing what’s happening to him.

The two don’t recognize each other: once you’re dead, you’ll have no memory of your past; they definitely don’t recall being together while they were alive.

“Not sure, but it’s beautiful,” you sigh and he huffs, annoyed.

“Ugh, it’s boring. Nothing to do besides sitting down and analyze… whatever the hell this is!” J flares his arms around as a voice coming from everywhere echoes in the stillness:

“Please mind your language, sir!”

“Who said that?!” The Joker tries to find the person that just admonished him and there’s no other soul besides the woman he’s having a conversation with.

“I don’t know,” you lift your shoulder up, intrigued. “Kind of weird,” you dangle your feet above the abyss, totally unconcerned about the invisible presence. “What is that?” you point at the sketchbook he’s holding.

“My drawings,” The King of Gotham sulks, restarting to doodle on the almost blank page.

“Can I see?” you curiously inquire.

J bites the pencil and frees his hands, then shows you his current masterpiece.

“Could you hold it higher?” you squint your eyes. “Higher!!”

The expression on your face demonstrates you can’t perceive too much.

“Why don’t you come over?” the man proposes and your stalling makes him snicker: “Don’t worry, I’ll catch you.”

“Hmmm…” you debate on the offer not because you’re afraid of a little jump but because you’re uncertain it’s worth the trouble.

“C’mon!” The Joker wants to get up and help yet Y/N is already hopping down on his cloud: she’s always been independent, one of the qualities he secretly liked about her before they both unexpectedly kicked the bucket. “Nice landing!” J chuckles as you take a sit by him, the artist reprising his work. “What do you think?” he proudly boasts.

You glimpse at the clumsy lines depicting an apparent landscape filled with pumpkins and can’t hold in a smile.

“I think there’s a lot of potential hidden behind the primitive naivety of this little gem,” you give him your honest judgement and J scoffs, intrigued.

“Primitive?!”

“I like your style,” you sweetly reply since you realize you shouldn’t have blurred out the comment; he might be offended by your genuine critique. “The pumpkins are super cute,” you add in order to divert his attention.

“I like pumpkins,” The Joker growls.

“Me too,” you continue. “That would be an adorable nickname for someone, don’t you think?”

“I suppose,” he shakes his head and mentions: “Why are you staring at me? Do I have something in my teeth?”

“They’re silver,” you bring your face closer to his, puzzled to discern the detail.

“Are they?!” The King touches his mouth, appalled.

“Yes, but it suits you,” the sincere tone calms down his frantic movement.

“Am I ugly?!” his ego emerges even beyond the grave and Y/N has the perfect answer:

“No, you’re handsome in a sort of eerie way.”

J frowns, suspicious.

“So I look creepy?!”

“You don’t look creepy to me,” you candidly emphasize. “In my humble opinion, you’re attractive.”

He straightens his back, pleased at the statement and your rosy cheeks give him a boost of confidence.

“Are you going to ...e-hem…” you cough, flustered at the stupid confession, “…draw another pumpkin over here?” your finger taps on the corner of the paper.

“Might as well,” J agrees and you have no clue that what he’s doing is basically thanks to you.

God knows how much you encouraged his practically nonexistent skills just to keep him away from problems he created for himself and others! You were actually his number one fan and to be honest his only fan: as long as The Clown Prince of Crime was immersed in his unique hobby, it meant Gotham and its citizens were safe.

The Penthouse was filled with The Joker’s phenomenal paintings and sketches, extravagantly framed by yours truly to overcompensate the lack of substantial talent.

“Ma’am, please return to your cloud!” the voice you heard earlier resonates all around once more.

“Why?” you glare left and right, annoyed you can’t see anybody.

“You belong on The Higher Clouds,” the elusive response doesn’t enlighten the mystery. “Hold on, we’re sending our representative over!”

After a few seconds Y/N and the former King distinguish an individual dressed in a black suit carefully jumping from cloud to cloud, steadily approaching his objective.

“Apologies for the delay,” he addresses the stunned couple once in The Joker’s space. “Sir, we had to compile a lot of paperwork for you,” the guy flips pages of a thick file, annoyed. “After adding, subtracting, multiplying and dividing your points, turned out your final score is still a negative number.”

“Huh?!” J puckers his lips, confused.

“It seems you were a very bad person, sir; did a lot of despicable things and dying while protecting the girl you loved doesn’t mean diddly squat in the end!”

“Awww,” you gush at the revelation. “That’s so romantic,” you whisper and the man bends over, completely overwhelmed:

“Ma’am, allow me the honor of shaking your hand,” the agent grabs your fingers, softly squeezing them. “You are a true legend and we are forever indebted to your greatness: you put up with him and saved numerous lives also,” he gestures towards The Joker and you gasp, finally understanding the bigger picture.

“He died…for me?!”

“I died for her?!” the awkward pair asks in the same time.

“Yeah, no big deal. You were killed anyway and I��m so, so sorry for that,” the emissary extends his regrets to the woman he admires, entirely disregarding The Joker’s sacrifice.

“No big deal??!!” the latest shouts. “Dying for someone is no big deal?! How the fuck am I still in the negative?!!”

“Language!!!!!!” the omnipresent voice surfaces again.

“WHO.IS.THAT?!” Y/N gets vexed at the multiple invisible interruptions.

“Steve Rogers,” the representative notifies. “He’s in charge of The Profanity Control Department.”

“Who?!” J crinkles his nose, fed up with the messy situation.

“It’s not important,” the agent cuts him off. “What’s important sir is that you can’t be here; we have to move you.”

“Move me?! Where?”

“Yes, where are you taking him?” you quiz the black suited guardian.

“Far away, unless…”

“Unless what?” J crabbily interrogates.

“Unless someone is willing to transfer their points to you, sir. It hasn’t been done in centuries though; lots of bureaucracy involved and frankly, if I may: why would anybody donate their hard earned credits to you??!!”

The Clown is scandalized at the brutal affirmation while Y/N has a magnificent idea:

“How many points do I have?”

“Mmmmm…,” the man flips more pages and finds the information: “Ten gazillions.”

“How many does he need?”

“Three gazillions.”

“Oh,” you cheerfully clap your hands. “I have plenty so I’ll donate my credits to him.”

“Nah, you don’t want to do that,” the man shrieks, already unhappy with the perspective of putting in overtime for this project. “We’re out of clouds; we’ll have to make more and that takes forever.”

“There are plenty of empty clouds around!” The Joker barks.

“Not empty. They are inhabited by others but you can’t see them: you can only see the people you are connected with, true love type of deal,” the emissary indifferently blurs out.

“So…that’s why I can only see him and he can only see me?!” Y/N’s burning, red face matches J’s stellar entitled smirk after the astonishing revelation.

“Precisely,” the flat tone prompts The King’s logical question:

“Then why can’t I stay on this cloud?”

“The Lower Clouds are similar to a waiting room; we can’t have them occupied for long periods of time.”

“I’ll share my cloud with him!” you firmly suggest as the emissary is panicking:

“That means more paperwork!! We usually don’t have two residents spending eternity on the same cloud.”

“Make it happen!” J commands. “The lady wants to give me her points and share her cloud. You can’t say no, you said it yourself: she’s a legend!” he preys on the guy’s hesitation.

“I would really appreciate your help,” your disarming smile gives the guardian a nudge in the proper direction.

“Of…of course ma’am,” he stutters because how can one say no to a legend?!

And you surely count on it.

“I have to stipulate a reason for all this, what should I write on the formulary? In a simple sentence, it needs to be specific and concise: why are you gifting him credits and share your personal area?”

Your brain slots are hollow yet there’s one motive:

“I like his drawings.”

The impeccable suit ogles J’s silly scribbling, muttering under his breath:

“Another Picasso…” then louder:

“I’ll do the paperwork; for now, please vacate the premises and go on the Upper Cloud; we have new arrivals that require the Lower Clouds,” he exhales and starts leaping away, leaving you and The Joker behind.

Your cloud descends so you both can step on it and then floats higher in the air again.

Y/N gazes at the stranger in silence, until he breaks the shell:

“Thank you for your generosity, Miss…” J sniffles, realizing an important detail is absent from the whole dialogue. “What’s your name?”

“…I don’t know…” you regretfully answer. “I can’t remember…”

The Joker scratches his chin with a brilliant solution on the horizon:

“You said Pumpkin would be an adorable moniker for someone. Do you mind if I call you Pumpkin?”

“No, not at all,” you gladly accept his proposition. “And you’re welcome, I had so many credits, might as well use them. I have to thank you too for dying for me, Mister… What’s your name?”

“Bits me; I can’t recollect.”

Y/N pouts, upset she doesn’t have a name when a genius recommendation escapes her lips:

“You know… you have this small “J” letter tattoo under your left eye…” you gently poke it and he feels a sudden warmth taking over his body. “Is it ok if I call you J?”

“U-hum,” the hypnotized King gazes at the woman in front of him. “So I have tattoos on my face?”

“Yes, a few: a tiny star and a big one on your forehead that spells ‘Damaged’. And playing cards on your neck…” you describe his ink, mesmerized.

“Do they make me look horrible?”

“You don’t look horrible to me,” you praise and J inflates his chest at the declaration; oh boy, you definitely have a way with words.

“Thank you Pumpkin,” the flirtatious Clown winks and you play with the hem of your shirt, about to burst out with delight.

“You’re welcome… J.”

“Oh my God!” The Joker snaps out of it since the artist in him is begging for attention: “The sunset’s gorgeous! I have to sketch this!”

He sits down on the cloud and you scoot over until your thighs touch, interested in his new project.

“Your cloud is a better quality than the one I was on,” he bounces on the white, velvety texture. “It will certainly improve my technique!”

“Absolutely!” you enthusiastically exclaim, determined to assist no matter what.

Heaven knows your new friend J evidently requires steady guidance regarding his hobby: he’s no Picasso yet, but with a legend’s help he might eventually get there.

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

#the joker x reader #the joker imagine #the joker fanfiction #the joker jared leto #the joker suicide squad #the joker #joker #joker fanfiction #joker imagine #joker jared leto #joker suicide squad #mister j #Mistah J #dc #dcu

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honestsycrets · 5 years

Text

No Thieves Welcome XVII: Lilies

❛ pairing | hvitserk x reader

❛ type | multi

❛ summary | houseshopping. funeral. something he probably shouldn’t have said but can’t take back now!

❛ warnings | drugs, drug use, depression, mention of death, mention of murder, nsfw, oral (female receiving), overbearing aslaug, jealousy

❛ sy’s notes | this chapter is super fucking long. smut is toward the bottom!

The next morning is tense.

Hvitserk had been looking for an apartment for some time. Something… nice. For his new, insta-family and you. You’re not particularly hard to please. Or at least, not compared to mother. Mother wouldn’t accept an uncustomizable apartment. No, no, no! She strides around the condo like she owns it. Your hand is tight in Hvitserk’s. Something has changed since the last time you met Aslaug-- and it’s not just your baby bump.

“We can the crib here.” Aslaug motions to a grey wall. She cups her cheek, holding her tiny pooch under her arm.

“Crib?” You say.

“Well yes, the boys should sleep together.” She informs you. “If they’re together in your womb, the gods want them to be together in their crib. A big one, white I think.”

Hvitserk’s puffy eyes are raw, incapable of dealing with the imbalance between his mother’s attitude and yours. She was, after all, the matriarch. He usually went with whatever she had to say. Now his bones were being crunched over your forceful grip-- and his mind kept wandering to the night before.

“But what of independence?” You ask.

“Who needs it?” Aslaug laughs, patting your belly without so much as consent. “My grandchildren will be just fine sleeping together.”

Thor--

“I thought we could have two.”

“You won’t say that when its two twenty-nine in the morning and you’ve just put one down.”

You blank. You know that it won’t be easy, not with two, but… you glance over to Hvitserk. A faux lily sits in a tall vase. You’re not sure what it is with the lily. Lately, he had been bringing two vases of flowers home. One for you, of course. But the other…

“It only has two bedrooms.” You note.

“Will you need more?” Aslaug asks. She has a point, you suppose. The twins can share a bedroom. You would be just across the open hallway. Unless you had the intention for another child and-- you glance over to Hvitserk’s face. He turns his head, red-rimmed eyes considering the thoughts that you were thinking.

“Yeah… uh. We can move if we have more.” He reasons. Aslaug claps her hands together, mumbling something about completing the paperwork to the condo. You let go of his hand, going to the double doors that lead out to a harbour. It… makes you anxious. But there were two doors. As Aslaug said, you could put a lock on it or improve on the security.

It’s a clear, beautiful day. Hvitserk listens to the door closing. The sound of his mother’s proud and loud voice over the phone practically riveting with the pride of becoming a grandmother. Hvitserk steps closer to you, his head fuzzy but intentions clear. He’s happy-- happy to be a father. Not yet, but soon. The sooner Thora’s funeral came, the better. He needs to close the trap on his dead best friend. You cup his hand.

“Are you okay?”

“As okay as I’m gonna be.” He says, nuzzling his head against the side of your neck. You reach out, opening the double doors. It looks like it’ll make a good place to raise a young family as… well, a mother. For all your proud studying, it would be on the back burner until the kids were in school.

“Are you sure we can afford this?” You ask.

“Mor doesn’t have any grandkids.” He explains. “She wants them happy.”

You don’t know the interworkings of his family. Something tells you, you don’t want to know them either.

Hvitserk wears a finely pressed suit the following week. Mother buys it from some upscale company and wastes his father’s money on a fancy name that he can’t pronounce. She buttons him into a suit with a sheening satin vest. The black-tie is tucked underneath the vest. She slides in a silver clip to keep his tie from becoming less than spectacular.

“If they ask anything,” Aslaug begins to button his suit jacket. Her slender fingers have a slight tremor.

“They won’t,” Hvitserk grasps his mother’s hand, leaning into her wavy reddish-brown hair. Her father was in too much grief to prolong Thora’s pain. There was nothing to do but bury her. “It’s a funeral.”

She knows. She knows there’s more to it than that. Ragnar and Bjorn know that too. Hvitserk slides a crisp roll of paper from behind his ear, digging in his pocket for a lighter. Aslaug’s hand tightens along his wrist to stop him.

“Hvitserk. You can’t smoke.”

“Why the fuck not?” He grumbles, jerking his wrist free with his lighter.

“You’ll smell,” she says. “Take a pill instead.”

He wanted to be in his right mind for this. To say goodbye to his best friend. But right now, being in the right mind looks fucking pointless. He rolls the metal wheel of his cigarette lighter out of anxiety. The fire plumes, burning his thumb because of how sloppy he was.

“Gimme a hit.”

Aslaug reaches back into her black designer handbag, finding a small baggie full of all the medications that made mommie’s day in that much better since they were children. He didn’t slip into the waters of Kattegat by accident, after all. She hands him a pill; Xanax. Attempts to give him another.

“Na,” he looks to the oak door. “I gotta go get (Y/N) with Ubbe.”

“She should come to get you.”

Aslaug is just worried. But Hvitserk, unscrewing the lid to his plastic bottle of booze, slumps into one of the chairs in his room. “She’s fuckin’ pregnant, Mor. Besides, Ubbe’s driving.”

“I’m only worried she might not be the one for you. I heard you the other night. Throwing things because she won’t say it to you.”

At least, not on your own accord. No ‘i love you.’ Maybe he was already in love before this even got so deep. Hvitserk looks down to the cigarette between his fingers. It’s going to be one of those kinds of days. One where he really can’t hide it but has to. Thora’s father needs him there.

“It’s uh--” an excuse, he needs one. “--daddie hormones.”

What the fuck is he saying?

Mother gives him that look. The softening of her eyes, the pull of her eyebrows together in sheer, pathetic pity. Hvitserk becomes mush against the chair, slouching under his need for this conversation to end. Aslaug reaches out to tighten his bun.

Clack! Clack! Hvitserk’s eyes pan toward the door.

“Can I come in? We have to go soon.” Ubbe pushes the door apart. It was never a real question, just a statement. Hvitserk shuns his mother away, stumbling to his bathroom.

“Yeah, we can hit the road.”

Everything was okay.

He has his woman on his arm, his babies under his hand. There are lilies everywhere. Big lilies. Little lilies. So many lilies. He likes lilies. He’s paced the chapel so many times, up and down, to see Thora in the dress her father and he chose. The ethereal one that she made by hand, stitching the butterfly sleeves herself.

“Sorry about your loss Hvit.”

He’s heard that so much that his ears are going numb. Ubbe stands behind him, expecting him to drop like the little opportunistic fuck that he was. He isn’t about to drop in front of Thora’s grieving father, who hadn’t left Thora’s side since this whole shit storm began.

“Do you need out?” You ask him, turning your head against his shoulder. You both sit on some plain bleachers. The thin cushioning is making his ass go numb. But god, you’re gorgeous. Hvitserk brings his fingers up to brush your lovely, pinky strand of hair away from your face.

“Na,” he whispers in your ear, but it's elevated enough that others can hear. “Coul’ use a blowjob tho.”

You look at him with that look. The one that said he wasn’t getting jackshit in this damn church. Your hand smoothes over his thigh, cupping inward and traveling up. His breath hitches and you lean in, your lips tickling his. “When we get home, I’ll fuck the sad out of you.”

He holds your gaze as his tongue courses over his upper lip, unusually moist. “I’ma hold you to tha,” the words come out sluggish.

“Sorry about your loss, Hvitserk.”

He recognizes the voice as belonging to that little waste of spunk, Magnus. He turns up his drowsy red-rimmed eyes, swaying in his seat.

“Na, you ain’.” Hvitserk accuses, “Stop lyin’.”

“Hvitserk.” You reprimand, elbowing him in his flat stomach. As opposed to Magnus’s usual duck down and out, he shoves his hands into his pocket.

“He’s right, (Y/N).” Magnus cuts you off. “I don’t mean it. Because I know he had something to do with it.”

“With her death? Magnus--”

“I loved her.” Hvitserk cuts off. Your head turns so quick, Ubbe swears it spun, twisting your head unnaturally to look at Hvitserk with an ‘excuse me?’ pending. You never say it though.

“I think you should go.” The voice belongs not to any of the young adults there. But an older man in his mid-forties. His eyes are red-rimmed and raw. Thora’s father turns his arms over one another.

“I’ll take him,” Ubbe grasps Magnus’s bicep, tugging him out of Hvitserk’s line of sight. Hvitserk slumps back in his chair and looks up to Thora’s father with eyes as guilty as the dog that stole the steak, but in his drug haze, it looks like nothing short of intense grief. Her father pats his shoulder.

“You okay son?”

He nods. “I’m okay.”

Then there’s a relief when his so-called ‘father’ leaves to speak to relatives. He doesn’t remember anything after that.

Hvitserk wakes up in his room. His head is pounding-- he looks to the minifridge in his room and debates just how much effort it would demand to go get some water. He slumps over the edge, huffing air to get his honey hair out of his eyes.

“You’re awake?”

Not entirely, but okay. Hvitserk flops around to look at you, wearing a pretty in pink slip with gorgeous white lace. That… yeah, that looks good. Hvitserk’s dick is acting up already, jolting up behind some shorts he doesn’t honestly remember putting on.

“Yeah, pretty baby.” He says in a sleepy haze, dragging himself over to your side of the bed. His hands trace your hips-- but he lets out a hiss when you smack them off of your hips. “What was that for?”

You don’t answer.

“Aw c’mon baby…” Hvitserk groans, slinking his muscled arm under your neck. All that work moving boxes had done his arms a world of good. He twists you back to face him, facing the wiggles to the very edge of the bed. “What’re you pouting about now?”

“You said you love her soo much.”

He blanks. He doesn’t know exactly what you’re talking about. The medicine had done a world of good-- and a world of ‘I don’t fucking remember my last name’ during the day. Does he even remember being a pallbearer? The answer, no.

“Uh.”

“Thora,” you spit out.

Shit. Hvitserk realizes that in that state-- there’s no telling what he probably blathered on about. In the presence of his… really, really pregnant baby mama. Not the best way to wake up. But hey, he could work himself out of it with the truth.

“Babe,” he says. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Sure you didn’t.”

There’s not enough Xanax in the world to deal with this shit. When he took it from his mother, he forgot one itty bitty, teeny weeny important detail. He was a man with an incredibly pregnant girlfriend. Then again, he didn’t really think you gave a rats ass about who he loved. It wasn’t like you were writing his name in notebooks or anything.

“Are we really doing this again?” Hvitserk slumps. He doesn’t mean to-- but for once, he doesn’t have the energy to deal with it. The fits are tiring.

“Doing what, again?” You peer over your shoulder.

“You’re jealous. Over her.”

“It tends to happen when you cheat on me for--”

Cheat? You broke up with him! He laughs at the sentiment, causing you to roll around. Your fist is a few inches short of his face when he catches it, twisting and pulling you down on top of his chest.

“Ha, gotcha!” He beams, a proud little joke behind his voice. “But for the record-- I’ve never cheated on you.”

“Stop lying. Precious pretty Thora and you--”

“You don’t understand.” He exhales, listening to you blather on about kissing or loving or… whatever the case was. How she was always his endgame which most the time Hvitserk couldn’t pick between almond cake or oven pancakes!

Exasperated, Hvitserk lurches to his night table. He knocks off a book, Hygge: Fatherly Parenting on the way to the knob. Pulling it open, he locates a worn down sketchbook.

“What are you doing?” You complain, irritated with his long stretching and fumbling around. He surfaces back into the bed with his notebook, flicking the pages open. He flicks past the tiny squirrels fisting little fat snacks in his mouth or the old lady who always brought him cinnamon cookies.

He settles upon a charcoal portrait of a young woman, her eyes bright despite the lack of colour. She whirls a piece of hair around her finger, laughing at the viewer with keen admiration. He’s outlined the portrait and now, he began to fill in the shading.

“Is that me?” You lean over.

“Yeah, who else?”

Thora, that’s who.

He suppresses another groan as to not have you actually say what was on your mind.If you did, you’d be sassing off in a minute. Instead, you take his sketchbook from his fingers and flip through the many pages. Past the portrait of you biting your pencil, smiling at him from the other side of old Harald’s table. Or the one where you were dancing, an elective class-- and he, admiring.

“Did you draw all of these?”

That’s not the important part. He shrugs his shoulders, bringing an arm behind his head. You’ve settled out of the rage enough to actually amuse him by cuddling close. His other hand cups your shoulder.

“Yeah, that ain’t the important part. The important part--”

“But they’re incredible. You should be an artist.”

“Tch.” Hvitserk scoffs. “I’m a Ragnarsson. Only shit I’m gonna do is oversea some goods on the dock.”

“But--”

“But that’s not important. What’s important are the dates.”

You flick back pages, running your fingers past old, smudgy dates. Many of the dates run such a time ago, you swore that Hvitserk was still dating… Thora. He had to be. While you do the math in your head, Hvitserk takes the sketchbook, whizzing it across the room like a flopping frisbee, pages making audibly ruffles in the air. That shit wasn’t gonna do crap for him. What artist made money? Unless they were dead. And he wasn’t planning on dying any time soon.

He had twins, a… family. Everything was waiting for him. That didn’t specifically include dying so, while he loved drawing like a second breath, his family’s health and wealth was more important than his happiness at work. Besides uncle Rollo was fun. It wasn’t the worst job on Midgard.

“You were… dating her.”

He nods, “Yeah. Was.”

“What changed?” You ask, settling back against him. This time, without that backsass. Shit was better. He doesn’t want to ruin a good thing going.

“Fell outta love I guess.” Hvitserk shrugs. “Or in it.”

“That’s--” your brain scrambles, reassembling pieces in his admission that is more than a passing ‘i love you’ during dinner as he grabs a chunk of rye bread and whizzes out the door to the docks. “--an obsession.”

Hvitserk scoffs. He shouldn’t be surprised.

“You call it an obsession. I call it love. I mean, is there a difference?”

“No,” you mutter. Maybe he knows better. You never had been in love before. For all the cheesy K-Dramas you made him feast, maybe-- maybe you should be more receptive to his love. What was love but watching crappy shows with someone you loved?

“But I…”

“But what?” He asks. What else? What else could he possibly do to reassure you?

“It’s just-- she’s dead.”

Yeah, that much was sure today. “What about it?”

“She can’t fuck up. What if I fuck up? What if I let one of the kids run into the harbour or--”

“Mother did that once.” Hvitserk realizes that you-- you don’t understand. You don’t understand a fucking thing about what he’s eluding to. “Trippin’ off fuckin’ Xanax every day that Ubbe and I got tired.”

“Tired?”

He ignores you this time. “Point is, ya can’t fuck up that bad. I mean, how bad can it be?”

Neither of you really know.

“Just seems like kids are for like-- married people, right?”

You don’t say. Hvitserk can’t hide his brewing excitement, lurching annoyingly again to his nightstand and fetching something for the second time in one night. He knows how much you hate it when he wiggles mid-cuddle, but he promises you its worth it. He fetches a small box, flicking the top open.

“Do ya wanna be?”

A more reasonable you would have said no, your relationship was too young. That it was founded on sex. That you were having babies! You couldn’t worry about the ramifications of a wedding or marriage or whatever-- did he just ask that? Did he just--

“Yes. Wait-- no, wait-- did you just?”

You look down. The ring-- the one from before. The one that the chubby man accused Hvitserk of being unable to afford. Clearly, he had. Somehow. You don’t know, you don’t even care, picking it out from the nesting of plush cushions. Hvitserk swipes it up, glimmering it with his fingers.

“It’s yours if you say yes.” Hvitserk grins, toothy and cheeky as he always was.

“Who said I was saying no?” You accuse, cheeks feeling suddenly hot. He wants to hear it-- that word. Those easy little words that would seal everything up for him. You pout momentarily, too embarrassed to focus on anything but the ring between his fingers and the promise behind them.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Hvitserk prompts. He’s milking it.

“I’ll marry you, Hvitserk. Stop smiling so much--”

“I can’t help it!” He laughs, “You’re mine!”

Easing the ring onto your finger, you feel his hand shaking. So unlike the boy you met, smooth and as collected as a Hvitserk could really be. Which wasn’t a whole bunch in his opinion but, yeah, it was something. It glimmers just like he thought it would.

“I wasn’t before?”

“I mean yeah but--” Hvitserk laughs, rolling over you. You push his chest, reminding him of his twins. Hvitserk steadies himself on his forearm. “Sorry, guys-- but really mine. All mine.”

“I was all yours before.”

Maybe you said it, but did you mean it before? Hvitserk doesn’t think so. But now, everything feels raw, and pulsing red, and-- real. Melodramatic as he was, it was real like it had never been before.

“Fuck,” there’s a lot of laughing. That’s how you know when the man is really happy. He dips down, dragging you over the bed to the edge. With a creak, he kneels on the floor.

“What are you doing,” you laugh back to him, bracing yourself for his usual favourite. When he was truly happy, he was eating. It’s only natural of course-- and fuck does he love easy access. You tug your blanket tight in your fingers as he lines up your thigh in small, growing hungry kisses. As you expect him to dig in, of course, he’d run away with a mean bite on either leg. The welts blossom under your skin, new with the old.

“Fuck Hvit-- ow!”

“Can’t let any other dick not know it’s mine,” Hvitserk rumbles. Dick like who? Dick like Magnus. Fuckin’ shit. With your short skirts, sometimes when you bent over the bites could be seen. He loved it when you would get questions. How did you manage that? Do you need some cream?

Fuck no, because at the end of the next day they’d be back.

He guides your legs over his broad shoulders. All that work at the docks helped his physique and you enjoyed it just as much if not more than before. He dips in, knowing for a fact that you don’t wear panties under slips. His nose nudges against your neatly kept pussy, gently inhaling. He’s such a dog.

“Hvitserk would you stop--”

He knows when he’s about to get booted. He relents, spreading you apart with his fingers. One smooth, broad and flat lick sends soft tickles up your spine and back down again with a second. Your breathing is always his first clue, smooth breaths picking up, quicker and hotter. He ceases his licks, suckling your folds near your entrance and dragging up-- toward your clit. It’s almost deliberate in the way that he avoids your clit, knowing exactly what might happen if he touched that pretty number.

“Hvit...” You whine, shoving his head closer to it. A quick orgasm is a useless orgasm to Hvitserk. He doesn’t just want you to get all you wanted, no, of course not. He wants it all. Hvitserk sways his tongue agonizingly slowly over your lips, twisting from one side to another all the way up to your clit. With one pang of a lick, your hips jolt up.

He drifts back down, drawing two of his fingers over the mess he’s made. Once his fingers are nicely wet, he prods your entrance. HIs mouth attaches to the side of your lips, enjoying your loud intake of air and the rush to expel it when his pace quickens. Finally, he allows himself to trace back up to your clit, experimentally darting his tongue out for a quick lick. Your abrupt jerking causes him to shift, pressing his lips against the button and sucking with force in time with the hot thrusts squelching inside your pussy.

It’s the ride he likes, bringing in the bud of your clit for a nice suckle always results in your hips undulating. Bringing him on a wild ride while his fingers fuck the juices out of you. When you cum, he doesn’t let you go for a second. Your juices flow down his knuckles, over the cold metal of the watch he had been wearing to the funeral.

“Fuck--” Hvitserk parts only when your hips slow down. “Who knew pregnant bitches made such a mess?”

Below your ass, you feel the sopping wet mess. You would have been ashamed if you were with anyone else. For Hvitserk, it's all apart of the ride. He suckles the remaining fluid off his finger, lapping away your mess between your legs.

“I don’t make messes…” you murmur, though it comes out as a pathetic whine. Hvitserk laughs, standing up with his thumbs caressing the waistband of his shorts. The material brushes down over his cock, already straining. He wraps his hand around the shaft as he steps out of his shorts, kicking them off into some other area of the room.

“C’mere,” Hvitserk says. Your legs fall open in offering, wiggling your hips closer. Hvitserk knows he’s not great at brilliant, romantic sex. He’s not going to delude himself into thinking that’ll be him either. Bending at the knees, Hvitserk hugs your legs to his chest. He slicks his dick in your slick, lip twitching into a smile when your hips shift. His eyes find yours, the only token of romantic concern he has. The rounded head of his cock teases your hole, teasing with a few faux pushes in before allowing himself to press inside. He slides inside with a playful thrust, slapping deep.

“Nnnh,” you whine, the complaint stretched out and loud. The others have probably heard-- Hvitserk pushing deeper, but slowly now until he’s ensconced.

“You look so--,” he soothes, pulling out a bit before thrusting back in. He braces himself into shallow thrusts, immediate and quick. His pace would slow, giving a deeply powerful one at the end of it all. “So-- good.”

Softly now, your hands trace your body. First, it’s something innocent. Trace your breasts, those wonderful titties Hvitserk loves to massage, dreams to fuck, and dies to sleep on midway in his shift at work. But then, your hands glide over his brood in your stomach. Two little ones, growing in his fiance’s womb now.

Bjorn didn’t tell him how that would feel. To see you full of him, so full and knocked up. No one could tell him of a hotter sight. His thrusts crack deep, holding your legs now over his elbows as he moves. He uses your legs like anchors, dragging them to you with every well-placed thrust.

“Ah-- fuck, Hvitserk.”

And his name-- off your tongue, it makes it even better. Hvitserk pants, pumping at a steady and brutal thrust into you. He cums, filling you deeply as he always had. As if it would make a difference now-- you were pregnant already! Hvitserk rides out his pleasure, pulling his cock out. Hvitserk kneels down, letting his fingers serve another purpose. They finger fuck you, nasty squelches of his cum and your excitement intermingling. Small kisses trace alone your thighs, trailing closer and closer.

Before he can get his lips back onto your cunt, you gush, spraying him with sweet pleasure. He’s soaked-- and he almost jolts back in his surprise. You feel as much you hear his low, pleased rumble. His fingers slide out as you calm down-- and he can’t deny that wide, cocky smile.

“You’re a mess.” You tell him, pouting so cutely that he knows he did a good job.

“A mess that made you a mess,” he returns, smiling wide and bright. If testament to anything-- the ring on your finger symbolized so much more than what the day started out to be. From grief to excitement, he knows Thora would have been happy for him. In the end, that happiness is all he wants--

And maybe. Just maybe, he can have it too.

@igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @cbouvier23, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @lisinfleur, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes (no sig), @babypink224221, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @end-of-night, @gruffle1, @lol-haha-joke @arses21434, @smileyparrots, @miss-artemis-wild, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @wonderwoman292, @wish-i-was-a-mermaid, @killerb00sdeath, @heartbeats-wildly, @boo20017, @acacheofstrange, @shaelyn102, @smokealone, @shaelyn102 @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly--canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44 @allvikingsfanfic @two-unbeatable-beaters, @igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok (no mix), @romanchronicles, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @dorned, @lisinfleur, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns, @mixedwiththemoon, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @rubyquartzshades, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes (no sig), @babypink224221, @titty-teetee, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @piebytheocean, @strangunddurm, @rekdreams247, @justacrush, @ivarswonderlust, @peachesnpisces, @elenawrit, @equalstrashflavoredtrash, @roxxck, @dylanowhyyien, @ilvebeenabad, @vikingsmania, @huntingbears, @my-little-wolfe, @seize-the-droid, @moondustmemories, @colourmeinblue, @ilvebeenabad, @queenmissfit, @hallowed-heathen, @neeadinghugs, @mblaqgi, , @triumphantreturnofpies, @dmv49, @iconicvaleria-blog, @lovelynerdytraveler, @tierneygonzalez, @zabee113, @meganjudee, @sdcyumyum, @ms-allenbrown, @pancake-blonde, @ivarswickedqueen, @starkiddreamer, @austenkingmylady, @pinkrockstar19, @jeowjungkook, @end-of-night, @yaminax-kuss-a , @gruffle1, @arses21434@natalie-rdr, @tempt-ress, @thevikingsheaux, @poisonedjoinery, @smokealone, @chewythecatus, @laughinglikenialler, @lefrenchfrye, @mybarnesmyhero, @vengefulflange, @imcreepininyourheartbabe, @therealmrshale, @that-goodgirl, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @athroatfullofglass, @x-valhalla @hissouthernprincess @glassythoughts

#Hvitserk x Reader #hvitserk's heathen feast #Hvitserk/Reader #Vikings imagines #vikings imagine #Hvitserk Ragnarsson x Reader #Hvitserk Ragnarsson/Reader #vikings/reader #vikings x reader #hvitserk imagines #hvitty imagines

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bubbletimestories · 4 years

Text

A kiss with a fist is better than none (Lokixreader)

Summary: You are going to have a surprise when you go to bed with your cat. But not necessarily an unpleasant one. It's the beginning of a strange duo. Loki is not dead (surprise !) and he seems decided to return to Asgard...but it's not that simple and he has to deal with an unexpected companion (you).

Warnings: soft, hurt Loki, pain

Themes: hurt/confort, magic, disguise, truth serum, travel, fever...

A/N. I’m slow on this one but I know what I’ll write next

Translated with Google traduction, sorry ^^’

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17275064

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"Loki? Loki! "

With the vocal elegance of a fishmonger, you continue to call your cat for a few minutes before giving up and accepting that it can make its life elsewhere, probably under a piece of furniture. It's often like that, it never shows when you have time to give it; obviously, it's so much more fun to slouch on your computer or your books when you're working. That will teach you to give it the name of the god of malice. This is something that always surprises your friends, especially after the events of a few years ago, the aliens, all that...

Maybe it's because you love these kinds of stories, or because you've read Slothbaby fanfics too much, but you cannot help but think that Loki -the real one, not your cat- wasn’t totally guilty in the destruction of Manhattan. It was still a particularly nagging approach, not really the kind of the god of malice and of stuffed blows. He is more of a kind to attack from behind, right? Add to that that he is far from being ugly and one will easily understand that you are a little bit, a little little bit fan. He has style, it's undeniable.

Mechanically, you tidy the leftovers of your meal while listening to the TV talking about the Avengers for the umpteenth time and how they ended what the media call "The Ashpocalypse". You weren't one of those who disappeared but it was an extremely dark time. Fortunately, now everything is over and that's good. Like a lot of people, you refuse to think about it too much, prefer to leave it behind you and move forward. It's not about closing your eyes but ... in short, you don’t want to talk about it, all’s well that ends well and we didn’t have to deplore too many losses.

Your bare feet make a funny noise on the lino, you like to imagine that they are suckers that stick to the ground as if you were an octopus. Yes, we have the delusions we can. With one hand, you push the door of the bathroom while scrolling a Youtube playlist of your composition. As you live alone and don’t like silence, your apartment is always filled with music, be it Powerwolf, Muse or soundtracks. Although with a great sense of humor, you avoid putting the theme of Psycho when you're in the shower, it's your only rule. Nonchalantly lying on the carpet, Loki watches you enter before continuing his toilet, polishing his black fur carefully.

"Are you coming to keep me company? Voyeur ... "

That he stays there does not bother you, you are used to pairs of eyes with all the posters that adorn your room. You cram the edge of the bathtub and slide the curtain, not without having pulled the tongue to your kitty cat, nah. Singing in a low voice to avoid disturbing your neighbours (it is already late), you enjoy hot water to the maximum before going out and wrapping yourself in a towel, ready to go to sleep. The cat has not moved, still contemplating you as if it was master in its house, which does not stop it from purring when you stroked its head and cuddled like an old lady before taking it in your arms and take it to your room. Some people don’t like their pet sitting on the bed but since Loki does not shed too much hair and never brings back fleas, you don’t mind sharing.

To save time, you throw the towel on a chair and slip directly under the comforter to put on you pajamas. As long as you are naked, you prefer to be warm. A few contortions later, you are ready to sleep. You have closed the door, all the lights are off, you have a big warm quilt and the cat is still purring in your back .... What better ask?

"Good night, Loki"

You close your eyes, begin to sink in the mists of sleep while thinking of a thousand things at the same time: the visit of your mother next weekend, your job, the next film that you're going to see, the feeling of the arms around your waist ... Wait ... WHAT?

Returning somewhat to reality, you frown and slide a hand to your hip, certain to feel only your pajamas and nothing else, as is often the case when you daydream. Your fingers brush something warm and hard on your stomach: a hand! It's a nightmare, a simple nightmare, it happens ... You open your eyes while continuing to gently feel this hand that is certainly not yours but which is rude to invite itself like that. Hand connected to an arm that surrounds your waist. If it's an erotic dream, it starts off veeeeeeery strangely. But if it is, it's really just that, a dream. You had to eat too much and it causes strange reactions in your brain. You knew that you should not eat this yoghurt, the expiry date was long passed.

"It's a yoghurt, nothing but a yoghurt", you start to repeat yourself mentally, without really knowing if it makes any sense. That's when a hot breath comes to rest on your neck, making your whole body stretch like a bow. This is when you realize that a hard mass is stuck in you back. It's not the wall, it's not the cat. Oh shit…

Suddenly, you turn and send your arm back, just to know once and for all if you're going to hit the blank or something. Your fist strikes a cheek and the unknown arm leaves your hip as a body falls from the bed with an expletive. The pain in your hand tells you you're awake. Shit, it's not a dream, it's not a dream! Your fingers take a moment to find the switch but they finally manage to turn on the light, because you refuse to be one of those horror movie gourds who decide to stay in the dark. In order to protect yourself from your attacker, you catch the first thing that comes to hand: a soft toy. Seriously?

" What the fuck is happening ?! "

Delicate, posed, feminine ... You stand up as you can on the mattress, your mini Sherlock brandished in a vain threat, and you finally detail the intruder. The first thing that jumps out at you is that he is naked. Oddly enough, that's the kind of detail that gets important at 2 A.M, when you live alone. Then, and it's probably worse than nudity, you think you recognize who it is.

"Loki ?! THE Loki of Asgard! "

Awe succeeds surprise, it's way too surreal for you to be scared. What should you be afraid of anyway? He is naked and you are not. The young man stands up and gives you a big smile as if nothing had happened, as if it were only a magic trick, quite predictable. You would be watching for a "tada". Suffocated by the shock, you stammer vainly before the anger rises and make your words more intelligible.

"But what ... What are you doing here? What ... oh shit, cover up! "

You throw your quilt at him, trying not to look too far down, waiting for explanations that the god does not seem wanting to give. It may seem strange but you would like to know what an Asgardian god comes to do in your apartment, naked as a worm and looking happy about it. He does not press anyway, wraps the blanket around his hips and then settle on a chair, on the verge of doing a remake of Basic Instinct. You put the soft toy on the bed-it was useless anyway-and stare the newcomer with all the wrath you are capable of. Task made difficult by the vision of his fine muscles and his mocking eyes, damn, he’s hot!

" What is happening ? "

No need to expand your question, you think it encompasses the whole brothel environment. Loki -wow, it's him! - settles comfortably before smiling at you, the kind of charming smile that must be his trademark.

"But you called me ... You invited me to sleep with you. "

He looks so proud of him, the bastard! Like you did that! Baloneys ... "Come on Loki, come sleep with me" ?! The only Loki in your life is your cat ... Oh no ... Your whole thread of thought must be read on your face because the young man bursts out laughing, shaking his head, folding his arms nonchalantly on his chest.

"Meow"

Your pillow misses his head a few inches, crashes with a soft noise against the wall before falling to the ground.

"You took the place of my cat ?! Are you serious ?! "

This time, you shouted but you don’t care to wake up neighbors, it's totally an incredible story. The worst thing is that the other bitch is far from denying and the more you look at him, the more you realize that indeed, there is a little air. The way to look at you especially, with attention, as when your cat waits a caress or when you walk in front of it. Wait ... Does that mean he was in the bathroom ?! You were naked in front of the god of malice! It's a bad joke, you're going to wake up ...

- Oh shit…. Kind of pervert! You watched me in the shower! - And not that. You are rather shameless when you think yourself alone. - How long has it been? - A month. - A month ?!

You collapse on the mattress, digging into your memory to remember important events but nothing comes to you. You paid my rent, there was no attack of super-villain, nothing major in any case. Your cat lost its way ... So here it is! That's when there was an exchange! And you, you think about it as if it was normal ... Taking advantage of your silence, Loki explains, eyes sparkling with a fun that annoys you.

"When Thanos attacked the Asgardians' ship, I pretended to be dead and fled as best I could. It was not easy and I wandered a lot before I failed on Earth, in a country called Nepal. I finally managed to get here, tired, without really knowing what I was going to do. And I hear you calling me, or at least calling your cat. It was a simple way to have room and board. "

It seems so simple and normal when he says it ... His brother would have offered to compensate you. It's funny but now that Loki is in front of you, you have less desire to see him. Oh boy, you hope you did not talk about him in front of ... well, what you thought was your cat ... The red goes up to your cheeks for a brief moment before you calm down. It's better that you keep your head cool. Even if it's the most total shit ... With your most assured air, Iyou stand up to your full height (which is not high) and look at the god right in the eye hoping to keep your calm to the maximum in the face of this living fantasy.

"Listen ... we ... Well, you don’t seem to be able or want to go to where you came from so we have to live together. But don’t turn into a cat anymore. And never look at me again in the shower! We will find you some clothes and ... .and you will give me back my cat. Once it's done, we'll see. "

Have you been clear? No idea but it would be good because you're not sure you can express things more simply. You could have told him to leave. You should have. But you did not think about it. Part of you hopes to find a small compensation for this situation, he probably has ideas to be forgiven ...

" It's OK for me "

Loki gets up and holds out his hand with his most innocent look, letting the quilt fall down, which was nevertheless very practical for you to keep the ideas clear. And shit, you took a god as a roommate.

Next chapters on AO3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17275064/chapters/40970171

#loki x reader #A kiss with a fist is better than none

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leejihoonownsmyheart · 5 years

Text

Sing to Me

Part of the Tsuredere Seventeen series

Summary:

You write a song for Joshua as a way to confess your feelings towards him. Romantic, right? There’s no way this can end badly.

You had always felt pretty unlucky when it came to life.

You had to work really hard on everything for things to work out. If you didn’t things just didn’t end up well for you. You failed tests, you missed out on extra cool opportunities and more. So when you fell for Joshua you couldn’t really say you were surprised.

If he himself wasn’t intimidating enough... For goodness sake he was attractive, and kind, and then he just had to also be a freaking Korean idol in a boy group popular for their insane synchronization and their really good music and choreography. To make it even more insane he just had to speak English and Korean.

God, just thinking about it was making you angry.

Nobody asked you to be perfect at everything Joshua.

You were furious. Completely and utterly furious at him for being so dumb and perfect. How dare he turn to you and ask you one day to be his girlfriend. God and your first date had to be so fucking magical and it had to be outdoors too, right when the wind was blowing and the cherry blossoms were blooming. The stupid pink petals had swooped around him practically beckoning you to fall in love with him forever.

So, of course, you had been fooled by his wit and charm.

Now all you ever did was run around like an idiot trying to be half deserving of his affections- geez, why did he like you anyways? You were great and all but not that great.

Now your anniversary was coming up, and you couldn’t believe that you had been with Joshua for so long.

A year, a whole year had passed and he still treated you just as well as he had the very first day you two met.

He had never been unclear about his intentions either. When you two first met, you had been rather shy, but still introduced yourself as eagerly as you could. He took one look at you, offered his hand and gave you a soft smile.

“One day, I'm going to marry you.”

Your cheeks had gone crimson, and you avoided going to events for the next month in fear of seeing him again and finding out that he was just some player spouting nonsense.

You tugged your shirt silently, pressing closer to your friend as the two of you walked into the room where everyone else was. You spotted Joshua immediately. You had only seen him for moments before but you still recognized him.

All you could do was stand there and hope he didn’t see you or hope that he didn’t flirt with some girl and turn out to be your average dirt bag.

You didn’t speak your discomfort to your friend... Mostly because he saw you before you could say anything.

His eyes light up, and he raised a hand in the air as a greeting.

“Y/n!” He said excitedly. He rushed over to you and smiled brightly. “I was starting to think I’d never see you again.”

You were surprised he remembered you, much less remembered your name. You smiled at him kindly.

“Oh, hello Joshua!” You said politely. He didn’t even waste a moment.

“I know this is really sudden, but would you like to be my girlfriend?”

Your jaw dropped, but Joshua continued before you could say anything in response.

“It’s just from the moment I saw you that day, I can’t stop thinking about you... And I hear about you all the time now, you’re possibly the kindest person that I’ve ever had the chance to meet. So please, will you go out with me?”

You couldn’t say no to such a nice confession.

And now it had been a year since that confession, and you had no clue what to get him.

You grumbled in frustration, shoving your head into a pillow.

And to make it worse, you had heard rumors.

Joshua was considering breaking up with you. A great way to celebrate your anniversary right? To find out that he’s thinking about breaking up with you because you aren’t affectionate enough.

Sure he’s been saying he loves you since like month two, and you’ve been hesitant to say the words, and you practically run anytime that you think he might kiss you, and you avoid going on dates with him and-

You interrupted your own stream off thought y rolling off of your bed, letting your body slam to the floor.

How had he dated you for an entire year and not dumped you yet?

“What’s wrong this time?” Seungkwan asked, lazily glancing over at you. “Is it Joshua again?”

“Of course it’s Joshua again!” You blurted. “If I can’t make our one year perfect and prove that I do in fact like him, then he will leave me. I know he will I know it.”

“Y/n, Chang-kyun did not tell you what Joshua said so that you would freak out like this,” Seungkwan chided tiredly. You sat up from where you were laying collapsed on the ground and sighed.

“How was I supposed to react? IM knows me better than this,” you mumbled. “I like Joshua, I do-”

“So tell him!” Seungkwan blurted. “Even I’m smart enough to know that you should do that!”

“Every time I go to I freeze up!” You argued back. “And now it has to be super special or he will think I’m just saying it because he says it so much.”

“Joshua knows you like him-”

“Does he?!” You blurted back. “Cause I thought he did before but IM didn’t even know we were dating before. That’s how unaffectionate I am!”

“You do act like he’s a stranger whenever we all hang out,” Seungkwan agreed.

You sighed and got to your feet.

“So I have to confess to my boyfriend of a year and I have to make it like the best confession ever,” you stated calmly. Your heart skipped a beat. “What do I do?”

“You should just walk up to him and like ‘uwu Jisoo oppa I love you’ and then like actually let him kiss you and there you go. Romantic as heck.”

“No.”

You stood there, staring blankly at your desk as your mind raced, trying to figure out exactly what you should do.

And then it hit you.

And five hours later, you wished to god it had never hit you.

Write a song? Write a song for someone in the idol industry, yeah that’s a great idea.

You crumbled up the paper in front of you and tossed it into the trash. Luckily enough for you, Seungkwan had left ages ago, so he wasn’t here to witness your disastrous attempts.

You started again from the start.

I wish I knew where to start

A way to open my heart

But trying to find the words

Are the only...

You tried to think of a word that rhymed with “words” but nothing came to mind.

Maybe the tune could switch at that?

I love you, I know that’s for sure

You wrinkled your nose in frustration. DId that even rhyme? You were pretty sure it didn’t. You crumpled this paper too and started over. Maybe the song lyrics needed a theme? Maybe that would help.

11:11, I thought of you today

Again and again day after day, the hands tick and the times change, but when that clock hits that same small time, four numerals in and you’re on my mind

Make a wish to be loved, make a wish to be free, but all those wishes go to waste when it comes to you and me

Yeah.... Yeah! Not too shabby. Maybe if you just kept with the number theme...

My clock was stuck on 10:10, when you kicked it back into the groove and now it’s 11:11 two times a day and still on the move

24 hours in a day, and you help me through 25

You showed me the time so I gave you all of mine

You squinted at the words, rereading it again and again. Something about it felt wrong... It didn’t work. You crumpled your paper again and tossed it to the side.

Music wasn’t always literal... Maybe if you took a different approach... Less literal...

Complicated

I’m standing at the start of endless paths

There’s so many different ways this can go

This world has endless possibilities

Even a speck of dust can make a change

You stopped again. One reread through and it was in the trash too. Maybe literal was the only way you could really go...

You started again from the top. Still a little less literal, not too nonliteral

Sometimes it feels like everyone skips my page in the book

It didn’t used to matter

You heard the door open behind you but you ignored it in order to try and think of the next line. You knew what you wanted to say... Geez, that’s how it always was with Joshua. You always knew what you wanted to say but you couldn’t.

The topic was pretty good, but maybe you needed to write it differently?

I never had a voice to begin with

But I’m starting to hear myself and I like what I hear

I want to share

You stopped again. Stared for a few seconds, crumpled the paper tossed it to the side and banged your head against the table, groaning loudly.

“It’s not this hard,” you said in frustration. You started again. You heard Seungkwan beside you picking up the paper you had just crumbled, but you mostly ignored it.

How many songs fit this trope?

I think mine is in the thousands

Now you were just writing yourself into a damn box. You crumpled it, tossed it wildly and furiously wrote down:

I couldn’t sleep again

Hours spent keeping track of my dreams

Put two hours of rest in

And the page is blank

“What are you doing?”

You startled and looked up.

The person in the room was not Seungkwan.

Your cheeks turned a dark crimson and your mouth dropped.

“Joshua I-”

He had unraveled a number of your papers on the floor and he was holding one in your hand. You couldn’t find the words again. God why could you never find the words when it came to Joshua.

“Who are you writing this for?” Joshua asked slowly. You got to your feet.

“I-I-” You swallowed thickly. “It’s just you know our special day is coming, and I was talking to Seungkwan and I was thinking about our relationship and I was just trying to figure out what to say-”

“What to say?”

“About us.”

“You talked to Seungkwan, and now you want to talk about us?” Joshua reiterated.

“I just want to make sure you understand how I feel about you,” you replied. He stared at you, looking slightly disheartened.

“Oh.”

You tilted your head.

“I’m sorry, it’s just so hard for me to say things like that,” you stated immediately. He nodded slowly and the paper dropped from your hand.

“No, I get it, I really do,” Joshua assured. “I don’t know, I thought that I was ready for it but...”

“If you want me to wait-”

“No!” Joshua protested. “It’s taken you this long to say this, I won’t keep you stifled any longer.”

You opened your mouth, a little confused by Joshua’s attitude about the whole thing.

“So you get it then?”

“Yeah.”

You both started speaking at the same time.

“You want to break up because you don’t like me.”

“I’m in love with you.”

Both sentences spoken at the same time. Both completely different meanings. Your breath hitched in your throat.

“Wait. Why would I want to break up with you?” You asked. Joshua looked stunned as well.

“Because you’re in love with Seungkwan!” He stated. You stood up.

“What?! No, I’m in love with you!” You protested back. “I just can’t figure out how to say it and IM told me you were considering breaking up with me, and so I freaked out and Seungkwan said that I needed to just tell you already, but I couldn’t do that some easy way so I thought I’d write you a song and-”

Joshua interrupted by grabbing you by the shoulders, his lips pressing firmly against yours. You were so surprised that you didn’t even react. You stood stock still and waited until he pulled away to even breath.

You gaped at him.

“Josh-”

“I hope that was okay, I’ve been wanting to do that for like a year,” he murmured shyly.

You smiled softly, hiding the look beneath your hand.

“Yeah... Yeah it was okay.”

You would explain everything later, but right now you would just appreciate that Joshua definitely wouldn’t be breaking up with you today.

#SORRY I SLOPPILY SPELLCHECKED THIS #my brother is talking about canadian folk music #help me #please #Seventeen #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen kpop #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #joshua #joshua seventeen #joshua kpop #joshua hong #hong jisoo #kpop fanfic #kpop #kpop fanfiction

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callioope · 5 years

Text

Questions Meme!

Hello, yes, this HAS in fact been sitting in my drafts for ages and ages. Thank you to both @crazy-fruit and @ruby-red-inky-blue for tagging me and for waiting forever for me to answer (oops)! I’m sorry I took so long, but y’all ask really good questions and I had to think about some of them!

Question Set 1

1. How are you?

Oh, I’m doing alright! Thank you for asking. The earlier part of this year was rather rough, but therapy has been helping. I’ve been rather busy these past few weeks with traveling, and my schedule going forward is rather busy, too, so while I’m excited for those things, I’m also excited for the eventual moment I can just relax.

2. What would you say are your talents?

Writing. Making fancy color-coded spreadsheets. I’ve been told that my super power is getting random (annoying) songs stuck in other people’s heads. Does that count as a talent?

3. If you had the chance to start your life again, would you take it?

NOPE. No thanks. I like where I am at right now, and I would not want to relive my awkward years. Er, at least, my more awkward, younger years. Cuz I’m totally still awkward. Just less awkward. I hope?

4. Which language would you like to speak instantly?

HMM. ALL OF THEM. It’s really hard to choose!

Language fascinates me, and in another life I feel like I would have devoted a lot more time to learning more of them. Unfortunately, I really hated German class in high school because of the teacher’s tendency to put people on the spot -- I think that is sort of inherent in a language class, but I get anxiety speaking in public.

Anyways, I suppose I’ll answer Turkish to this question, since spouse and I keep saying we’re going to try to learn Turkish via Duolingo. For the record, my HS offered six languages, which was the most I’ve ever heard of an American school offering, and I was always quite happy with my choice of German. (The others were Spanish, French, Italian, Chinese, and Latin.) I do wish I had maintained my German better, and I that I had more time to learn Spanish.

5. Where would you like to be right now?

Honestly? I’m pretty happy when I’m at home. But if I had to answer where “else” would I like to be right now, out of the whole world? Being back on safari in Botswana is a top contender, as are a variety of places in Turkey, and also Munich.

6. What name would you give yourself?

I’ve always liked my actual name (Elizabeth). I know I go by Liz; one of my HS friends was quite stubborn and I’m a bit stuck with it now, but I don’t mind it. There are worse nicknames that come from Elizabeth. I used to go by Fiona online; I’ve always been fond of that one.

7. What is something you’re currently learning?

OOF, what a good question. I sorta blanked on this at first, and my first thought was uhhhh learning how to cope with my OCD??? I’m doing exposure therapy right now, ish. Emphasis on the ish. Also mindfulness. Does that really even count? I started a beginner’s knitting project several months ago that I never finished, does that count? (I just need to seam it, that’s what I’m putting off. I have knit plenty of scarves; however, this is my first hat.) I’m sort of teaching myself ukulele although I haven’t really learned any new chords or songs in awhile. I would very much like to take more photography classes with a focus on wildlife photography. That involves buying a new camera and... signing up for classes.

Question Set 2

1. What is a detail in a piece of art/a text that you like that you really admire?

This was very difficult, at first because it was like looking at a bin full of loose things and just seeing an assortment of color and being overwhelmed by it all, and then because once I did start digging around, I kept finding different ideas and it was too hard too choose.

Character-building: In the A Song of Ice and Fire series, when Arya starts working for the House of Black and White, Martin stops using the name “Arya” as she dons different identities. For example, he uses “Cat” for a bit, among other names. It shows she’s trying to be someone else, but the caveat is that there are still little mannerisms and such that show she hasn’t really left Arya behind (I think maybe she bites her lip or something? I don’t remember specific examples because it’s been over 5 years since I read these books, but I do remember really appreciating the general technique at the time).

Music: In The Beatles’ “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)” I love those repeated arpeggios, over and over, building, intensifying, as the white noise comes in and you can just feel the heaviness of desire, of want... (and then I love how it just breaks so suddenly! And I know it wouldn’t have been intended this way because that’s the end of side one, but since I listen to the whole album on spotify, then those bright chords of “Here Comes the Sun” come in and god Abbey Road is the best Beatles album)

Writing: the poetry of Florence + The Machine’s “All This and Heaven Too,” obviously, since literally the title of my blog comes from that. I’d quote that whole song honestly. There’s something that speaks to me about the incapability of language to fully encompass just... everything. I mean, love in specific here, but also just everything. Words are just these little boats we put meaning on and we hope they make it to the other side but everyone takes ‘em a little differently.

Like, look at this:

And the words are all escaping, and coming back all damaged And I would put them back in poetry if I only knew how

And this:

Words were never so useful So I was screaming out a language that I never knew existed before

Anyways, there’s also something just incredibly soothing about the music, too, and how she sings the song. There’s another line, from Sara Bareilles’ “Miss Simone” that goes “How does she know what a heart sounds like?” which pretty much sums up how I feel about “All This and Heaven Too” (and also many of Sara Bareilles’ song, especially that particular album, but I digress).

Anyways I did have some art examples, but I think I’ve rambled long enough.

2. Is there an idea that you really liked but had to discard because you couldn’t get it to work?

If I really like an idea, I don’t really “discard” it so much as put it on the shelf to attempt later. Out of recent fic ideas, I’ve really struggled with “How to Lose a Spy in 10 Days.” I first thought of this in late spring 2017, and for awhile I couldn’t stop thinking about it, but I was working on Whatever I Do at the time, and wanted to wait before starting another WIP. By the time I got to writing this, the inspiration well had sort of dried up.

I really like the idea of a fun cat-and-mouse rom-com idea where Jyn and Cassian keep outsmarting each other, with a whole lot of competency kink, some “oh shit we actually work well together!” and maybe some battle couple. And I was really looking forward to both the moment when they both finally let their guards down around each other and the big confrontation when they actually find out each other’s identities. But it involved more mission writing than I was prepared for, and I really struggled with it. I think I need to start over but that involves a lot of working, so it’s unfortunately shelved for now, and I’m working on a “You’ve Got Mail” concept instead.

3. Is there something fandom-related you would like to be able to do (i.e. I’d like to be able to make gif sets but can’t)?

Oh, yes, absolutely! Really anything that’s not writing related, lol. Gif sets, art, etc. But most of all, I have a music video idea for the song “So Close” from Enchanted--like I have a whole story board plotted out in a google doc. But I don’t have any video editing software, don’t even know how you get the scenes for a music video, etc. I have made videos before, but not since high school, and I don’t even have the cheap, basic video editing program I used back then. Sometimes I think I should just attempt make a gif set instead, but there are so many lyrics! and scenes that go with the lyrics! that I don’t know how to consolidate it into that format anyways.

4. What is a skill you’ve acquired through fandom work?

Hmm, this was tough. I’m going to say HTML. I’m not up-to-date on webdesign at all, but back in my early fandom days, I ran a few fansites. I still sometimes use HTML while leaving comments or to edit posts on dreamwidth or w/e. It’s super basic, but it has helped me at work at a variety of jobs. I take it for granted that people my age should know basic HTML, but a lot of them don’t, and then a lot of people I work with now are older and definitely not tech savvy.

5. Do you think anyone can learn to create great art, or does it take talent?

Well, I’m going to cheat a little. I do think think that anyone can learn to create great art, but I also think that everyone has a talent at something, and part of learning to create great art is recognizing your skill sets and honing those. If that makes sense? I’ve sort of seen both sides to this. I’ve seen naturally talented people create great things, but I also think that they’re probably cheating themselves if they’re not learning and honing their craft and trying to get better. But I’ve also seen people who started out making things that maybe you wouldn’t call great, but they worked hard over and over again, and looking at their work now, you’d say they were talented without ever knowing the difference. Great art = talent + learning + passion. Did that even answer the question? ...moving on

6. Do you prefer AUs or in-universe? Why?

I prefer to write in-universe, for sure. I find modern AUs more challenging, mostly because--and I feel kinda bad saying this--it’s very difficult for me to tap into Jyn and Cassian’s characters without some kind of tragic background. Their experiences and how they coped with them shape their personalities, and it’s really hard to separate them from those. My WWII was easier because, hey, it’s war, not so different from in-verse. But I initially tried to write Learning Curve in a modern AU and I was just totally bored. Putting it in universe made it more interesting to me, especially having to finagle a happier plot inverse. IDK, it might even be that I generally struggle to make up any conflict in modern AUs that feels interesting.

THAT SAID, lol, I definitely read either. So it’s probably strange for me to be hung up on it because I’ve read nice fluffy modern AUs and found them perfectly engaging.

Tagging: @theputterer, @magalis, @allatariel, @mythologicalmango, @threadsketchier MY USUAL DISCLAIMER APPLIES: no pressure if you just don’t wanna, AND if anyone sees this and was like “aw hey i wish she’d tagged ME” well guess what, I wish I did too! so go ahead and do it and let me know and then i’ll know to tag you next time, too :-)

Questions:

When you suffer a setback or a series of setbacks when creating (writing, drawing, knitting, any kind of crafty project thing you work on... even work), what are some strategies you use to cope with that stress and move forward?

What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to create/make and what did you learn from it?

What part of a bicycle would you be?

What’s a helpful writing (art/crafting/work) technique you’ve learned?

What’s a piece of art that made you see things differently?

You’re a new addition to the crayon box. What color would you be and why?

What was the last board game you played and what did you like or not like about it?

*sorry these came out rather writer heavy!

#about me #tag meme

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erintoknow · 5 years

Text

Miss Alex (And other faces)

i ended up expanding on the short-short fallen hero: rebirth fanfic i wrote earlier, which you can find it here: Miss Alex. So here’s the rest; final world count for everything is ~7.6k

Sidney at Practice

April, 2007

Hair whips in your face, the fist you sidestep meeting only air and brings the owner with it. You spin and kick out his knee from behind, sending the man down to the cement. He’s dazed as his head hits the ground, but unlike his friend against the dumpster, he’s still awake. You catch your breath, tense, waiting for any sign of movement. The man stays down. He’s waiting for you to drop your guard.

You look back up the alleyway, no one’s coming. You kick the man, first in the stomach then in the face as he tries to roll away. He’s in pain, but still awake so you kick him again, then a fourth time and that does it. There’s a throbbing from your foot and in your knuckles as you lean back against the wall, adrenaline still running high in the sun falls under the rooftops. Just some thugs. That’s all. Not even part of any kind of street gang, just some freelance creeps that thought they saw an easy mark they could chase into a blind ally. Of course, old Johnny here had no idea you’d been aware of him following you for the past two blocks. And how could Tony expect that you would know just where he was hiding behind the dumpster?

You rub your temples, adrenaline rush or no, you can feel a headache coming on. As much as everyone played up Los Diablos’ reputation for lawlessness, actually picking out specific people in the constant buzz of the city is a strain.

You could have just ghosted them. You should have just ghosted them. You need the combat practice though. It’s not enough to lurk around random dojos, using your mental talents to listen in. It is an advantage almost no one else has, but muscle memory is still a thing that needs to be built… and, you needed to know how far you’ve come.

You weren’t made for hand-to-hand combat, no hardened skin, no super strength, or incredible dexterity, as the pains in your bones can testify to. You need every trick you can scrounge up if you want to stay ahead of the Directive.

Even so… at a week, the projects of Los Diablos is officially the longest you’ve stayed in one area since this all began. There’s been no sign of anyone snooping around, no curious thoughts stirred up. Maybe this is the place where you could finally stop running?

“Hey! Hey, what happened here?”

Crap! You spin on your feet to face this new threat, shoulders tense. Stupid! Dumb! Letting your guard down like that.

A man in a plaid vest and trucker’s cap takes a step back from you, raising his hands up in a ‘calm down’ gesture. You forgot to mask your expression, another dumb mistake. “Woah, easy. I heard the shouting and ran as fast as I could.” He gestures at the two men sprawled across the ground. “This your work?” His hand stretched out like that, you can see the scales poking out from under his sleeve. He feels and looks tense. Trying to figure out if you’re a threat. The gears click in your head, the man’s a Boost. Crap. A friend of the two guys you just beat up or…?

You don’t relax, “I was defending myself.”

Trucker cap man gives you an incredulous look. “I can see that. You really did a number on them.”

You glance back, blood is running into Tony’s from his nose and puddle of blood halos Johnny’s head on the hard floor. All at once it becomes obvious the role you ought to play here and you stagger away from the beaten men and fall to the ground on your butt. “Oh.” You say. “Crap,” you add. You pull your legs up to your chest and press your wrists against your forehead.

Trucker cap man’s mood switches from suspicion to concern just as you hoped. You fight to suppress the twinge of panic as he kneels next to you and wraps an arm around your shoulder. Ratty as it may be, you reassure yourself that he can’t feel anything wrong through the heavy fabric of the sweater. “Hey, hey, it’ll be okay.” Trucker cap man makes some more soothing noises until you stop shaking. Wait, when did that start?

Trucker cap man lets go of you, “Look, my name’s Overnight.”

You give him a blank stare. …are you supposed to know who that is?

“…As in, like, Overnight delivery?” He adds.

He’s wondering if you’re okay, so you give him the small smile of recognition he’s looking for to let the conversation move on. “What’s your name, uh…” He looks you up and down, “…kid?” He’s not sure what gender you are, you know that shouldn’t bother you but it does.

You sigh and swallow the frustration, just stick to your role. Your mind drifts to the young woman’s whose judo practice you’ve been shadowing, “…Sidney.”

Overnight nods. “You really did a number on these guys, huh Sidney?” His tone is cautious, he doesn’t want to upset you further, which suites you fine.

“I was scared.” As you say it, you realize it’s not a lie and pull your legs tight against your chest.

“It’ll be okay.” He squeezes your shoulder, the affectation as uncomfortable as it is unwelcome. “I just need to call an ambulance, okay? I’m not going anywhere.” He withdraws his arm from around you and steps up and away, pulling a phone out of his pocket.

You stare at the cracks in the cement while Overnight talks on the phone, you’re not listening to him, though you don’t need to in order to understand the gist of what he’s saying. It makes for this weird, overdubbing effect in your head, like a video with the sound and image out of synch or like letting your eyes go out of focus.

Overnight finishes on the phone and returns to you, “They’ll be here in a couple of minutes.” That’s always the promise anyway – he doesn’t say that part out loud.

He’s still wondering how you took out two men on your own but now he’s back in familiar territory: Take care of the girl…. or guy??? he guesses in your case, and keep an eye on the criminals until the ambulance and the police arrive.

You dig your fingers into your arms, suddenly tense again, you know this script and this isn’t one you can afford to follow. “I have to get going.”

Overnight presses a hand down on your shoulder as you try to stand, “Woah, woah, Sidney, it’s okay.” He wants you to go to the hospital, he wants you to talk to the police. He’s even hoping to slip away while you distract them so that he doesn’t have to talk to the police.

“I really need to go, I can’t stay here.” You push his hand away. Crap, why is it always so hot in this hell city? You’re sweating like crazy under these clothes.

Overnight is standing between you and the way out, he’s back to suspicious now. He recognizes the two men on the ground. He doesn’t like them, but he knows them. He doesn’t know you.

Why are you here?

Who are you?

You can’t wait here and you can’t talk to the police. You’ve gotten this far by playing it safe. You won’t risk it. You won’t go back. That’s not a wish, or a goal, that’s a statement of fact. You won’t. You feel tense, ready to spring to your feet. Your eyes feel puffy, as if you’d been crying, absurd.

Overnight knows you’re going to run, he stands ready to catch you. He doesn’t understand what your deal is, and thank the director goodness for that. You push off and break left only to fake him out and twist around his right counting on your lighter frame to get you past. He tries to grab your arm, but you ensure you’re not where he thinks you are and then you’ve broken past and into a run down the street.

You can feel him split between staying for the ambulance or chasing after you and it takes him too long to commit to the chase. By the time he does, you’re out of sight, into the night, and he’s left wondering: what the hell just happened?

Lilly, Opening Act

May, 2007

This is stupid.

Sam is fast asleep, sprawled over the bed on the other side of the door. he didn’t even get the first button of his shirt undone before you put him out. As long as you’re quick you should be able to keep him under with enough time to shower, change and get gone before he even realizes anything’s amiss is his already trashed, garbage-strewn apartment. The bruise forming over his eye doesn’t even look that bad, frankly.

A quick shower is better anyhow, less time to think. Less time to look. The hot water hits the burn line along your shoulder and it’s all you can do not to yell at the shock of it. Grind your teeth and hiss out the pain, another grim reminder that there’s only so much running you can possibly do. Your own skin isn’t something you can escape, despite all efforts to the contrary.

Which is why this is needlessly risky.

You towel yourself off, matting the water out of your hair which has gone from hat-hair frizz to soaked-rat. It hasn’t been cut since the start of this little ‘op’ and now the reddish-brown strands almost reach your chin. The risk of hair obscuring your vision makes it a combat hazard, something you have never could gotten away with before. Letting that go feels like a new rebellion, a secret middle finger directed at the closest thing you know as God. The thought brings a smile to your lips.

Exiting the bathroom and you see Sam again, utterly clueless, utterly KO’d. A twinge of guilt or pain or both tugs at your gut. Manipulating someone to to let you into their apartment is a little… brazen compared to your usual M.O. But it’s been weeks since you’ve had a proper shower and you couldn’t take it any more. If only you had thought to get new clothes too.

What you couldn’t have anticipated was how willfully Sam played into your manipulations. Worse than that, you still don’t understand how Sam actually read your gross, shapeless, inhuman form as a woman, but the way he reacted to you… You hadn’t felt like that since Chelsea called you ‘Miss’ on your ride into Los Diablos.

Sam and Chelsea are both wrong of course, you can’t be a woman. You’re not sure you even count as a man, not really. You can… encourage the confusion in people all you want. But at the end of the day it’s just another role to be used like any other. It’s an act – one no more real than the rest of you.

So… why does that make you so upset? Why are you digging into your own arm with your fingernails? You absolutely do not feel bad about tricking this man, or, crap, any of the other men or women you’ve pulled a fast one on. Hell, you aren’t even stealing anything this time!!

You need to stop thinking about this. You never thought about this kind of thing before. When would you have? You need to stop thinking about sitting on the bed with Sam, shoving the empty pizza boxes to the floor. You need to stop thinking about him leaning closer to you. You need to stop thinking about the thoughts that were running through his head. You need to stop thinking about how you can never be that. You absolutely need to stop thinking about how it’s not enough your very skin ensures you can never truly leave the Farm behind: there’s a wrongness in you down to your very bones.

You shut the door on Sam, willing yourself to be confident that ‘Lilly’ will be forgotten or explained away by tomorrow morning. You’ll have to avoid this part of the city for a while, just to be safe.Bystander 78

May, 2007

“Ma’am- er, sorry, sir? Sir?”

Crap, pay attention!

You’re at the front of the line now at Steak and Shake. You had only come in here to dodge a woman on the street that you thought might have been Cheslea. Has she been following you? You had been trying to sense if that was her out there, but it is impossible to tell. The cashier, -Jessica, apparently- looks at you, irritated at continuing delay. Sheepishly, you order a milkshake and fries and step aside for the next person in line.

Whatever, let the lady have her five seconds of irritation, she’ll forget about you on her own soon enough, just one more faceless schlub in the mob. You run a thumb over the twenty Jessica mistakenly gave you instead of the correct change. It’s been slow going, but you think you’re almost ready to start looking for an actual apartment.

A young man on the other side of the counter smiles at you as he hands you your order, there’s something about the way he’s looking at you, you don’t know how to read it and that makes you nervous so you quickly pocket the cash. Worried, you relax your mental wall a little bit, only to immediately shoot it back up again with ears turning red. You quickly take your order and slump into a chair on the furthest corner table away from the counter and spend the next fifteen minutes pointedly not thinking about what was on the boy’s mind.

You’re picking through the bottom-half of the fries, when you can feel a rush of excitement on the street outside, accompanied by screaming. You lift your head in time for a middle-aged man in business attire to stagger into the restaurant and crawl under the table of three very surprised looking college girls. “A fricking man with sharks for hands is robbing Tony’s butcher shop!” The man yells by way of explanation as the three women try to kick him back out from under the table.

The whole building erupts into chaos as people are split between taking shelter and trying to get a better look at the action. No one goes outside though. No one would be that dumb.

You toy with the last fry in your basket. A boost? Well, someone desperate enough to try the ‘hero drug’ anyway. Just because you survive spinning the wheel, it doesn’t guarantee you’ll get a power worth anything. What could you even do with shark hands…? Rob a butcher apparently. Do the shark hands eat too? Part of you wants to get a closer look. You’ve gone out of your way so far to avoid the Enhanced ‘community’ of boosts and mods.

A thud against the glass window draws your attention, and you can see the back of a man in a plaid shirt and a trucker’s cap standing back up. Oh, you’ve got to be kidding, it’s–

“Overnight!!!” A man in the crowd raises his fist at Overnight’s back, “You still owe me five-hundred dollars for that car door you asshole!”

If Overnight hears, he doesn’t respond. Bite marks run up and down both his arms, and it’s enough to make you wince. Whatever kind of scales for skin he has under there, they don’t seem to be doing him much good right now. He runs back into the fight, and out of sight from your angle in the corner. You don’t need to be a mind reader to tell from the crowd that the fight isn’t going in his favor.

It feels like a mistake, but you get up to get a better look out the windows yourself, peering over the heads of the three college girls who are excitedly taking pictures of the fight on their flip phones. Not everyone watching knows Overnight, even if they all know what he is: a vigilante, an unlicensed hero. Ever since your encounter with him, you’ve watched for his name in the papers or the net. It’s usually the star players, like the Rangers who get top billing, but Overnight’s name still pops up from time to time in one sentence acknowledgements. Recognition without Fame.

And there’s Overnight now, wrestling with a balding, bare chested man, who, yes does indeed have tiny shark heads for hands, beady little yes and rows of teeth and all. You ought to be unfazed by body-horror like this, but the sight still gives you a morbid, and queasy, curiosity. You’re not sure what kind of hand-to-hand training Overnight has, but the man clearly doesn’t have a counter for an opponent who doesn’t care about blocking as such. You wince in sympathy as a row of teeth rake down Overnight’s forearm, and rub your own arm in sympathy, still sore from your own last impromptu surgery attempt.

“Jesus, that guy’s getting chewed up out there.”

“Are the Rangers going to show?”

An unnatural scream is wrenched out of Overnight’s mouth as his right arm is turned the wrong direction and he falls to the ground clutching his side. The crowd is worried now, this isn’t how the script is supposed to go. Nausea rocks your stomach as you step towards the door, you try not to think about what you’re doing. A weight presses over you because you know you’re about to do something, really, really, stupid. You don’t even like the guy, but you can’t just–

You’re still a good distance from the door.

You hesitate.

And then:

You sense the change in the crowd before the cheer raises up through everyone and you return to the window, relief flooding through you. Someone’s charged straight into shark-hand-man from behind, knocking him flat on his face into the asphalt. A woman in a tight blue jumpsuit emblematic of an official Ranger stands with her foot on shark-hand-man’s back, smirking triumphantly as her dangerously long braid of hair whips around her.

Maybe you’re just getting caught up in the emotions of the crowd, but you can’t help but feel a little spark of that excitement yourself. This must be Charge, The heart-stopping public face of the Rangers in Los Diablos. You’ve never seen her in action before. The Rangers don’t usually respond to the kind of a minor troubles like ‘angry shark-handed man’ that rank in this part of town.

Curiously when you reach out with your mind to get a better sense of the action, you can’t quite find her. On the ground, one of shark-hand-man’s hands move, mouth grasping for Charge’s braid, distracting you from your line of thought. Does she see it? You want to reach out, shout something, a warning. Mercifully, the Ranger woman notices in time, without any help from you. She clenches a fist, and white sparks shoot out as she rears back her arm. An open palm slams down on shark-hand-man’s back and he jerks violently for a moment as electricity courses through him. It doesn’t take five seconds before the man is out of it, and the ranger woman pantomimes wiping sweat off her brow while the crowd cheers.

Hoo boy, what a show-off.

You stay in the back, out of sight from the street and the police and don’t leave the restaurant until Charge has left the scene. The crowd’s relief and gratitude for a hero’s arrival mixes with your own feelings until you aren’t sure which are which.

Melissa

June, 2007

You snap the case shut and hold down the power button until the the blinking lights, visible through the plastic mesh, indicate the boot sequence has started. You had to practically gut the whole thing and piece it back together with spare parts, but you think you’ve finally got this computer working again. Or….?

“Hey, Lee–“ You crane your head back over your shoulder to where you know Lee is totaling last month’s expenses.

You hear a heavy sigh. You’re being hired for your willingness to work, not for conversation. That’s part of why you picked him; the man doesn’t give even a first thought to the cover story you had spun for him. “What is it, Melissa?”

The vibe from Lee is telling you to be quiet, but something compels you on regardless. “Is it still a repair job if you have to replace everything inside the case? Does that still count as the same machine?”

“You kept the original hard drive, right?”

You hesitate, running through the checklist in your head. “Y-yeah, that’s still there, I guess. That still worked.”

Lee puts the spreadsheet down on the counter. “Then that’s close enough.” He looks at you, peering over his glasses, sizing you up. “You done?”

You make yourself meet his gaze, Melissa is supposed to be confident in their work. “It was cake,” you pull a monitor to you, connecting it to the case. “Just checking it now.”

“Move over, I’ll see for myself.” You obediently shift to the next chair over, careful to avoid tipping the plastic bins of silicone chips and wires scattered haphazardly on the floor. Lee takes your seat and stares intently at the computer monitor, hands on the keyboard. You don’t look at the screen yourself, sensitive to any possible change in Lee’s mood. The man’s so placid, it makes him hard to read in more ways than one.

Finally you detect a sense of satisfaction from Lee and he pushes away from the desk, turning the computer off. “Good enough. Get me a list of the parts you used so I can bill the customer.”

You lean over from where you’re sitting, tap a sheet of paper on the table between you to draw his attention to it. “Right here.”

He grabs it and gets up, “Good,” he says, returning to the counter, while reading it over. He pulls open a drawer, and after a minute pulls out a small wad of dollar bills. You meet him at the other side of counter as he puts it down in front of you. “Pay for the day, good work.” You pick up the money, counting it. It’s nothing extravagant, but there’s still something novel about the whole process to you. “Come back tomorrow, Mel, I’ve got another project you can do. Going to close up.” He nods, as if that ends the conversation and waves you out of the store and back on the street.

It had been so, so, tempting to have the old man accidentally include a ‘bonus’ with your pay but you figure you’ll have Melissa come by Lee’s repair shop a couple more times before you clean him out. It’s been so long since you’ve messed with electronics. You had forgotten how meditative it could be.

Despite your better judgement, you find yourself at Steak and Shake again that night. You usually want to avoid hitting the same place more then once, but…. chocolate milkshakes are a hard thing to say no to. As you walk in, you find there’s an argument in-progress behind the counter.

“It’s always your shift Jessica!”

“Damnit Ronnie, I don’t fucking know what you’re talking about!”

You wince as the argument escalates, both parties oblivious to you standing in the door way. You should just- you should just turn and leave now.

“You’re fired! Get out of here, and be grateful if I don’t call the police.”

Jessica tears off her apron, throwing it on the floor and runs out of the store, pushing past you, face red, hands curled into fists.

The man, Ronnie, finally notices you, gesturing you to the counter, a pleasant mask over the anger boiling off of him. You hesitantly step up to the counter, and against your better judgement you ask “What was that all about?” As if you didn’t already know.

Ronnie grimaces, “Another dumb bitch who thinks she can skim from the till on my watch.”

“Oh.” You say.

“Nevermind that, what can I get you, my man?”

When you get back your change, it’s accurate.

Vigilante at 5AM

August, 2007

The sun barely has a chance to shine before trouble starts. You always make sure you’re out of the building you’ve been squatting in before the usual suspects start waking up. This is how you end up on the street in time to see a man with a mechanical arm lift up another, fatter man by the neck and tosses him down to the ground. “You’re not getting anything else out of me this time JARED!”

You look around, there’s barely anyone else out on the street at this hour; too late for nare-do-wells, to early for do-gooders. Jared is gibbering nonsense apologies, then cries out as Metal Arm guy brings his foot down on the man’s ribcage. There’s no way Jared stays in one piece before the police arrive, someone needs to act.

With a deepening dread in your stomach, you realize that someone is you moments before your arm collides with Metal Arm’s back, pushing him off balance. You raise your leg to kick out his knees but he turns faster than you expected and grabs you, metal fingers biting into your shoulder. “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?” is bellowed into your ear. You grit your teeth and uppercut his jaw with your free arm, then bring a knee to his stomach and Metal Arm wheezes for air, letting go.

You both take a step back, sizing the other up. “You want some of this, bitch?” Metal Arm postures at you, he’s still steaming mad, but now there’s a tinge of fear. Just like those guys in the alley, he’s scared. Of you.

The realization sends a rush of adrenaline though you and you can’t stop the small smile forming on your face. Good. He should be.

Metal Arm rushes you and you sidestep him. You take the chance to strike at the back of his neck but he’s too tall for it and his shoulders absorb the brunt of the impact. Instead, he’s able to grab your arm. He yanks you off your feet causing you to yell in surprise, the air forced from your lungs you are flung against the wall. You manage to keep your head enough to mentally nudge his follow-up punch so it goes wide. And good thing you did because dust and brickwork shower you as his metal fist gets lodged in the wall next to your head. Now it’s your turn to grab an arm and pull. Just like you hoped, this prosthetic is a cheap enough model that you can feel Metal Arm guy’s alarm turn to panic as things inside start to go pop that really shouldn’t.

“This is none of your fucking business you crazy bitch!” Metal Arm hisses. It’s a second too late when you remember, oh wait, Metal Arm has two hands, and then your head is ringing. Metal Arm takes the moment to work his arm free, and… there! You kick the man between the legs, hard, and like pressing a button the man vomits all over the front of your sweater.

“Give–” you gasp for breath, “give up yet?”

He doesn’t respond, so you kick him again and he falls over and away from you.

You pull yourself to your feet and stare at Metal Arm guy, he’s writhing on the ground clutching at his privates. You can feel his panic and in the moment, your own fear and panic riding high, it’s a struggle to block his out. You bring your foot down on him, then again, then ag-

“Alex? Alex it’s over! He’s done! Alex!”

You look up to see the woman standing a few feet away in the eve of an apartment block, she looks back at you with a combination of concern and fear. You recognize her, it’s the woman from the bus, Chelsea. She gestures at you to get over there.

“Come on missy, let’s get you off the street before the cops show up.”

Miss Alex, again

August, 2007

The sleeve of your vomit-covered sweater sticks out from under the lid of the trash can. You watch it intently from your seat on the faux suede couch while the flash of red and blue lights pierces through the blinds behind you and reflect off the peeling-white walls. With only your full-sleeve black shirt and cargo pants you feel more exposed then you ever have in the months since you first came to Los Diablos.

It’s a one-room apartment and you can see Chelsea Becker in the kitchenette fussing with a pot of hot water. Three floors down, on the street, paramedics are loading Jared and Metal Arm guy into the back of an ambulance. The officer charged with collecting statements from witnesses is hanging around behind a corner eating a donut. This apartment is practically down the block from where you’ve been squatting. All the paranoia you’ve tried to let go has come roaring back. Why did you follow her here?

“Well Miss Alex, do you prefer coffee or tea?” Chelsea calls from the countertop.

Is this supposed to be test? An opportunity to drug you? “Water is fine,” you counter.

Chelsea shrugs. “Suit yourself.” Not even her thoughts give anything away. This woman is dangerous. After a few more minutes of fussing she fills a glass of water from the sink, putting it down on the coffee table in front of you before sitting down on the other end of the couch, a mug of coffee clutched with both hands. “So how’s city life treating you?”

The older woman is watching your face intently, which does nothing to help your nerves, so you go back to watching the trash can. “It’s fine.”

Chelsea takes a sip of coffee.

You know what’s she’s doing.

She’s waiting you out.

Well it’s not going to work.

To your immense satisfaction, Chelsea blinks first. “You know,” she takes another sip from her mug, “when I first ran away from home, I must have been sixteen years old.” You watch her from the corner of your eye, where is this going? “I read the internet, all these damn wikis, I had this whole plan worked out.” She stops, sips her coffee, when she speaks again her voice is light, like it’s a joke. “I don’t think I made it a week before police caught me and brought me back. I was stuck living out under a bridge after I lost my bullet train ticket.” Chelsea laughs, as if she wants it to be funny.

Is she trying to build a sense of camaraderie? Lure you into a false sense of security?

“The second time though…” she grins, to herself more than you, “well, you could say I’m still running.”

If she’s lying, then she’s an unreasonably good actor, but is this woman really going to just… tell her life story at you? What was the deal with her on the bus? Why does she just happen to be living in the same place you are? Has she been following you? Is she Special Directive? Why are they doing this instead of just dragging you back? You’re dying to just burrow into her head and finally have some answers.

“You know,” Chelsea glances back at the window, “that was a very brave thing you did out there. Absolutely nuts, but brave.” She must be switching topics since you aren’t rising to the bait. “Did you know either of those guys…?” What is she fishing for?

“No.”

“Really?” Genuine relief, and then… why does she feel guilty?

You turn to look at her, “Why?”

Now it’s her turn to avoid the other’s gaze, staring into her coffee mug. “Well… no– no, don’t worry about it.” She shakes her head and raises the mug to take another sip. Amid everything else there’s one sentiment on her mind that is plain as day to you; she wishes you hadn’t saved Jared? Is this part of some act? Another test? You look at the window, briefly consider the odds of jumping out a third story window. Don’t like the conclusion.

After what seems like an appropriate length of silence, you go on the attack with “Are you doing okay?”

Chelsea laughs, it’s short and forced. “Oh, you know. Living the dream in a city of devils. Turns out the company that hired me to come here got bought out and shuttered in the span of a bus trip.” She shrugs, “But you know Miss Alex, there’s always work for a girl with a keyboard.”

“It’s hard on your own,” you offer.

“Yeah.”

“Why…” You hesitate, struggling to put the words in order, and at the last second veer into a slightly less impossible question, “why do you keep calling me ‘miss’?”

Chelsea looks at you, and then slowly her whole face turns beet red in genuine embarrassment. “Oh, oh geez honey, I’m sorry. I just sort of assumed.”

“It’s – it’s fine?” You trace a too familiar pattern in your leg with your finger, not looking at Chelsea. “I think I like it?” Any moment now a team of black suited operatives with psy-dampeners is going to bust through that door. You’re certain of it. You expect they’ll have two breach the door while the other two break in through the window. And then there would be a fifth as sentential on the roof across from the window. You know, just in case.

You can tell the woman next to you is processing her own cavalcade of emotions but you’re a little too caught up in your own inner turmoil to be getting a solid grasp on hers too. So it comes as something of a shock when her hand reaches out to grab yours, fingers curling under your palm.

You freeze.

It’s like you’ve been nailed to the couch.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Her voice is quiet, almost like a whisper.

“No.” You answer, a little too quickly.

Chelsea lets go of your hand, pulling back to her side of the couch. You almost wish she hadn’t. “That’s okay too,” she says.

The two of you sit there in silence. Slowly you reach out and take the glass of water from the table. Beads of condensation pool against the skin of your fingers. You take a sip, which turns into a bigger sip, which turns into you gulping down half a glass, and when you put the cup down you have to gasp for air.

“Alex isn’t even my name.” You say.

“Do you like it?”

You have to think about this. “Not really.”

Chelsea cracks a smile. “I can’t say I was too attached to my first couple of names either. Names are powerful things.” Your skepticism must be evident on your face, because she continues, “they are! You should pick one for yourself! Something with meaning for you. You don’t even have to tell anyone, or only tell the people closest to you, or whatever you want to do. It’s your name and no one can take that from you.”

“And how many people have you told your name?” You meant it as a smart-aleck retort but the expression on Chelsea’s face gives you pause.

“Ah. One person, actually.”

You have to think about this.

Instead of pressing further you ask “why did you pick Chelsea?”

Chelsea shrugs, still radiating embarrassment. “Why did you originally pick Alex?”

“I stole twenty-five bucks from her.”

To your satisfaction, that gets a shock from Chelsea. “That’s not quite the answer I expected.” You look at her, daring her to say something about it. You win. She looks away first. “‘Chelsea’ is supposed to mean something like, ‘chalk wharf’, I guess? I was set on writing my own life. Crush down everything from before and make something new out of it.” She picks up her coffee mug and drains the rest of it.

When she puts the mug back down you ask, “Is that even possible?”

“Is what possible?”

“Reinventing yourself like that.” You finger is back to tracing patterns in your leg.

That gets some nervous laughter from Chelsea. “Well, I kind of have to believe it is, or I’m in big trouble. I banked my name on it and everything after all.”

You feel your hands clench around your knees. “I want to believe it is too.”

Ariadne

April, 2009

You rest your hands on your hips as you watch the last of the last of Mad Olly’s Clown Possee get loaded into the police van. It’s all you can do to not make a crack about clown cars.

“Man, those clowns really know how to pack it in, huh Sidestep?” The woman standing next to you elbows you in the stomach and cackles like she’s made the most hilarious joke. You sigh. The papers always made Charge sound so… serious and dignified. Well, when they weren’t breathlessly speculating on who her latest boyfriend was. Not that you ever waste time reading that kind of tripe.

You gesture at the park around you, littered with clown debris. “Looking to make a career change old lady? I hear a bunch of vacancies in clown school just opened up.”

Charge crosses her arms, with a harrumph. “Old lady she says. And did you pass third grade yet?”

“Did you?”

Charge smirks and slaps you on the back. Or well, tries to. You step out of the way just in time.

Invisible under your mask is a little self-satisfied smile. “Too slow that time, Charge.”

“Doesn’t count, you’re cheating.” Charge protests, knowing perfectly well that you both know your mind reading talents don’t work on her. She glances at you from the corner of her eye. You brace yourself, here we go again. “And you know you can just call me Julia, right?”

“That’s awfully informal, don’t you think, Ortega?” You love working with the Rangers, but it’s a love like a moth loves fire. And as much as you keep setting up your barriers, Ortega keeps insisting on filling in the firebreaks.

“How many times have you saved my butt now? It’s got to be over twenty. I think you’ve earned a little informality.” One of the police officers hands Ortega a clipboard with forms on in. She winces and her shoulders slump.

“If you’re hoping I’ll save you from paperwork, then I think this is my queue to get scarce.” You step away only for Ortega’s hand to catch your arm.

“You should really stick around, I’m making Anathema watch Friends for the first time tonight. It’s gonna be a real hoot.”

You hesitate, “The show by that Whedon guy?”

Ortega’s face lights up. “Yeah, that one!”

“Didn’t that get canceled after half a season?”

“Only because the world isn’t ready for genius.”

You feel yourself wavering. Actual copies of the show are exceedingly rare, how did Ortega get her hands on it?

“Com’on, consider it?” Ortega pleads. “I won’t even make you get out of the damn suit.”

You turn your head sharply to look at her, “What does that mean?”

Ortega stands her ground, gesturing with the clipboard for emphasis. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out of that get-up once. Hell, Sidestep, I don’t even know your name. Like, your real actual name? Do you have even one?”

Now it’s your turn to get defensive, arms crossed. “I have a name!” You protest.

“Oh do you?” Ortega asks, hands on her hips, goading you on with a smile.

“It’s…” Your voice falters, that old familiar apprehension you had hoped having a costume would banish creeping back in.

When you fail to finish your sentence Ortega just sighs. “Look, I’m sorry. We’re just co-workers, I know, I know. Well… not even that technically. I just wanted to include you.”

That full face-mask for your costume was one of your better decisions but you still have to force out the words. “It’s Ariadne.”

Ortega tilts her head. “What?”

“Ariadne. My name is Ariadne Becker.”

“Ari-ad-knee…” Repeats Ortega, sounding out your name. She smiles, “It’s a good sound. So! Does that mean you’re coming tonight, Ari?”

#fhr #fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero fanfic #fanfiction #fhr/Ariadne #sidestep #trans character #gender trouble #wlw fanfic

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pinkletterday · 5 years

Note

westallen + 'break me'

The Words We Never Said

Pairing: Barry Allen/Iris West

Rating: Teen/Mature

Warnings: heavy, heavy angst, relationship dysfunction, season 3 tw

Status: WiP

Summary: S3 AU. Navigating a new relationship is hard enough without the grim spectre of impending disaster hanging over their heads.

Savitar doesn’t help either.

A/N: *crashes in* I CAN EXPLAIN!

So this was supposed to be a drabble. And it was sorta. I brushed off the end bit and wrote it out nicely. But then thought why not post the whole shebang? Cause it would be a shame to waste a permanent WiP and the prompt did say “break me”. And I hope you really meant that cause this one was saved under a folder named “Westallen trauma submarine”. As in I see your angst sandwich and raise you:

It should have been the happiest time of his life. After years and years of secretly hoping, wishing, fantasizing, Iris was finally with him, sharing a bed with him. He was finally allowed to drown in her lips, sink deep inside her body and whisper his unbearable love while looking into her eyes, as though it was a breath trapped inside him for half a lifetime releasing. He had made a home for them both, a place where he could keep her safe beside him and surround her in all the riches of his love he had had to keep restrained and unspoken till now.

Sitting across the room from her now, watching the streetlight outside spill amber over her sleeping shoulder, Barry had never been more miserable.

She’s going to die because of you, his mind whispered. You killed your mother and your father and you nearly got Patty killed. You let her go to keep her safe but you were too selfish to do the same for Iris. Because she was your dream.

In many ways she still felt like a dream. A lifetime of friendship and sharing a home and secrets and embarrassments and fights and the fact that she was his lover now seemed surreal. Best-Friend-Iris seemed somehow like a similar but wholly different creature to Girlfriend-Iris. The former had manhandled, kicked, elbowed, flopped on and cuddled him with impunity. The latter still touched him deliberately, almost tentative and hyper-aware, as though he was someone almost unfamiliar.

“Babe?” Iris’s voice was rough with sleep in the dark. “What are you doing?”

He slid off the chair and back into the bed before she could sit up. “Nothing, go back to sleep.”

Strong fingers wrapped around his biceps and tugged him insistently toward her. He crawled over her, bracketing her sleep-soft body beneath his. She stroked his face, blinking drowsily at him.

“Is this normal for you?” she rasped. “I get that you have speedster metabolism but I didn’t realize you only needed…what. An hour or two of sleep a night?”

He needed more but didn’t want to tell her that. Or lie to her. He shrugged non-committally.

“Go back to sleep,” he said, kissing her forehead. “You need way more than me and we fell asleep late.”

Iris chuckled throatily. “Mmm. And whose fault was that, huh?”

It’s supposed to be sexy, he knew. This dimension of their relationship was very new but even so he’s been a voracious lover, taking her almost every night she’d have him. She seemed to have no complaints and obviously she is that intoxicating to him but also…

She did not know of the sword hanging over her head. Did not know he had put it there and he couldn’t tell her. Couldn’t bear to see that innocent happiness and love twist into fear and disbelief. He could only mutely press his desperation into her skin and try to drown his guilt inside her.

This is your fault.

“Barry?” her eyes were alert now, searching his face in concern.

Barry made himself smile reassuringly. “I’m good, sweetheart,” the endearment still felt like something stolen on his tongue. He kissed her eyelids closed, careful to keep his weight off her, “we’ll talk about my metabolism in the morning.”

He could feel her gaze slitted upon his face for a long while after he feigned sleep.

***

She should be with Eddie, not you. He deserved her and she knew it.

They were having coffee at Jitters with Cisco and Wally. He had long since zoned out the engineering discussion happening between them, although Iris was gamely trying to follow along. “If I’m going to contribute something to the science fiction movie that is our lives then I better at least learn to understand nerdspeak, Barry.”

“I’ve been talking nerdy at you for years. You mean you haven’t been listening all this time?”

“I was mostly paying attention to how cute you were.”

Then why hadn’t she ever said anything. Why let him ache and doubt and hang on tenterhooks for a smile or a word or look that she might feel the same and then choose Eddie if she had felt anything for him?

Because he was the better man, idiot. His mind answered. He didn’t dither about asking her out for fourteen years, then lie to her, get her fiancé killed and the city blown up. He didn’t let his own selfishness hand her a death sentence.

It is not a death sentence! He snarled back at himself. He would split himself into atoms and cast every one of them into the universe before he saw Iris too, stabbed through the heart in front of him -

“Barry?”

He snapped back into awareness to see the other three staring at him.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Where’d you go, man?” said Cisco, eyeing him. “You totally zoned out.”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m just -,” he caught Iris’s eye. Ah shit. She’d know if he tried to fib. “A little out of it, this morning.”

“I knew you needed more than two hours a night,” said Iris, concerned.

“Two hours?” Cisco looked between them in bemusement. “He needs more than that. Why are you getting only two hours? What are you even doing?” He swivelled his head to fully face Barry.

“I’m fine, guys,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

“You can’t be fine, Barry, you’ve been having trouble sleeping since we moved in,” Iris protested. “Did anything happen with a meta or at work or -”

“I said I’m fine!” He snapped. The table fell silent, startled. Shit shit shit. He had not meant to do that at all. He saw Wally’s face clouding in anger and Iris’ looking shocked. God damn it.He couldn’t remember the last time he’d snapped at Iris like that.

“Sorry,” he said contritely, feeling like a shitheel. You don’t deserve her. “I…just. I’ve been a little out of sorts. I guess just…dealing with everything that’s been happening, you know.”

He caught Cisco’s eye in trying to avoid Iris’s and felt another dull stab in his chest. They were slowly healing their friendship but it would never be the same. Some days he would look at the man who had been his alter ego’s life raft since the beginning and not recognize him at all. He wondered if Cisco felt the same about him.

“I have to get back to the station,” he said brightly, jumping up. The others simply looked more nonplussed.

“On…Saturday?” said Cisco looking even more like he was questioning Barry’s sanity.

“Yeah, I have a…big backlog of reports,” Barry fumbled, keenly aware that he was exhibiting every liar’s tell he had and wholly unable to stop himself. “I’ll see you guys later -” and all but flashed off, as if this was remotely a way to part with your live-in girlfriend.

***

He got takeout from her favourite Chinese place for dinner and a bouquet of orchids as a peace offering that evening, to find her on the floor painstakingly unpacking their boxes.

“Hi,” he said tentatively, unloading his parcels onto the kitchen counter.

She didn’t look up. “Hi.” Her tone was absent rather than curt. Barry decided this was a good sign.

“You should just leave those, Iris,” he said helpfully. “I can unpack everything in two minutes.”

Iris paused unwrapping a photo frame and tilted her head questioningly at the wall without looking around. “You want to use super-speed to unpack our apartment?”

“Why not?” He again experienced that feeling of being about to make a step that would end in a grim squelch. “Have it, might as well use it, right?”

Iris’s shoulders slumped as she dropped the frame back into the box, the line of her back making her seem small and tired. Squelch. Oh no.

You don’t deserve her. “Or, if it’s important to you we can do it together, no rush,” he offered hurriedly.

This did not seem to make anything better. “Important to me,” she repeated dully. “Uh no. It’s. You go ahead.” She got up, dusted her knees off and headed to the bedroom without looking around.

“Hey, where you going?” called Barry, “I got you fried rice from the Lotus Garden that you like -”

“Not hungry,” she called back from the bedroom.

He grabbed the orchids and hurried forward. “Um, I also got you -”

The bedroom door shut. Barry stood rather foolishly with the flowers in his arms, adrift in a sea of wadded packing paper and boxes.

***

The nightmares seemed to escalate after that. It wasn't just seeing Savitar run his horrible talon straight through her breast like he was skewering a rag doll. He dreamed of her floating away from him into the Speed Force, expression blank and indifferent, as he cried out and entreated her to take his hand. Eddie and Leonard Snart sneered at him from the shadows, deriding him for his moral failures. Eobard smirked malevolently and told him he would never truly be happy.

When he woke up, Iris didn’t stir. He was never quite sure whether she really hadnt woken up or simply pretended to sleep on. Either way, the sight of her face, somehow sad even in rest, made him feel as hollow as if he was watching her float away from him again.

A week later, Iris bled out in his arms for the twenty-fifth time. He was practiced enough now at stealth that his scream was strangled in his throat before he was even fully awake.

He spasmed like a fish flopped out of the water for a minute, trying to force breath into his burning lungs as quietly as possible, and turned to find her gazing at him.

They looked at each other for a moment.

“Are you ever going to tell me?” her dark eyes were so sad and resigned. As though something had been lost to her before she ever had a chance to know it. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

Panic seized him. “Tell you what?”

She merely kept looking at him until sheer sorrow seemed to weigh her eyelids closed, the furrow in her brow deepening to a hurt. Barry could feel her slipping away from him, blank, cold and indifferent.

In the morning, he could almost tell himself it was another dream.

***

(more scenes where Iris is told about Savitar and an explosive things-come-to-a-head fight later)

***

Outwardly she was as still and cold as the crisp spring night, shoulders drawn tightly into herself. But Barry saw the storm in the lines of her silhouette as she sat on the stoop of the house they had grown up in, the streetlight that had haloed their kiss in gold now turned harsh and glaring.

She resumed the conversation as though they had just paused it to venture outside, rather than having spent the day barely able to stay in the same room as him.

“Am I supposed to be ashamed of having loved him?”

“No!,” he exclaimed, gut twisting. It wasn’t her fault that Eddie had been better for her in every way than he, Barry, had ever been. “Of course you loved him, Eddie was a great guy -”

“I did not love Eddie just because he was a great guy,” she gritted. ”I loved him because when you were comatose, my Dad was half-checked out and I had no one, he was there! He took care of me. He was kind to me. I don’t fall in love by comparing people’s greatness!”

“I didn’t mean -,”

“You have no idea what it was like!,” she threw the words at him, like she was ripping out something that had been too painful to dislodge till now. “No one knew what was wrong with you. Dad barely ate or slept. We could only sit there and watch you die over and over again. Every single time it was like I was dying with you.”

“I went to church. I went to a fucking faith healer. I’d make stupid bargains every day with - I dont even know. Like if you went the whole day without a seizure I’d never eat another chocolate muffin. And if you made any voluntary movement I’d give away my favourite sweater. The day STAR Labs finally stabilized you I donated my grandmother’s earrings to a widow’s fund. It was like I was holding my breath, walking a tightrope every day and there was no one to catch me - until Eddie.”

She swallowed convulsively. “I loved him because when I had no one, he saw me. He was there. And he didn’t ask for anything in return.”

His chest hollowed out deeper. “Iris, I’m so -,”

“Don’t say you’re sorry. I don’t care. I just want you to see me!” she finally whirled around to face him and her expression was a fist to his face.

“I do see you!,” he said desperately. You’re all I can see. “I see you, Iris!”

She began to laugh, derisive, with an edge of hysteria. “Do you, Barry? Is it really me you see? Or do you see some fantastic, too-good-for-you girl you can idealize at a safe distance?,” tears choked her laughter, glimmering golden in her eyes. “When did I stop being your best friend? Am I even real to you anymore?”

***

“I chose Eddie because he was the only choice I had.”

Again she broke the silence, this time ín the darkness of their bedroom. It had persisted all the way to the loft, while they had wordlessly showered in the same bathroom and changed for bed.

He breathed out carefully. “What do you mean?”

She was sat up next to him against the headboard, profile outlined in the molten glow seeping through the curtains.

“You were going to go into the past and save your mother. The best case scenario would have been that our whole lives, every choice I’d made in this life since we were eleven, would be erased, and I would wake up as maybe your wife, none the wiser. The worst was that you’d disappear into history forever and live out an alternate timeline while in this one we carried on without you.”

“Actually, who’s to say that hasnt happened to some version of me?” she mused, head slightly cocked in abstract curiosity, “Maybe there’s a me that’s still waiting for you on our porch steps.”

“That’s not how it works, Iris.” He really, really hoped it wasn’t.

“That you know of,” she dismissed. “I saw a version of you become vaporized in front of me. He was real. He was you and existed beside you. He died alone to save us and we didn’t even mourn him. Do you ever think about that?”

“Yes. A lot.”

He had surprised her, finally. She turned to look at him.

“That could be me one day. I could be the one that dies. And you would go on to live out your lives with the one that gets to stay.”

It was one of those things he tried not to think about during his waking hours, dogged as it was by gut-churning terror and a strange sense of grief.

“I know,” she whispered.>

He ignored the echo of his own fear in her voice to follow the self-punishing compulsion to see this through. “You told Eddie you’d marry him because I might not have come back?”

“No. The third option was that it wouldn’t work and you would come back,” her voice grew hard. “And if that happened I wanted you to know that I’d chosen the man who hadn’t lied to me.”

It was a dull blow to the gut, richly deserved. “Iris.”

“I was so angry,” she continued. “So trapped. Everyone telling me who I was going to be and what I really felt while hiding and manipulating and dictating my life. Even you. My best friend. The one person I trusted more than anyone betrayed me,” the bleak bitterness in her voice stabbed deep, “And I didnt get to feel mad about any of it because I was just trying to catch up, wrap my head around it all and falling to pieces over first Eddie and then you…there was never any room to breathe”

“Eddie was the one who had never wanted to lie to me. He stood up to my father to propose to me, to date me. He was the only one who had chosen me, thought of what I wanted, what I deserved.”

“So yeah, he was the only real choice I had left,” she let out a shaking breath, “It was never because I Ioved him more. It was about trying not to drown, Barry.”

The tight lines of her face dissolved into an empty sadness he could feel even in shadow. “But if you really want to know, I can’t imagine a world where I loved only one of you.”

***

“I lied.”

Another day of false leads and desperation, trying not to look at the hours slowly, inexorably slipping away one by one like mourners at a funeral. The anxiety was coalescing into terror now, a not-so-distant wolf howl nipping at their heels.

Iris was wrapped in her bathrobe, staring at the flames dancing in the fireplace. Drifting.

“About what?”

“I lied. I told you I didn’t love either of you more.”

His stomach dropped into a deep pit, dragging his heart with it. “…you don’t have to -”

“When we heard the gunshot, for one awful moment I thought it had been you,” she continued, and blood bloomed on white again between them. “And I thought I was going to die. Then I saw Eddie fall, and the first thing I thought was “Barry’s safe.”

The world went very still. “Iris -,”

“I chose you the moment he turned his gun on himself so he could be my hero,” her eyes burned in her face, staring steadily into the blinding heart of the flames. “And I. Hate. Myself. For it.”

Be careful what you wish for, Barry thought distantly with an absurd desire to laugh. You just might get it.

“Maybe it’s the reason why all of this is happening. I lied to and I betrayed both of you because I was angry.”

“No! That could never…none of this was your fault, Iris,” I was the one who betrayed you. I was the one who cursed you. “Savitar has nothing to do with anything you did.”

Her mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “I wish I knew whether that makes it better or worse. Maybe I just want something, anything I did to have mattered.”

///

#westallen #barry allen x iris west #the flash #myfic #fanfic #angst #season 3 au #savitar is still not barry #i have drawn a line #canon character death #asks #memes #i can't drabble #what is a drabble #not this #you shouldn't trust me #janemicheals #snippet

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imagine-loki · 6 years

Text

The Sound of Silence

TITLE: The Sound of Silence CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 19/47 AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you are mute, and Loki comes to Avengers tower for the first time. Loki asks you a question and you answer through sign language. Loki looks at you crazy and thinks your making fun of him, he starts yelling saying that you should respect him since he’s a god and prince. RATING: T+ NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3 Click here

You panted against the pain when the shocks finally ended moaning softly as you fought back sobs. It was presumably once the van was far enough away from the battle. You tried not to move, tried to avoid drawing attention to yourself. You didn’t want shocked again just for breathing.

Your mind whirled, focusing not on how to escape; that was impossible at this juncture, but instead on the abduction. How had they gotten you away from the team without anyone trying to help you? Had someone betrayed you? That seemed unlikely, they were all super heroes, but your mind had to consider the possibilities anyway.

Bruce had been too far out of it from the change back from the Hulk; it had been a particularly hard transition this time and the gas had taken him out before the Hulk could reappear. The jet had been too far away from the battle and was out of sight. The team had trusted you and Bruce to be safe because the Hulk liked you and it was incredibly difficult to get past him, even after just changing back to Bruce. The skirmish had been too quiet for your friends to hear; you and Bruce were both taken down by the gas. Your friends would have been expecting to hear the Hulk roar or your screams if you were in danger. And… and…the abductors were dressed as SHIELD agents. No one would have looked too closely at the agents bringing one last enhanced to the prison van. You could have been walked right past Captain America and he might not have looked closely enough to tell it was you under the hood.

They probably hadn’t found out that anything was wrong until they found Bruce in the snow outside the jet.

Loki would come soon. You still wore the locket he gave you, you never took it off. He would come, most likely as soon as the van stopped moving and he could get a clear lock on where you were.

The hood over your head was removed after you came to the conclusion that the team hadn’t betrayed you. They’d been tricked too. You saw that the other prisoners were already unhooded. They were also unbound and had started congratulating and talking among themselves. They had all been in on the trap too, it seemed.

“Search her,” the agent who seemed to be in charge barked the order.

“Right, you remember what Loki said about the token he gave her,” someone else added. You blanched. They’d been spying on you since at least the first day of school. That was the only time Loki had ever mentioned how token worked. They had to have been planning this for months.

“Don’t say his name!” Agent In-charge hissed. “To speak the name is to summon the man.” You fought to avoid rolling your eyes. Loki wasn’t Voldemort, though their fear of his arrival indicated that he was equally terrifying to these people.

You kept your head down, trying to keep your hair over your face and neck. You wanted to hide the Loki’s locket, keep it out of sight behind your hair. It was of no use, of course, they would find it, but you hoped it would be after Loki got a lock on your location. A female agent searched you, searched your pockets before she saw the necklace under the combination of your hair and the shock collar. She ripped it from your neck. You watched her open it with a carefully blank expression.

“This is it,” she told Agent In-charge when she saw the lock of Loki’s hair inside the locket. She snapped it back shut again and handed it to him.

“Good. We’re almost at the rendezvous.” Agent In-charge turned his attention back to you. “You’re going to do exactly what you’re told, Prophet, unless you want shocked into next week. SHIELD may not have known how to deal with such a commodity, but we do. And maybe, if you can learn to behave this time, we won’t even have to treat you like we did in The Raft. Yes, we’ve been waiting to get you back since then,” he added at your shocked expression. You finally recognized him as one of the men who had used your abilities in the prison. “But SHIELD had you tucked away in that tower with those freaks, and even when you did venture out into the world, it was always under the close eye of that troublesome boyfriend of yours, so we’ve had quite the chore to reacquire you. We won’t make the mistake of losing you again.” You refused to remain property, or with them. You’d have to bide your time, but they would make a mistake. There would be an opportunity to escape. You would just have to bide your time until they dropped their guard or the others could find you, whichever came first.

“I don’t think you’re stupid, stubborn maybe, but not stupid. So I’m going to tell you exactly what is going to happen,” he paused to make sure he had your undivided attention. “When the van stops, you are going to come with me to the waiting car with no fuss, no fighting, no arguments of any kind. If you behave, you get to sit in the car like a person. If you fuck this chance up, you’ll be shoved in the trunk and very lucky if you’re not shocked the entire trip to our next destination. Do you understand?” he demanded. You nodded meekly and didn’t even have to feign terror. You tried to convince yourself that you were just playing along, biding time, but you were terrified and in pain. You’d do almost anything to keep yourself from any more pain.

The van stopped and Agent In-charge pulled you to your feet and kept a hand firmly around your upper arm. You couldn’t manage to get up on your own with your arms bound behind you. Agent In-charge handed your locket to one of the men. “Wait until her friends show up. If it’s just him, try to take him out here; if you can’t defeat him, or if it’s all of them, Jones, you drive south with that as fast as you can, that’ll draw his attention, keep him off of our trail,”

“Yes, sir,” the man with your locket replied, but sounded nervous. He didn’t want to face Loki’s wrath.

“Hydra appreciates your sacrifice, Jones,” Agent In-charge said. What was Hydra? Hadn’t Cap mentioned something about it at some point? You couldn’t remember.

A moment later, he was out of the van, dragging you with him. “Walk, or you go in the trunk,” he ordered in a hiss. You walked. There was a car and a second van in the parking lot the rendezvous was taking place in. Jones got in the other van alone, prepared to act as decoy. You felt your hope plummet with how well they had planned this out. Agent In-charge led you to the waiting car, opened the door, and pushed you inside. The woman who had searched you got in the back of the car with you, and Agent In-charge got in the passenger’s seat.

“Drive,” Agent In-charge ordered the driver. The car sped off at once. “Careful, we don’t want to get pulled over.” He told the driver, who slowed some, obviously trying to obey the speed limit. Of course they didn’t want the cops to see a bound and gagged girl in the backseat of the car. That might be a little suspicious.

You yelped in surprise and pain when the shock collar went off again. “Now, Smith,” Agent In-charge ordered the woman in the back seat with you. She jabbed your neck with a needle. You hadn’t even seen her move, too distracted by pain. “Can’t have you know where we’re going and figure out how to tell that boyfriend of yours,” Agent In-charge said as the shock ended.

The world faded away in a matter of moments, but not before the stab with the needle opened you to the visions. You couldn’t speak the visions you saw, but you saw them clearly enough, though you couldn’t be sure if it was a drugged dream, or a true vision

You saw Loki appear in the parking lot the rendezvous had taken place in. He fought with some of the enhanced with an efficient brutality you had never seen before. You saw most of the group jump into the original van and both vans sped off in opposite directions.

It was only a teleport for him to appear in Jones’ van. It took only a moment for him to realize he’d been tricked, that your locket was there, but you weren’t. He was in the passenger seat of the van, smiling pleasantly at Jones an instant later. “Where have you hidden my darling?” he asked equally pleasantly while he played with one of his daggers. Jones just looked terrified of the pleasantly smiling man beside him. Loki’s pleasantry in this situation was way more frightening than his obvious rage.

“F-Far f-from here,” Jones stuttered. He chomped on something in his mouth and was nearly instantly foaming from the mouth as death took him.

He’d chosen to kill himself rather than let Loki kill him.

It was probably a faster cleaner death.

#Loki #Lover #Imagine #Submitted fic #submission #the sound of silence #nekoamamori #chapter 19

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