#like what happens when two murderous sadists throw themselves at each other. that. that’s what | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shadowworks · 3 years

Text

Compulsion

Pairing: Mafia!Dabi X Reader

Warnings: dubconish themes, flirting with Hawks, blood, murder, blackmail, fingering. NSFW, quirkless AU!

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Alright! This piece is for The Smut Pile Mafia Collab

I have to give my wholehearted thanks to @hisoknen @some-kindofgnome , @pleasantanathema, and @ever-enthralled for reading this over the last couple weeks, and making sure it reads well! I am so happy to have you beautiful souls! Also a special shoutout to Raph for brainstorming with me when I was stuck at the very end. 💕

Edit: This has fanart! Beautiful @maewoahoah created a Mafia!Hawks piece right here and a Mafia!Dabi piece here! She’s very talented! ;)

On this ominous winter evening it begins snowing.

You readjust your peacoat and step through the frosty glow of the street lamp to your front door. Your muscles ache a little more than usual, your steps a little heavier. It’s been a long and tedious day at work; far less stimulating compared to Toga’s position working for a bootlegger named Tomura. But both jobs pay the rent. You push papers and withhold your scowls towards clients. Now, you want a bath.

The sound of a muffled radio plays on the other side, and it floods your ears as you walk in with warmth and an iron smell wafting your chilled nose.

“Folks, I'm goin' down to St. James Infirmary...

Seeeee, my baby there;

She's stretched out on a long, white table

She looks so sweet, so cold, so fair.”

Toga’s playing blues again. It’s a routine she has before the graveyard shift across town. At this time, she’s in the kitchen making something before she goes, but you’re having trouble figuring out what food smells like copper.

“He-e-e-y,” you call lazily, a sing-songy tone in your voice.

She doesn’t answer, though you hear the clacking of stiletto heels on wood, which makes you amble down the hall to see what she’s doing.

“Think you can smuggle some whiskey tonight? I thought we had some, but Keigo probably polished it off last—“

You stop in the doorway.

There’s a poor bastard lying flat on his back, head twisting too far towards the sink. Ribbons of blood streak down his colorless skin, pouring out from a dark and glossy hole just beneath his jaw. You see it puddle and stain the edges of his hair a sticky red, the only sound besides your heart thudding is the soft thrums from the parlor.

“ When I die please bury me in my high top Stetson hat

Put a twenty dollar gold piece on my watch chain

So the gang'll know I died standing pat.”

You’re in a daze, one where you’re not sure how long you’ve been staring. It doesn’t seem real. Is it real? But it’s not until you hear the sound of heels clicking against the wood floors that you drag your gaze to the noise.

Toga’s standing near the stove, her features vacant, shoulders slouched, and she’s holding a knife that’s still wet.

What the fuck?

You want to scream, berate her, seethe what the fuck was she thinking, or if she was thinking for that matter. But the blonde speaks up before you do, with a voice above a whisper.

“He was going to leave me. Said he was too dangerous.” Toga doesn’t look in your direction, moving to the rim of pooled blood which has stopped spreading out, “I told him I wouldn’t let anyone come between us, but he wouldn’t listen.”

Your jaw goes taut, staring incredulously at her steely face. The lack of emotion gives you a sinking feeling in your stomach.

The man wasn’t a random suit who bled out on your floor, this moron was seeing Toga on and off for months and had been trying to be more present.

Nights spent arriving at your door with flowers and sweets, and driving her to work was becoming a staple in his routine. He preferred staying in Toga’s room if they had the day off, and he always slipped out when the morning frost dusted the grass, a soft bluish hue painting the streets before sunlight.

But that’s not the problem. See, he was a core member inside the Mafia running the northern side of the city, ‘The League’ they like to call themselves. The only men above this guy was his boss Tomura, and the underboss Dabi. You don’t know the former, but you’ve spent time with the latter.

You’re aware of his sadistic nature that flashes behind those teal eyes, and he doesn’t try to hide it, either. The sideway glances during a poker match before he fucked someone over , the smile he wore when you asked about the purple bruises on his knuckles.

So fan-fucking-tastic, the broad has some nerve.

You curl your lip, already shrugging your shoulders from your coat. You toss it over the table and start rolling up your sleeves to the elbows.

Toga finally turns towards you after catching movement by her side, brows raising confused, “What are you doing?”

“You’re gonna grab his feet and we’re gonna move him onto the rug in the hall.”

You step in the blood, grabbing him by the rusty black colored jacket and dragging him from the puddle. Of course it leaves drag marks, your heels making tracks alongside, but you can deal with the clean up later.

Toga hurries over to help, carrying him by the legs and letting you guide the body to the floral rug.

“You don’t want to know what happened?”

You stop. Immediately dropping the dead weight, his blond head lolls off to the side. Your palms sheen with red, but you straighten up and push a beach curl from your cheekbone with the back of your hand.

“Not really. All I want is this fucker out of my house.”

It’s her turn to stare at you incredulously. This is completely out of nowhere for you to be assisting in hiding a dead boyfriend, even if you two are roommates. You’ve only been living together for four months now.

“Toga, I need you to listen, okay?” you say, a bit mockingly, “I can look past the murdering business by pretending you acted in self defense, but if you don’t have the goddamn brains to realize this idiot has friends, then I suggest you don’t stab people!”

Toga flinches slightly at the lilted pitch in your voice, already suggesting panicky, “We can take him to the woods and hide him there?”

“That’ll work.” You don’t think Twice about it.

Working together, you both hoist him a couple feet onto the rug, refusing to look at his face. You didn’t need to be feeling a pang of guilt. It doesn’t take long for you to roll him towards the front door, as the material wraps around his figure.

The hardest part is retreating to the car. The moment you push through the door, you see the distance from where you stand and the car parked a little down the sloping street. You both give a hard look to the powdery snow dusting the ground, quiet and enchanting. It would be beautiful...had you not been carrying a corpse.

“Stop being a little bitch and heave!”

“I can’t! You’re making me hold all the weight!”

“He’s off the ground! How the fuck are you holding all the weight?”

“But my arms hurt!”

“Fucking hell, Toga. What if I had stayed at my sister’s tonight? What then?”

“Stop yelling at me! I get it, alright? I shouldn’t have done it in the house!”

Your bickering toils through the winds, muffled by the falling snow. The burst of cold air is running through your buttoned blouse while crossing to the 1929 Chevrolet causing a shiver to roll down your back. When you reach the car Toga plops the rug down onto the snow first, then you. Your wet fingers feel numb against the metal handle.

There’s one entrance on each side, which likely will make shimming the body to the backseat much harder. You pause, looking at the front in thought.

“I’ll go first,” you say, “when he’s in, you go and grab our coats.”

“Are we burying him?”

“Think the lake’s faster.”

“What if it’s icy? They’ll see the hole if we throw him in.”

You both ponder your options for a little while, this isn’t exactly something you’ve done before...You can’t say the same for Toga, but she seems just as puzzled, almost clueless on how to get rid of her ex.

Meanwhile, the rolled corpse behind you starts to slip downhill, little by little. The slanting street gives speed and the rug starts to roll.. Red droplets trail behind in its wake.

You just happen to see it first.

“Toga—Toga, the body! The body!”

Toga cries out, taking off after the rug as best she can on a frozen sheet. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The graceful snowfall flutters with pain and chaos.

Toga skids against the fresh ice, feet stumbling under her navy blue dress. She falls to the ground with a hard thud, and you see she isn’t stopping. She keeps going alongside the body, sliding until the two disappear under another parked car.

You don’t have time to think, a chill strikes up your spine in your panic.

“Toga!” you call out, taking off after her. Unfortunately you find yourself abruptly on your back, pounding hard on the stones and stealing the breath from your lungs.

If you could sigh right now you would. Or rather, if you could punch Toga right now you would, as rage twists with a throbbing pain in your chest. Was all this worth having a mobster roommate? The odds were piling against her. You have a mind to push her in the lake when you get there.

Several silent minutes go by with you staring up at the cloudy sky. It’s brighter from the illuminating white snow, and despite the icy powder prickling your flesh, you have no choice but to wait for the ache in your chest to fade.

“Enjoying the view?”

You hear a new voice, male, and the suave tone tells you who it is before he treads near. He looks over you with half lidded eyes of honey gold.

He’s very pretty. The drifting snow flakes above his wheat coloured head manage to enhance this, though the uplifted eyes lined in black, and nicely sharp features are the last thing you want to see. You’re nowhere near ready to start lying out of Toga’s mess.

“That can’t be too comfy down there,” Keigo says, bending forward with an outstretched hand,“C’mon, upsy-daisy.”

You take his hand, feeling another leather glove hold your waist and lift you onto your feet. When you settle, he starts brushing the caked snow off your back. Mobster or not, he’s at least a gentleman.

“You alright?” he asks, giving you a once over for any fresh scratches.

You give a slow nod, crossing your arms over your chest. Fear’s got the better of you, and you look anywhere but him., “What are you doing here? I thought you were working tonight.”

“Oh I am! You could say I’m on patrol, need to pick up a few things.”

Your gaze stills to your left, heart skipping. Keigo’s not alone. Standing nearby, a slim figure dressed in black from head to toe is watching you two lazily. A thread of smoke seeps from his parted lips, clouding a handsome face and spikes of black hair. Keigo keeps talking, but you can’t take your eyes off the ghostly presence you know to be Dabi.

“Unfortunately that includes loverboy. He was supposed to be back hours ago, but we figured he’s still fooling around,” a little smirk tugs at his mouth, suggestively “He’s still inside, right?”

You blink, turning back to face Keigo, “I wouldn’t know, I just got home,” you lie.

“Look at you! You look like you’re about to freeze to death.” He starts suddenly, swiftly slipping his arms out from his heavy coat, revealing a black three piece with pinstripes, and a brighter crimson tie. In one smooth motion he twirls the long, beige coat over your shoulders, letting it rest over your figure.

“Thank you,” you say, before your eyes catch something.

Dabi moves towards the clumsy skid marks, head tilting down to the red dots in the snow near his polished shoe. You stiffen.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Your gaze flashes from Dabi’s retreating back to a politely smiling Keigo, “Yeah, I’m fine! I’m really cold is all.”

“Well, we should get you inside. You know you left your door wide open?” Shit, the door. You forgot about the stupid door—

(Dabi looms across the indents in the snow and follows down the hill like a dark shadow against crystals illuminating bright.)

“Ah yeah, I thought I left my purse in the car. It was just for a second, and then I slipped,” You force a smile. Relax. You need to relax. Keigo doesn’t seem convinced, reading something off in your features.

“Is that right?”

(He gets the edge of the old Ford, and notes the specks of red soak wider here. The spots lead underneath.)

“I know, it’s pretty foolish. It’s um...It’s a good thing you showed up when you did, or...”

Your eyes drift over Keigo’s shoulder. The underboss starts to crouch low. Your pupils shrink, a new wave of panic tingles the back of your neck. Damn him, why was he so clever?

“Dabi, wait!” you shout, pushing past Keigo’s shoulder. In your hurry you kick up the snowy crystals, rushing to the taller mobster in his long obsidian coat. Dabi quickly turns, standing up.tall before you hook onto his upper arm like a lover. “I saw an animal go under there that looked hurt. You shouldn’t mess with it.”

A smirk that breaks into a grin spreads on his face, a look of amusement blooming from your look of fright. You want to glare at him, though that could be dangerous. Why does he like seeing you scared?

“An animal, you say?” he parrots back, adopting the same mocking pitch you gave Toga earlier. He’s not in the least bit on edge, and you really don’t like that. He flicks his teal eyes up to look behind you just then, “Good thing I have the city’s best exterminator right here.”

As if on cue, you hear the crunching boots of Keigo walking to the car. “Give me a break with the dirty work, will ya?”

“What, scared of a little pest?” Dabi taunts back coolly.

“I’m not too fond of getting my knees wet, actually,” Keigo returns quite dryly, sharp eyes studying the long pattern marks. He places his gloved hands on his thighs and drops himself to a crouch in front of the vehicle.

You desperately hope Toga proves you wrong. Maybe she had the common sense to bail while no one was looking. It’s all you can do at this point, while Keigo dips his head underneath. You don’t realize, but your grip on Dabi’s arm presses tighter into the wool.

Keigo inspects below for a moment. There’s a long pause like a winter evening should be. Silent. Calming. You can almost believe in the soothing little lie. Then Keigo coughs a laugh that echoes through the street. Bursts of manic giggles grow louder from the mobster, leaving you tilting your head at his pushed back hair, confused.

“There’s a pest, alright! I think I caught something—“

Keigo reaches under, and with an impressively strong yank, Toga’s head pops out in a doe eyed stare. Her arms are wrapped around a bundled rug with a fairly familiar head sticking out.

“Hey there, Toga!” Keigo exclaims, “When did you become a rat?”

Dabi tips his head down, drawing the lit cigarette back to his lazy smile. He’s shockingly calm which does nothing to ease your shivering panic. Toga however, seems fine. In fact, she’s moved on to livelier feelings.

“Hey! Does it look like a rat could’ve done this?!” she snaps, shaking the body in her arms. It bangs against the bottom of the car sending loud echoes through the nearly empty street. Specks of blood dribble on the white ground, and a couple more drops spray her cheeks.

You stare up at the clouds, rolling your eyes. Goddamnit Toga.

“Yeah, I guess a rat can’t hold a knife, huh? Ya got me there.” Keigo turns and beams you a smug look, eyes half lidded in an expression that reads, nice try, but you failed.

You scrunch your nose, quietly shooting him back a glare. Asshole might’ve caught you both red handed, but he didn’t have to be so fucking cocky about it. It’s only charming when he has a winning hand at cards. Beside you, Dabi’s shoulders shake with silent laughter, though you don’t have the guts to flash him the same glower. He is second in command after all.

“Yeah, see? That’s what I thought!” Toga says in victory.

You blink very, very slowly at Toga when she finally meets your vastly unamused gaze,“...Nice work, Toga.”

It comes suddenly. A fiery warmth ghosts the dip in your waist as Dabi leans in. It’s not unwelcomed, raw and soothing even, but it hardly lasts. His hand curls around Keigo’s coat collar and pulls it off your shoulders. The crisp wind rushes to your exposed arms.

“You got any rat poison on you, Hawks?” Dabi tosses the coat to Keigo.

He catches it mid air as he rises to stand. “Nah, fresh out. But we have some back at the house.”

“You want to take care of our rat problem then?”

“Can do, boss man.”

Before you can figure out what they mean–what they have planned for Toga–Dabi’s pristine leather glove presses at the small of your back and directs you toward the pouring light of the open door. “Don’t wait up.”

It’s barely there, but as you shift your eyes to Keigo, his features take on a darkened look toward Dabi.

“Play nice, now,” you hear Keigo say. This time though, the joyous tone is gone.

A new song hums on the radio when you’re pushed through the threshold, you listen to the richly solemn blues as Dabi closes the door. He turns the lock with a click and pockets the key.

“I forgive you

'Cause I can't forget you.

You've got me in between the devil and the deep blue sea”

He doesn’t give you a passing glance, instead he turns and strolls down the freshly bare hall. He hasn’t removed his coat, and each room he passes he tilts his head in to search for something, stopping by the parlor. With a twist of a knob, he shuts off the radio.

“Where’d she ice him?” he asks, still not looking at you by the stairwell.

“In the kitchen.” You return. No point in hiding it now.

His steps creak the wood as he ambles further down, knowing full well where to go. He’s been here a handful of times; of course, those were happier evenings filled with drunken laughs.

You watch him stand by the doorway, staring at the vibrant mess of a crime scene. He pops the tip of his cigarette in his mouth before slipping from your line of sight. Dabi’s got the key to the door, so it’s not like you can run away—especially with Keigo just outside. It’s too risky to try and you know it, but it does cross your mind.

Summing up the courage, you decide to follow Dabi with measured steps, “What are you going to do with Toga?”

When you face the kitchen, Dabi’s near the table where you threw your coat. He has a hand in one of your pockets, and he’s fishing for something inside. It jingles in his grip as he stuffs it into his own pocket. Your car keys.

“Are you going to kill her?” you try again, a little irked he’s swiping your things left and right. He doesn’t release your coat either, laying it over the crook of his elbow.

He draws a final inhale from the dying bud, and crosses to the sink to snuff it out. An exhale of smoke blows out from his lips, “Killing her seems like a favor, don’t you think?”

“I thought it was the other way around.”

He turns, flicking teal eyes sheening with energy at you, “That lunatic’s no longer your concern. Right now, you ought to be more worried about yourself.”

Your features go taut, which in turn makes Dabi’s sadistic smirk return.

“I didn’t help her kill him.”

“No,” he agrees, taking a few strides around the blood to approach you,“but you were willing to stash the stiff.”

“Yeah, for this very reason. I didn’t want you coming after me!”

Dabi draws dangerously close, mere inches apart as he glances down with lidded eyes, the smell of tobacco perfumes from his shirt collar nestled under a violet tie. He crooks his index finger, embellished with a silver ring, ghosting it under your chin. “How’d that turn out for you, babydoll?”

With a ruthless smile, he breaks the fixed stare and rounds you to the hallway. He seems to be making his way towards the parlor again, but the swish of your peacoat in his arm, set you off.

How dare he? You don’t like how he’s walked inside, claiming what’s yours. You might have your life screwed over, but at the very least you want your coat back as some semblance of control.

You stalk after him, picking up pace to aim for his arm. The clacks of your heels are loud, but you currently couldn’t care less about being sneaky, “Give it fucking back. You’re not keeping that!”

You lunge for the black wool, but as your fingers brush the material on his left elbow, Dabi whips the coat, rotating arms. You’re not fast enough, but you try a second reach for his right arm, huffing out a growl at his stealthy reflexes.

“Dabi, I’m serious! You’re such a—”

In a twirling motion his newly free palm shoves at your shoulder, pinning you against the stairwell’s wall. He’s close, so close, the blue flames in his eyes are absurdly intense.

“That makes two of us. You’ll get this back when I say so.”

His voice is low, soft lips almost connecting to yours. You tilt your chin up, glaring at him with fearful, tentative eyes. His gaze flashes with mirth, and he huffs a small laugh at you.

“I’ve always liked this about you. That spark inside you.” He muses. The peacoat spills to the floor. Dabi lifts his slender fingers, pushing back a loose curl from your cheek.

Your stomach flips, as shocks tickle your skin. There’s been subtle flirting between you two before. You just wrote it off as overthinking the moment. Even though he only called you, babydoll, and he sat next to you at gatherings. How he filled your glass with water instead of booze as the nights waned. Now, you feel foolish for denying the little signs.

“You have a horrible way of showing girls you like ‘em,” you counter back, your voice’s quiet but leveled.

“Yeah?” he asks. The arm holding your shoulder tightens, while the other lowers to collect your long skirt. He traces his knuckles on the soft flesh of your thigh. As his hand trails up, his eyes remain fixed on your facial features. “Maybe this will help.”

His slim fingers reach the cotton slip, and it’s easy to pull off to the side, exposing the lips of your warmth. He tests the waters, sweeping the tips of his fingers across your folds. Your mouth parts in a breathless hitch in your throat. Dabi parts his own lips drawing near, ‘til his lips touch yours but not quite pressing together yet. His pierced nose bumps yours.

“Now here’s what’s going to happen,” he starts, just before sinking two fingers between your folds, pumping deep and slow inside. “You’ll go upstairs and pack what you need. When you come down—”

He thrusts particularly hard into you, sending a gasping moan to fall from your open mouth. His voice remains calm, a hint of glee can be detected. Fucking bastard.

“—You’ll be leaving with me. You’ll work for me...Live with me…And you’ll do everything I say. You got it, babydoll?”

He adds a third finger, soaking his knuckles deep with your slick. He’s hitting the right spots, the perfectly deep pressure. Your attention turns hazy as wakes of pleasure tighten just below your stomach. Your hips buck against his thrusting hand, yet still, you manage to nod your head.

Moans flutter from your lips and vibrate onto his smiling one. To heighten the pleasure he begins swirling your wet clit. “Ah, Dabi...Oh god, Dabi—”

He slows his fingers suddenly, which makes you cry out. He pretends to ignore it. “If you try to escape me...I will hunt you down and hurt you in ways that will marr that pretty skin of yours. I’ll make you scream so loud, and no one will be there to save you. Tell me you understand.”

He curls his knuckles, pressing into a rough spot at the top, pumping fiercely against your slippery, muscular walls. You cry out, squeezing at his shirt collar and coat. “Fuck—I understand, I understand! Baby, right there, ah!”

Dabi gives you no mercy. He tugs and twirls the bud of sensitive nerves, swirling with driven circles that clench your walls in wonderous pressure. You’re close, he’s so close to sending you in high bliss. Your moans get heavier, and your clenching more and more and—

He removes his fingers. Another cry of protest sobs from your mouth only to be swallowed by Dabi’s lips on yours. His tongue massages the moans from your breath, his scent of cigarettes and smoke immerse your senses as you drown in the kiss.

He slowly breaks apart with a wet sound, looking deeply in your lust-glossed eyes. His voice is low and arousingly husky. “Now get your things.”

Before you know it, Dabi pulls away from your shoulders, and turns for the parlor. You try catching your breath, watching his slim, muscular back...Did that happen? Did he rob you of everything? Your home, your life, your orgasm?

Eventually, with light steps you do as you’re told, and turn to climb up the stairs. What choice do you have? He has your life in the palm of his hand. And right before you make it to the top, your hand drawn on the railing, the spinning clicks of your house phone perk your ear.

A long pause. Then finally, Dabi’s rich voice speaks up from the parlor,

“Hey, I’ll be needing a few guys at Togas...Yeah, we found him….Toga did him in pretty good...No, we’ll need the good bleach for cleanup.”

***

P.S, this might be a mini series 👀

#dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #dabi #touya todoroki #my hero academia fanfiction #boku no hero academia fanfics #mafia!dabi #tw blackmail #tw blood #keigo takami #bnha x reader #the smut pile #tw dubcon #shadow tales

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sweetpxxches · 3 years

Text

The little things in Nevada matter most. (Ch. 1)

Hank/Sanford/Deimos/Reader Fic, baby.

This fic has chapters, so this is the first one! I will link the new chapters as ones go by.

Warnings will be listed here as chapters are made, as of now, Chapter 1 contains:

- Alcohol

- Mild mentions of gore

- Fluff

This chapter’s just the beginning of finding each other out. This is a lot so heck yeah!

Reader is AFAB and uses gender neutral pronouns. (they/them) ^-^

Chapter list: 1 - ?

It was an early evening in Nevada, you missed the sounds of crickets chirping in the night. But due to the events that happened in this place, there is lack of life that surrounds it. All that is left are demons, clowns, sheriffs, and all that utter nonsense that you question how badly this had to be for a state to become it's new circle of Hell. But at that point, it wasn't really worth thinking too hard on. You instead just think about how at least thankful life was to you to give you friends so your life isn't too lonely. Without Hank, Deimos, Sanford, and 2BDamned, life would of been miserable. Despite what they're here for, the red and black tints of the skies seem blue to you. You were sitting on the edge of a bridge, kicking your legs as you took a sip out of soda can, letting the wind blow passed your hair. But you felt the ground rumble and you swiftly got up to face where it was coming from, and you saw the three familiar figures in a truck. With a sigh of relief, you waved at them and they drove by to you. Sanford poked out at the back of the truck, waving. "Hey, Mercenary! We're heading out to look for some bars around here, you up for that?" You shrugged it off, chugging down the rest of your drink and tossing the can over the bridge. "Sure, why not? Not like I got much better to do. Place has been extra quiet since we've bombed one of those factories earlier." You saw Deimos reached out to you, and you grabbed his arm as he tugged you up between you and Sanford. "Welcome aboard, then!" Deimos laughed, patting your shoulder. You smiled at the two, getting yourself comfortable. You turned your head over to Hank, who looked back and nodded. "Glad to see you in one piece, Merc." He said as he started the engine and began driving off. "Good to see you didn't die again either, Hank." You joked, leaning back. It was almost like things were back to normal, the aura of happiness and the cheerful conversations filled your heart with a sense of serenity. It is a rare occasion just to feel the serenity of friendship. Then again, if you could even consider this as friendship. These three made your heart confused, and so your mind. The more you thought about it, the more it felt like you had decisions to make on the long end. Sanford was the gentle yet mature one in the bunch, his body may be brawns but he was also brains. He didn't take jokes a lot, but sometimes he does choose to have fun with others whenever he can, as well as how caring he is for the group. Sometimes you wonder if he's secretly a major softie who would own rabbits for a living. Then there was Deimos, a cunning and suave guy who most would consider a 'bastard' for how he behaves. Always has a cigarette between his teeth as well as a smug demeanor. You couldn't help but smirk at the times of Deimos trying to show off to you a few times when you first joined the crew, and Hank always telling him to keep his pants on. The one time Deimos even attempted went to failure due to him flexing while trying to shoot with one hand, but his hand got blasted off from a heavy bullet blow, making him shriek and fall over. Although cruel, you laughed at his awful attempt at playing Chad. But despite it all, you still care for the goof. Then there was Hank. Quiet, down to business, but has a rather sadistic side of him. You could say he comes off cold, but there are moments in time where he shows a glint of emotion, most of the time when his bloodlust meets a 'sugar high' to the point he can't control it anymore and lets loose his inner need of murder. You find it intimidating, but also fascinating to see how far he can go. Of course most of the time it leads to him getting brutally killed, but somehow a few days later he always ends up coming back... You remember the first time you saw him get destroyed, a large MAG Agent managed to grab him by the head and ripped him apart, and it made you shriek out to him before Sanford dragged you out the room. But it was days later, you saw him come back as if none of that happened, and you just assumed that's how it will always be when Hank dies. And to no one's surprise, you were right. At that point, you began to care less about him getting killed, sometimes you use his body as a shield whenever he's fallen. Makes you wonder if Hank is even human at all, and is linked to some weird spiritual thing. But those were thoughts to keep to yourself, otherwise it'd make the room awkward, especially to Hank.

Despite it all, these three had their own stories and personalities to show, and you love all three of them.

You dazed off from the conversation between Sanford and Deimos, until you heard Deimos say your name. You blinked awake, looking over. "Huh?" "Hey, the ride's over, we found a place to hang out." Deimos got up and bounced off the truck, reaching over to you. You smiled down at him and jumped right into his arms, leading him to twirl you around and settle you down, making you chuckle. Sanford followed along, stretching his arms out. "Seems like this place is a ghost town right now, wonder why." "We're why, Sanford." Hank retorted, stepping out the truck as he placed two guns in his pocket, in case of anything. "Grunts and agents won't fuck with us, now imagine them fucking with us drunk." He scoffed, walking passed the three of you. You placed your hands behind you back, shrugging. "Oh well, let's hope there's drinks at least." The four of you made way into the bar, a bartender was cleaning an empty glass only to spot the four of you, immediately freezing up in fear. "S-Shit! It's you guys again!" The bartender stood back, keeping a tight grip on the glass in hand, but Hank slammed a hand down on the bar table. "Give us drinks, old man. Or it'll be big time for you." Hank ordered, and without hesitation from the man behind the bar, he simply did as he was told, although shaking in fear from the fact all for of you were present. You eyed him carefully, but sat on a stool twirling around it. "I swear, it gets too boring too quick whenever we have days off." Deimos sighed, sitting on a stool next to you. "You're telling me, this place tends to get quiet quick whenever it doesn't get busy. You think those AAHW Agents are planning something big?" Sanford asked, and saw Hank lean against the table, shrugging. "Hope so. If they're just gonna throw more grunts at our way, I'll consider that a big fuck you from them." He huffed, rolling his shoulder. You leaned on the table. "I dunno, if they retreated this long, it's gotta be something good!" Sanford chuckled, nodding off the statement. "Maybe, maybe... hey, I got an idea, let's all drink 'til something happens!" "Like alcohol poisoning?" You raised a brow at Sanford, and Deimos chuckled under his breath. "Right, right, I'm just saying it's our night, so let's make it worth while." The bartender slid down a few shots for the crew, Sanford took one shot with a quick swig, and raised the empty glass. "Come on, now! Let's do it!" Deimos looked at you and Hank, and the three of you shrugged it off and raised a glass to join with Sanford.

What felt like hours that were only minutes, Hank, Sanford, Deimos, and yourself decided to be reckless. Sanford was a strong one, taking the shots like they were water, while Deimos was making his way to getting on Sanford's level, as for Hank, it was hard to tell if the alcohol hit him at all. But unfortunately, out of this bunch, you were the weakest to alcohol, your mind was buzzing on your eighth shot, seeing the three mercenaries become six, or is it seven? You couldn't tell. But you snapped away when you felt Deimos tugging you over for some kind of sluggish dance. "C'mon, Mercenary! Let's fuck around for a while, will ya?!" He chirped, and you made a groggy 'wait no' as he pulled you around all playful, laughing his ass off. Deep down, you can't wait to kick this guy's ass once things die low. But as of now, everyone was getting tipsy, and who knows what nonsense they'll pull. The only thing you're hoping is Hank won't pull out a gun and shoot around like an idiot. Deep down, you feel like he'll do that. "Deimos, let go of me you idiot!" You shouted over his goofy laughter, but he ended up slipping off and having you two fall on the ground. Hank shook his head, sighing at the sight. "You two shouldn't have alcohol." He snorted, looking over to Sanford who was growing just as buzzed as the other two. It felt like he had to babysit you three, but Hank was personally enjoying the sight of his mercenaries being themselves with no consequences. After a few hours, the rest of the group was smashed. You couldn't tell who you were clinging on, but they were struggling to keep you in their arms. "Shit, what time is it? Is there a place to even hide?" Deimos slurred, wiping alcohol off his mouth. It seems the bartender made his way out before they could even ask for more, which made Deimos growl in frustration. "Dammit! That asshole ditched us!" He raised a fist, but Sanford held his shoulder. "Relax, soldier. We're done for the night. I'm fucking wasted!" He snorted, keeping a firm hold onto you. You looked up at Sanford, noticing you were facing his bare chest, making your eyes widen and have your cheeks flare up.

“Uh...” You blinked.

“Yeah, Merc?” Sanford looked down, noticing your expression. “Shit- you good? You look sick.” He stumbled up and settled you on the table, but you just seem dazed at how nice his body is. Or maybe that’s the alcohol speaking. Unfocused, you grabbed Sanford and Deimos by the shoulders for support. “Maybe we should head back to the hideout we had last time, hardly anyone... goes there.” You paused and blinked at the floor, seeing your feet stumbling. Hank seemed to be the only one capable of keeping his composure, though not really attempting to give anyone a hand at all. “You know what, since I’m not the one who’s fucked up here, I’ll drive everyone back. I figured you three wouldn’t control yourselves, not like I’d be surprised about it.” Hank left out the door, leaving the rest of you to struggle along the way. It was like a difficult obstacle in stepping from point A to point B, Deimos and Sanford pulling you around for support as you all waddled your way to the truck. It was a blur the moment you slumped into the back of the truck, the only thing you could feel was your brain growing an immense fatigue as well as someone keeping your body up. The moment you passed out, you could only feel the nausea upcoming.

When you woke up, you were welcomed to a face between the bare chest of Sanford, which made you immediately bounce off. But the moment you did, your head pulsed in a sense of pain and confusion, making you hiss under your breath, gripping your forehead. “Son of a bitch...” You muttered, but you saw that Sanford and Deimos were still asleep. Despite them being out cold, you really didn’t expect to have Sanford allowing you to get that handsy with him. Or maybe he wanted you to be comfortable... then again, those were comfortable. But the thoughts went away quick when you felt your head spin, stomach ready to hurl. You went over the edge of the truck, throwing up the excess of what was left in your stomach, the hangover lighting up slightly from the release. You looked over to the edge ahead, seeing a familiar building. It seems that Hank managed to drive everyone home. You really couldn’t help but be thankful that Hank was at least caring enough to drag everyone back. Where Hank was is nowhere to be found, but you can assume he must of went inside without you and the other two. You looked over at Sanford and Deimos, you’re sure they’ll be fine on their own, no one comes here nor interferes in this area. Sluggishly, you rolled out over the edge of the truck, hopping off with a simple thud to the ground. As you dusted off and made way inside, you saw Hank just hanging out on the couch, head held back with a cigarette in his mouth.

You always found it adorable how he is in his most calm state, you sometimes wish he was like this more often. Though unfortunately, he’s the least likely to contain himself. You could tell he’s still awake, because the moment you shut the door, he spoke. “You’ve finally managed to get up. Head still hurtin’?” You turned over to him, seeing he’s still lazy about. “Yeah, but I’ll get over it. Sanford and Deimos haven’t gotten up yet, but hey, I’m here.” You walked over and sat on a seat beside him, patting his head which only made him grunt at your brave actions. “Remind me to tell you guys when you have one too many, you guys were drinking for hours.” Hank sighed, pulling the cigarette out his mouth, letting the smoke pass his nostrils. “Sorry, I didn’t even catch the time when we even started. Sanford shouldn’t of challenged us... then again, you won anyway.”

“That’s because I didn’t overdo it. Sanford tends to have too much fun on his free time.” Hank shrugged, “Besides, if I joined in the nonsense no one would be able to take anyone back home. I ain’t risking to crash into a building drunk, won’t be too fun missing my shots.” You could only chuckle, watching him wave his hands about. He wasn’t expressive in face, but his hands were. You wondered if it was a good idea to kill time with him if you would just...

“Hey, Mercenary.” Hank spoke up. “Oh! Yeah?” You blinked back out of thought, looking at him. “I was wondering... couldn’t help but notice how it was kind of cute to see you try and cling onto me earlier when you were drunk.” Your eyes widened in embarrassment, looking away immediately. “G-God! Are you serious?! Fuck I’m sorry, Hank- I really didn’t mean to-” “It’s fine, dear.” Hank waved it off, you can tell there’s a smirk under there. “In fact I didn’t mind you getting handsy.” You puffed your cheeks at him, then giving him a hit in the head, making his shoot up immediately. “Ow- hey!” Hank huffed, rubbing his head. “Bad enough I got my head kicked in everywhere!” You crossed your arms, feeling your cheeks warm from the flustered reaction. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I just don’t like it when you make a fool out of me, you always do that with everyone.” He looked at you, tilting his head lightly. “Now you know it’s not me trying to be a dick to you, Mercenary. I just do it because I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind me teasing you.” It took a moment, then you realized the way he worded it. You said he does it to everyone in the group, so does that mean he does it to ease everyone because he likes them? You blinked, looking at Hank. “Wait, you mean just me, or?”

“I mean everyone, you think I don’t bother Deimos and Sanford?” Hank continued for you, crossing his arms. It seems like dots are being made here, and you weren’t sure how to feel about it. Does he like the three of you the way you like them in return? It made you wonder. But you didn’t want to invade Hank’s personal stuff, you felt like he wasn’t aware of his own emotions. “Huh... Well, I guess I feel a little better about it now. Don’t know what you get out of it, though.” Hank looked over to you when you spoken that, and he looked back at the window, putting his cigarette out on his arm. “Honestly? Don’t know myself either, but it makes me feel a little better knowing it makes you guys get a kick out of my words, hahah.”

You couldn’t help but smile at him, maybe he is feeling for certain things he wasn’t aware yet. And honestly, you want to help connect these dots for not only himself, but for everyone else. Maybe there is a spark that needs to be set alight, just unsure where to start. But as of now, you just want to enjoy the silence that remains in the room, closing your eyes as you smelled the remaining smoke in the room from Hank’s cigarette.

Maybe this little break for the group isn’t so bad.

#Four Way Shipping is pain actually #HRUHGUTHG #fanfiction #fluff #sfw #alcohol mention #hank wimbleton #sanford #deimos #x reader #hank/deimos/sanford/reader #lord have mercy on me for this set #madness combat x reader #madness combat

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ahopelessromantic · 4 years

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31% ➳ S. Reid

Pairing: Spencer x neutral! Reader (if I missed something please tell me!)

Word count: 2,4k

Warnings: Suggestive content, Spencer and reader really have the hots for each other

The nature of your friendship with Reid has been flirtatious from the start. So flirtatious that the team thinks it’s all a joke... right? (A/N: Please don’t ask me what this is. I wrote this in one sitting while suffering from PMS, I don’t even know anymore.)

“Look at that walk.” Morgan chuckled to Emily for everyone but especially you to hear. You rolled your eyes, yet couldn’t help the smug grin on your face. Like girls in high school ready to hear the newest gossip your two colleagues and closest friends leaned over your desk. “You, sweetie, got laid.” You let out a happy sigh and leaned back in your chair. Last time you had been this relaxed had been… god, you couldn’t even remember it.

“What’s their name?” Emily grinned, stealing a sip of coffee from your mug. “And do they have a brother? Sister? Cousin?” You lifted your brow. “A respectable, decent human being like me doesn’t kiss and tell. But it’s a he. And he’s all mine.” Both Morgan and Emily lifted their eyebrows in surprise. “(Y/N)? Getting territorial? We love to see it.” Morgan teased. You squinted at him. “You know what? I loved flaunting my post-coital bliss in front of you, but quite frankly I’m starting to feel attacked now, so I’ll go hang out with Garcia.” Emily feigned a pout. “Come on! At least give us some details!” You just winked at her after getting up from your seat and disappeared down the hallway. On the way to Penelope’s office, you didn’t miss Spencer’s searing hot look on you, a hint of the same smug smile on his lips that had been on yours when you had entered the BAU this morning.

“(Y/N), this is bad. We’re breaking at least three policies just by being here together right now. Also, relationships between colleagues are rarely a good idea.” You chuckled and pressed another kiss to Spencer’s neck. “Then why does it feel so good, Spence? And, actually, workplace hookups are way more common thank you think. About 31% of them even end up in marriage.” “Are you using my own weapons against me right now? That’s hot.” He murmured and pulled you further into his lap. You looked down into his eyes, your gaze dropping to his lips momentarily before wandering back up again. There was just something about him that made you feel like you were on fire, as if an electric current ran between the two of you. You bit your lip and played with his tie. “You have to know how I feel whenever you’re spitting your facts at least once, too.” Your eyes met again, and then your lips were on his.

Spencer and you had gotten along like a house on fire from the day you had joined the BAU. Somehow the two of you had clicked right into place after just a short period of Spencer warming up to you. Before anyone could even tell what was happening you had become the team’s new dynamic duo. Your sharp wit matched his, and what he was too shy to say you spat right out. And that everlasting tension between you had been there from the beginning, too. It had almost cost you your sanity, the way the air in a room would change as soon as Spencer was in it, the way his mere presence made you want to either pounce on him or rip your lashes out. For a while, it had been enough to just bury that attraction where everyone could see it, in plain sight beneath heaps and heaps of slightly inappropriate flirting. Spencer would blurt out how your new heels gave you just the right height to make out with him, you would blurt out how you would like to see him in his glasses and nothing else. Everyone had taken your remarks as jokes, and you had always laughed with them. But there had never been anything funny about the shocks of electricity jolting through your fingers whenever your hands accidentally met or about the warmth seeping through you whenever you slept propped up against each other on the jet. All that tension had unloaded one day after an unusually hard case. Spencer and you had been taken hostage by an Unsub on a psychotic break, and it had only been due to luck and good timing that you had made it out alive. After debriefing, you had found yourself in an abandoned hallway of whatever precinct you had been in, and then your eyes had met. The look in them had been the same. Slightly frazzled, pupils still widened from the adrenaline pumping through your veins. You had both been so high on the incredibleness of still being alive that suddenly, you had decided to just fucking do what your body had been telling you to do for so long already. “I think I’m going to kiss you now.” You had breathed out, barely audible. Spencer had leaned against the wall behind him and lifted his chin as if he had been daring you to do it. “Okay.” He had whispered back. And then your lips had met in what you could swear had been the best kiss of your life. Your hands had tangled themselves in his hair as if they had been supposed to be there all along, and his hands had fit in the groove of your waist as if they had been made for it. Maybe you had both been made for each other.

“It looks like the unsub is citing the karma sutra.” JJ’s gaze wandered over the book excerpts up on the case board. “A sexual sadist maybe?” Spencer shook his head almost excitedly, a familiar gleam in his eyes which he got whenever a case was particularly interesting to him. “See, that’s the interesting part. 80% of the karma sutra is actually just love-related philosophy and how to sustain desire. There is no sexual component to his murders, so I think he might either be trying to throw us off or create some sort of bizarre scavenger hunt.” While chewing on one of the fries Emily had brought you all for dinner you let your eyes wander over the pictures of sex positions and quotations on the board, then to the copy of the book lying right in front of Spencer on the table. “Well, it’s definitely an interesting choice to make for a book. Spence, you’ll keep it memorised for later, right?” You spoke, mostly out of habit. Spencer winked at you in response and Morgan choked on his burger. “There’s people eating here!” He spluttered out, pointing at Hotch, who looked like he wanted to die, and Rossi, who was watching the scene unfold with an amused smile on his face. All he was missing was a bucket of popcorn to match the level of detachment he was displaying. Prentiss just laughed and turned her attention to you. “(Y/N), does your boyfriend know about your workplace flirting buddy?” She knew exactly what she was doing, a mischievous glint in her eyes. You felt your face fall for the split of a second but immediately regained your composure. “Nice try, honey. I’m still not telling you about him. Also, for what it’s worth, he’s not the jealous type. So he doesn’t mind.” You deliberately avoided Spencer’s gaze, praying to whichever deities out there that you weren’t blushing.

Later that evening, back in your apartment, you could tell that something was on Spencer’s mind. He had taken some paperwork home that, under normal circumstances, wouldn’t have taken him longer than an hour. But it had been two and a half hours already, and the subconscious mumbling he only did when he was extremely anxious set you off. “Spence, baby, are you okay?” You had been his roommate for long enough to know that he needed someone to be there in moments like these. The two of you sharing an apartment had been a decision for practicality’s sake more than anything. You had slept over at each other’s apartments half of the time before that anyway, and this way, you were even able to save up some more to hopefully soon buy the house of your dreams. The team probably didn’t even know about the two of you living together, and if they knew, they had probably just added it to the list of weird things Spencer and you did. Spencer hadn’t even heard, and it took you placing your hand on his shoulder for him to return to reality. He looked up at you with a conflicted look, his eyes horribly sad. “Are you alright?” You asked again, sitting down next to him. He nodded and closed the case file he had been working on with a sigh. “I’m okay. I just keep on thinking about what Prentiss said.” You frowned. Emily tended to say a lot of things in just one day. “Back in the conference room. The…” He trailed off to take a deep breath. “The boyfriend thing.” You were still looking at him in confusion. “Am I?” “What?” You asked stupidly. Apparently, your brain had suffered a sudden case of non-functionality. You could feel his frustration get even worse. “Am I your boyfriend, (Y/N)?”, Spencer finally explained for you to catch on. Suddenly, a laugh escaped your lips. “Well, I mean I hope so.” Now it was he who looked like his mind was failing him. “I mean, to be honest, I hadn’t really properly thought about it, but I definitely bragged about my hot, intelligent FBI boyfriend to my friends from high school. So, I guess it would be really nice if you actually were. I mean, I think I haven’t slept in my own bed in weeks.” A smile had spread across Spencer’s face, a light pink hue dusting his cheeks. “I uh… I described you as my partner in the letters to my mom, too. I didn’t know how else to describe it to her. Because I … I guess I was hoping that this wasn’t just us sleeping together from the start. I trust you, (Y/N), more than I’ve ever trusted anyone. And I like having you by my side.” Not able to stop yourself, you closed the distance between the two of you to press your lips to his. Keeping your relationship with Spencer undefined for any longer than that would have been a huge waste of potential.

Somehow, you had always expected that Spencer would one day expose the two of you by taking it too far with your flirting. He hadn’t been all too experienced with dating, sex and everything beyond that before you, that was something he had told you himself once after a few glasses of your favourite red wine. But what you really hadn’t expected was running into Emily in an IKEA, of all places. Ever since once and for all defining your relationship you had moved into his bedroom for good, which left room for creativity in your old room. The two of you had been walking around the furniture store hand in hand, Spencer with a potted plant already under his arm, when you’d suddenly heard Emily calling out your name. If it hadn’t been for Spencer’s hand firmly in yours you would have booked it down the aisle of Malm closets, but this way all you could do was turn around with a deliberately composed expression. “Hi, Em.” You smiled as if you hadn’t just run into your colleague slash best friend while holding the hand of your also colleague, slash boyfriend. Prentiss looked like she was trying to make sense of the situation, her eyes fleeting back and forth between you and Spencer. “Is this something you do now? Hold hands and buy plants together?” You had to suppress a laugh and almost pitied her for her confusion. Spencer was forcing himself not to smile as well, swaying your still intertwined hands back and forth. “It’s not a big deal Emily, we just need some things for our apartment.” Her eyes looked just about ready to pop out of her skull at that. “Your apartment?! (Y/N), what about your boyfriend- oh.” Her eyes widened even more if that was even possible. “OH!” She almost yelled, and now you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips anymore. “No one will ever believe you.” You grinned, pressed a kiss to her cheek and pulled Spencer back to your shopping cart with you.

The next day, Emily sat at her desk with her head in her hands when Spencer and you entered the bullpen. She looked positively traumatised and now you were all the more glad that you had bought her a breakfast muffin on the way to work. “Hey, Em.” You greeted her hesitantly, you tone causing Morgan to look up from his screen. He always immediately knew when something was off. “So, Spencer, huh?” She mumbled instead of a greeting, mustering the two of you up and down. It wasn’t abnormal for the two of you to constantly be glued to each other’s sides, but now she was probably starting to see that from a whole new perspective. You could hear Morgan get up and trip over his chair in his haste to get to Emily’s desk, but your whole focus was on her at that moment. You smiled. “Yup. Don’t ask me how, or why, but I’m sure about him. He’s also just really fucking attractive.” At that, she laughed, and Spencer pouted playfully. “You only like me for my body, (Y/N).” You rolled your eyes and nudged him with your elbow. “I’m trying to make a point here, honey. But yeah, it’s Spence, and I’m happy it’s him.” “You know, I feel like I should probably be more surprised by this, but it’s not really much of a change from the way you behaved already. Kinda saw it coming.”, Morgan finally spoke up, and you couldn’t be more grateful to him for being so cool about the whole situation. “Aren’t you guys worried about the pressure of all of this? You know, workplace romances and everything?” Emily mused. Somehow, she had already switched back into concerned friend mode. But much to your surprise it was Spencer who spoke up and pulled you closer to his side with an arm around your waist. “Someone once told me that workplace romances are actually really common and that 31% of them even end in marriage.” You felt the biggest smile grow on your face and turned to look him in the eyes. “I don’t really know anything, about any of this. But I trust (Y/N), and I trust what we have. I’m just hoping that maybe we’ll be up in those 31%.” You couldn’t help it. You just had to press a kiss to his cheek for that. “I’m hoping for that, too.” You mumbled. Despite Morgan’s and Emily’s theatrical gagging at your public display of affection, you couldn’t help but feel like this was a significant moment. You were really doing this. And boy, were you serious about it.

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer x reader #mgg #mgg x reader #Matthew gray gubler #Matthew gray gubler x reader #BAU #BAU Team #BAU x Reader

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scarletarosa · 3 years

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Loki

Norse god of trickery and deception

Loki was known to have his father as the giant Farbauti (“Cruel-Striker”) and his mother as Laufey (whose identity is unknown). Loki is known to have had several children with the giantess Angrboda (“Anguish-Boding”). These children are known as Fenrir (the devouring wolf who kills Odin), Jormungandr (the serpent who slays Thor during Ragnarök), and Hela, the goddess of the Underworld. Among all these children, only Hela seems to be the one of decent nature, whereas the other two are malevolent. Loki, with his wife Sigyn, are said to have one child; a son named Nari (which is said to mean “corpse”). In another event, Loki had transformed into a mare in order to court the stallion named Svadilfari. This resulted in Loki giving birth to the eight-legged horse named Sleipnir, which Odin came to use as his shamanic horse.

Myths: In his mythology, Loki constantly portrays a lack of compassion towards the other deities; either doing things out of sadistic mischief or doing things to cause severe harm. He is usually described as being a cowardly schemer who cares for no-one but himself. At times he may be seemingly laid-back and playful, but will quickly shift to show that he is ultimately out for his own gain and pleasure. In one story, Loki had cut the hair of Sif (Thor’s wife) while she slept. When Thor discovered this, he approached Loki and demanded that he replace her hair or he would break every bone in Loki’s body. So Loki had to travel all the way to Níðavellir, the land of the dwarves, where he found the two dwarf sons of Ivaldi. They agreed to fabricate hair from gold, as fine as Sif's own hair, and with the magical ability to grow on her head.

Yet Loki is perhaps best known for his malevolent role in The Death of Baldur. After the death of the beloved god Baldur is prophesied, Baldur’s mother, Frigg, secures a promise from every living thing to not harm her son. However, she gained no oath from the mistletoe, which the gods thought too harmless to kill Baldur. Upon discovering this omission, Loki carves a mistletoe spear, places it in the hands of the blind god Hod, and then instructs him to throw it at Baldur. Hod, not knowing what he held, throws the weapon at Baldur, killing him. Upon realizing what has happened, the god Hermod rides Sleipnir to the underworld and implores Hel to release Baldur, pointing out how beloved he is by all living things. Hel retorts that if this is so, then it shouldn’t be difficult to compel every being in the world to weep for Baldur, and, should this happen, the dead god would be released from the grave. So every living being begins to weep over Baldur, except for one- the giantess named Tokk, who is most certainly Loki in disguise. Due to this, Baldur must remain with Hel in the Underworld.

For Loki’s many crimes, the gods forge a chain from the entrails of Loki’s son Narfi and tie him down to three rocks inside a cave. A venomous serpent sits above him, dripping poison onto him. Yet Loki’s faithful wife, Sigyn, sits at his side with a bowl to catch the venom. But every time the bowl becomes full, she has to leave his side to pour it out. When this happens, the drops of venom fall onto Loki once more, causing him to writhe in agony, and these convulsions create earthquakes. He is said to remain like this until the time of Ragnarök.

A fascinating variant of the tale of Loki’s being bound comes from the medieval Danish historian Saxo Grammaticus. In his History of the Danes, Thor, on one of his many journeys to Jotunheim, finds a giant named Útgarðaloki (“Loki of the Utgard“). Útgarðaloki is bound in exactly the same manner as that in which Loki is bound in the story mentioned above, which comes from Icelandic sources. It seems that even the pagan Scandinavians themselves held conflicting views on whether Loki was a god, a giant, or something else entirely.

Ragnarök: At the time of Ragnarök, Loki is foretold to escape and bring war upon all of creation with the giants. When this occurs, Loki’s children, Fenrir and Jormungandr, will help in destroying existence. The icy winds will blow snow from all directions, and the warmth of the sun will fail, plunging the Earth into a winter like no other. Humans will then become so desperate for food and other necessities of life that all laws and morals will fall away, leaving only the bare struggle for survival. It will be an age of murder and strife. The wolves Skoll and Hati, who have hunted the sun and moon through the skies since the beginning of time, will at last devour them. The stars, too, will disappear, leaving nothing but a black void in the heavens. Yggdrasil, the great tree that holds the cosmos, will tremble, and all the trees and mountains will fall to the ground. The chain that has been holding back the monstrous wolf Fenrir will snap, and the beast will run free. Jormungandr, the mighty serpent who dwells at the bottom of the ocean, will rise from the depths, causing massive tsunamis around the world. These convulsions will shake the ship Naglfar (“Nail Ship”) free from its moorings. This ship, which is made from the fingernails and toenails of dead humans, will sail over the flooded earth. Its crew will be an army of giants, the forces of chaos and destruction. And its captain will be none other than Loki, the traitor to the gods, who will have broken free of his chains.

Fenrir, with fire blazing from his eyes and nostrils, will run across the earth, with his lower jaw on the ground and his upper jaw against the top of the sky, devouring everything in his path. Jormungandr will spit his venom over all the world, poisoning land, water, and air alike. The dome of the sky will be split, and from the crack shall emerge the fire-giants from Muspelheim. Their leader shall be Surt, with a flaming sword brighter than the sun in his hand. As they march across the Bifrost, the bridge will break and fall behind them. The gods will decide to go to battle, even though they know what the prophecies have foretold concerning the outcome of this clash. Odin will face Fenrir with an army of mighty human warriors, yet will all die in the process. Thor will face Jormundandr and die killing him. Heimdall and Loki will clash, putting an end to the traitor, but at the cost of Heimdall’s life. Then the remains of the world will sink into the sea, and there will be nothing left but the void. Creation will be completely undone, as if it had never happened.

Even though Loki is in some sense a god, no traces of any kind of worship of Loki have survived in the historical record. Though this is unsurprising since not only is Loki just a traitor and murderer, but he is also the anithesis of the Nordic values of honour and loyalty. Thus, like Apep in the Egyptian religion, Loki is the force that seeks to destroy harmony and benevolence, but is ultimately struck down by the gods each time.

Appearance: Loki appears as a man in his 30′s with long orange hair, green eyes, has a “triangular” shaped face and sharp chin, and his long eyebrows curl upwards at the end.

Personal experiences: In my own experiences with Loki, I was uncertain of what to expect, but soon discovered him to be just how the Nords had documented. At first when working with him, he pretends to be kind, playful, and even helpful, but this gradually shifts. Loki often likes to trick people into trusting him so he can stab them in the back later on, causing all sorts of problems from financial issues, diseases, and other personal loss. With spirits, he likes to disguise himself as their loved ones so he can rape them. Many other times, he has tricked deities into doing things that put them in harms way, or tricked humans into doing things that has killed them. In the end, Loki simply laughs; but if his victim is angered and comes after him, he is nothing but a coward who always runs away.

Loki’s children, Fenrir and Jormungandr, are also highly dangerous to work with and can cause severe mental health problems (or worse) to a person. They are basically entities of mass destruction and don’t care for anyone. Loki has also been imprisoned many times by the gods, but he eventually manages to escape somehow. His desire to seek revenge for these (rightfully earned) punishments have caused him to side with the serpent-god of evil, Apep, and seek further destruction on the deities. Overall, please regard the mythology of this god and consider working with other deities of mischief since Loki is not safe to work with.

#loki #norse gods #nordic polytheism #asatru #deities #fenrir #jormungandr #spirits

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warsofasoiaf · 3 years

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I've got a video game suggestion-you've mentioned that your favorite quest in Witcher 3 is Reason of State, and I would like to hear your analysis of that quest.

This is truly a god-tier quest, a very good example of well-done quest design, that culminates a world’s worth of quest-building and features some exceptional character work. Since we’re going to be up to our necks in spoilers, there’s a cut here.

Reason of State might be the grand climax and resolution of the quest arc, but context in this is critical and that goes. The northern wars between Nilfgaard and the Northern Kingdoms is all over the games. Nilfgaard’s plan to assassinate Northern kings using Letho of Gulet is the entire plot of Witcher 2, and the war between Radovid and Emhyr forms the backdrop for Witcher 3. The Northern Kingdoms are almost all broken by the time of the Witcher 3. Temeria is occupied, Foltest was murdered in the Witcher 2. Natalis missing from the Witcher 3, and Vernon Roche forced to fight a guerilla war in caves. Velen is a broken land thanks to this war and under the absentee rule of the Bloody Baron. Aedirn is a non-entity, Stennis is absent no matter what happened in Witcher 2. Kaedwyn is gone, Henselt either being killed by Roche or Radovid and forcibly integrated into Redania. Only Redania remains, forcibly integrating Kaedwyn, but it is run by Radovid V. By the third game, Radovid is a cruel, psychotic king, but has a solid understanding of tactics enough to fight the Nilfgaardians to a stalemate (and he will win, without player intervention). Nilfgaard is responsible for a lot of Northern disorder, their campaign to use Letho to kill Northern kings successfully rid themselves of Demavend III and Foltest, the first of whom was able to successfully predict Emhyr’s movements while the latter is the leader of the most powerful kingdom and successfully defeats Nilfgaard’s invasion. But it’s not all Nilfgaard, Philipa Eilhart murdered King Vizimir II, Radovid’s father and one of the chief architects of the First Northern War victory, largely out of a bid for personal power. This paragraph shows that things are bad all around. Emhyr is a blatant expansionist responsible for a great deal of suffering, and the only man capable of resisting him is an open sadist relentlessly persecuting mages, which might be the only hope for the North to remain independent (it won’t be, but you have no way of knowing that at present)

When the player begins to be introduced to the characters, they’re framed as desperate men on the fringe. Roche is waging a crusade with his Blue Stripes, but the Nilfgaardian advance has been stymied largely by Redania and the two sides attempting to compete for the fleets and treasures of Novigrad. He’s forced to working with Radovid, who he openly doesn’t like, out of a practical need to do something. Ves is even throwing herself into suicide missions against Mulbrydale, out of a desire to do something worthwhile, a far cry from the man who was such a major mover of the plot in Witcher 2. King Radovid does not present well, acting psychotic in his introductory scene with the chessmen, and acting poorly toward Geralt, the player character and thus the vector for exploring the game world even if he is an established character (it’s worth noting that one of the best ways to get a player to dislike a character is to have them be rude to the PC, no matter how justified it may be in-universe). His mage hunts are also not likely to endear themselves to the player; the two primary love interests to Geralt and friends to Ciri are mages, and the witch hunters attempt to bilk Geralt of his reward by demanding the megascope crystal in Redania’s Most Wanted. Djikstra is helpful enough to Geralt during his hunt for Dandelion, but the two end on a bad note which isn’t entirely Djikstra’s fault since Geralt did lie to him; he’s notably nicer if you secure him his vault key, but that requires botching a quest and ends up causing Triss to commit torture to progress the storyline. The player character inclined to be friendly to Roche, if only because he tends to be straight and polite with you. Sure enough, Roche and Ves help out during the climatic fight in Kaer Morhen. Radovid isn’t even an option (and will kill Kiera Metz, further engendering hatred from the player since she’s another character Geralt can shack up with and Kiera’s absence means fellow Wolf School witcher Lambert dies). Djikstra doesn’t help you at all if you don’t get his key back, and if you do he gives you gold, which isn’t likely to be very significant since you’re likely swimming in coin by that point in the game.

One of the things I like in this questline is that this is a big and monumental quest, but you will lose it if you don’t take the time to get in good with the plotters, you’ll simply miss this quest. If you don’t get in good with the plotters, they won’t trust you. And if you beat down Djikstra instead of giving him information, he despises you and won’t bring you in on the plot, Geralt’s effectiveness as a Witcher and as a protagonist be damned. That’s something that more games need to be doing, rewarding players for investing themselves in the game with content. A lot of Triple-A games these days are so scared of players missing or cutting themselves out of content that they refuse to do this, which makes a lot of RPG’s feel far more shallow. I’m sympathetic to a point to game developers, content is expensive. Graphics and voice acting are expensive and losing content means spending money on content that’s not going to hit 100% of the audience. Thing is though, the same argument can be made for sidequests, or even for alternative conversation paths, so I don’t consider it a good enough excuse on its own. Avoiding this is as brainless as it is lazy.

When the game circles back after the Isle of the Mists, things are clearly reaching a breaking point. Djikstra has recruited like-minded conspirators to his cause to kill Radovid, each of whom have their own reasons. Djikstra, who worked with Radovid’s father, finds him a poor king unlikely to continue Vizimir’s great reign. Gregor the Redanian guard sees the devastation wrought by Radovid’s lynchings and persecutions and despises it, his loyalty to his country is too high to desert but he feels he needs to do something. Thaler and Roche are devoted to the idea of a free Temeria that they’re willing to back Djikstra’s play to bring an end to the Third Northern War. The player is likely to support the conspirators, Radovid’s support of the witch hunters has led to the deaths of non-humans since you need to complete Now or Never and save the mages; pogroms aren’t a great way to endear a player character to Radovid, especially since Zoltan the dwarf has been nothing but a straight-up pal to Geralt. This is a good tactic in RPG quest design, by making the least appealing result the default, it encourages the player to do the quests. As any GM can tell you, you have to make your players want to do the quests, otherwise they’ll do something else. Games are not able to just make up a new quest off the cuff like an improvisational tabletop GM can (this was one of my strengths as a GM, if you trust my players’ judgment), so they must heavily rely on getting the player to do quests. Some are mechanical, do this quest for XP and loot that makes you better at the game. The Witcher excelled though, at getting people invested in characters.

The conspirators’ play won’t work though, not without help from Phillipa; the hated mage is the bait that they need for the trap to work (and coincidentally, it won’t work without Geralt as well both because Phillipa won’t give her ring to any of the other plotters and by virtue of Geralt as the protagonist in the RPG). The trap is laid for Radovid, and if the player goes through with it, Radovid is executed by Phillipa, who flies off into the night having murdered yet another Redanian king.

Then, after the conspirators escape, the stage is set for Geralt to make a moral choice when Djikstra betrays the conspiracy. It’s a wonderfully set and acted scene, from Djikstra quoting a Macbeth stand-in to the patriots’ giddy excitement at the future. Then, the shoe drops and the conspiracy falls apart. Djikstra plans to become the next Vizimir, taking Radovid’s consolidated northern kingdom of Redania and Kaedwyn and fighting Emhyr to a standstill. Temeria would be subsumed into that, ceasing to exist. Naturally, this enrages the Temerian patriots, who refuse to go along with that scheme. It leaves Geralt with a choice, leave and allow Djikstra to murder Roche, Ves, and Thaler, or stay and defend them, resulting in a fight that will end in Djisktra’s death. This is often the case in partisan movements throughout history, where a power struggle over the shape of the victory to come causes disunity and strife, ending with one faction murdering the other ones, so points for historical and thematic elements being on point for the gritty fantasy. Similarly, by making the choice being the resolution of a conspiracy, it threads the needle between the protagonist doing everything and solely resolving the ending for one faction, which often feels shallow, and giving the player no agency which robs investment in the ending. By allowing the conspirators their machinations and taking advantage of others already in place, it allows the player to feel a meaningful impact that has wide implications. Fallout’s ending slides could be hit or miss, though the small scale of post-apocalyptica does make it more relevant. It hits a nice sweet spot, where it’s probably a bit too much to be realistic in a straight history but works just nicely for the scope of fantasy fiction. By forcing the player to do the quests for these people, not only does it meet the threshold of believability by explaining why they would bring Geralt on the quest save that he’s the protagonist, but it invests the player in the characters. Of course, this can only be done because the game did such wonders with its character work. Even if you don’t play Witcher 2, you see Roche love his country, you see Ves try to defend Mulbrydale, and they both can contribute meaningfully in the Battle at Kaer Morhen. Djikstra does influence the main plot and he can be funny with his sarcastic quips delivered by excellent voice acting. Thaler is less of a presence, but he’s also side-splittingly hilarious when he taught the trolls to swear, the player likes these characters and so likes the quest they’re in, and picking between them does actually cut deep in a way that Telltale Games “pick which character you want” drama can only hope to achieve in its wildest dreams. It’s political game storytelling at it’s best, using character work which is easier for players to identify with as I mentioned in my geopolitics essay.

Backing Djikstra is tough in the short run, because you lose three characters that you probably like. Roche and Ves, after all, did join you in Kaer Morhen and it seems cold for them to help and then betray them, unless of course, you didn’t ask for their help. Djikstra rules and reforms the North on a program of modernization, often contrary to the wishes of his subjects. Plenty might think that to be a path of success for the North, since Djikstra will build a military that will defend them and ensure a general level of prosperity. You just have to turn a blind eye to the Temerian patriots being slaughtered by Djikstra.

The alternative, backing Roche and Thaler isn’t a pure win either. Temeria becomes a province of Nilfgaard, but Emhyr gets Aedirn and Lyria. Emhyr finally wins his war and isn’t likely to stop his expansionist ways unless Ciri becomes Empress. Even then, he’s a senior statesman and can exert influence if he wants, Ciri even says so. We can get Roche’s perspective, and we like Roche. After all, he (probably) helps us out in the grand fight at Kaer Morhen, but he’s not an unbiased observer. He’s a Temerian partisan happy to sell out the other Northern Realms for a dubious pretense at some internal autonomy for Temeria alone. In plenty of ways, the Roche path is a collaborationist success story, selling out the North for Temeria alone.

The choice is yours to take and to make what you will. Plenty of folks might hope for a change in direction if they put Ciri on the Nilfgaardian Throne, but they might instead desire for her to adventure on her own as a de facto Witcher. In that case, Emhyr fails, is killed, and who knows what happens next? Could more provinces break away, might there be further wars in Nilfgaard, or power struggles, or something else. It could go a lot of different ways and it’s up to the player to decide. In a way, that’s amazing in its own right, because it’s actually what the real world is like. The absence of a golden ending is standard fare for grimdark, but that so much is left open shows a level of restraint and trust in the player that I admire in a developer.

Thanks for the question, Anon. Hope you liked it.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

#witcher #witcher 3 #video game reviews

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jujutsu-headcanons · 3 years

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Yes to Yuji wrecking Mahito! Just so much yes my boy needs to avenge those wrongfully killed!

See I wanted Geto to be on my shit list (as I'm not normally a bad guy lover) but I swear he wore me down reading the manga. Plus he's just so pretty he makes my brain all static noises 😳 Not to mention that backstory between him and Gojo like YES give me all the drama I need buried drama 🤩

Totally agree on the Mai thing. See I wanted to hate Todo too bc of well him beating on Megumi but the moment him and Yuji were just like "Big Dumb Meat Heads" together I threw that out the window! Those two together are *chefs kiss* Absolutely stupendous I never get tired of them 👌👌👌

Mai on the other hand is just crawling more and more under my skin. Like why you gotta be like that gurl? You wanna go in the crusty corner with Mahito? Cuz you gotta crusty attitude that needs fixing like yesterday 😐

Literary brain tells me it wants more drama/character growth between Megumi and Toji. But my useless overly big heart wants to punch Toji and protect Megumi at all costs bc he just showed up on the screen like the kool aid man and burst right into my heart and I shan't forgive Megumi for that but now I will die for him so ¯\_( ツ)_/¯

But I'm not the only one who lowkey fantasizes about self inserty type day dreams??? Like every day all day I got my thoughts flowing into 500 different lil oneshots I'm too chicken to post anywhere bc I havent written anything in a while and I feel I'm rusty. But your idea! YOUR IDEA WOO BOI- I'm not even a Gojo fanatic (like I adore him but my heart dick thudded elsewhere RIP) but that scene you described of straddling him just to rip his blindfold off in the heat of an arguement that's clearly deadly to either party- Just to see him on the brink of tears fighting back every emotion to slate his composure to cocky/uncaring. Only to have it obviously failing, and the metaphorical reality around you both crumbling along with Gojo's emotional state- Oh God I would read that crap outta something like that. It fills me with the angst and I thrive on it daily *heavy breathing* You should think about posting more of your original content too! Self inserty or not bc that sounds down right brilliant on so many levels

💛anon

Bro I can't help but feel had for Gojo. That shit must have hurted. Like he looked so calm and collected when it all happened but was he really? His best friend potential lover went feral and murdered an entire village AND his family then he tried to kill his first years once and now AGAIN what is happening. Did you see the look on Gojo's face when Yaga told him he went rogue? That was a face of hurt and betrayal he couldn't even begin to understand at the young age of... What was it, 17? 18? He was practically a little itty bitty baby compared to now. I haven't read the prequel yet don't laugh at me but I've heard it hurts so much worse having to face Getou back then AND now. Stupid brain worms, stop fucking around.

I wanted to hate Todo too hut before he even turned good I couldn't. I have a thing for big buff boys who have zero brains and too much brawns I'm looking at you Metal Bat, Captain Ōbi I just wanna adopt/marry them because in all reality they're trying their best. I'm really glad Todo exists and has his big brother delusion because honestly I think that's something Yuji needs, especially in the current arc. Yuji needs as much support as he can get.

PFFFT CRUST CORNER I cannot with you omg they do need to sit on the time out chair for s bit and think about what they've done lmaooo

DID YOU CALL TOJI ZENIN- FUSHIGURO THE FUCKING KOOL AID MAN AHAHAHHHSH oh my god i hate this so fucking much or were you calling Megumi the koolaid man bc really each one is absurd n e wayz I dunno bro I rlly can't wait until Megs wakes up post Shibuya arc and actually has time to process what the fuck happened to him back then. I really want to know if he can connect the dots by himself and realize holy shit that was the source of my daddy issues right there in the flesh and how he reacts to him being a curse and all that. There's so many ways that can go too it's scary to think about.

Low key unrelated but I have a theory that Gojo can see everything from his little cube prison and knows what's going on. Its probably because of the six eyes, or because he's just fucking Gojo, or even because Geto seems kinda sadistic and would do something like that. But I can imagine him watching Megs and Toji fight and it absolutely destroying him. For starters, Gojo killed him .... Right? Wtf is he doing back? What? Second don't commit suicide in front of your kid oh my god Toji what (I'm probably just salty because of a past experience, but also, calm down Toji oh my god) and third I can see it hurting Gojo because in a way it feels like he's been trying to protect Megumi. Its obvious Gojo has this attachment to Megumi, and maybe it's because they've known each other so long, but I don't think Gojo is prepared to deal with the aftermath. Does he have to tell him, if Megs doesn't put the pieces together? Will he have to knock some sense into him to actually tell him? Because he DID try to tell Megs once before and he avoided it like the plague. Its also gotta hurt when you feel like someone's dad and you witness them have a bad interaction with their other dad.

Throw in his daughter being on the brink of death, his other son being emotionally demolished, his second year kids lost in the void and not even his void, his best friend locked him in a box, his other best friend exploded, etc. I think Gojo I pretty distraught even if he doesn't show it

Bro okay my brain is riddled with ideas like this and 90% of them are always angst. Idk where tf they come from half the time but they exist and I hate it. They're always self inserts too.

So I actually read this ask last night, but due to personal reasons I didn't reply to it now, and I actually started experimenting writing out this scenario. I had to stop when I wrote the line "Approximately one year after the first finger was consumed, Itadori Yūji was formally executed. At three minutes to midnight, Sukuna Ryomen was expelled from his body, destroying the vessel along with it. The executioner was none other than the teenager's teacher and mentor Gojo Satoru. When Y/N awoke to this news, they attacked on sight."

Oh god I made myself so sad with that line

And i do really want to post some of my fics, like I did with Nobara Meeting Sukuna For The First Time. However, I only posted that because it was short and simple lmao it was basically just a meme I didn't even run it though grammarly like I do with the headcanons.

I like sticking to the headcanons as of right now because I feel like grammar didn't exist when I make those. I can spell things wrong and leave off punctuation and word then like I'm a third grader just learning English and no one will laugh lmao. Fanfics kinda stress me out because i want them to be perfect. I also have a hard time with fight scenes and transitioning and it's s mess.

I REALLY want to write out my Guardian Angel! Junpei AU because I think it's so cute. Just the idea that this boy is assigned to fight against fate and the higher ups and keep Yuji alive despite him being an idiot and a target is cute to me. Like I just canon him being the plantonic equivalent of in love with this boy and he feels like he rlly owes it to Yuji for trying to save him it's the LEAST he can do. Plus I need the mental imagine if Junpei annoying reader-chan into finding Yuji because "they play a pivotal role in Yuji's future" just for the "pivotal role" to literally be playing therapist and just being there for him and being a medium between Junpei and Yuji because guardian angels aren't allowed to reveal themselves to the person they're guarding but also/// he might risk his wings being stripped just to talk to Yuji one more time////

Okay I'm going to stop now

But yea, maybe if I have time and create little mini works like Nobara Meeting Sukuna For the First Time I'll def post them! I'll work on casually making them longer and soon I'll be confident to posts longer ones. But until then I hope just the headcanons at alright ;-;

#.ask #💛 anon #long post

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recentanimenews · 4 years

Text

Akudama Drive – 01 (First Impressions) – Too Much is Not Enough

From its opening moments when it presents a stark futuristic urban landscape a la Blade Runner 2049, then the camera dives into an impossibly lively and kinetic future cityscape, I knew we’d be in for a lush eyefeast. The gaudy visuals are always on the cusp of causing sensory overload, but the direction wisely finds “rest spots”, such as when the camera angles stay level at an alleyway takoyaki stand.

It’s there where our unnamed female protagonist is grabbing a bite to eat, and the course of her night—and the rest of her life—is suddenly changed forever, all thanks to a ¥500 piece dropped by a gray taciturn young man on a purple Akira superbike. He refuses the coin from the girl, saying “dropped change is bad luck”. After what happens to the girl, I really can’t dispute that!

We learn Mr.Poutybike is really Courier, whose bike is equipped with omni-directional mobility gear to essentially Spider-Man his way over and through Kansai’s endless labyrinth of concrete canyons. We also meet Brawler creating an impressive, ever-growing pile of busted-up police bots; Hacker, hacking into the Kansai Central Bank; and sultry sadist Doctor performing an impromptu heart bypass in public transit airship.

These four super-cool, ultra-colorful characters (none of them named; their jobs are their names) each have centuries worth of estimated sentences for their myriad crimes. After they show off their stuff, each receives a mysterious text for a new job: Whomever of them rescues the murderer Cutthroat from his public execution later that night will be rewarded a cool ¥100 million.

The four criminals, designated S-Class Akudama, converge on Kansai Police HQ…where our Ordinary Girl ended up after being arrested for not paying for her takoyaki. The fact she didn’t pay when she had the ¥500 coin suggests to a police bot that she may be a Swindler. When Brawler starts throwing bots through windows, the Girl is caught in the middle of the fray.

When she spots a black cat—the same one she saved while almost getting hit by a car earlier—she chases after it and protects it, because between those selfless acts and not feeling right spending Courier’s ¥500, Ordinary Girl is a good person—maybe the only good person in this whole insane city!

That, however, doesn’t save her from the bad luck of picking up that dropped coin, which puts her literally in the crossfire of all four Akudama, who had been busy fighting each other until she presented them with a mutual target to kill. She manages to save herself (for the moment) by lying about being an Akudama like them named Swindler, so-called because she even tricked the computer system.

Before they start pressing her for proof, a giant police robot emerges from the elevator, missiles firing. Cutthroat was only a second or two from being beheaded by guillotine when the other four Akudama, the megabot, and Ordinary Girl all spill out into the public execution arena, much to the police cheif’s chagrin. They also end up destroying part of the underground prison, freeing, among others, the D-Class Akudama Hoodlum.

Courier leads the attack on the megabot, winding his bike around the giant overhead scoreboard display, sending it plummeting on top of everyone else. At first Ordinary Girl can just watch gobsmacked as all this chaos happens around her with the cat in her arms, but when she spots Courier about to be killed by the bot, she remembers her duty to get him back his coin.

She distracts the bot by pointing out Hoodlum, giving Courier enough time to activate his bike’s built-in railgun (but notably not activated with the coin—a missed opportunity to be sure). The bot is destroyed, the cops are in disarray, and all the Akudama are still breathing. Courier refuses to thank the Girl for helping him. Dick!

But how long will each of them be breathing? When Cutthroat emerges free from his binds and is given the briefcase by Courier, he immediately fits its contents (necklaces) on himself, the Akudama, and the Girl, and a guard. When the the guard tries to pry it off his head explodes, indicating the chokers are bombs. Then the theretofore silent cat finally speaks up—apparently the mastermind of this job and the scenario in which the criminals and Ordinary Girl find themselves.

You may not find a more indulgently EXTRA show than Akudama Drive (AKA “A.D.D.”) this Fall, and its first episode surpasses even��K in pure delicious eye candy. I knew going in this had the same director as Persona, the character designer of Danganronpa, and Railgun’s composer.

Kurosawa Tomoyo (Sound! Euphonium’s Kumiko, Amaburi’s Sylphy) does a tremendous job infusing Ordinary Girl with a crisp, bright, expressive voice. So there’s a ton of talent here. One of my favorite unnecessary-but-awesome flexes are the transitions between parts of the city in which the different layers of the landscape are fitted together like Tetris pieces.

One thing that may turn some off besides the visuals that border on too cool and trying too hard: the fact there’s no attempt to give dimension to any of these characters, who basically start and end at their names and are embellished with their individual style and methods. No amount of intricate spinning signs can distract from the fact there’s not much below the surface.

That said, I found Ordinary Girl an effective and sympathetic audience surrogate, and whatever deadly game into which she’s stumbled backwards is one I can’t wait to watch unfold…even if it may be best to switch off the ol’ brain and enjoy the empty neon calorie airship ride.

By: braverade

#Anime #News #RABUJOI – An Anime Blog

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meowthatimclean · 4 years

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Write Off Wednesday: Stranger

A/N: Hi enjoy some shadow hunter fan fiction (this is based on the books not the tv show. If I ever base it on the tv show feel free to shoot me)

The boy with the blue hair grinned as he was allowed access to Pandemonium, the current hotspot for young adults surprising given most people only visited once. He smirked realising he had everything to do with that. It had been weeks since the Shadowhunters had turned up and tried to kill him and he’d been trying to lay low lest to not alert them to the fact he was still alive. Though looking out into the crowd it appeared he hadn’t been too successful: there, dressed in a fraying t-shirt and jeans stood the fiery red-head who’d inadvertently saved his life. She stood in the throng of sweaty people barely dressed and in some kind of monster getup, looking around widely. Before he could even think about it he was marching over, grabbing her arm and towing her gently into the storage cupboard where she’d witnessed him die. He expected her to struggle when she realised a demon was towing her into a private room but she didn’t, she just continued to look bewildered.

“What are you doing here again?” he asked and then took a large step backwards as he realised that she was friends with Shadowhunters and this very much could be a trap.

“Where is Simon? What have you done with him?” She demanded, glaring at him with her arms crossed sternly. He struggled to marry the image in front of him with the lost looking girl in the middle of the dance floor.

“What, because I’m a demon it had to be me? For your information, I don’t like my men unaware of what I am,” Clary’s eyes narrowed at his blatant disregard for her friend but she seemed to believe him as she unfolded her arms and threw them up in exasperation.

“I’ve been looking for him everywhere. He gets kicked out of the institute and just runs all over the city apparently”

“Would you like to take a walk with me?” he asked cutting her off, causing surprise to flicker behind her eyes. Guess it’s not everyday she gets asked to hang out with a demon.

“Just to see if he’s outside I mean,” he added quickly so as to not throw her off and to justify his actions to himself. “You’re clearly not a normal shadowhunter and I can assure you I’m not the only demon here so walking with me will have its benefits,”

“Fine,” she sighed “but only because I might come across Simon,” and with that she’d marched out the room and was weaving through the crowds to get to the exit. She confused him, she was most definitely a shadowhunter no one else could hold a room or incite the icy panic within his gut the way a shadowhunter could. This, however, wasn’t the confusing part. She also incited the warm pull of temptation in the way that a human would. How could a shadowhunter, the very being created to destroy him, tempt in such a way.

Strolling along the street outside the club they both kept their eyes on the masses crowing in the smoking area and queuing to get inside. The river stretched on to their left as they walked the path beside it. The silence between them was almost comfortable as he looked for a potential fight and she prayed she’d see the familiar face of her friend.

“So… Jace tells me you’re an Eidolon demon, what’s that like?” she asked awkwardly. He wondered why she felt the urge to fill the silence and then wondered if she wasn’t quite as comfortable as she was.

Thus, he explained to her how his shapeshifting worked and why he found himself at pandemonium night after night. He tried to leave out the details of his sadistic lifestyle but Clary read between the lines.

“so you come to pandemonium to eat people?” she asked sounding horrified.

“well when you put it like that I sound evil, I do have some redeeming qualities you know, for one I’m a vegetarian”

“Oh so you don’t eat people?”

“No no I eat people, I just don’t eat meat or anything that comes from an animal,” he explained almost laughing at the expression on her face.

“Look, I appreciate that as a human your mind is clouded and biased, but for me it’s simple. Humans are destroying themselves, I’m simply speeding up the process. My logic is simple: quadrupeds are simply better and I’d rather live amongst them,” he went on to explain. His answer seemed to have stunned her into silence as they didn’t speak again for the rest of their walk.

Drunk teenagers ran by and raised voices surrounded them as they finally completed their loop and arrived at Pandemonium again. She glanced around one last time and he took the opportunity to look over her once again. She really was pretty, not in the angelic way that Isabelle had lured him in with but in a human way. He didn’t have to be cautious around her, or at least he didn’t feel that he had to be but her fierceness squashed his urge to corrupt.

“What’s your name?” she asked him suddenly. He blinked in confusion as he realised no one had ever asked him that before and so he had no answer for her. Normally people were content to know he was an Eidolon demon and that was enough.

“You can just call me stranger,” he smirked and then winked at her as he walked off into the shadows leaving her standing with the streetlights highlighting her.

“Stranger” she repeated to herself as she tried to make sense of her jumbled thoughts. She was fairly certain the presence of a demon was supposed to make her cower in fear or trigger some sort of badass biological urge to murder him. Instead she just felt comfortable as if she could spend days in his presence trying to make sense of him.

****

Clary was awoken to scuffling and clanging outside her door. At quick glance at the clock as she through on a hoodie told her it was barely three in the morning but the dread that filled her provided her with more energy than she’d have liked. Following the commotion, she was led to a part of the institute she’d never ventured into before. Church sat outside the door where the noise seemed to be coming from and he mewled and wound himself around her legs as she approached, the softness of his fur doing little to comfort her. She had no way of knowing but she was certain she wasn’t going to like what lay in wait behind the door. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door and took in the situation before her.

The cold stone walls rose high surrounded Clary in a circular room mocking her inability to avoid them. She shivered as a breeze touched her skin and she wished she’d gotten dressed properly before leaving the warmth of her bed. Jace stood in front of her, his golden hair stark against the grey backdrop. She couldn’t help but smile as he met her eyes, they still barely knew each other but he’d become a welcome comfort to her, she always knew he’d be there when she needed him. Tonight, he was dressed all in black: his shadowhunter gear, a sign that Clary should’ve taken as proof she wouldn’t like what happened next.

Behind clary in an iron wrought cage that loomed over the shadowhunters in the room stood, stood the boy with the electric blue hair. He was barely fighting back, just making snide remarks at the warrior guarding him and grinning devilishly when he was rewarded with a reaction from them. Ignoring Jace’s explanation or sounds of protest, Clary strode towards the cage and sat down in front of it.

“Hey stranger,” she joked as he followed suit and sat crossed legged in front of her. She expected him to at least attempt to manipulate her into fighting on his behalf but he didn’t, he simply sat staring.

“Why don’t you try to escape?” she tried again to make conversation and was again rewarded with nothing. Sighing she rose, annoyed with herself for thinking a demon could be different, that he could be more than a ruthless killer, that he could be trusted by a shadowhunter.

“Do you want me to die?” he asked as she was half way across the room. She turned and walked back over to him, mostly to provide herself with more time to think. Not wanting to answer but knowing she must she spoke quietly.

“How many innocent teenagers have you killed?”

Seeing stranger drop the eye contact Clary knew there were too many to count.

“Then I think it’s necessary” she stated. She was suddenly filled with a sense of confidence, as if she would be able to kill the boy herself. She was a shadowhunter after all; it was her duty.

“Clary! I haven’t killed anyone since our walk together two weeks ago. I swear I haven’t. I’ve wanted to but everyone I see has your face and I can’t kill you Clary, I could never kill you. You can trust me just please believe in me,” he begged. She was shocked by this revelation.

“Why are you saying this?” she begged starting to feel distressed now as if his life was entirely in her hands, and she supposed it was.

“Because I need you to understand that not all demons are the way these shadowhunters are going to present them. I have thoughts and convictions too remember, I’m not just a mindless killer. The tide is turning Clary and I need you to decide which side you’re going to be on,” his eyes stared up at her pleading and she realised they were a deep black, as if they were a body of water at night and she could just topple into them without realising.

“We’re different Clary”

She started to reach for him, to run her fingers through his electric blue hair and see if he was really electric. To see if this connection she felt to him would consume her and turn her to dust. She didn’t get there though, no, as she did a gasp left her mouth and she staggered away from the cage as quickly as she could.

Stranger stood, staring blankly at Clary as Jace’s seraph blade protruded through his abdomen. Black ichor poured from the wound and from his mouth as the eyes that bored into Clary gradually lost their focus. She heard herself screaming and felt strong arms pull her to them. She didn’t bother to pay attention to who held her she was too busy struggling to get to Stranger. He’d been nice to her, he’d shown her that Jace was wrong: demons could possess good in the way that warlock and downworlders could. That good didn’t necessarily come from humanity.

She collapsed as he disappeared, as if their stories were more intertwined than either of them knew. She couldn’t help but think as she drifted out of consciousness that his life hadn’t been in her hands after all.

#write off wednesdays #original work #the mortal instruments #shadowhunters #city of bones #fanfiction #cassandra clare

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kinetic-elaboration · 5 years

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September 10: The 100 1x06 Fog of War

Mmmm watching another ep and it’s been less than six months since the last one?! * jinxes self *

Bellarke date at the outside cafe. (WHY IS THIS OUTSIDE CAFE NOT IN MORE FICS? WHY IS IT NOT IN MY FICS?)

I don’t always love Clarke’s art tbh but I do love her Mount Weather sketch.

“You won’t be by yourself.” They are canonically Soft with each other.

I have a hard time believing they would wait two days just sitting on their hands, Abby or no Abby. YOU GUYS WERE THE LEADERS. JUST LEAD STUFF.

“We’re at war. We’ve all done things,” is, like, first, beyond the point, because even in war, one doesn’t usually attack civilian villages. (Unless one is a terrorist.) And second, it’s weird that Bellamy would be defending Finn? Not really sure how to read that. Unless his hatred of Grounders is truly that intense, which is possible. And third, are they really still at war? Because after attacking the dropship, the Grounders have done... literally nothing? Like it’s a semi-war scenario.

“Next round’s on me.” Do they have to.... pay for things...? With what lol?

“Salvaged Monty’s still. Now if we could only salvage Monty.” Someone here has a sense of humor. Also lol @ everyone at Camp Jaha using a teenager’s illegal still.

Really, the “pardon for surviving” should not include time on the ground, because pardons aren’t forward looking. Also they bring back the idea of trying Finn later. They just don’t want to deal with Murphy and Finn, and don’t really see the massacre of Grounders as a big deal, which, I am a Sky Person partisan to the last, does not reflect well on them. I think also they still haven’t figured out what tf their judicial system on the ground is, and just don’t want to deal with that yet either. Which isn’t a great excuse but it’s of a piece with how this show deals with society-building questions in general. (By... not.)

And Finn still doesn’t even feel bad.

And Murphy thinks Clarke and Finn are still together...? I guess that makes sense given how long he was away. He’s ALWAYS behind on delinquent gossip.

Clarke to Murphy: “Just because they pardoned you doesn’t mean I have.” Another line that should be iconic.

If Mount Weather is the reason they never heard from any other Ark Stations then they should have heard from more of them after S2 just putting that out there.

Raven is so beautiful.

And I’m sorry but she’s completely in love with Clarke here.

“You and your friends are not soldiers...” Hmmmm except in a certain sense they kind of are. Love this s2 adults versus delinquents conflict though.

Anyway I realize this is just to get them going back to Mount Weather but they were apparently doing this radio mission to get more Guards from other stations, which never happened, which sort of reminds me of Day Trip and the ‘winter supplies’ excursion when apparently winter doesn’t exist in the future anyway.

Literally only now at the credits.... Why am I like this?

So Maya couldn’t survive on the ground, obviously, because blood isn’t good enough, it has to be bone marrow, which, fine, for plot purposes--but what if she could???

“I know the plan was to assimilate them into the gene pool.” COMPLETELY forgot about that. So they did have a reason for being so nice to them. That is a rather long term plan though...

With the delinquent blood, they’ll “live longer and feel better.” I wonder what the sickness rate is, then. What the quality of life is, low vitamin d aside.

“If I agree to harvest those kids, then I won’t deserve to see [the outside] again.”

That Finn is a good tracker is, like, not a retcon in the sense that this was true in season 1, but still a semi retcon in the sense that nothing in the very early episodes implies he’s Mr. Earth Skills. (Unlike, say... Wells.)

Privileged Ark people really do just throw rules around and up and down however they like. Like, Abby clearing her daughter’s friend because “he was trying to save his friends” even though what he did was objectively much worse than pretty much anything the 100 were imprisoned for? Or other people killed for? Hmmm,, yeah, okay.

Jaha’s death wish transformed into a lazy acceptance that he is invincible is truly one of the best character arcs on this show imo. Infuriating but amazing.

“How many times on the Ark did we go two days without water?”

He recognizes the prison as a train station, which is not objectively surprising but I bet the Grounders don’t know what it is. Somehow. Since memory isn’t a thing in the future either.

On the one hand, it’s reasonable to think that Finn’s attack was coordinated from above but on the other hand, these two prisoners literally could not have ordered it, because they have been... imprisoned... the entire time. And I mean truly putting two Sky People who could not themselves have been involved in another Sky Person’s murder spree into some sort of Saw scenario in response to that murder spree really isn’t “justice” in any sense of the word. Like truly the JD in me is just SCREAMING. There is no nexus between the people you have and the person you’re angry at, other than “Sky Person” but the thread is so tangled you’re just.... throwing around bloodshed for lolz. (I know it’s a test and that part isn’t dumb but the scaffolding of the test is DUMB.)

I am still not over that someone gave Jasper a stuffed toy bear as a thank you for giving Maya blood. Also, it looks like... an alarm clock?

I like Dante but every time he says “Jasper” it just creeps me out. Maybe it’s the way he’s, uh, playing him.

It is 100% true that Mount Weather was not meant to last that long. At least not in the sense of ‘as a closed facility.’

Ridiculous as it is to pardon Finn AND take him adventuring AND give him a gun, I like the tension between him and the others, that they have officially forgiven him, and want to still love him, but are wary of him, scared of him, for good reason. For all that people are constantly ‘doing bad things’ and yelling at each other about it, this scenario doesn’t really have a parallel anywhere else in the canon.

“According to Clarke, before the bombs, there were buildings everywhere here. I’m guessing some of the had access to the bunker. So we’re looking for ruins. Anything man-made.”

Bellamy says he and O aren’t under the Guard command. But in a way, aren’t they? Like aren’t the Guard basically in authority over all Arkers? I know I’m overthinking but does he see himself as more delinquent than Arker? Especially with the “our people” are in Mount Weather.

All those mice.... Or rodents....

What a scenario: Clarke and Finn hiding from the acid fog in a weird little personal bunker where they once fucked, and now there’s a dead body in it, and Finn put it there. Not even Olav can top this.

Raven playing with the radio is my kink.

Parking garage as tomb. Who would protect a parking garage with a big-ass steal door that protects cars from radiation? If it does lead to Mount Weather (no recollection if it does) I guess it could be... part of it? Idk. Nice aesthetic though.

Bellamy is very comfortable calling people Sir. Polite young man.

So Clarke’s Dad’s watch returns to Clarke. I can’t remember what ultimately happened to it. Is it basically tainted now?

Monty’s obscene jealousy of Maya just gets me every single time. Makes up for the horrendous second hand embarrassment I’m getting from the rest of this scene.

“Hey, it’s pizza day! Who’s hungry?” uhhhhhhhhhhmmmmm So natural. Cute dress though.

How did she figure out the breach wasn’t an accident? Or that there is surveillance? Anyway now that she knows she was experimented on, and that Jasper was experimented on, one would assume she is pissed. One would assume that’s part of why she shows them the Grounders. Also to stop Jasper perhaps from embroiling his people even more with (her own) untrustworthy people. Because truly it is in part to save them, but it’s also a real risk to herself, admitting this terrible thing she’s been a part of.

“To get you to agree to be her blood brother.” He’s not wrong but that language is sooooo jealous--both revealing the threat he feels (because Jasper is his ‘brother’) and diminishing the JasperMaya relationship (which he knows to be romantic, and is turning familiar.)

Why did the show ever try to top the pure horror of the Grounder Torture Prison?

“What are we supposed to do?” / “Die.” Another Iconic Exchange. This is Monty’s morality: uncompromising. Are the standards he sets for himself hypocritical or consistent? Also, some foreshadowing lol.

I wonder what Monty’s allegiance is to the other kids... Would he have irradiated the Mountain for them if Jasper were safe? Legit question because he defects to his mom’s side pretty fast in S3, and he would 100% leave Mount Weather through the side door just like Clarke, at this point, which Jasper refuses to do even if it were possible. I am intrigued by this scene and the switching of plans/different points of view.

So this is the revelation that the acid fog is a Mount Weather weapon. I always really liked that twist.

Okay so this explains why they didn’t get to the other stations, because they choose to keep the tower up to listen to Mount Weather, but it’s actually not a tough call bc if you defeat Mount Weather and take your people back, then you can get rid of the blocking signal, and then find your other people, so win-win, you just have to go in order and on that note, why did it take 3 months to find only one station??

Is that a....hand crank mp3?? Got a lot of juice from just a little bit of cranking.

There are a hella lot of storylines in this episode. I completely forgot about Jaha and Kane and Lexa.

Kane’s continuing death wish makes him utterly unreasonable. What in a million years makes you think that the Grounders value sacrifice as opposed to just being sadists? I mean, you don’t know. You’re imposing your value system and also your thought processes on them. You’re also assuming that if one of you killed the other, the survivor would actually get something, like a chance to negotiate, which is probably not true--in fact, Gustus basically told you as much with “We’ll hear the terms of your surrender form the survivor.” Winning means nothing except you get to surrender!! And probably die!! They are not coming to you in good faith is what I’m trying to say and having watched the whole season I know I am Right.

“You didn’t order the massacre.” / “Not that one.” Honestly dude get over it lol. Interesting that Jaha, although he has transformed in some ways, keeps to the old lines, about survival, the human race--and our people, if the human race is broader than just the Ark, which it is, and no big deal. So in some ways his morality has not changed at all, at its core.

Look, I’m sorry, not to be that person, but he probably would have been better off killing Lexa there. I mean, I know he’s choosing ‘an innocent’ in his mind but... what a power move to behead the Commander WHILE you’re her prisoner. Good old Jaha, smart and quick and sure of himself.

Just uh not quick enough at murdering I guess.

I’m no Lexa fan but that was an excellent entrance and it remains an excellent entrance. Also while I never thought she was as smart as people said, because name me another tactical decision she made that was actually good, this was a smart ploy. And probably the most subtle thing any Grounder character ever did, even if it does end with her basically beating Jaha up ‘as a message’ as if she were a gangster.

Is this the episode that introduces Blood Must Have Blood? Already Tired of it tbh.

This Clarke and Finn scene is so sad. I realize that they purposefully made him unredeemable at this point, that this story line was always intended to be the method by which he was written off, and that there’s only so much awkwardness you can write around this scenario, but nevertheless it would have been interesting to see Finn in the long term, in a way. Not redeemed.. I don’t know. Whatever I’m thinking it’s not in the range of this show, though, for sure.

Did Jasper and Monty tell all of the 47 everything? To get them to volunteer? (Answer: No, but they told at least Harper and Miller, maybe a few more.)

“How high are you right now?” We were SO robbed of more intoxicated!Monty scenes.

Jasper and Dante: creepy creepy creepy.

“There’s been a Wallace in this office since the bombs.” So glad to know we immediately reverted to some sort of pseud-monarchy post-nuclear war. That said it’s only been 97 years so that’s like 3 Wallaces tops.

Prioritizing the radio also means of course admitting that getting the 47 out of MW is a priority for Abby/Ark PTB, which wasn’t exactly clear before.

I’ve never been a fan of the “Build a brace for yours” line and I’m still not, because I think conflating physical and mental injuries is not exactly helpful, but I guess I appreciate it as a look into Raven’s mind--Raven, who has never really understood mental scars and never really does--and the soft way she says it is a sort of forgiveness. Not really forgiveness she has the right to offer, and in a way a very brash thing to do, because this was literally a war crime that her best friend committed, but nevertheless.

Jaha: appears. Everyone else: what the absolute fuck.

So on that mission they accomplished... literally nothing they set out to do lol.

What is that random shot of Camp Jaha doing there? They’re not within sight of it. They’re still where they set up tents.

I want to point out that this is the FIRST time the Grounders have demanded that the Sky People “leave” or implied in any way that they consider the Sky People to be on “their” land, and that this was never an issue in Season 1, when their beef seemed to be for things like crossing the river at Mount Weather, accidentally dropping their flares on a Grounder village, and torturing a Grounder spy. But I guess at this point the narrative needed to focus on something because the actual reason for the feud, which is roughly, we accidentally pissed each other off and then kept on retaliating, doesn’t play very well or make the Grounders, who were rehabilitated this season, very sympathetic. (Guess who still has zero sympathy lololol?)

#the 100 #the year 2019 #2019: fandom thoughts #2019: the 100 s2 #i wrote a frickin novel #and i still need to make dinner.............. ugh me

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whisperingsofthemoon · 5 years

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The Ocean’s Revenge

The sun reflected off the water, throwing light into Amara’s face. Her blue eyes were almost unseeing as she gazed out to the horizon, taking in the black fury that rolled across the sky. A hand caressed her back and she sighed, turning to face the only person who would touch her like that. ‘This is the third storm in a week,’ her husband stated. ‘The weather’s never this bad. Must be some kind of bad luck,’ he said, gazing down at her with an expression that was only found in the closest of lovers. ‘Are you going to throw me overboard, my love?’ she asked, grinning. He laughed, leant down and kissed her on the forehead. They turned, hand in hand and walked back to the wheel. And in doing so, they missed the black clouds rushing across the sky towards their ship.

‘Hurry, all men in position!’ the Captain snapped, the ship rocking side to side. Lightning struck, illuminating the boat and crew. The ship groaned ominously as it was thrown to the left by the waves, the crew falling like dominoes. They scrambled up, hands and feet searching for grip, slipping and falling as more and more water was sprayed on board. ‘Bloody hell,’ one of the crew snapped. ‘None of this would be happening if that witch hadn’t been on board.’ He sneered, his face turning particularly grisly as lightning highlighted the jagged scar carved down his face. The men next to him all nodded, thinking that witch was the cause for all of this.

The men’s eyes lit up like Christmas trees. They had all come to the same conclusion. Throw her overboard, appease the gods. Sacrifice the woman that had brought all of this suffering and bad luck to their ship. They clambered over one another, desperate to reach that wicked witch, each one needing to be the one to pacify the gods. Thunder rumbled overhead and they all started, their movements becoming more and more panicked.

‘Um, lady Amara,’ one of the men started, ‘we’ve been instructed by the Captain to bring you to the hall.’ The men held their breath, each one hoping this worked. If it didn’t, then they were doomed. There was no response but the snick as the door was unlocked and opened a fraction. She eyed them all up, her gaze penetrating their souls. She straightened up. ‘Very well, best not to keep him waiting.’ Walking confidently, she swept out of the room, not bothering to see if the men were following her.

Hurried footsteps followed in her wake, the two men glancing at each other, not believing their luck. A strangled scream snapped them out of their thoughts. ‘What in the name of God is this?’ Amara exclaimed. The men rounded the corner to a beautiful sight. There, hanging suspended a couple of feet above the ground was the witch that had been causing all of their troubles. ‘Jack, what is the meaning of this? Let me down at once,’ she demanded, flopping like a fish out of water, her wavy red hair becoming tangled within the net.

‘Now, princess,’ Jack purred, ‘you’re in no position to be making demands.’ He reached out and stroked her face. ‘No one can hear you scream, not even that precious husband of yours.’ He spat the word husband with so much venom Amara reeled back, eyes widening. ‘So tell me princess, how you managed to marry the Captain. Was it with your fake innocence or maybe, one of your spells?’ She gasped, eyes watering as Jack pulled on her hair.

‘Do you want to know what happens when women anger the gods?’ Her eyes widened, surely they couldn’t be serious. ‘Oh, that’s right. We throw them overboard.’ He hissed in her ear, yanking her hair.

‘WILLIAM!’ Amara shrieked, her actions becoming panicked and rushed. A hand slapped over her mouth as she drew in another lungful of air. ‘Now, now. That won’t do. Will it?’ Jack cocked his head to the side, almost daring her to try again. She didn’t rise to the bait, instead biting his hand. “You bitch!” he cried, clutching his hand to his chest. Adrenaline took over and he stood to his full height. ‘One of you bring me the rope.’ He shook his head, grabbing the offered rope. “I really had hoped that it wouldn’t come to this,’ he said, dropping her unceremoniously to the floor. He started wrapping the rope around her mouth, a malicious glint entering his eyes. He moved on to her hands, then legs. He muttered something about fishes not needing legs before he ended in a crazed giggle. Her attempts to escape became stronger, but it was futile. This rope was too tight. She glared spitefully from under her fringe, clinging to the belief that William would come save her.

He laughed, ‘Rebellious little thing you are. Don’t know when your betters are talking.’ He bent down and instructed the other men to do the same. They picked her up with little effort, however, her struggling started again. Her blue eyes flashed and became as cold as ice. She set her jaw and waited for the opportunity to break free. She continued screaming at them, the sound muffled by the makeshift gag in her mouth.

All too soon the group reached the edge of the ship. The storm had not lessened while they had been gone, it seemed to have grown, almost as if it was reflecting the anger Amara felt. The wind buffered them side to side, the group being tossed around like a ragdoll. “WILLIAM!’ Amara tried again, only to find a garbled sound escape her. It was useless, why did William have to hire such cowardly animals? They were worse than masterless dogs. Only loyal to themselves and their best interests. She swung her head up, connecting with one of the men’s noses. She took great satisfaction in seeing the blood pouring thickly down his face. He glared, but kept a strong grip on her.

‘Well, it’s now or never,’ Jack sang out gleefully. ‘Too bad your husband’s not here to see what happens to little witches.’ He paused. ‘On the count of three. One.’ She was swung back and forwards. ‘Two.’ The same thing happened. ‘And three!’ This time they let go and she went soaring through the air like a ballerina. The last thing she saw was William running towards the edge of the boat, yelling desperately at the men who had just thrown her. Amara’s last thought repeated itself, almost mocking her. WILLIAM, why did you not save me?

Her body hit the bottom of the ocean with a thud. A frail looking man followed her down, his eyes showing oldness that humanity could not comprehend. He sighed, what had this world come to, throwing women who had done nothing wrong as a way to please him. They were mortals, irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. But this was inexcusable, something had to be done about it.

So the old sea god sighed, snapped his fingers and watched as an ethereal green glow surrounded the woman. Her back arched in an unnatural way and her body convulsed violently. Her eyes snapped open, blue orbs searching for something that wasn’t there. Red hair followed in her wake as she thrashed uncontrollably. She inhaled, but only salty water was there. She choked as the sea god winced, turning slightly to the side. For the amount of times he saw this, it never got easier. Fiery lines appeared on her neck and she breathed easily. Next were the legs, rope burns had etched their way up her legs and the sea god thought rather sadistically, that they were quite pretty.

Amara glanced around as she came back to the land of the living. Pain was the only thing she knew and she welcomed it. But, then it disappeared. She felt empty, numb, until memories flashed behind her eyes, memories of love, tenderness, fear, hope, and then betrayal. Reaching up to tuck her hair behind a pointed ear, she remembered what had caused all of this. Anger rose up in her, like a snake when threatened. Red bled through her mind, devouring all other thought. To intent on finding the humans that betrayed her, she never noticed how easy breathing came to her or now instead of legs, she had a tail.

She broke the surface, gazing around. The sky was a beautiful blue colour, not a cloud in sight. It was a picturesque day. Or, it would have been, if the only thought on her mind was revenge. Scanning the horizon, she eyed down the boat that housed her current obsession. They hadn’t moved much, it was perfect.

The ship grew bigger on the horizon as she approached. Her eyes were ice and a deadly glare that wasn’t previously showing on her face took over. She reached the ship and began to sing. Her song was full of enchanting melodies and breath-taking crescendos. It was deadly in a beautiful way. Her voice was a master and the victims of it responded like slaves. They followed her blindly, only wanting to hear more of her song.

A rocky outcrop appeared in her peripheral vision and she began directing the men towards it. Water splashed and sprayed as it hit the rocks and the men did not even realise the danger that they were swimming towards. The crew followed her haunting melody, the guilty men dragged towards their death by the song of an innocent woman. A dispassionate gaze shifted across the men. She took pleasure in the sight of the betrayers and murders swimming willingly towards their deaths. Her once dearly beloved swam towards his death, not even his innocence was strong enough to save him from her deadly song. His guilt over something had caught him in her song and the pain of the night had removed all compassionate thought for all men. She continued singing, a dangerous smile curved on her lips as the men neared the rocks.

They were a formidable sight, protruding at least two metres out of the water. The tips were sharp like spears and they seemed like a perfect death trap. She projected her voice out once again, watching as the men became frenzied. They realised the danger all too late. Already being sucked towards the rocks, their screams and cries for help were drowned out by the splashing of water on rock. Amara watched aloofly as they drowned, hoping that they felt the same amount of torture that she had. Red hair disappeared beneath the surface as the ocean took its revenge on the taint that crossed it.

#writeblr #writing #writers #short story #short stories

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silverlovesmadi · 6 years

Text

Star Trek: Discovery

"Despite Yourself" review/rant/analysis

It just annoys the hell out of me the show would write such a disturbing, sadistic and traumatic storyline for two already very traumatised characters of color.

Ash because of losing his entire crew because of the war, being a pow for 7 months, being subjected to some fucked up frankenstein like medical experiment and being forced to deal with Voq’s memories because of it. Not to mention all these creepy, disgusting, triggering convo’s he had to have with L'Rell because he didn’t know and understand wtf was going with him.

Michael because of her parents being murdered by Klingons when she was a little girl, her almost dying in the process, almost dying again because of some Vulcan extremist, being raised by Sarek to surpress her emotions at all times and aim for ubercompetence, losing her captain and some of her crew in the war and being used as a scapegoat for a war the Klingons started, realizing Sarek was a fraud of a father and was never gonna validate her nor admit he was the one who was wrong, waisting 7 years of her life in the process, having to go undercover in the mirror universe as some facist captain persona and being forced to kill one of her former crew members out of self defense, knowing that even if the war is won and she survives, she goes back to jail for life etc.).

There’s angst, there’s nuance, there’s compelling drama, there’s conflict, there’s adventurous and realistic sci-fi. And then there’s OVERdoing it with the shock value because the mainstream loves it on Game of Thrones (a show I personally couldn’t care less about) and thinking that’s the way to make the show as popular as GOT.

I should’ve known, because they’ve been overdoing it since the beginning not just by killing off Georgiou and Landry, but also the explicitly violent ways in which they killed them off for shock value. And the oneliners the bridge crew always get, who are obviously only there to fullfill some “diversity” quota to satisfy viewers, have started to get annoying as fuck too. We get it, you’re never gonna give them proper storylines, because you don’t really want too.

I really love Michael and Ash together, because they have such amazing and natural chemistry, which in large part is thanks to Sonequa and Shazad. There’s a always a very strong sense of trust, protectiveness and loyalty between the two. You can tell they really wanna be with each other and wanna look out for one another. Something they aren’t always able to do, since they are expected to go out and put they’re lives on the line everyday. It’s because they have and care so much about each other they’re some what able to face and deal with fighting in this war, and for now this mirror universe too, despite their mutual trauma’s. They help each other get through it as best as they both can.

But I just wish the show didn’t have to make Michael and Ash each others love interests, if the price they had to pay for their relationship was having to go down this depressing ass road. Why couldn’t they just let them stay friends?

I’m not in the mood for Michael having to face the fact that there’s a fucking Klingon inside Ash somewhere while she had a whole (and her very first too!!) intimate serious relationship with him. It’s gonna traumatise her even more. But we all know she’ll just suck it up again and keep going, because that’s what she’s so good at right? Sucking it up, being strong and sacrificing herself for the war.

And what type of fuckery is it that Michael, who is known as the killer of T'Kuvma, who Voq and T'Rell were so loyal too, had to be the woman Ash had to fall in love with while Voq was inside his body all this time. Like what? Are Voq and L'Rell gonna try and kill Michael out of revenge? Traumatising her even more?

Since Michael still doesn’t know about this whole fucking mess of a medical experiment L'Rell and Voq subjected Ash to, is she gonna see the man she had her first ever serious relationship with, shared everything with, something she already struggled with so much to open herself up to in the beginning, who promised to protect her at her at all costs, try and snap her neck like Voq did with Hugh? Something we really did not need to see since surviving that injury is not gonna make us unsee it. If it is even true that Hugh survives.

Is Ash gonna try and fight Voq internally somehow, to prevent him from getting to Michael? Probably having to sacrifice himself to kill Voq for good to safe Michael and the Discovery crew, killing off character of colour number #3?

I’m just looking at the writers like, when is enough ENOUGH?? How the fuck is Michael gonna trust anything or anyone ever? 10 steps forward, 50 steps back.

This storyline is so oversaturated with angst, trauma and suffering upon angst, trauma and suffering, just so the writers could introduce “the Klingon as human” storyline, but completely without nuance and the consideration of the implications for doing this with a cast full of poc.

There is already an abundance of media where in characters of colour, especially black female characters are subjected to traumatic and tragic storylines. So the Discovery writers aren’t doing anything “innovative” here. It’s lazy, predictable and quite frankly racist, sexist and homophobic, idc what anybody says and idc what anybody is gonna throw at me for keeping it real. Come at me. Art and media is here to be criticised. Especially if you’re “trying” to represent us.

I’m really curious as to whom the writers think they’re tonedeaf way of writing is aimed at. Who do they want as an audience? Because it seems to me they have no clue themselves.

I’m done seeing Michael suffer, I’m done. I'm done with the whole: "Ash was raped by L'Rell, only for the writers to go: oh sike! It was consensual after all, because they're Voq's memories, so Ash is perfectly fine!!!🙃🙃🙃".

It seems like the writers are less about the storyline/creating groundbreaking sci-fi and more about the trauma said storyline creates and causes, because according to them the drama comes frome the trauma, and everything for “interesting” television, right? It doesn’t feel like watching an adventurous, exciting, fresh, modern take on an iconic sci-fi show anymore, but another episode of Black Mirror that just won’t fucking end.

And you know what the hypocrisy of it all is? A majority of tv critics where so overly critical of the show’s use of the f-word (something that never bothered me because i know it wasn’t a big deal), which happened in literally one scene of 1 episode, accusing it of trying too hard to be “dark and edgy”, and that it completely ruined the show and the heart of Star Trek, but the same critics are completely eating up and loving this “Ash and Voq share the same body” storyline since Ash was introduced. Because apparently this storyline is not dark and sadistic at all, it’s just “really cool sci-fi!!!”

I wonder why that is. And who even remembers the f-word scene now?

#star trek: discovery #long post #haven't written such a long post in a minute #i wanted this show to be good for sonequa #but we'll see #star trek discovery #michael burnham #hugh culber #philippa georgiou #commander landry #ash tyler #ashael #ashburn #misogynoir #tw: rape mention #despite yourself

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tornrose24 · 6 years

Text

Three worded password (A CU Portal AU oneshot)

There’s a hidden test subject in the facility and George and Harold have no clue that three strange discoveries are they key to her freedom.

There’s a lot to discover when you have two sets of portal guns, two naturally curious and determined but easily bored boys, and a sadistic maniac forcing you to do test after test without stopping. The sterile look of Aperture Labs will eventually get to you and you will welcome any change of color besides the dull monochromes and blues and oranges.

George and Harold managed to ‘ruin’ another test as an act of defiance against Krupp to the point that they could hear him screaming and throwing a terrific tantrum in his domain, which meant he was not focusing on them. They took their chance to use the portal guns to sneak up into what appeared to be another hidden area that was barely in view. Careful aiming and timing granted the boys a brief moment of freedom and a new area to explore.

“It’s like you’re trying to give me a headache! WHICH IS WORKING!” They could still hear Krupp’s projected voice. “I’m going to explode from a headache no thanks to you two! And then you’re going to have ‘committed a murder via headache induced by stupid reckless behavior’ on your files!”

The boys just laughed and continued on their way into the secret room. But upon entering it, they stopped laughing when they saw what was on the wall.

Painted upon the wall was a mural of a stick figure in some sort of strange metal and glass container. Whoever made it was a terrible artist and made Harold look like Rembrandt.

“Huh, wonder what it is.” George stated as he and Harold looked at it. “Hey... have I seen that before?” George struggled to think as Harold continued looking at the image, but nothing happened to make them remember.

Harold turned his head and saw something written on the side wall next to the mural. “‘George, look.” He pointed to the message.

“‘Can’t use this test subject.’” George read the frantic, yet desperate message. “‘No matter what, can not use it. Too valuable. Not fit for testing. Don’t let him free the subject.’” The last part had a line drawn under it for emphasis, followed by ‘save subject!!!’

“George, is there... you don’t think there’s another test subject like us in Aperture?” Harold nervously asked. “I thought we’re the only ones. Krupp said so.”  “Krupp says anything.” George pointed out before noticing another message. “Azure skies, denim jeans, sapphire seas, cobalt space, cerulean oceans, robin’s egg... what do we all have in common?”

“Ok, now this is getting weird.” George shook his head. “Some weirdo must have made this.”

Harold stared at the message and tried to think. What did these things all have in common? He struggled to think–he barely remembered what a sky was supposed to look like. He didn’t know what a robin’s egg was. Sapphire... that was a jewel right? It almost reminded him of when the portal gun produced a certain colored portal–

“Blue!” Harold exclaimed. “These are all just another way of saying blue!”

“Really?” George was impressed before frowning. “But that still doesn’t make sense.”

“WHERE ARE YOU BRATS?! IF YOU GONE AND KILLED YOURSELF, THEN IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT NOT MINE!”

The boys gave each other a knowing look and sighed. It was time to head back.

They didn’t think too much of that until they found another room. Krupp had been distracted once again and they took their freedom as fast as they could.

They were happy to get a chance to rest–only to find the same mural of a figure in that container and it was just as bad as the last one.

“Again?” Harold raised an eyebrow at this as George read the message.

“‘Couldn’t save you in time, I should have told you to leave me. Now you’re stuck here in this nightmare with me. Can’t expect forgiveness. Can’t trust myself–too cowardly to risk it. I’m going to burn for this one day.’”

“Seriously, who made these?” Harold shuddered before George read the message at the bottom.

“‘Friends are a pair, splitting leads to twins, a team is a duo, lovebirds are a couple, eight minus six is–’” The rest was a blank.

George thought about this message and raised his hands up to count down with his fingers. “Eight minus six....” He paused and thought as he counted down his fingers with each one going down.

“Two.” He looked up. “This message is talking about twos.”

“So it’s like how that last message and all the things in it had something in common with each other.” Harold thought.

They both didn’t think too much on it and sat down to rest for a few minutes.

By the time they found the third hidden room, they were more than sure that Krupp was feeding them lies.

They didn’t remember anything before they woke up as if their lives had been a blank. Despite whatever Krupp told them (that their parents abandoned them, that the world outside was a wasteland filled with useless, stupid people, that all they were good for was for testing and not drawing or telling stories) they had a feeling it was all a lie long before they figured it out. Much like the promise of freedom that they craved for than anything.

He was making it point clear that he would be keeping them locked up in this awful, boring place, no matter how many tests they had done, and he wouldn’t say why other than “Because I say so!” when pushed too far. Also the ‘tests’ were getting worse to the point that both boys had been pushed beyond their limits and were almost shot by turrets that were shaped more like toilets (to which the pain in their neck admitted that he didn’t know why they were designed like that, but they were a metaphor waiting to be used on the two if they didn’t hurry it up).

The only consolation they had was each other, and it was getting to the point that Krupp was noticing. The tests had less cooperation involved then usual. It was only a matter of time...

Both boys were sweaty, dirty, and George had a hole in his t-shirt from a close call by one of the turrets when they came upon this room. Once again the same mural greeted them along with another strange message.

“I want to see you again. I can’t see you again. No, too dangerous. Must forget these locations before the itch comes on. I want to see your smile and hear your voice.”

The boys didn’t bother to read the other message until they rested up for a few minutes and were too exhausted to even talk. Harold took out a small, but strange gray-white sphere with a blue light in it that he and George found earlier and tossed it in his hands for a bit while George stared up at the ceiling and tried to imagine life before this (he could barely make out two faces in the haze) before either of them looked at the next cryptic message.

“Will I ever again see the sky? Would I ever know what it’s like to fly? Perhaps it’d be better if I die? Perhaps the end is nigh. I hear myself sigh. Did I make her cry? Sometimes I ask myself ‘why?’ All they told us was a lie. They away so much, including my–”

Under the bizarre poem was a series of words to chose from and to fill in the blank space for the last line. This time both boys figured out what the missing word was within a few moments.

“Eye.” Harold pointed to the word in the word bank.

“Yup, it’s ‘eye.’” George agreed before grimacing. “They... took away my eye?”

“George this is freaking me out.” Harold shuddered. “Let’s leave this place.”

“Hang on a minute.” George turned to Harold. “What was the point of these puzzles? How does this relate to a missing subject? And how come Krupp never mentioned it?”

“Maybe he doesn’t know about it.” Harold thought over this. “We should mention it to him next time–”

 “No.” George denied. “I have a feeling he shouldn’t know. Especially if there’s something we don’t know.”

Harold hummed as he traced his fingers against some lettering on the sphere: ‘Intelligence Dampening Sph–’ the rest had been rubbed off. Had he known that the object was going to be one of many keys to freedom, he would have treated it with more care.

Neither boy would be able to solve the mystery anytime soon–especially when they finally confronted their tormentor in his domain and saw him face to face. He almost looked more machine than man though being connected to multiple cables and wires woven through a mechanical ‘throne’ thanks to what appeared to be ports scattered across his back and in the back of his head. One quarter of his face was seemingly taken over by a white and black thing with some sort of yellow optic where one eye should have been (forcing him to see in binary, numbers, and the world around him in yellow monochrome, alongside what his more human-like eye could see).

Especially when he tricked them into destroying the morality core shoved into his chest via a nearby incinerator–the very thing that forced him to follow ‘their’ rules and regulations and not lash out, no matter what the name implied–which he himself could not, thanks to a restraint that had been forced into his mentality. Now he was at the point that he didn’t care if the boys lived or died (for whatever happened to them would be revenge upon their parents for not stopping those who ran this place in time).

Especially when the boys used all they learned against him and pulled off a prank (with the help of the portals) by shoving the Intelligence Dampening Sphere into his chest where the morality core used to be. When the whole area exploded, when they found themselves gazing at the sky before an escort robot could drag them back to be put in stasis.

But they both would chose each other over freedom. They could not imagine escaping at the cost of leaving the other behind.

Soon they’d be awakened at some point later on by a cheerful face who was both familiar and not quite. A face with a slightly altered appearance with a blue light in his eye and a familiar sphere shoved into his chest.

It was only after a few hours of exploration, a moment of revenge by taking the core in and out of their new friend to turn him back to his old self with each removal, that they would come upon a familiar sight.

The boys were now in a unique area filled with stasis chambers and these ones were different. Located in a small room that seemed surprisingly well cared for, these chambers were all familiar to them–they were the chambers that were depicted in the murals that once puzzled the boys, yet only one was occupied.

“George, look!” Harold pulled his friend to look at this particular chamber. A woman in her very late twenties to early-or-mid-thirties was sleeping inside, with dark hair covering half of a face that had a light sprinkle of freckles, and she was dressed in a dark pink dress with an apron bearing the Aperture logo across her chest. There also seemed to be handprint smudges upon the outside of glass that sealed her in, but the boys were drawn to what was smack dab on the middle of the container.

It looked like a keyboard with letters and numbers with a screen on it.

“I guess there was someone down here after all!” George exclaimed as he and Harold didn’t know whether to be excited or horrified for the sleeping woman’s sake.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Harold then went up to the keyboard and tried pressing something to see what would happen. The screen flashed red colored words against the black screen in response.

‘SUBJECT WILL ONLY AWAKEN FROM STASIS UPON ENTERING THE CORRECT THREE WORDED PASSWORD. TYPE IN PASSWORD TO AWAKEN SUBJECT. PRESS ENTER’ FOR EACH WORD.’ The screen then displayed a blinking red bar.

“Oh wow,” Harold grimaced as he looked at George. “I have no clue what that could be.”

“Aperture Science... Labs?” George suggested and typed it in.

‘ERROR.’

“Ok, not that one.” George shook his head.

“Cake is lie?” Harold typed in, only to be greeted with ‘ERROR’.

“Dance banana dance?”

“Krupp’s a jerk?”

“Furry taco shell?”

“Lemons are explosive?”

“Wicked wedgie woman?”

“Potato powered battery?”

“Bird’s the word?”

Each one was met with an ‘ERROR.’

“ARGH!” George threw his hands in the air. “It could be anything!” He and Harold struggled to think of the possible passwords in addition to wondering why it had to be so hard to awaken the woman inside.

“Wait a minute.” Harold thought back to the murals and how this chamber looked like the ones that were depicted upon the walls. “Remember those murals from awhile ago? I think they might have to do with this. There were three in total–”

“They were giving us the password!” George caught on and his eyes sparkled. “Those messages must have been giving us the answers!”

Harold struggled to recount. “The first one listed different kinds of blue... one of the words is ‘blue.’”

“Ok, ok,” George thought. “The second one was the use of two... the answer was ‘two!’”

“And then the last one was a poem.” Harold struggled harder. “What were the words used? Fly, lie, cry, sigh– eye! The word was ‘eye!’”

“Blue... two... eye...” George thought on this. “Eye... two... blue... two blue... eye... No if there was more then one it would need to be ‘eyes’ not ‘eye.’”

“Well, lets give it a shot.” Harold was optimistic and steeped aside to let George type it in. He nervously typed each word in (the words that spelled out ‘two blue eyes’) and after pressing enter one last time, dots appeared on the screen and he stepped back towards Harold.

There was a click and the lettering became green. ‘PASSWORD ACCEPTED. AWAKENING SUBJECT.’ The screen said to the joy of the boys who felt victorious at the accomplishment.

A blast of hair blew into the woman and made her clothes ripple before the door swung open. Whatever kept her suspended mid air vanished and made her collapse into a crumble upon the floor.

“Quickly, let’s get her out!” Harold rushed to her aid and with the help of George, they got the woman out as fast as they could. She was heavy, but they managed to get her out with much care.

“We did it!” George cried out when they rested the woman on the floor.

“We did!” Harold exclaimed as the woman began to stir. “We–she’s waking up!” He freaked out as the woman’s eyelids began to flutter open, revealing a striking set of the bluest eyes that the two had ever seen.

“Hey, are you ok?” Harold knelt beside the woman who was struggling with wakening up.

“Where... am...” She voice was weak from lack of use as she tried to look at the two. “Ben.” Her voice became urgent. “Where... where’s Ben... where....?” She pleaded.

“Hey guys, what’s taking so long?!” A cheerful voice from down a hallway asked.

The woman could see that the boys panicked a little at the sound of the voice. “Do you think we should–?” Harold asked.

“As long as we don’t take the sphere out of him.” George turned to the woman. “Hey it’s ok, we’ll get you out of here!” He promised her.

“No...” The woman felt sleep coming over her. “Ben..jamin... they still have...”

The woman heard someone charging down the hallway and she couldn’t get her eyes to open when Harold called out. “We need you to help carry someone!”

The woman then slipped in and out of consciousness as she thought she heard a somewhat familiar voice talking to the boys. The last thing she recalled before falling back to sleep was someone–a man, she guessed–picking her up and gently cradling her in his arms. She was close enough to fell his heart beat and the last thing she could make out when she opened her eyes a crack was something blue on his chest before the darkness took over again.

The woman was fine for now and would soon wake up. Unfortunately for her and the boys, her rescuers did something they probably shouldn’t have done–awoken the test subject that Krupp had wanted to awaken for a very long time.

Just not while the addiction to test was still a part of him.

-The itch is also known as the ‘urge to test’ in Portal 2. I combined what I knew of both games for this one. I don’t intend on making a full on fan fic (plus I have some things that need to be finished, like the Corpse Bride AU). But it would be a good AU to revisit. Also, now you know what the password is. :)

#captain underpants #cu portal au #george beard #harold hutchins #mr. krupp #principal krupp #edith the lunch lady #egg casserole #kruppxedith

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thetakenpokemon · 7 years

Text

Fourth Memory of Asmund

Hatred is a very powerful thing...oh reader mine.

From this memory...you shall learn what it is capable of.

Witness...and learn...

[À̵̡͞ ͘͞M͘͝͡͝Ę̀́̕̕M̴̸͝O҉͠҉̷͟R̵̶̨̕Y̨͟҉ ͠͡͠T̵͏̕͟H̡̢́͟͢R̴͜͏̢͡O̡͏̷U̢͏̵Ǵ̵͞H́҉̴҉̸ ͜҉̧͟T̸̸̶͞H͝E̴̴͘͡ ̶͟V̸̴̛̛Ę̶I̴͞͡͏͝L]

[Location: ?̢̀?̶̡҉͟?̶̧?͟͞?̷͢҉́?̶̷̛͟?͘̕͟͢?̛̀?] [PoV: Asmund]

Further and further we go into the ruins with me stuck in her telekinetic hold, forced to follow her against my will.

While held in place...I could do barely anything, left only with one choice...

...Which is to observe my surroundings.

This...ruins...is something to behold. The stone walls of the cavern are covered with all sorts of carvings depicting different scenes. Towering pillars also reach up to the ceiling...as if they were there already before the carvings were etched into its stone surface.

The one thing I’ve noticed with these carvings? The various symbols and images they depict?

The images are that of humans, no Pokemon at all.

...

What is this place...?

Eventually I start hearing loud voices, as if there’s a large amount of people ahead of us. When the ruins opens up to a massive chamber...I can see for myself what the sources of these voices are.

Pokemon.

Lots of...of fucking...Pokemon.

Located around the chamber are numerous campsites with burning firepits, strewn on other various locations are recently brought-in tables covered with notes and books. Pokemon are littered around the place, either talking amongst themselves or doing...something. I can assume that it’s around twenty Pokemon here in total, counting the bitch that’s holding me prisoner.

And when I was brought into the chamber? They all fall silent.

Their expressions...they range from contempt to downright hatred. They start mumbling and whispering to each other, words I can’t hear...but I know well enough that they’re about me.

And it’s nothing good.

However Marie didn’t stop, she continues to bring me to the center of the chamber...where it seems to sink into the earth.

Inside this ‘shallow pit’ are two things, a table with shackles...and a massive metal statue.

No...statue doesn’t seem to be the right word to describe it.

It stands nearly twice as tall as me and has bulk to match. Upon first glance I would’ve assumed that it’s a sort of Golurk, but...it’s far too unique to be classified as such.

It’s made of a yellowish metal, too dark and not nearly as lustrous to be classified as gold. It also possesses plenty of darker colors as well, bordering on browns. Attached to its back with pipes is something that looks remarkably similar to a water heater, although on the very top is a hatch wheel that I commonly associate with submarines.

Another eye-catcher about it is the fact that although its left arm ends in a fist...its right ends in a cannon. Four nozzles attached to pipes line the four sides of the barrel, only giving hints of what they may be capable of. On top of the shoulder of the cannon-arm is a long cylinder with another hatch wheel, probably a sort of container to hold ammunition for the cannon.

And the real finisher? It’s the thing’s face. Shaped like that of a human, with a curled beard of metal and an almost menacing expression frozen on its black eyes and lips.

That thing...it doesn’t look like a mere statue anymore.

The steam-punky look? The cannon? The water heater on the back?

No...it’s not a statue...

It’s a machine.

I feel myself suddenly risen from my thoughts as I’m unceremoniously dropped onto the table, immediately the shackles become surrounded with an orange glow and they snake up to my limbs...and chain me to the piece of furniture.

I immediately start struggling upon instinct, but the Delphox lets out a dry laugh. “You won’t break free from your bonds.” She tells me. “They are too strong...and you lack the strength to do so.”

Yeah...after being underfed for nine days straight...I was lucky that I managed to even do what I did to the Zoroark.

This leaves me only one thing left to do. One would think that I should end with a bang, to go down slinging insults to these damn Pokemon to defy them one last time.

But...I want answers, and I am going to find out one way...or another. I don’t want them to do whatever the hell they want without me having no knowledge on what’s going to happen...

...So I’m going to try...one last time...

“What...the hell...are you going to do to me?” I growl, channeling as much of my hatred into those words. My voice...it even chilled my own self, for I didn’t even sound like a Human anymore.

I sounded like an animal.

The orange Delphox did look put-off by the force in my words, but her smirk slowly returns. She opens her mouth to respond in what I can assume is ‘I won’t tell you’, but another Pokemon speaks before she could even form the words.

“Heh, I don’t see a reason why we can’t tell him how he’ll die.” The new voice comments, sounding very amused if anything.

Entering my vision is a female Gothitelle, also appearing to be very elderly. Accompanying her is the Hypno from when I was first abducted, immediately making my eyes narrow when I recognized the fucker.

She stops next to me, her aged face containing a dark smile that made my body shiver. “Are you curious...human?” She asks me, her tone becoming almost mocking. “Are you curious on why we brought you here?”

I pull at my chains, giving her the most dirtiest look. “What do you fucking think?” I hiss.

She clicks her tongue at me. “Such a foul tongue...” The edges of her lips widen further. “No wonder they call you a dirty human.”

Seeing the anger flash on my face she laughs quietly, turning and walking away.

“I will tell you, since I find it only fair...even for your kind.” She continues, stopping in front of the giant metal machine. “This...is the reason.”

The Gothitelle nods to the Delphox, who levitates various candles in and setting them down in a peculiar formation around me and the machine.

“This...is a very peculiar construct.” The Gothitelle chuckles. “It was crafted by Humans, for what purpose...we don’t know completely.”

With a flick of her wand Marie proceeds to light each candle, casting the surrounding area in an orange glow.

“But we’ve learned much about it...” The old hag says, turning back to me. “It...is powered by something special, a...soul.” Her gaze turns to the surrounding area, where the Pokemon that were once scattered are now crowded around the ‘pit’. “We’ve tried to use the soul of a Pokemon, however...the machine wouldn’t accept it.”

She laughs again, but this time...it sounds almost sadistic. “So after studying the carvings...we’ve discovered that it requires a human soul.” Her smile widens into a grin, baring unnaturally sharp teeth. “Imagine my surprise...”

With each candle fully lit, the Gothitelle slowly begins to approach me again. With each step she grows closer to me...the more I try to shrink back.

“This machine...it contains very complex runes and carvings within it, a matrix of spells and enchantments...all powered by a soul.”

Finding the strength to speak, I manage to ask a question. “So you’re going to take my soul to power that thing?!” I bare my own teeth at her. “What are you planning to use it for?! What’s stopping me from taking control of the thing?!”

She laughs for what may be the fourth time, amused as if I’m but a toddler asking something that everyone should know.

“You want to know?” She sneers. “Our purpose...is to use it as a weapon, for a construct of this magnitude...it would fit our uses just fine.” The Psychic-Pokemon leans over the table, her face growing close to mine. “And we’ve taken great care to carve our own enchantments into it, to force it to be completely obedient. You won’t rebel against us, you will be but a slave.”

From her dress she pulls out a jagged dagger, its dark metal shining in the orange light.

“Marie, prepare to capture the soul.” She says aloud, her eyes widening with manic glee.

The Hypno looks at me uncertainly. “Perhaps...I should knock him out first...?” He asks slowly. “That way he doesn’t-”

“NO!” The Gothitelle shouts, causing everyone to flinch. “He...must...WITNESS!”

“LIKE HELL!” I scream at her and begin thrashing, putting as much of what’s left of my strength into trying to do...something! ANYTHING!

I am NOT going to fucking die here! Not like this!

With a maniacal laugh the Gothitelle plunges the dagger straight down into my chest...and right into my heart.

...

Pain...

...

Agony...

...

I let out a loud scream when I feel the weapon dig into my flesh and pierce the organ responsible for giving me life.

But she doesn't stop there... She yanks the knife out and stabs again and again, delivering another fatal wound after wound.

I don’t know how long this kept up, but the pain...it went on for too long....

...

Eventually...after what felt like an agonizing eternity...I felt my consciousness fade...and become embraced by a dark void.

...

But just when the darkness fully consumed me...I felt myself being yanked from...something...

...

And then...I knew nothing...

...

It doesn’t end here...oh reader mine...

...

Witness.

...

What...is happening...?

...

At first I’m but floating in what feels like a dark void, yet at the same time...the void feels like a cage.

Trapped...by an invisible barrier...

...

Then...I remembered.

Being abducted.

Forced into a cage.

Tormented.

Starved.

Then...murdered.

Brutally.

Viciously.

...

They took my soul.

To power a construct to be used for whatever sick purpose they have.

...

I’m imprisoned here, my body left no choice but to serve.

...

No...

I...will not...sit by...

...AND LET THEM DO THIS TO ME!

I WILL NOT STAND STILL! I WILL NOT ALLOW MY SOUL POWER A WEAPON FOR THEIR VILE IDEALS!

I...WILL..BREAK...FREE!!

With every ounce of my power I let out a primal scream and throw my will at the void, tearing and slashing at the invisible barrier. Although I can’t feel it...I know that the enchantment is buckling.

They designed it with the fact that I’ve succumbed to my fate.

That I’ve given up, that I lack the will to push my bonds.

But no...

I have not...

In fact...their actions have given me the fuel I needed to fight back.

Hatred.

It is all the power I need.

Suddenly I feel the darkness split, and then...I feel the world return to me.

...

Voices...

I hear talking...

My vision quickly returns to me, allowing me to see once more.

But...

...

I feel different...

...

In fact, the world feels different.

A loud hiss escapes from my body as I feel...what may be gears and pistons beginning to operate, I feel a surge of power flow through me as the radiating energy from my soul fuels the various enchantments that cover my entire frame.

Yet despite all of this...it doesn’t necessarily ‘feels like anything’. In fact, I can’t smell...and the rest of my senses feel like mockeries instead of the real thing.

Mockeries, as if...

As if my body is trying to replicate these senses, but has forgotten to include what makes it real.

...

I hear excited chatter...below me? Yes, when I angle my head down I see the various Pokemon cheering and smiling at my towering frame.

They all look so...small.

...

Like insects.

...

The Gothitelle approaches me, her body covered in blood.

MY BLOOD.

“IT WORKED!” She laughs, dropping the bloody dagger to the ground as she thrusts her hands into the air in victory. “Arceus has smiled upon us! The machine has now awaken!”

A shadow passes over her face as her smile grows wicked. “And it will serve us~”

No...

I will not serve you...

No...

...

I do not serve scum.

My fist clenches instinctively, as if it only needed my thought alone to control it. In fact...despite my body not feeling...like a body, I seem to know everything about it. All of the locations of the gears and pistons, the specifics of what each enchantment does, what the various features I possess...

I know all of this...as if they’re imprinted on my mind.

Yet I don’t know how...

...

I hear voices again...

No...shouting, someone is shouting at me.

I bring myself back to reality and focus at the one who’s making a loud racket, which happens to be the Gothitelle. When I look at her face? She appears frustrated...very frustrated.

“Why aren’t you obeying me?!” She hisses. “I ORDER you to take a step forward!”

...

I will play this game...

Without a word I take one step forward, the movement feeling strange...yet natural at the same time. I feel the world shake underneath me, a loud ‘clang’ echoes when the metal meets stone.

The single action I took makes the Gothitelle’s smile return immediately. “Heh, it looks like it’s rather slow at first.” She chuckles. “No matter...in due time it’ll be ready for- HRK!”

She doesn’t get to finish...because I didn’t let her.

In one swift motion I grasp her head and neck with my powerful hand and lift her up into the air, the action taking no effort whatsoever.

The Gothitelle starts struggling feebly against my fist in an attempt to free herself, but the unrelenting strength that it possesses...she has no hope of escaping.

The surrounding Pokemon start shouting in fear, the Delphox’s eyes widen in shock before aiming her wand at me. Her eyes glow as she attempts to envelope my hand in order to use her telekinesis to free the Gothitelle, but upon making contact...the enchantments flare to life.

A red glow seems to shimmer around the parts of my hand that she’s trying to move with her psychic power, causing the force to harmlessly slip off as if it can’t even get a hold of it.

I turn my head to her, watching with sick satisfaction as the Delphox realizes that she has no power over me anymore.

Heh...

How the tables have turned.

My head slowly turns back to the still struggling Gothitelle, however her movements grow more and more sluggish with each second due to her old age.

She is at my mercy...

Ever so slowly I bring her to my face, tightening my grip just slightly in order to make it even more painful for her.

Despite my face being incapable of moving, making any expressions...

Despite how my lips are forever frozen, to never move...

I speak.

“Witness.” I utter, my voice deep...and hollow.

She is at my mercy...

...And I will show her none.

With a simple flex of my hand, I crush her head. Blood and brain matter splatter everywhere as her body collapses to the ground in a lifeless heap.

...

The place is completely silent now.

No...

Not completely silent.

The sounds of grinding gears, the hissing of pistons, and...the frantic breathing of over twenty Pokemon.

I turn my head to the crowd surrounding me, their bodies frozen in terror. All of their looks of contempt, their looks of hatred...all gone.

Replaced...with fear.

...

And they should.

They should fear me.

...

And they will die...knowing that fear.

My black empty eyes start glowing with a bright red light as I feel my own hatred fester, fester and burn...to a raging inferno.

...

They will all die.

Like the scum they are.

#asmund #???#plot #act 2

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bakaiju · 7 years

Text

Survival at Mount Massive Asylum chapter 19

Underground Lab (part 1)

Kirigiri couldn’t help but to feel sad for her lover trembling and repeating the same curse in front of her.

“Fuck…” he started, then he looked at his right hand, “fuck…” then at his left hand, “Fuck…” his tremors getting more violent with each repetition, then he looked around on the new area, “Fuck! Is Martin behind this?”

“I don’t know…” she answered, still holding him, “But listen to me. I know that you must be thinking the same thing as me right now. So let me remind you: We are not crazy. I know, I know only crazy people say that. But believe me when I say that we are as sane as this world allows, and we have this camera full of evidence. This isn’t a ‘gospel’; this is a mockery of reason. We will let the world know about this, is Murkoff’s fault! We’ll bury them with this video.” she said with a determination that would match his if he was in a better state.

“Y-Yes… You’re right! L-Let’s do this! So we must keep going…”

“There’s no other choice…”

“Kyoko… Thank you. If you weren’t here, I would have given up by now…”

She smiled at him, but kept it to herself that she was feeling the same thing.

They both looked around and decided to go deeper inside this new area.

“When will we leave this place…?” they wondered out loud.

The corridor was circular, as if they were in a tunnel, and by looking at the white composition of the walls, they thought that it looked like ice, but from the composition, it was obvious that they were inside the mountain right now.

They opened a door and entered what looked like another entrance lobby, there was a desk and two big screen behind it. On the left screen: Murkoff Corp. Logo and on the right: WALRIDER Project and its logo.

They looked around, there was blood and body parts everywhere. Also some destroyed guns.

“I know this place” Kirigiri said.

“Y-You know…?” Naegi asked with wide eyes.

“I mean, I know this lobby. Father Martin showed it to me before sedating us and bringing us to the Prison Block, right when we unlocked the front door. These soldier were killed by the Walrider.” she explained.

“Wait. Soldiers? I… I can’t even recognize them.” Naegi looked at one of the mutilated bodies.

They had to continue, there was something strange about the bodies and blood splashes. Some splashes were logical, but the ones near the ‘bodies’ looked like the bodies exploded, like when they were in the sewers.

From that room on, every single room of the underground lab had at least one corpse. The corridors were bloody with headless guard corpses. In one small lab room they found just a pile of organs spread over a table wallowing in a pool of blood.

On another room they found a file of report of a scientist working in the lab, they were talking about how the Walrider project was using patients from the asylum for their tests and some of them just died or became even crazier.

As they went deeper inside the laboratory, they eventually found a panel with the words they have been searching for all night.

“Delivery EXIT”

They almost let out a shout of joy as they followed the arrow indicating where was the exit they were oh so looking for. As they walked down a new corridor still full of blood and bodies half, they found a lot of barrels blocking the way, but they could easily climb over it, it was just a hassle. They reached a bulletproof window showing a hangar with some military trucks inside, but most importantly, the giant doors were open. They saw that there was door leading to it, it was also open, they just need to get to it and leave this damn place.

They walked down the corridor they were in and it opened up to two ways, but the left one was way more appealing to them with another panel indicating that the delivery exit was this way.

They went down the left way and found a decontamination room that might lead to where they wanted to go. But when they were a few feet away from the door, it locked itself, an alarm went off and red lights started to flash in the corridor and what they didn’t want to see appeared before them.

The Walrider.

The couple immediately turned back and ran in the opposite direction as the ghost started to chase them. They jumped over the barrels but it was slowing them down.

“Makoto! Grab my hand!” the lavender haired detective shouted as she reached for her partner’s hand.

He grabbed it and didn’t let go as she pulled him.

They reached the doors leading to the previous corridor, maybe they could find somewhere to hide over there. They opened the doors and another monster they didn’t want to see appeared behind the doors.

Chris Walker.

“Little pigs.” he growled as he reached for both of their necks and grabbed them, “Little pigs…” he repeated as he threw them behind him violently against the wall, “No more escape…” he ‘smiled’ as he approached again, ready to kill them once and for all.

Then something unexpected happened.

A dark mist appeared out of nowhere and threw the giant Variant against the wall. As Chris started to scream and moan in agony, the dark cloud didn't stop, always lifting him up and smashing him against the wall as if he was a ragdoll.

Naegi was looking at the scene with wide terrified eyes, Kirigiri on the other hand quickly lifted the camcorder to record what was happening.

The slender but tall form of the Walrider was looking down at Chris as he tried to stand up, his face bloodier than before. The dark ghost grabbed the Variant once more and threw him again against the wall, leaving a splash of blood to mark where Chris’ face landed. The sadistic monster kept throwing the large man against the walls for some seconds before finally lifting him up and throwing him inside a gridded vent that was nearby, leaving a giant wave of blood spurting out of the vent. Killing Chris Walker.

The couple of detectives stood still for a few seconds before standing up and slowly walk towards the last splash of blood, there was some organs in the middle. Then they looked up to the gridded vent only to see that Chris was thrown in there… without breaking the grid. Meaning that his body was certainly pressed and cut with a lot of strength. They didn't want to see inside that grid and hoped no one will.

This was the way he dies. Ripped to pieces from the inside, watching his marrow scatter on a concrete wall.

“You’ve escaped one Hell, Chris Walker…” said Kirigiri.

“God help us but I somehow hope you didn't find another.” Naegi concluded.

The old Soldier turned Variant died...

It was weird but they somewhat felt more sympathy for his death, than Father Martin’s.

They could still hear the alarm echoing in the halls so they guessed that the door leading to the exit must be closed. They needed to find a way to stop the alarm and open the doors. Maybe there was a room they’ve missed, so they turned back towards the corridors they walked before.

Until they heard a voice calling out for them.

“Is somebody there? Has somebody survived? Come closer. Please talk to me before he kills you too. Over here! Please, I must try to explain…”

It was coming from a door that they swear was locked before. They got inside the room that immediately locked itself after they got in. It was an office with dead guards, but they were separated from the office and its occupant by a glass wall. On the wall behind the office was a giant painting of a man getting killed by a dark mist, the Walrider. The said occupant was an old man on a wheelchair, he was weak, his mouth not moving when talking, he talked via a machine, like Stephen Hawking.

“I know, I know… I am supposed to be dead. No… no such luck.” The old man started.

Kirigiri crossed her arms as she glared at the man.

“Rudolf Wernicke…” she called.

The old scientist turned his chair around.

“... I am older than sin, but, somehow, the only one left… because of Billy.”

Here he was, the one behind the Walrider project, Dr. Wernicke. Both detective stared angrily at the man.

“Explain. Now.” Kirigiri demanded.

“Aren't you going to present yourselves first?”

Naegi was about to do it but Kirigiri quickly stopped him from doing so, they didn't know that man, and he could be dangerous.

“I see… Billy took care of me. He may think I’m his father. He certainly loves me, the poor idiot.” Wernicke started before wheeling toward the logo of the Walrider Project that was on the wall.

“Do you know what this symbol represents?” he asked, “It warns of a Nano hazard. Microscopic machines, technology we have had for decades, but never mastered. Murkoff discovered it, in my research, a work-a-round. Turning the cells of human bodies into Nano factories. It's the natural function of cells to produce molecules, but through psychosomatic direction, we engineered the precise molecules necessary. Mind over body.” he paused after his revelation, “It was foolish and wrong to think we could control it. To use mad men to control something so strong.”

He turned to them.

“You have to stop him, to murder Billy. Turn off his life support, his anesthesia. You have to undo what I've done. No one can get out of this place while he lives. You must kill him.”

The duo looked at each other, they didn’t know what to say. They weren’t murderers… but they must to get out of here. And there was no way with Billy still alive and controlling the Walrider.

“What else?” asked Kirigiri.

Wernicke stared at her before turning around and answered, “We achieved something like this in 1944. Those fascists thought it was spirits, and I let them believe it. Let them kill themselves thinking there was some kind of afterlife now empirically promised to them. Fools… Poor Alan. He would weep to see what I've built from his dreams.”

Wernicke moved his head a bit to try to look over his shoulder.

“Billy doesn't mean harm. He's a child with a damaged mind, granted the powers of a God. It would make any of us into a monster. You must end this. ” He paused then continued

“Murkoff knew the dangers, but they didn't care. In the corporation's mind, we are all just dollar amounts in a ledger. And the profits Project Walrider promised, overshadowed whatever pitiful balance a few doctors and patients amounted to.” The doctor turned to the couple.

“He will spread if you don't stop him. The Morphogenic Engine is self-perpetuating. I pray to god you have the strength to end it here with you death.”

“We are not planning to die here. We will get out.”

“...Whatever you say… I wish you luck. I… More than anything else want to rest. Billy will not let me die. He could never imagine how cruel this is. I only want to die.” and with that Wernicke turned around, pressed a button to stop the alarm.

The couple walked out of the office that locked itself once again they were out.

It Seem that they must find Billy. And… murder him. But will they be able to do so?

To be concluded...

#danganronpa #crossover #outlast #naegi x kirigiri #naegiri #makoto naegi #kyoko kirigiri #Chris Walker #rudolf wernicke #the walrider #fanfiction #horror

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asktemmie-frisk · 6 years

Text

Dangerous Tailspin (Lost and Found Arc)

When Chara got to Asgore's house, she frantically knocked on his door like her life was in danger. Asgore made it to the front door to find her and Frisk, and decided to welcome them.

"Oh. Howdy, Chara. Why are you home s-"

"Dad, can Frisk and I come inside please?" Chara interrupted before Asgore could ask her anything.

"Well, of course, but why are-"

"Please! We just need to come in. Please don't ask why, and please don't tell mom Frisk and I are here."

Chara started crying at that point, accidentally tugging at Asgore's heartstrings.

"Okay, sweetie. Come in. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Chara and Frisk quickly went inside before anyone else could spot them. They rushed to the second floor of the place, trying to find a room to hide in.

Meanwhile, everyone in Toriel's car, especially Sans, were cursing themselves for pushing Frisk and Chara too hard.

"Why the fuck did I have to go that far?" Sans said, getting angry at himself.

"I shouldn't have tried to make him say anything, especially if he didn't wanna."

"Stop beating yourself up, Sans. We all fucked up." Asriel said, staring out the window and keeping an eye out for Chara.

"DAMN RIGHT WE DID!" Toriel rudely blurted out.

"We practically forced them out of this fucking thing, and we didn't even think about how they feel!"

"WATCH THE ROAD, MOM! DAMN!"

"DON'T YOU TA-"

Before Toriel could finish her sentence, a truck honked its horn, grabbing enough of Toriel's attention to make her swerve back into her lane. A quick, silent reprieve was dealt, yet Toriel was still riled up.

"Keep. Your hands. ON! The wheel!" Papyrus said, recoiling from Toriel's road rage.

Toriel did as Papyrus and Asriel said, too scared to go berserk while she was driving.

"Sorry. I...went out of control. Obviously." She said, ashamed of herself.

After about 4 more minutes, they all made it to her house, scrambling to try to get to them. Toriel grabbed her keys and rushed to get the door open. She unlocked it, and slammed the door open.

"CHARA! FRISK! LISTEN, WE're...sorry?"

The house felt completely empty. Toriel and Sans got scared. Asriel and Papyrus were trembling, and they grabbed each other to try to keep calm.

"What happened to them" was all the two could ask themselves. Toriel then investigated the rooms and noticed something off.

"That is strange. Sans, do you smell butterscotch or chocolate?" She asked.

"No. No, I don't." Replied Sans.

"Neither do I. Usually when Chara and Frisk enter the house, the faint scent of butterscotch and chocolate hangs in the air. But I cannot smell anything. But that could only mean..."

Toriel pondered their possible whereabouts for a moment. Then, it struck her. She became incensed beyond measure as her hands were set on fire.

"ASGORE DREEMURR. I'm going to KILL HIM THIS TIME!"

Toriel was so mad, she ripped her front door off its hinges, charging towards Asgore's house. Everyone else followed. She roared loudly enough to get Undyne and Alphys' attention. Then, the reptile and fish lady ran over to Asgore's house, only to find the former queen turned herself into an EXTREMELY dangerous fire hazard.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! What the hell's going on right now?" Undyne said, confused as to why Toriel turned into a matchstick.

"T-t-t-Toriel, I think it would be b-b-best if you c-c-c-calmed down f-f-first." Alphys stuttered, scared of the boss monster.

"FUCK OFF, YOU FAT LIZARD BITCH! I DON'T NEED TO HEAR YOUR SHIT RIGHT NOW!" Toriel roared at the top of her lungs, bearing her teeth.

Alphys promptly stood down, scared of being singed. Undyne held her hand up in defense and backed off slowly to Alphys. Thanks to people being too scared to interfere at this point, Toriel proceeded to rip Asgore's front door off its hinges. She made a few errant tugs, but she ultimately tore off the wood, clawing at whatever remained. Then, she turned her attention to Asgore, who was in the kitchen making himself a cup of tea.

"YOU!" She screamed.

Asgore dropped his cup of tea upon hearing Toriel's enraged tone. He quickly turned around and, upon seeing her murderous appearance, tried to run for his life. She quickly caught him, and started beating him with her bare hands. As much as he tried to block her punches, she stood up, snatched a knife out, threw him to the ground, and stabbed his shoulder. The king bellowed in pain, and Toriel repeated the action on his other shoulder. He shouted in pain again as she held the knife to his face.

"Do you see that blood coming out of you?"

She sadistically turned his attention to his stab wounds, then back to the knife.

"That's for hiding her from me."

"Toriel, please! I-AAAAUUUGGGHHHH!"

Toriel plunged the knife in his arm again. Then she grabbed him and threw him on the table to beat him some more. She kept throwing her fists in his entire body, not caring how scared he was. Then, she threw him back on the ground, kicking him repeatedly.

"Where are they?! TELL ME!"

Toriel refused to stop beating Asgore as he started crying.

"Please stop. I-"

Toriel punched Asgore in the face for that next hit. Then after a few more minutes of hurting Asgore, she got fed up.

"Alright. Enough of this."

"SOMEBODY HELP ME!" Asgore loudly begged before Toriel started choking him to death.

Chara and Frisk heard the king's cry for help, and they rushed downstairs to help him, only to find Toriel strangling him to death. Chara ran to Toriel, grabbed her, and threw her off of Asgore, who Frisk accompanied to help catch his breath.

"Slow and deep, goat king. Slow and deep." He said, stroking Asgore's head.

Chara made her creepy face at Toriel, angry at her and scared for Asgore.

"Why the fuck would you try to kill dad, mom?!" She angrily lashed out, starting to cry.

"Whatever your beef is with him has nothing to do with me. I'm the one you were coming for! Leave dad alone; he has nothing to do with it!"

Toriel angrily glared at Chara as the fire she summoned from her hands creeped up to her elbows.

"Since when do you know whether your father has anything to do with anything? Your father is a pathetic whelp! A fucking murderer! Are you really telling me I'm doing the wrong thing by offing this piece of shit, young lady?!"

"Listen to me, mom."

"Chara, you don't g-"

"LISTEN TO ME! If dad's a pathetic whelp, then you aren't much better! You call dad a murderer, but the way you just tried to kill his ass confirms that you're just like him in that specific sense! So before you try to kill him again, remember that you're going down the exact same path!"

Toriel was stopped right in her tracks, and the flames that creeped along her arms extinguished themselves. She was shocked. Not only was Chara backtalking her without even a slight amount of fear of consequences, but she was telling (well, more like yelling) her the truth. Toriel tried to speak to her, but there was nothing to say, for Chara was right. And why wouldn't she be? In her rage, she tranformed into the mental image that she put Asgore in for decades. Chara surging her compassion and common sense into Toriel's mentality and forcing her back into reality caused Toriel to regain her composure and realize how horribly she treated Asgore, not to mention almost killing him. She shook with fear, feeling the guilt of almost killing Asgore.

"No. No. No! Why? Why did I...? I've...oh, God. I AM just as bad. Worse, even."

Toriel trembled and held herself, making her way to the couch to think about what she did. She said absolutely nothing.

"Dad, you okay?" Chara asked softly, making her way to Asgore to check on him.

"Well, considering that you both just saved me from being choked to death by your mother, I'm, uhh, pretty good." Asgore said, nonchalantly.

"This happened before when you were married, didn't it?"

"Well...yes. Your mother has always had a problem with her temper, and she always took it out on me. She always spoke down to me, and she often beat me up when no one was looking. She always claimed it was because she loved me. But now I'm not sure whether that was true or not."

"How bad did it get?"

"When I was sleeping every now and then, your mother took a knife and held it at my neck if I woke up. She'd tell me 'let me keep going, or else'. Apparently, that was how she was having sex with me at some point. After that, we had sex without the whole knife thing, and about 9 months later, Asriel was born."

"...Mom raped you."

"Really? I mean, I enjoyed how she felt inside. I didn't know I was being raped. I just thought she had an attraction towards danger, or being dangerous."

"You were, dad. You know, all this time, you thought mom was too good for you. But in reality, you're too good for her, and she's not good enough for you."

"But I still love her. I know if-"

"Dad, mom never loved you. She wanted to use you like a piece of trash, and throw you away."

"That's not true. Is it, Toriel?"

Toriel kept her voice as low as she hung her head.

"I did love him once." She said.

"No, you didn't." Chara snapped.

"You raped your husband, abused your husband, almost killed him, and when he finally decided to show some backbone, you fuck him over and leave him suicidal. If you ask me, that's not love. That's called being a parasite. Maybe if you looked at yourself and the way you act more often, you'd be able to see what you did and what you're doing is wrong."

Toriel started crying. She was angry, too.

"I don't have to see myself. I don't need to hear this, either. I'm leaving."

Toriel left without another word with tears in her eyes, knowing what she did. Chara was right about the abuse she did unto Asgore. She never felt guilty about it until it was too late. She walked sadly to her room and closed the door, crying her eyes out.

Frisk and Chara walked out of Asgore's house with scowls on their faces. When they got back inside Toriel's house, they saw Sans, Papyrus and Asriel.

"How much exactly did you hear?" Frisk and Chara said, not even bothering to be tactful.

"All of it." Sans said with empty eyesockets and a scowl.

"I'm sorry if this offends, but I am VERY disappointed in Ms. Toriel right now."

Papyrus said, shaking his head in disaplointment to Toriel.

"Brother, I'm sorry for earlier and making you deal with what just happened."

"I forgive you, Papyrus." Frisk said, trying to put on a smile.

"After all, you are very great. Certainly you're great enough to be forgiven for your wrongdoings, especially if you feel remorse. Unlike SOME people I know."

"Yeah. So, anyway, let's get your paperwork in here." Sans requested, trying to change the subject.

"We got permission to homeschool you for a little while, so we can get it inside so nothing bad happens to it."

Chara, Frisk and Sans got all the paperwork inside the house, which was set just within the living room. Meanwhile, Toriel kept crying upstairs. It didn't look like she would stop for a while, and it would take a bit before things calmed down.

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